Beside You, Always
In the lively neighbourhood of Hongdae in Seoul, a boy named Min-jun and a girl named Hae-won grew up side by side. They sat in the same classroom from their earliest school days at a local primary school. Their families lived close to each other on the same quiet street, and their fathers, Mr. Park and Mr. Kim, ran a small joint grocery business that kept everyone connected. Min-jun and Hae-won played together after school, shared snacks, and looked out for one another. Their friendship felt natural and easy.
As the years passed and they entered their teenage years, the warmth between them deepened into something quieter and stronger. They remained loyal and thoughtful toward each other. Neither rushed anything. They simply continued to care, and that care grew into a gentle love. They finished high school successfully at the same local school, still walking the same paths home and talking about ordinary things that somehow felt special.
After school, they moved to Busan for college. Distance separated them for a while, yet they stayed in regular contact. Messages, calls, and occasional visits kept the bond steady. Min-jun studied business while Hae-won studied food science. They each completed their studies and found their first jobs in Busan. Still, they spoke with their families and decided to start something of their own. Together they returned to Seoul and opened a small ramen shop called “Park & Kim Noodles” in a cosy corner of Hongdae, combining the skills and support both families offered. The business grew steadily. Customers returned for the familiar bowls and the warm welcome.
They married in a simple ceremony in Seoul, surrounded by relatives who had known them since childhood. Their two families remained close, sharing meals and celebrations as before. Life settled into a comfortable rhythm. They looked after each other in small daily ways—one making sure the other ate well, the other remembering little preferences and quiet needs. Their two children, a son and a daughter, arrived, and the household filled with laughter and the smell of simmering broth. Min-jun and Hae-won raised their children with the same steady affection they had always shown each other.
The children grew. In time they left for work in other countries, as many young people do. Min-jun and Hae-won, now in their fifties and sixties, continued to run the ramen shop together. They remained each other’s strongest support. Mornings began with the same shared routines. Evenings ended with quiet conversations over the last bowls of the day. The business stayed steady, and their life together stayed peaceful.
Years later, Hae-won, who had become a grandmother, grew frail. One day her journey in this world came to a gentle close. Min-jun began visiting the small memorial place every morning. He placed a cup of her favourite coffee and a single rose there. He sat for a while, the way he used to sit with her at the end of a long day. The visits continued. The coffee and the rose remained part of his daily routine.
Their story had been one of quiet loyalty, shared work, and lasting care. It still felt that way—steady, warm, and full of the ordinary happiness they had built together.