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The word if felt like a jolt, because that was exactly the word that came to mind when I thought about my future, and London.

If.

I had always found that it was easy to romanticise London under certain conditions. When you were visiting for short periods, during major holidays like Christmas or New Years, or when you were leaving. The rest of the time, central London was like a theme park, and you either tuned it out like white noise, or got over-stimulated by the frenetic pace.

Today, as I took a stroll along the Thames towards Tower Bridge, I could admit that I would miss it just as much as I wouldn’t.

I had loved being romanced by the city. The contradictory nature of London was, at times, charming. I loved the bustling morning markets, the free museums and the diversity, but I hated the constant stream of inconveniences, like roadworks, pedestrians fighting with tourists over pavement supremacy and the constant feeling of being ‘on’.

Being here had felt like a trial by fire, and that had often led to me feeling like I could never switch off. But faced with my decision to leave not just the city, but the country and, in effect, my whole life, the city suddenly took on a new – if not shiny, then at least soft-lensed – hue.

Every red bus was charming, every pigeon adorable, and I could understand why there was a tourist on every corner taking pictures, because London was the best city in the world.

And I was leaving it for the second time in my life to move abroad.

“This is becoming a habit,” I muttered to myself as I leaned against the wall, looking down into the choppy, murky water of the Thames.

It was impossible to remember the last time I had left London without running through all the events that had followed, and had shaped my life in ways so fundamental they could be credited for creating the person I was now.

LA.

Seoul.

And throughout it all – him.

It was equally impossible not to acknowledge that certain parts of my history were about to come full circle.

And maybe that was what scared me more now about leaving than I had ever been before.

It had been weeks since Jihoon had reached out. He’d sent a package to the Frequency offices a week before Christmas, not long after I’d spoken to Director Kang. At the time I’d wondered if he knew about her proposal, but she had assured me that the members wouldn’t be informed until I signed a contract.

I had stared at the box all day, never once gaining the courage to open it until later, on my own, in my little studio flat. I’d imagined all manner of things, but it had turned out to be a beautiful leather-bound journal.

I’d pulled it out, marvelling over how something so simple could be so lovely, when a note had slipped out from between the pages.

Kaiya,

In LA, I noticed you needed a new notepad. I hope this one is okay.

I know I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I cannot walk away again. I won’t until you tell me there’s no hope.

Merry Christmas.

-J

It had felt like a double-punch to the gut. That he’d been paying such close attention that he’d noticed my raggedy, bent old notepad, to the ultimatum that he would… what? Pursue me?

I didn’t know if I wanted him to. I also didn’t definitively know what I wanted, and in the weeks since Christmas I hadn’t had the courage to reach out and thank him for the gift, or to tell him not to bother. I’d pushed it to the back of my mind because if I stopped to consider anything other than the logistics of this tour, I’d get lost. And I was scared of that, most of all.

January 10th

“Pom!” Tae’s grin coaxed one from me before I’d even consciously made the decision to move my face from grumpy to cheerful.

“Hey, you.” I blew hair out of my face as I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans.

“You okay there, chum? You look… hot. And not in the fun way.”

I barked out a laugh and slumped against the kitchen counter, folding my legs beneath me.