Strings of Fate

Chapter 2: The Quiet Song (Min-Ho's POV)

Six months. That's how long I'd been on the road.  

It was something I really liked to do. Living off of music, singing for my fans. But I can't say it's all roses. Sometimes I do feel lonely even with all the chaos in my life.

I stepped off the plane and walked through the bustling airport. In the distance, a massive crowd was already waiting for me. Most of them were excitedly waving signs—handmade, colorful, with my name written in bold letters.

Joon Min-Ho.

I was here for one more show on my tour, nearing the end of six long months traveling around the globe. I'm grateful for all the fans I have, for all the support and for reaching so many people, but it is also a tiring job. 

The car pulled up to the hotel. Another city, another hotel—it was all a blur at times, fast trips with little time to really enjoy the place.

The check-in and all the formalities were taken care of by my staff. I could just go to my room and rest to prepare for the busy day ahead. As I stepped into the elevator, a faint buzz of activity greeted me. Amid the shuffle of guests and staff, a petite woman at the reception desk caught my attention.

She wasn't like the people I usually saw in these places. No sky-high heels, no designer handbags. Nothing that looked like she wanted to impress. Simple clothes, little to no makeup, yet pretty.

Petite, with dark hair cascading over her shoulders and a purposeful air about her, she carried herself with the grace of a woman but the lightness of someone genuinely happy to be here.

She barely looked around the lobby, focused instead on the receptionist as she handed over her ID. The doors closed before I realized I was staring.

It had been a long day for me, so I tried to sleep, but rest wouldn't come. And on top of that I woke up before my alarm.

Every concert was different, but this one felt heavier somehow. I wasn't sure if it was because it was my first time in Brazil or because of the months of buildup. Either way, I was awake, staring at the ceiling of my hotel room.

By 9:00 AM, my schedule was already underway. After a quick breakfast, I headed to the concert hall for rehearsals. There was always something about stepping onto the stage for the first time on show day. It reminded me even more why I loved what I did.

By mid-morning, I moved to the pressroom for interviews. Cameras flashed as I walked in, greeted by the usual questions about the tour and performing for fans worldwide.

The interviews wrapped up by early afternoon, giving me a brief window to eat and rest. But rest was relative. My thoughts wouldn't slow down. I lay on the couch in the dressing room, headphones on, listening to the setlist on repeat, so that when I stepped on stage, it would all flow naturally.

By 3:00 PM, it was time for the final soundcheck. The concert hall was empty except for the crew. Standing there, mic in hand, I let my voice carry through the hall, and for the first time all day, I felt calm.

Soon it would be time to go on stage and as it approached, the familiar mix of nerves and adrenaline took over.

When the moment finally came, the lights dimmed, and the first chords of the opening song played. I stepped out onto the stage, the roar of the crowd hitting me like a wave.

The lights shone down as I sang the first lines, my gaze sweeping across the crowd. People were smiling, hands waving, some even singing the lyrics back to me.

The show proceeded without problems and ended on a good note.

Hours later, back in my hotel room, I still couldn't sleep. My heart was full. The crowd had been incredible—their energy, which had surged through me like electricity, lingered even now.

I opened the window for some fresh air. That's when I heard it—a voice.

It was faint at first, just a hum. But as I listened, it grew clearer. A woman's voice, singing softly, delicately.

"I'll stay beside you, even when the skies fall.
If you're tired of holding it in, just rest in me.
You don't have to smile when it hurts.
Let me be the one who supports you."

My song.

I leaned out the window, scanning nearby, and there she was—the same woman from the lobby, standing by her window, her back to me as she sang.

For a moment, I just listened, letting her voice wash over me. She didn't know I was there, didn't know I was listening. But her voice stirred something inside me, something I couldn't quite name.

She disappeared inside before I could think of what to do. But even after she was gone, her voice lingered, wrapping itself around my thoughts. I didn't know who she was or why she had such an effect on me, but I decided to ignore those strange feelings and give in to my exhaustion from a long day of work.

Morning came, and my body felt tired. I was hungry and wanted to eat in peace, but fame could be burdensome on days like these. Fortunately, the hotel offered a VIP dining area—private and secluded, with a panoramic view of the restaurant below. It was perfect.

I took a seat by the glass railing and ordered a light breakfast with coffee. As I took a sip, my gaze wandered over the restaurant below. People moved about. My breath caught as I recognized her, the woman from last night.

She was seated by the windows, sunlight catching the dark waves of her hair. Her face was partially hidden, but the way she tilted her head down, completely absorbed in her phone, sparked something familiar. The faint, genuine smile she wore was beautiful. And before I could notice, I was smiling too.

I found myself leaning forward slightly, as though the motion could somehow bridge the space between us. It was ridiculous, I knew, yet I couldn't look away.

The hours passed too quickly. After breakfast, I returned to my suite and packed my things. The next destination awaited. And yet, my mind kept circling back to her. I didn't know why, but it didn't matter—because I was never going to see her again.

Little did I know that I was completely wrong. And that she would turn my entire world upside down.