The hall settled down with everyone seated in their assigned places, their murmuring hushed as the music dipped to silence. Everything seemed to be held in a paused breath. The guests turned to look at the back of the hall.

First the mothers walked the runway, dressed in traditional Hanboks and holding their respective coloured candles. Jun-seok then followed in a dark charcoal suit, smiling as he walked the runway to take his place at the alter. Finally Eun-sol began her walk down the aisle, her arm linked with her father's. Her gown simple, luminous. 

As she approached the alter Jun-seok stood, warm-eyed and calm, his face breaking into a wide smile at the first glimpse of her. She met it with a look of pure excitement.

Hyun-woo, seated in the middle rows, watched with a quiet stillness. There was no longing, but yet a glimpse of regret lodged in his chest as Eun-sols father handed her off to Jun-seok. 

The solemnity of the ceremony gave way to the celebratory noise of the reception. Guests mingled as wine flowed freely and the gentle clinks of glassware and conversation softened the music. Hyun-woo stood to the side of the buffet table with Soo-hyun, sipping his drink and observing the quiet chaos.

“Have you ever seen her look so happy, huh?” Soo-hyun said, his voice low. “Like... really happy.”

Hyun-woo smiled gently as he watched her and Jun-seok talk with guests.

“She always said she would know, when it felt like breathing.” Hyun-woo replied.

They both looked toward Eun-sol, who was now animatedly chatting with elderly relatives, her laughter easy and unrestrained. Soo-hyun sipped from his glass, a slight pause in their conversation. 

“I never understood how you ever resisted her.” He looked at Hyun-woo, “I’d be regretting it right now if I were you.” 

Hyun-woo looked to Soo-hyun.

“Regret is something you feel when something turns out well. But what’s to say she would have ever been as happy as that with me?”

Soo-hyun turned away from him. “But how will you ever know if you don't try?” 

Min-su and Soo-hyun chatted with a couple stood on the side of the bar. Hyun-woo hovered on the edge of them, detached from the conversation. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Eun-sol walking towards them. Suddenly, he felt the urge to leave. He took a half-step back, a distance forming between himself and the group and Eun-sol. He backed away further and turned, walking calmly towards the doors at the side of the hall. He stepped out onto the balcony, a haven from the celebratory crowd. The sky was low, filled with the distant lights of the town. 

He let out a long sigh and stepped forward to the rail to gain a better view of the surroundings. 

After a moment, the door opened again and Jun-seok stepped onto the balcony. They stood in companionable quiet, until Hyun-woo felt the urge to say something.

“Congratulations again,” he said, extending his hand.

Jun-seok smiled and nodded, shaking his hand firmly. 

“Thank you.”

Hyun-woo gently smiled and then looked back out at the skyline.

Jun-seok glanced at him sideways. As if ensuring he was the person he thought he was.

“You’re the one Eun-sol worked with at the architects. Min-su’s place,” Jun-seok said, his gaze now fixed on him. “She said you used to fix everything with a screwdriver and a silenced look.”

“Sounds about right,” Hyun-woo said with a soft smile.

There was a pause while their smiles settled. 

“She told me your story like it matters,” Jun-seok said, unable to look at Hyun-woo, instead looking down at his shoes.

Hyun-woo’s smile returned. “If it helped her find you, I’m glad it did.”

Hyun-woo offered his glass out to him and Jun-seok chinked it with his own, a wide smile on his face now. A small, unsentimental toast.

“She’s stubborn, you know,” Jun-seok said.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Hyun-woo took a sip of his drink. “Please take good care of her.”

“I will.”

They both smiled, not as rivals, but as fellow travelers who had acknowledged the same storm.

Hyun-woo had declined to stay over and drive back that evening and the evening had reached the time he saw fit to leave. He said his goodbyes to Min-su and Soo-hyun.

“Are you saying goodbye to the bride and groom?” asked Min-su. Hyun-woo looked over the room to them.

“No.” he paused briefly as if confirming his thoughts. “No. I don’t think so.”

“She’ll be disappointed if you don’t.” added Min-su gently.

Hyun-woo gently shook his head.

“No. Perhaps you can do it for me?”

Car lights glided past the windshield, their clean lines and colors a blur against the darkness. Hyun-woo drove with one hand on the wheel, the window half-open, the night air brushing against his collar.

Inside the car, there was silence. No music. Just the hum of the engine and the occasional tick of the turn signal. At a red light, he paused and glanced sideways at the empty passenger seat. For a moment, he imagined someone there. But the light changed drawing him back to the now and he drove on.

Back at his apartment he opened the door. Darkness inside, save for the warm glow of a hallway lamp left on. As he stepped in, he heard the soft sound of paw pads on the wooden floor.

A blur of white fur bounded forward - Soo-hyun, the dog. His tail wagging furiously, ears perked, a stuffed plushie trailing from his mouth.

“Alright, alright,” Hyun-woo said gently, crouching down. “I missed you too.”

The dog barreled into his chest with unapologetic joy. Hyun-woo let the silence settle again, broken only by the rustle of fur and the dog’s soft snuffle against his collar.

“You hungry?” he asked. “No, of course you’re not. You’ve conned someone already. Probably twice.”

He walked into the kitchen, and the dog padded after him, still too close, still too much. Hyun-woo didn’t seem to mind.

The plant in the living room caught a spill of moonlight. It was taller now, with two new leaves since the last time he’d noticed. He glanced at it, then at the dog.

“One of you needs a haircut,” he muttered.

The dog barked once. Or sneezed. It was hard to tell.