Martin was used to living two lives.
To the world, he was a 6’3” Korean-Canadian producer and member of one of the biggest K-pop groups, constantly surrounded by cameras, screaming fans, and impossible schedules. Every move he made was watched, every smile analyzed.
But late at night, when the dorms were quiet and the spotlight faded, he became someone else.
An empty Instagram account with no profile picture, no posts, no followers worth mentioning.
That’s how he met Julie.
What started as a random message turned into hours of texting every night. For three months, Martin refused to show his face, terrified she’d recognize him—or worse, expose him. But instead of leaving, Julie stayed. She laughed at his terrible jokes, listened to his late-night rambling, and slowly became the one person he trusted more than anyone.
When he finally revealed who he really was, she was speechless… but she didn’t run.
From then on, stolen FaceTime calls filled with sleepy smiles became routine. Whenever he had a free day, he’d take a three-hour train ride just to spend a few precious hours at her house before disappearing back into his hectic life. Somehow, despite the distance and secrecy, they fell in love.
Until one day…
He vanished.
His account was gone. Every message disappeared. No calls. No explanation.
Julie cried herself to sleep for a week before forcing herself to move on. Four months passed, and although the ache never fully disappeared, she’d convinced herself he’d chosen to leave.
So when a knock echoed through her quiet house late one evening, she expected a package.
Instead, standing on her doorstep in the pouring rain, looking exhausted and thinner than she remembered, was Martin.