The soft chime of the boutique's doorbell rang out, echoing briefly before fading into the silence that bnketed the nearly empty store. Outside, snow was falling steadily, painting the city in a hushed, frozen white. Sooyoung stood by the window, a cashmere scarf draped loosely over one arm, her eyes distant.

  She pressed a hand against the cold gss, watching the snowfkes drift downward like fragments of memories. Her reflection stared back at her: a young woman with hollow cheeks and tired eyes, skin sallow from sleepless nights and stress. Her hair, once a source of pride, was now tied in a zy bun, unruly strands falling across her face.

  Winter always brought it back—the memory of a boy with gentle eyes and warm hands. A boy who had helped her when the world had been too cruel for someone so small.

  It had been so long ago.

  She was ten, maybe eleven, when it happened. Her arms had been filled with groceries too heavy for her small frame. The pstic bag split under the weight, sending eggs and rice tumbling to the icy pavement. She had knelt there in panic, tears stinging her eyes as strangers passed her by, indifferent.

  Then, he appeared.

  He crouched down, helped her gather what little could be saved. His hands were soft, his voice calm. "Are you okay?" he asked.

  She had nodded, too shy to speak.

  He offered his scarf to wrap around her scraped knee. She remembered its warmth. She remembered his name: Jeon Jungkook. Kookie, he told her with a grin.

  She had never seen him again. But she had never forgotten him.

  Now, she was twenty-six and too tired to dream. Her days were spent standing for hours in the boutique, folding clothes, fetching sizes, offering forced smiles to customers who barely noticed her presence. Her feet ached in worn-out shoes, her fingers were cracked from cold and overwork.

  And the loans—always the loans.

  She pulled out her phone. Another tuition payment notification. Another few hundred thousand won gone. Her stomach clenched as she calcuted what little was left for rent, food, transportation.

  Her degree hung somewhere in a dusty folder. She had studied fashion design with fire in her heart. She had imagined sketches, runways, a line of her own. But internships didn't pay, and she couldn't afford to work for free.

  The boutique paid just enough to keep her from drowning.

  Her parents didn't understand. Or maybe they didn't want to. Their pride and joy was Minwoo, her younger brother. He was studying engineering at a prestigious university, funded by sacrifices she made silently. She remembered giving up her ptop, her winter coat, even skipping meals so he could have what he needed.

  They never noticed.

  Her mother's voice echoed in her mind. "Minwoo needs to succeed for our family. He's the son."

  And what was she? A shadow in her own home. The girl who worked, cooked, and disappeared into the background.

  Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. No one cried for her, so she wouldn't cry either.

  The bell above the door jingled again. A couple walked in, chatting softly. Sooyoung turned, her smile automatic, her voice polite. "Welcome. Let me know if you need help."

  They barely acknowledged her.

  When they moved to the back of the store, Sooyoung drifted back toward the window. Outside, the snow had thickened. Children pyed across the street, their ughter muffled by the gss.

  A sudden gust of wind pushed a swirl of snowfkes against the window, and her mind spiraled back to that one memory again.

  Kookie.

  What kind of man had he grown into? Did he still remember the girl with messy hair and trembling hands? Probably not. She was a passing moment. But to her, he had been a reminder that kindness still existed.

  She clung to that moment when the world felt too cruel. When her family ignored her. When customers insulted her intelligence. When she stared at her bank account in despair.

  She imagined him somewhere out there—warm, loved, successful.

  And she, stuck in the same pce. Exhausted, invisible.

  When her shift ended, she grabbed her coat and stepped into the freezing night. The snow was now thick on the ground. She walked slowly, too tired to rush, each step an effort. Her hands were buried deep in her pockets. Her breath puffed out in white clouds.

  She passed couples arm-in-arm, people ughing, snowball fights, Christmas lights twinkling. It all felt so far away.

  Her apartment was small, cold, and quiet. She made instant noodles for dinner, eating over the sink to save dishes. She turned on the television but didn't hear it. Her mind wandered.

  What if she had been born someone else? What if her parents had loved her the way they loved Minwoo? What if she had the luxury of chasing dreams?

  She curled on the bed, bnket pulled to her chin. Her phone y on her chest, the st message from a university friend asking how she was.

  She hadn't replied. What was there to say?

  That she was barely surviving? That some days she didn't want to wake up?

  No one wanted to hear that.

  Sooyoung turned off the light. Outside, the snow continued to fall, erasing footprints and car tracks, bnketing the world in white.

  She closed her eyes and saw him again.

  Kookie.

  She whispered his name like a prayer.

  The boy who stopped. The boy who helped.

  And the only person who had ever made her feel seen.