Beyond the Seasons E-Book

Danniel Paraiso Da Silva

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 172

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

At 28, Yoon Sae-jin is a young executive on the rise at the powerful Mirae Corporation in Seoul. Intelligent, meticulous and emotionally restrained, she hides behind her professional perfection the recent and devastating loss of her mother, victim of a rare hereditary cancer. Sae-jin refuses to show weakness, even in the face of suffocating grief. Every year, she travels alone to Paris, her city of refuge, where she relives memories of lighter times. There, she reunites with her inseparable childhood friends, the dreamy fashion designer Baek Eun-soo and the irreverent French-Korean Camille Duval, owner of a small café in the Marais. During one of these encounters, Sae-jin meets Dr. Eliah Moreau, a brilliant and charismatic oncologist with a past as mysterious as the way he looks at her. Despite their immediate connection, Sae-jin imposes a distance. But fate insists on bringing them together when Eliah temporarily moves to Seoul for an international project with Haneul Hospital. Their friendship blossoms, giving way to a delicate love, but challenged by distance, Eliah's demanding profession, and the ghosts of both their pasts. Driven by the desire to live life to the fullest, they decide to travel the world together and fulfill a promise: to visit ten destinations before the seasons change. Japan, Iceland, Morocco, New Zealand... Each place becomes a chapter in the love that grows between them.

Leseprobe

Copyright

© 2025 by Danniel Paraiso

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical reviews or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is entirely coincidental.

Introduction

At 28, Yoon Sae-jin is a young executive on the rise at the powerful Mirae Corporation in Seoul. Intelligent, meticulous and emotionally restrained, she hides behind her professional perfection the recent and devastating loss of her mother, a victim of a rare hereditary cancer. Sae-jin refuses to show weakness, even in the face of overwhelming grief.

Every year, she travels alone to Paris, her city of refuge, where she relives memories of lighter times. There, she reunites with her inseparable childhood friends, the dreamy fashion designer Baek Eun-soo and the irreverent French-Korean Camille Duval, owner of a small café in the Marais. During one of these encounters, Sae-jin meets Dr. Eliah Moreau, a brilliant and charismatic oncologist with a past as mysterious as the way he looks at her.

Despite their immediate connection, Sae-jin imposes distance. But fate insists on bringing them together again when Eliah temporarily moves to Seoul for an international project with Haneul Hospital. Their friendship blossoms, giving way to a delicate love, but one that is challenged by distance, Eliah’s demanding profession, and the ghosts of their past.

Driven by the desire to live life to the fullest, they decide to travel the world together and fulfill a promise: to visit ten destinations before the seasons change. Japan, Iceland, Morocco, New Zealand… Each place becomes a chapter in the love that grows between them.

However, time begins to take its toll. Back in Seoul, Sae-jin feels her body failing her. Tests confirm the worst: she carries the same gene that took her mother. Faced with fear and pain, she hides the disease from everyone — including Eliah.

As if that weren’t enough, she has to deal with Seo Na-kyung, a cruel and manipulative rival at the company, who sees Sae-jin’s fragility as the perfect opportunity to rise. The unexpected return of Han Ji-won, her ex-fiancé now vice president of Mirae, reopens poorly healed wounds and intensifies conflicts at work and in her personal life.

On the other side of the world, Eliah begins to suspect Sae-jin’s sudden silence and, upon discovering the truth, leaves everything to fight by her side. But the love that unites them will be tested not only by illness, but by family secrets, betrayals and decisions that could change the course of their lives forever.

Dedication

For those who stayed. Even when everything said to leave. Even when the world seemed too big. Even when the body no longer responded and the soul asked for a truce. For those who lost. For those who waited. For those who loved in silence and kept their hearts open — even when hurt. This book is for those who believe that love does not end with absence, that hope survives the winters, and that some stories They need to go through all the seasons to finally blossom. And for you, who read these pages with an open chest: Thank you for staying. — Yoon Sae-jin (in the words of someone who saw her bloom)

Beyond the Seasons Daniel Paradise

Summary | Beyond the Seasons WINTER — Where everything seems to stop

• The Day I Didn’t Forget

• Silence Within Me

• Paris, Coffee and Memories

• A Meeting and a Farewell

• Seoul in Shades of Gray

• Silent Diagnosis

• Secrets That Protect Me

• The Invisible Rival

• When the Past Returns

• Letters I Didn’t Send

AUTUMN — What begins to fall to make room for the new

• Distance That Brings Closer

• The First Goodbyes

• A Promise Across Borders

• Returns and New Beginnings

• Japan, Morocco, Iceland

• Living in Ten Places

• Love in Silence

• When the Body Speaks

• What I Didn’t Say

• The Pains I Kept

• Fragility and Courage

• Paris in Secret

• A Love That Doesn’t Leave

• The Decision to Stay

• My Heart In Your Hands

SPRING — When everything starts to bloom

• Return to Childhood

• The Last Letter

• The Silent House

• Memories in Drawers

• What My Mother Left

• Visible Scars

• Camille’s Handkerchief

• Eun-soo and the Paintings

• Flowers for a New Beginning • Jibun Garden

• When Pain is a Bridge

• Words That Heal

• Yu-ri and the Lost Letter

• Someone Who Saw Me

• The Woman in the Mirror

SUMMER — The fullness of a new beginning

• The House You Carry in Your Chest

• That Which Arrives Without Warning

• That Which Begins Within

• When the Heart Beats for Two

• Naming the Future

• The House That Went Silent

• The Night Before I See You • • When Life Enters with Light

• Learn to Be Light

• The First Chapter of a New Story

• Write to Come Back in a Different Way

• Return as if you were staying

• When the Word Touches Someone

• Teaching Lightness Without Erasing Pain

• When the Image Also Heals

AFTER — The gentle eternity of those who chose to stay

• When the World Listens in Silence

• What’s Left When We’re Gone

• The Voice That Doesn’t Need to Shout

• The World in One Hand and Love in the Other

• When Another’s Voice Echoes Yours

• When Words Bloom in Another Hand • When Three Generations Speak the Same Language

• The Smallest Voice That Played the Farthest

• When the Future Begins to Write Itself

• The Day Other Voices Spoke for Her

• The Letter That Asked for No Reply

• The Girl Who Knew the End of the Story

• The Gesture That Changed the Scene

• When History Finds New Screens

• The Voice That Opens the First Door

• The Actress Who Also Carried Silences • When the First Episode Breathes

• The Stories That Are Born Where Everything Begins

• When Someone’s Silence Depends on What You Wrote

• The Book That Comes After the Storm

Epilogue — The Last Station Acknowledgements About the Author

Chapter 1 – Winter Silence

Snow fell lightly on the rooftops of Seoul, as if the sky was also mourning. Inside the car parked in front of the crematorium, Yoon Sae-jin kept her hands folded in her lap, motionless. Her gray wool coat absorbed the cold that penetrated through the fogged-up windows, but she didn’t seem to feel anything. Not the winter outside, nor the winter inside her.

Outside, family members dispersed in silence, some holding handkerchiefs, others exchanging awkward glances. She did not follow them. She watched everything from a distance, like someone watching a movie with the sound off. Her eyes were dry. They had dried out two days ago, right after her mother had said her last word, a whisper: “You have to live, Sae-jin… for me.” But how to live? For whom? With what purpose? Beside him, the driver cleared his throat discreetly, waiting for instructions.

It took Sae-jin a few seconds to notice his presence. Then he simply nodded.

He understood. The car pulled away from the crematorium slowly, cutting through the solemnly swaying pine trees. The phone vibrated in his pocket. Several unread messages. Eun-soo, Camille, Han Ji-won, even his boss, President Hwang, sending formal condolences. Sae-jin deleted them all, one by one, without reading them.

She didn’t want to be touched. She didn’t want to share that pain, nor carry it in public. Her mourning would be a secret, just like everything else in her life.

Arriving at the apartment, she turned on a few lights. She took off her coat, hung it carefully and went to the small shelf where a photo frame stood. It was an old photo of her, her mother and her father, taken in Paris, in front of a bakery. Her father had died when she was 14.

Now, there was only her left. He walked to the balcony. The city glowed below, indifferent to his loss. Sae-jin closed his eyes. He needed to get out of here. He needed to breathe air that wasn’t tainted by absence.

And then she decided: Paris. Like every year, like every winter, like every escape. Only this time, there would be no promises of returning. Just the attempt to find herself amidst the chaos of the seasons.

The next morning, with the same coolness with which he closed million-dollar contracts, he bought the ticket and packed his suitcase. He took nothing but the essentials — and the photo frame. At the bottom of the suitcase, among socks and black clothes, he also kept a secret: a pain that no one else needed to know about.

Chapter 2 – The Café on Vieille-du-Temple Street

The plane landed on French soil just before dawn. Paris was waking up lazily, enveloped in a soft mist that hung over the rooftops and the banks of the Seine. Yoon Sae-jin passed through immigration without difficulty, accustomed to the city as if it were her second home. Or perhaps the only one where she could breathe without being observed.

She left her bags in the small apartment she rented annually in Le Marais, on the third floor of an old building with narrow staircases and windows that creaked when opened. The familiar smell of old wood and lavender greeted her with a silent embrace.

Wasting no time, he walked through the wet streets to his usual café: La Maison Camille—named after its owner, his childhood friend. A hand-painted sign swayed slightly in the wind, and the smell of freshly ground coffee wafted across the sidewalk.

As he entered, the bell over the door tinkled softly. — Mon dieu! — Camille Duval exclaimed, coming from behind the counter with a warm smile and a flour-stained apron. — You arrived unannounced, as always! Sae-jin smiled sideways, the best she could at that moment. Camille wrapped her in a tight hug, saying nothing more. She knew. She always knew.

They were raised almost like sisters between Seoul and Paris, separated only by years and silence. Soon after, the door opened again and in walked Baek Eun-soo, an emerging fashion designer, with her red hair tied in a messy bun and a patterned scarf. “Guess who showed up without giving any sign of life?” Camille said, pointing at Sae-jin. Eun-soo dropped her bag on the floor and ran over to her.

“Sae-jin!” he said with a choked voice. “Why didn’t you answer me? I tried…” Sae-jin interrupted her with a calm look. — I’m here now. That’s what matters, right? Camille served the warm coffees and croissants. The three of them sat at the table by the window, their usual spot. For a few minutes, all they could hear was the sound of the city. The subway passing in the background, the cars, the bicycles, the hurried steps of the Parisians.

“Let’s do something different this year,” Camille said, breaking the silence. “No hiding what you’re feeling. No running away from what happened. You don’t have to be strong with us.” Sae-jin looked away to the street. A couple was walking hand in hand under a transparent umbrella. She clutched the cup between her fingers. — Maybe… I just need a little more time.

“Then we’ll give you time. But we won’t leave you alone,” Eun-soo replied. It was at that exact moment that the café door opened again, and a tall man walked in, taking off his scarf and shaking the snow from his shoulders. Camille’s eyes lit up.

— Doctor Moreau! What a surprise! The man smiled pleasantly and walked over to the counter. Sae-jin didn’t look up from his cup. But for some reason, he felt something inexplicable. As if the air had changed density. “An espresso, please,” he said in impeccable French. “And… can you recommend a good book of Korean poetry? My Korean is still terrible, but I’m trying to improve.” Camille laughed. — You’ve come to the right place. We have an expert here. And he discreetly pointed at Sae-jin. She looked up for the first time. His eyes met hers. A brief but profound silence crossed the space between them.

— Bonjour, he said, with a serene smile. — Eliah Moreau. — Yoon Sae-jin. And there, without them realizing, the world began to spin at a different speed.

Chapter 3 – Between Poems and Silences

The next day, the cold intensified, covering the streets of Paris with a thin layer of ice that made the ground shine like glass. Sae-jin woke before the sun. She took a long shower, put on a cream-colored wool sweater, and tied her hair into a simple bun. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a face she no longer fully recognized. Less pain, perhaps. More tired. Or just the weight of trying to look good.

He decided to return to the café. The morning light felt different there. As if this place had its own time, immune to the rest of the world. Camille was already organizing books on the makeshift bookshelf in the left corner of the room when Sae-jin entered. —Did you sleep well? — he asked, without looking at her. “Well enough to be here,” he replied, picking up a cup and pouring himself some freshly brewed coffee.

A few minutes later, the door opened. Eliah Moreau entered, this time without haste, as if he had already expected to see her again. — Ah, so my poetry expert is back. Sae-jin raised an eyebrow, somewhat amused. — Expert is an exaggeration. But I can suggest a few names.

—I accept the recommendation… with coffee — he said, smiling. They sat at one of the tables near the bookshelf. Camille, with a knowing look, left them alone, hiding her own curiosity while she attended to other customers. “You seem to know this neighborhood like a Parisian,” Eliah commented. — My parents brought me here every winter. The town remained after they left.

“I’m sorry,” he said, without regret, just truth. “I lost someone important too.” Sae-jin kept his eyes fixed on the cup. — My mother, two weeks ago. Eliah nodded slightly. — My sister. Three years ago. Cancer. The word hung between them like a thin shadow.

— You’re an oncologist, right? — Yes. Maybe as a way to fight against what took her from me. — He gave a small smile. — But sometimes, I think it’s also a form of punishment. She watched him for a moment. There was something in his gaze—a mixture of strength and melancholy—that slowly disarmed her. — And why Korean poetry? — Because it reminds me that there is beauty even in loss. You Koreans have an almost cruel talent for transforming pain into art.

She smiled for the first time, for real. — There’s a word for it. “Han.” A deep, silent sadness that doesn’t go away but shapes who we are. — Then maybe I have a little bit of ‘Han’ in me too — he replied, without taking his eyes off her.

Time passed without them noticing. Between books, memories and honest exchanges, the walls built around the two began to crack. Late in the afternoon, Eliah got up and put on his coat. — Are you coming back tomorrow? — he asked.

Sae-jin hesitated. But then, in a low voice, he replied: — Maybe. If the world allows it. Eliah smiled. — I hope he allows it. See you tomorrow, then. As he left, Camille approached, laughing with a dish towel in her hands. — And you thought you couldn’t be touched by anyone anymore.

Sae-jin, with his face turned toward the street, replied in a whisper: — I thought so too.

Chapter 4 – Invisible Bridges

The next day dawned gray, with heavy clouds covering Paris like a thick blanket. Still, Sae-jin felt different. Not light—it was still early for that—but…less heavy. As if, for the first time in a long time, there was air between her ribs.

She arrived at the café a little later, wearing a caramel-colored overcoat and leather boots. The bell on the door jingled familiarly. Eliah was already waiting for her, sitting by the window, with two coffees and a worn-cover book in his hands. — You said maybe. So I bet on yes. — He smiled.

Sae-jin sat down, without answering immediately, but with a slight gasp on his lips that he was already beginning to decipher as a “silent yes.” “What book is that?” she asked, pointing to the volume. —A collection by Yi Sang. Camille recommended it to me.

— He was brilliant. And tragic. He died very young, of tuberculosis. — I like those who left too soon. They leave words like living epitaphs. Sae-jin watched him. Eliah spoke as if he carried centuries inside him. He was a man of comfortable silences, of long looks, of attentive listening. Someone who didn’t need to prove anything. And that, somehow, dismantled the walls she had built.

“Do you have plans today?” he asked casually. - None. — Then let me show you the city… my way. She hesitated for a moment. But then she found herself saying: — That’s fine. As long as your “way” doesn’t involve crowded tourist spots.

— I promise zero selfies with the Eiffel Tower. They set out on foot, making their way through the narrow streets of the Marais, crossing stone bridges and hidden alleys. Eliah took her to an underground bookstore where poets sold their own hand-bound notebooks. Then they passed a flower market where he bought a single white peony and handed it to her without a word. She held it as if she were holding a secret.

In the late afternoon, they stopped in front of the Pont des Arts, now without padlocks, but with the same magical view of the Seine winding under the sky. “Have you ever loved anyone?” he asked, directly but gently. Sae-jin stared at the water for a few seconds before answering. — Once. Long story. Predictable ending. - And you? Eliah let out a sigh that seemed to come from far away. — I tried. But I could never love without fear. And loving with fear… isn’t real love, right? She looked at him, this time a little more tenderly.

— Maybe fear is part of it. What matters is what we do in spite of it. For a moment, they said nothing more. They just stood there, side by side, watching the city lights come on one by one, like promises thrown to the wind. When they said goodbye that night, without touch or promise, Sae-jin carried with him more than a flower. He carried, without realizing it, the first traces of something he tried to resist calling hope.

Chapter 5 – The Weight of Departures

The following days blended into shades of white and gray. Paris was still freezing, but there was warmth in the small gestures: a cup of hot coffee, a book left on the table, a handwritten note with a quote from Rilke — “Love consists in this: that two solitudes protect each other, touch each other, greet each other.” Eliah and Sae-jin started meeting every day, at the same cafe.

Sometimes they would go for short walks. Other times, they would just talk for hours, sharing silences and fragments of the past. But as the city became the setting for something that was slowly growing, inside Sae-jin a dilemma began to take shape. The closer she felt to Eliah, the more she feared what that meant. Was she allowing herself to… feel? She’d never been good at it. Over time, she’d learned to keep everything in compartments—the professional, the personal, the intimate, the unacceptable. Eliah messed it all up effortlessly. And it scared her.

That morning, she woke before the sun. She ran her hands over her face and, for the first time in weeks, cried silently. It was a different kind of crying—not for her mother’s grief, but for the confusion that rose up inside her. At the café, Eliah was waiting for her with two apple pies and the same discreet smile. — Did you sleep well? — he asked. — No — he answered honestly. He nodded, as if he understood without needing to question. Then he handed her a thin envelope.

— You don’t need to open it now. - What is it? — Something of mine. Something I only share with those who… really get through to me. She held the envelope, but did not open it. She just carefully put it in her bag. “I need to tell you something,” she said later, outside, as they walked through the damp leaves. “I’m going back to Seoul.” Eliah stopped walking, but he didn’t seem surprised. - When? — The day after tomorrow. He kept his eyes fixed on her, trying to decipher what was behind her decision. Part of him wanted to ask her to stay. Another part understood that now was not the time. “Then we will have one more day,” he said calmly. “And that is already a lot.”

— Aren’t you going to ask why? — When someone leaves, the reason is less important than the silence they leave behind. Sae-jin felt a lump in her throat. But she swallowed it before it overflowed. That night, she sat by the apartment window with the envelope in her hands. She opened it slowly.