Chapter One — The Girl Who Dreamed Beyond Borders
Sakshi had always believed that dreams were like stars — distant, shining, and impossible to reach. Yet, every night, she whispered her wishes to them, hoping that maybe one day, one of those stars would fall just close enough for her to touch.
She lived in a small but lively neighborhood in India, where mornings began with the sound of pressure cookers, street vendors calling out their prices, and the distant honks of buses rushing toward crowded roads. Life here was loud, colorful, and full of motion — yet inside Sakshi's heart, there was a quiet longing, a gentle pull toward a place she had never seen, but somehow deeply knew.
Korea.
Her room was her sanctuary. The walls were covered with handmade posters of K-drama couples, cherry blossom sketches, Hangul alphabets written carefully on sticky notes, and tiny fairy lights that glowed softly at night. On her desk lay a worn-out notebook titled in bold letters:
"MY KOREAN DREAM."
Inside it were scribbled phrases, broken Hangul sentences, character sketches, story ideas, and endless plans.
Every evening, after finishing her household chores and studies, Sakshi curled up on her bed with her phone and earphones, diving into another Korean drama. The stories of love, heartbreak, healing, and destiny pulled her into a world where emotions felt deeper, love felt purer, and hope always found a way to survive.
Sometimes she laughed loudly. Sometimes she cried silently. Sometimes she paused the episode, hugged her pillow, and whispered —
"Ek din… main bhi Korea jaungi."
One day, I will go to Korea.
Her family didn't understand this obsession.
Her mother often said,"Drama dekhna achha hai, par itna nahi. Real life pe dhyan do, Sakshi."
Her father worried about her future."Korea se pyar thik hai, par career ka kya plan hai?"
But Sakshi had a plan. A fragile, risky, hopeful plan — one built on faith and sleepless nights.
She was studying Mass Communication and Digital Media, dreaming of working in international content creation. She spent hours learning video editing, subtitling, basic Korean phrases, and storytelling techniques. Every small achievement felt like one step closer to her dream.
Yet, there was one painful truth she could never escape.
She did not know proper Korean.
She could understand simple dialogues, recognize common words, and speak tiny phrases — but real conversations terrified her.
Still, she kept going.
Because giving up scared her more than failure.
The Email That Changed Everything
It was an ordinary afternoon.
The sun poured through her window as she sat editing a short video clip for a freelance project. Her phone buzzed with a notification. Without much thought, she glanced at the screen.
New Email Received.
She almost ignored it.
Almost.
But something made her stop.
The subject line read:
"Congratulations! International Content Assistant — Seoul Office."
Her heartbeat froze.
Her fingers trembled as she opened the email.
Dear Sakshi Sharma,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the position of International Content Assistant at Haneul Media Group, Seoul, South Korea.
After reviewing your portfolio, storytelling samples, and digital projects, our panel found your creative vision unique and emotionally powerful.
Your joining date is March 18, 2026.
Please confirm your acceptance within 72 hours.
For a moment, Sakshi thought she was dreaming.
She read it again.
Then again.
Her breath hitched.
Her chest tightened.
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Korea…" she whispered. "Main… Korea jaa rahi hoon?"
She screamed so loudly that her mother rushed into the room.
"Kya hua?!"
Sakshi shoved the phone forward, unable to speak.
Her mother read the email slowly. Her eyes widened.
"Yeh… sach hai?"
Her father joined them. Then her younger brother.
The room filled with silence, disbelief, and slowly — pride.
Her mother hugged her tightly."Tu kar sakti thi. Mujhe pata tha."
But beneath Sakshi's happiness, fear quietly stirred.
Language. Culture. Loneliness. Unknown land.
Her dream was no longer a fantasy.
It was becoming real.
And reality is always heavier than dreams.
The Name She Left Behind
That night, Sakshi sat alone on her bed, staring at the glowing fairy lights.
She thought about her identity.
In Korea, her name would be difficult to pronounce.
She searched online, trying to find a Korean name close to Sakshi.
After hours of reading, she whispered —
"Seo-Ah…"
It felt soft.
Gentle.
Like cherry blossoms falling in spring.
She opened her notebook and wrote:
From today, in Korea, I am Seo-Ah.
Not to erase Sakshi.
But to let her evolve.
Goodbye India
The days flew by in a blur of visa paperwork, medical tests, packing, emotional family dinners, and endless advice.
Her mother secretly stitched a tiny cloth doll and placed it in her suitcase.
"Jab akela lage, isse baat kar lena."
Her father handed her a small diary."Isme apna safar likhna."
At the airport, Sakshi tried to be strong.
But when the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal, her heart broke into pieces.
She hugged her parents tightly.
"I'll come back. Promise."
Her mother kissed her forehead."Tu sirf apna khayal rakhna."
As she walked toward the gate, she didn't look back.
Because she knew —
If she did, she might never board that flight.
First Step Into Korea
The plane landed in Incheon International Airport early in the morning.
When Sakshi — now Seo-Ah — stepped outside, cold air brushed her cheeks.
Everything looked unreal.
Neon signs.
Fast-moving trains.
People speaking rapidly in Korean.
A language she loved — but barely understood.
Her heart pounded.
At immigration, the officer spoke something in fast Korean.
She froze.
Her mind went blank.
"Aah… sorry… English?" she whispered.
He nodded and repeated slowly.
She answered, hands shaking.
Every step forward felt like survival.
Outside, Seoul unfolded before her like a living painting.
Tall glass buildings kissed the clouds.
Cherry blossom trees lined the roads.
Neatly dressed people walked with purpose.
And somewhere between fear and wonder, Seo-Ah realized —
Her life had changed forever.
The First Problem
At her company office, everything felt too fast.
Meetings. Emails. Instructions. Deadlines.
Korean flew around her like speeding arrows.
Her colleagues were kind but busy.
Sometimes they spoke slowly.
Sometimes they forgot.
And sometimes — they simply didn't have time.
She smiled. Bowed. Thanked. Apologized.
Again and again.
Inside, she felt small.
Lost.
That night, alone in her tiny apartment, Seo-Ah collapsed onto the bed and cried.
"What if I fail?"
"What if I don't belong here?"
Her phone screen lit up.
A new message.
From an unknown Korean number.
Welcome to Korea, Seo-Ah.You will not walk this path alone.
Her tears stopped.
Her heart skipped.
Who sent this?
And how did they know her Korean name?
End of Chapter One
Far away, in another part of Seoul, a young man stood by a window, watching cherry blossoms fall.
In his hand was a file.
Employee ID: Seo-Ah (Sakshi Sharma).
His lips curved into a soft, unreadable smile.
"Welcome to Korea," he whispered.
And just like that —
Fate had begun its silent game.