A child on an airplane knowingly sips soda, bracing for the sting in his nose. Flight attendant Sagang (Suzy), who hands him the drink, has loved in just that way: intoxicated despite foreseeing the ache. Her lover, Captain Jung-su (Yoo Ji-tae), is both married and her superior—an affair fated to collapse under its own weight. The break, though inevitable, leaves her sleepless and restless, caught in the cruel recoil of her own choice. One night, she lingers on a social media post: “I’ve been heartbroken.” It offers a peculiar remedy—join a breakfast at seven, with others who would rather not be alone. Against her better judgment, yet drawn by the faint promise of communion, Sagang clicks the link. Among the attendees is Ji-hoon (Lee Jin-uk), still staggering after the end of a decade-long relationship. A corporate lecturer fluent in the cadences of classical literature, he cannot find a single line that speaks to his own wound. Hoping to mask his despair among strangers, Ji-hoon instead finds his ex, Hyun-jung (Keum Sae-rok), across the room. He flees. At that very moment, Sagang—equally unable to maintain her performance of composure—collides with him. Without realizing it, they exchange ‘tokens of their broken hearts’ before parting. Director Lim Sun-ae, who drew attention with An Old Lady (2019) and Ms. Apocalypse (2023) at BIFF, has shown a recurring interest in aftermaths rather than events. Her characters attempt to rewrite the stories of past loves through new connections. Here, Sagang and Ji-hoon remain apart for much of the runtime, yet are pulled into each other’s orbit through displaced objects. Only when her book rests in his hands, and his camera in hers, do they allow each other to layer their grief upon the traces of someone else’s. The film shines in moments where it delicately calibrates these temporal dissonances through image and sound. Borrowing Ji-hoon’s viewfinder, she re-sees a fleeting encounter she could never have dared to capture, now softened by the grain of film. Suzy’s performance, virtually captured in these fleeting instants— fragile, unguarded, luminous— anchors the film. She embodies not only the emotional breadth required of the character but also the faint aftertaste of 1990s Korean melodrama, which Lim has cited as a touchstone. Even while faithfully adhering to the storyline of the source novel, Seven O’Clock Breakfast Club for the Brokenhearted quietly asserts that a director’s unique world can still come alive within it.