Brand new person, same old mistakes

“Can’t believe it’s you of all people getting married first!” Eric yells out, raising his champagne glass in celebration. The other boys from your batch follow along. You included.

“Man, we were busting ass in Warzone and running up squads in Fortnite,” says Howard, patting his shoulder on the soon to be groom. “Now one of us is getting married and having a kid! Crazy.”

“Says the guy who’s still taking 2K seriously in the big year of 2025,” you joke.

“And what happened to you?” he then fires back, turning his attention to you. “Weren’t you engaged to someone? You were always the first of us to reach every milestone! What happened to her?”

“We —called it off. Wasn’t meant to be,” you say, casual, though inside, it bothers you a little.

“Damn dude,” Woojin interjects. He’s the lucky man waiting at the altar tomorrow. “We were all pulling for you. Mostly,” he quips.

“What do you mean, mostly?” Howard adds. “Is it cause he finally wasn’t first for once?”

To the collective laughter of the men’s table, funny he says that because you see her there too. Your lover. Right across the room.

Former love, actually.

Fate has its way of bringing people back into your life.

Tonight is as much of a class reunion as it is a wedding rehearsal. You’re all from the same batch that graduated during an uncertain time. Naturally, your journeys had diverging paths: some went far, countries and continents apart, others stayed close to home. Only now has the first of your bunch finally begun to settle down with marriage and plans to start a family soon. The nature of the world doesn’t lend itself to raising kids right now, yet the cycle continues, one way or another.

Tomorrow, Woojin’s exchanging vows with Hyeri and taking her hand in marriage. One of the boys, he was the guy who brought the guys together for night-long gaming sessions during lockdown. Somehow he locked in and graduated with everyone else when you all thought he couldn’t do it. And wouldn’t you know it, he’s found his partner for life online too. That lucky son-of-a-bitch somehow has more game than you, and kept his relationship through thick and thin—something you couldn’t accomplish.

All credit to him; he’s turned his life around and is prospering.

So this wedding is kind of your last hurrah as a group; one final sendoff to being young and reckless. It’d been years since you last saw each other, let alone did things like game and hang out. Each one is living his own life, and you’re all the better for it. Most of your conversations revolve around that early 2020s nostalgia, talking about current predicaments over copious amounts of alcohol, about finding employment in a time period where unemployed is at an all-time high, some contemplating moving back with their parents because living costs are that expensive, and others being unsatisfied or frustrated with their current occupation but powering through because Lord knows when they’ll get the opportunity to jump ship without sinking to the bottom like a majority of the population.

Ah, to be young and innocent again. Good times. Damn good times.

Life has treated you kindly for the most part; you’ve got your dream job across the country, working under a team you admire and respect, and are able to support yourself comfortably. Sure, it’s lonely sometimes, but you’ve got your own space, are financially stable, and can do whatever you want. It’s not a bad thing. Never is.

Except, you didn’t think the loneliness would catch up to you. The last time you felt truly connected was the last time you were with her.

You’re not sure how the topic came up, but you’re reminiscing about the old times, and the boys are asking you why you called it off with her.

“We just weren’t meant to be,” you remark, deep in thought. “She deserved someone better.”

“Better than you, man?” says Eric. “I think you’re selling yourself short. I remember when we were doing the whole Zoom dating thing. You were a mess.”

“A hot mess,” Howard chimes in.

“You were the first one of us to find someone. How the hell did you manage to call it off with her and not screw it up?"Jann adds.

"How the fuck should I know,” you reply, exasperated. “I guess—it just stopped clicking. Or I did something wrong and I never noticed.”

It’s a dour question to be asking especially when one of the guys is gonna tie the knot with a woman the next day. So you brush it aside and excuse yourself from the conversation.

“Hey, you mind if I—”

“Go ahead. We’ll probably hit the club later,” Jann tells you.

“Good luck, bro,” Woojin calls out. “Don’t go falling for any of the bridesmaids, okay?”

“Ha. Funny.” You shoot him a mocking scowl.

As you leave the table, you’re scanning the venue, searching for her. It’s an open bar, and there are plenty of places to hide away and have a quiet drink. Or going outside for a smoke break. Either option works. Hell, calling it early might be your best way out.

You’re not the same outgoing man you were in your youth years ago.

Just as you sit up and ask the bartender for a drink, she comes in, unassuming: taking the seat right beside yours, telling the waiter she’ll have the same thing.

You don’t bother turning your head to recognize her presence.

“Minju.”

“Hey, darling.”

It’s been over two years since you called it quits in pursuit of this dream job; a long-distance relationship was too impractical given the nature of your livelihoods, even more so when there’s a 12 hour timezone gap separating you. In reality, it was never meant to last; she was an exchange student who you miraculously kept close contact with after graduating. She was never meant to stay on your side of the world.

But you still met. Still held each other. Felt genuine warmth in each other’s arms. The time was short, but meaningful.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” you say, remarking at her unexpected presence at this rehearsal dinner. Most of her schedules never made it outside of Asia; her foreign trips were brief excursions, for magazine shoots and commercial ads. Nothing more.

“It’s only for Suzette,” she tells you, adjusting a small strand of hair tucked close to her ear. “I couldn’t turn down being a bridesmaid for a childhood friend. How’ve you been?” she asks, casual, like friends catching up and not former lovers.

“Same shit, different day,” you respond. “Work, sleep, repeat. Same goes for you, I’d imagine.”

“Somewhat,” she answers, tilting her head. “My agency has me doing a lot of gigs overseas recently. So, not much difference.”

“You’re not based in Korea anymore?”

“Still am.”

“Then, why are you here?”

“Like I said, it’s only for the wedding,” she replies, resting her head on her palm, waiting for her drink. “And—there’s been talks.”

“About?”

“About Hollywood. Trying to get me in. Nothing’s been finalized, though.”

If only this were two years ago instead of now. Considering your social circles overlapped, seeing her at one of your friend’s weddings was inevitable, but you’d be talking about your own plans to get married rather than talking about the fumbled bag, the one that got away, that could haves, the should haves, the what ifs. That’s the most bittersweet feeling.

“Congratulations in advance,” you genuinely tell her.

“Thanks,” says Minju, smiling, but you can tell there’s a tinge of weariness and doubt behind her expression. “And how about you? What’s been happening?”

“The usual,” you reply. “Working, sleeping. Not much else. Sometimes I go out, have a few drinks, meet a couple girls, but nothing serious.”

“Sounds like you,” she says, smirking.