Episode 7: The Girl Steps Into the Frame

The gallery was filled with the soft murmur of voices, footsteps echoing off the polished floors. Eunji had arrived early, the small nerves from earlier creeping up again as she wandered through the room, her eyes flitting over the other works. The art was diverse, each piece telling its own story—vibrant and bold, others quieter, more introspective.

She’d debated submitting anything. For weeks. For years, really. Her art had always been personal, quiet—a conversation between herself and the page.

Her piece, The Girl in the Cafe Window, was nestled on the far wall, tucked between two larger works. It felt almost too personal to be seen by so many, but there it was—her first time ever letting others view something so close to her heart.

Eunji stood in front of it, arms crossed as she surveyed the crowd. Most people didn’t linger long, glancing quickly at the sketch before moving on to something else. She wasn’t disappointed. It wasn’t like she expected applause. But then she felt a familiar presence behind her.

“Still here, huh?” Jiho’s voice, soft as always, startled her a little.

Eunji turned, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just making sure no one stands too close to it.”

Jiho chuckled and gave her a small nudge. “No one’s going to steal it, trust me.”

“I know,” she said, her smile growing. “I’m just… not used to it.”

He nodded in understanding, glancing at the sketch. “You’re not the only one. But honestly, it looks perfect here. Like it belongs.”

Eunji felt a warmth spread through her at his words, unexpected but welcome. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure about putting it up.”

“I’m glad you did.” Jiho looked thoughtful for a moment, then added, “It’s one of the pieces that makes you stop and think. Makes you wonder what she’s thinking.”

“That was the point,” Eunji said, her voice quieter now. “I wanted her to feel like she’s not just there, but that she has a story to tell.”

Jiho nodded slowly, clearly appreciating it. “You did that.”

They stood there for a beat, Eunji's gaze once again drifting to the piece, watching the subtle reactions from the people passing by. There was a soft hum of approval from a small group of students who had gathered around the sketch.

“I’m really glad you encouraged me to do this,” Eunji said, her tone earnest. “I wasn’t sure I was ready. But now, I'm seeing it like this...”

“Seeing it being seen?” Jiho offered, his grin a little teasing.

She laughed softly. “Yeah, exactly. It’s... not so scary anymore.”

“That’s good. Art’s supposed to be like that,” Jiho said, leaning slightly toward the painting. “It’s about sharing. Even if it feels a little raw.”

“Yeah, I think I’m getting that.”

Jiho paused, looking around the exhibit. “You know, I’m showing some of my stuff here too. Just... didn’t expect to have to follow your act,” he added with a smirk.

Eunji raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? What’s your piece?”

He gestured vaguely, clearly not eager to draw attention. “A few landscapes. Not nearly as… personal as yours.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be great,” Eunji said, half-teasing. “Maybe you’ll be the next one that people stop for.”

“Maybe.” Jiho smiled. Then, after a beat, he added, quieter, “But I’ll still be watching your piece more.”

Eunji blinked at him, surprised. “You will?”

“Yeah,” Jiho said, his voice softening just a little. “There’s something about it. Feels... real.”

Eunji looked at him for a moment, the weight of his words settling in. It wasn’t often she heard someone speak about her art like that. With that kind of understanding.

“Thanks, Jiho,” she said, her voice a little quieter now. “Really.”

He nodded, glancing at the gallery entrance as a few more people trickled in. “Anytime. And hey, if you’re up for it, let’s grab a coffee after this. I think you’ve earned it.”

Eunji smiled. “Deal.”

As she turned to step back into the exhibit, she felt a little lighter. There was something about Jiho's quiet encouragement that made everything feel a little more real. And for the first time, Eunji didn’t feel like she was just standing in the background. She was part of something.

And it felt good.

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