CHAPTER 16
The next morning, Ji-eun felt lighter than she had in months.
She and Min-jun were… something now.
Not fully defined.
Not loudly announced.
But real.
She walked through the school gates expecting to see him waiting like yesterday.
But he wasn't there.
Her smile faded a little.
Maybe he was late?
She went to her locker — still no Min-jun.
By the time she reached the classroom, she felt a small, uncomfortable twist in her chest.
Min-jun was there.
But something was off.
He wasn't looking at her.
His headphones were on, his head down, pretending to scroll through his phone even though the screen wasn't moving.
Ji-eun approached slowly.
"Good morning," she said softly.
He didn't look up.
"Morning."
Short.
Cold.
Not like yesterday.
Her stomach tightened.
"…Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
Another short answer.
She sat quietly, biting her lip.
Had she done something wrong?
When class ended, she tried again.
"Min-jun, did I—"
"You didn't do anything," he cut in quickly.
But he still didn't look at her.
That hurt more than the cold tone.
She gathered her courage.
"Then why are you acting like this?"
Silence.
Min-jun still didn't look up.
Ji-eun felt a sting in her chest — a mix of frustration and sadness.
"You said you didn't want to let go of my hand yesterday," she whispered.
"But today, you can't even look at me."
That finally made him freeze.
Slowly…
Very slowly…
He lifted his eyes to hers.
And they weren't cold.
They were confused.
Frustrated.
And something else — something softer underneath.
He sighed and rubbed his forehead.
"…I didn't sleep well," he muttered.
"Kept thinking."
"About what?" Ji-eun asked quietly.
He hesitated.
Then the truth slipped out:
"About whether I'm good enough for you."
Ji-eun's breath caught.
He looked away again, fingers tightening around his notebook.
"You're quiet. You're gentle. You're… good," he said softly.
"And I'm—"
"Min-jun," she whispered.
He stopped.
"You're you," she said firmly.
"And I like you the way you are."
His jaw tightened, like he didn't believe it.
Ji-eun took a deep breath and reached for his hand under the desk — a tiny gesture.
He didn't pull away.
"Min-jun," she said softly, her voice shaking a little.
"Don't decide how I should feel. Let me choose who I care about."
He stared at her, stunned.
The classroom noise faded behind them.
Finally, he spoke:
"…I'm not used to this."
"I know," she whispered.
"But you don't have to be perfect."
Silence.
Then — finally — Min-jun let out a long breath, leaning a little closer.
"Sorry," he said quietly.
"I didn't mean to make you worry."
Ji-eun smiled weakly.
"I worry because I care."
He swallowed hard.
And then he intertwined his fingers with hers under the desk — tighter than yesterday, as if he was afraid of losing the place he'd just taken in her heart.
"Don't let go," he whispered.
"I won't," she promised.
And the tiny argument — filled with insecurity and misunderstanding — ended with their hands clasped together, stronger than before.