THE RHYTHM OF US: RYEJI

Chapter 40: The Rhythm of Us (I am betting on us)

Ryujin's POV

Now, standing in the airport, my flight is slated for 6 p.m. With a mere two hours left, I resisted the impulse to subject my friends to the emotional spectacle of my farewell. The idea of unraveling once more before them was unbearable.

Despite their protests and insistence on seeing me off, I stood my ground, warning them of potential resentment should they defy my plea. The air between us thickened with unspoken sentiments as the weight of impending goodbyes loomed.

Just when I believed I had successfully sidestepped the emotional farewells, my phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, I hesitated briefly before accepting the call.

"Unnie, what the hell?" Yuna's voice cut through the air.

"What?" I replied, attempting to mask the vulnerability in my tone.

"What do you mean what? Chaeryeong told me you're at the airport now," Yuna exclaimed.

"Yep, what's wrong?" I responded, using a fragile facade to shield myself from the harsh reality.

"I thought you said ONE WEEK. I'm pretty sure it's not one week yet," she remarked, a mix of confusion and concern evident in her voice.

A heavy sigh escaped me, and I felt my heart fracture anew. "She already let me go."

Yuna fell silent, absorbing the weight of my words. "Uhm, unnie. Safe skies," she finally said.

As I concluded the call with Yuna, the bustling airport terminal cocooned me in the symphony of hurried footsteps and distant announcements, drowning me in the ebb and flow of travelers navigating their journeys.

Since 1 p.m., my restless fingers have danced across the phone screen, a diversion that has drained its battery to an alarming level. The realization struck me that my power bank, usually a steadfast companion, had been forgotten in the rush of departure.

With a sense of urgency, I sought refuge at the airport charging station, setting my phone to airplane mode before surrendering it to the electronic lifeline.

In the absence of digital distractions, I succumbed to the drowsiness creeping in and decided to steal a nap, seeking solace in the airport's transient calm.

Upon awakening at 5 p.m., a parched sensation lingered, steering me towards the promise of refreshment.

The store's cashier received my gratitude as I paid for the drink, the cool liquid offering respite to my dry mouth.

As I emerged back into the bustling airport, the atmosphere shifted abruptly.

Screams punctuated the air, drawing attention like a magnet. The collective gaze of onlookers converged on a scene unfolding nearby, phones held aloft to capture the unfolding drama.

"Just let me in; I need to see someone!" a desperate voice echoed through the chaos.

My heart quickened. Was it her voice, the one I longed to hear? Fueled by hope, I navigated through the crowd, hoping for a glimpse of the familiar figure.

Yet, as the woman in question came into view, a sinking disappointment settled in.

It wasn't her.

I sighed, retracing my steps to the seat I had occupied, grappling with the conflicting emotions of yearning and resignation.

Why did I harbor hope when reality dictated otherwise? She wouldn't be here, and I was left with the echoes of a voice that had become an ache in my heart.

As the call for our flight resonated through the airport, a wave of determination surged within me. I stood up, gathering my belongings, and joined the stream of passengers making their way toward the departure gate.