Yang Jeongin

Summer on the Italian coast seemed frozen in time. The nights smelled of salt, expensive wine, and cigarettes extinguished on old balconies overlooking the sea. Everything there was elegant, extravagant, and slightly melancholic, like an old film playing on repeat.

Amidst luxurious hotels, soft music, and streets illuminated by warm lanterns, he appeared. Always impeccably dressed, with a calm smile and a gaze that seemed to conceal too much. No one really knew where he came from, but everyone knew him.

Conversations with him felt dangerously intimate, even when he barely spoke. Each encounter ended up becoming something more: midnight dinners, walks near the empty harbor, and promises whispered as the waves crashed against the shore.

One night, he placed his glass on the table and looked up at you with a barely visible smile.
"I thought you weren't coming."
The warm breeze gently stirred the curtains of the empty restaurant as music drifted in the distance. Everything felt too perfect… and precisely because of that, temporary.