STARGAZER

CHAPTER 1

Eree had barely stepped out of the plane when the humid air of Manila wrapped around her.

She was home.

After a week in Japan, she should have been excited. Instead, all she wanted was to get home, take a cold shower, and sleep.

This trip had felt different from all the others.

Because this time, she had finally decided to stop.

For years, she had searched.

She had searched airports, crowded streets, familiar names on social media, old photographs, mutual friends, and every possible place where a person from her past might have left a trace.

She never wanted to admit that she was looking for him.

But she was.

And now, she was tired.

Not just physically.

She was exhausted from hoping. From believing that maybe, somehow, she would find him.

She didn’t want to quit.

But she needed to.

Because after ten years, perhaps continuing to look was no longer hope.

Perhaps it was simply refusing to accept reality.

She stood beside the luggage carousel, waiting for her suitcase to appear.

Then she noticed the old woman.

She was standing a few meters away, holding a bouquet of stargazers in one hand while looking at her phone with the other.

She looked like she was waiting for someone.

Eree watched her for a moment.

Judging from the worried expression on the woman’s face, whoever she was waiting for was taking far too long.

Then the old woman looked up.

Their eyes met.

The woman smiled.

Eree smiled back politely.

“Stargazers,” she said, almost without thinking.

The old woman looked down at the flowers.

“Lovely, aren’t they?”

Eree nodded.

“I used to have them every morning.”

The words escaped before she could stop them.

And suddenly, she wasn’t at the airport anymore.

She was seventeen again.

A bouquet of stargazers waiting on her desk.

A boy pretending he hadn’t left them there.

Mornings that once seemed ordinary but had somehow become the memories she carried for ten years.

The old woman studied her face.

“My grandson used to give them to a girl every morning when he was in high school.”

Eree’s heart skipped.

She looked at the flowers again.

The old woman smiled.

“You can have them.”

“Oh, no, I—”

“They’re meant for a lovely lady like you.”

Before Eree could refuse, the old woman placed the bouquet in her hands.

“My grandson is running late. I can’t wait for him for another minute.”

And with that, she hurried away.

Eree stood there, stunned.

She looked down at the flowers.

Stargazers.

Her fingers tightened around the stems.

For a few minutes, she couldn’t move.

Memories came rushing back so quickly that they almost hurt.

And with them came that old feeling.

That stupid, impossible longing she had spent years trying to bury.

Why now?

Why, after she had finally accepted that she would never find him?

Why, when she had finally decided to let him go?

She stood in the middle of the arrivals hall, surrounded by strangers, holding the same flowers that had once meant everything to her.

Then she heard it.

“Eree?”

Her heart stopped.

She didn’t turn around.

It had happened before.

So many times.

She would hear a familiar voice in a crowd, turn around with her heart already racing—

and find no one.

Sometimes, hope could make you hear things that weren’t there.

“Eree?”

The voice came again.

The same voice.

Her breathing became shallow.

Still, she didn’t turn.

She couldn’t.

She was too afraid.

Afraid that if she looked back, there would be nobody there.

Afraid that ten years of longing would once again leave her standing alone.

Then the sunlight coming through the airport’s glass windows disappeared.

A shadow fell across her.

Someone was standing in front of her.

Eree slowly looked up.

Her breath caught.

Her heart began pounding.

Once.

Twice.

Harder.

That familiar flutter she had only ever felt because of one person returned as if ten years had never passed.

Jeffrey.

It was him.

Really him.

For years, she had imagined hundreds of ways they might meet again.

She had imagined herself running toward him.

She had imagined crying.

She had imagined asking him why he disappeared.

She had imagined angry words, trembling hands, long explanations, and everything she would say after ten years of waiting.

But she had never imagined this.

An airport.

A bouquet of stargazers.

And Jeffrey simply standing in front of her.

She looked at him like she was making sure he was real.

Eree opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Then, finally—

“H-hi.”

It was supposed to sound normal.

Instead, she stuttered over the single syllable.

And somehow, after ten years of waiting,

that was all she could say.

Jeffrey’s POV

I was in the same airport exactly a year ago.

Funny how a place could look exactly the same and still feel completely different.

My heart was unusually light today. Half of it was because she had finally said yes.

The other half—I wasn’t quite sure.

Maybe it was just the excitement of coming home.

My flight from New York had been delayed for two hours. I was carrying nothing but a backpack, so there was no reason for me to go near the baggage carousel.

But somehow, my feet took me there anyway.

That was when I saw her.

A woman stood a few meters away, holding a bouquet of stargazers.

She wasn’t looking at the carousel.

She was just standing there, staring down at the flowers in her hands as if she had forgotten where she was.

I watched her for a moment.

Then another.

Five minutes, maybe.

There was something familiar about the way she stood.

I couldn’t see her face, only the back of her head.

I tried the first name that came to mind.

“Eree?”

She didn’t move.

I frowned slightly.

Maybe I was wrong.

I walked a little closer.

“Eree?”

Still nothing.

I moved around her until I could finally see her face.

It was her.

She looked up at me.

For a second, she didn’t say anything.

She just stared.

Like she wasn’t entirely sure I was real.

“Hi,” she finally said.

Her voice was quieter than I remembered.

“Hi.”

I glanced at the flowers in her hands.

“Stargazers?”

She looked down at them.

“Yeah.”

“So you. Vibrant.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

There was an awkward pause.

I slipped one hand into my pocket.

“I didn’t know you were coming back.” She said.

“I didn’t know you were here.”

“I arrived today.”

She nodded slowly.

“How long have you been there?”

“A while.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s okay.”

She gave a small smile.

I smiled politely.

“Some things don’t change.”

She looked at me for a moment longer.

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you changed?”

I shrugged.

“Probably.”

She looked like she wanted to ask something else but stopped herself.

Instead, she asked, “Are you staying?”

“For now.”

“Okay.”

Another silence settled between us.

People passed around us, dragging suitcases and talking loudly, completely unaware that two people who hadn’t seen each other in years were standing only a few feet apart.

I glanced at my watch.

“I should probably go.”

She tightened her fingers around the flowers.

“Well... it was nice seeing you.”

“You too.”

I took a step away.

Then I stopped.

There was something I needed to tell her.

Not because I wanted to see her reaction.

Not because I wanted anything from her.

It was simply something she should know.

I turned back toward her.

“I’m getting married.”