Seo-in was still in the campus classroom with her best friends, Ye-rin and Anya. They lingered behind as the other students shuffled out, chatting after the first class ended.
Seo-in stretched her arms with a sigh, her expression tired but relieved. "Finally, some breathing room," she murmured, snapping her notebook shut.
Ye-rin, perched on the desk like she owned the space, smirked. "Professor Hans could make oxygen boring with that monotone. I swear he's a national sleep hazard."
Anya chuckled and elbowed Seo-in—bluntly. "Anyway … any updates on Luca lately?" she sang, eyes gleaming. Seo-in's dating life had always been chaotic enough to put half the K-drama industry out of business.
Seo-in hesitated, her fingertips tracing the edge of her notebook. "Actually … there's something bothering me."
The teasing died instantly. Ye-rin and Anya exchanged a look before leaning in, concern replacing their earlier smugness.
"What happened?" Anya asked softly.
Seo-in took a sharp breath. She hadn't meant to say this today, but it slipped out anyway. "My parents arranged a marriage meeting for me."
Silence. Even the distant footsteps in the hallway seemed to pause.
Ye-rin's eyes flew wide. "What?"
She quickly lowered her voice when a few students turned their heads. "Seo-in, you can't be serious."
Anya grabbed her wrist. "When were you going to tell us?"
"…I only found out last week," Seo-in whispered. It tasted bitter—like betrayal she hadn't processed yet. Luca didn't know either. And each day she kept quiet felt heavier.
"Then why not tell him?" Ye-rin asked.
Seo-in gripped her bag strap. "Because … you know how he is. He already thinks he's not good enough for me."
Anya and Ye-rin exchanged another look—this time not shocked, but resigned. They knew Luca's insecurities better than he wanted to admit.
Ye-rin softened—just barely—and squeezed Seo-in's shoulder. "So what? You'll wait until they force you to marry some stranger?"
Seo-in lowered her gaze, unable to look at them. "I don't know," she whispered. "I'm … scared."
Ye-rin's expression softened fully now—fear had a way of disarming even her sharpness. "Hey. He loves you. He'll understand."
Anya nodded. "And honestly? He'd be pissed if he found out from someone else."
Seo-in let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah … he would."
"Then tell him," Anya said firmly. No hesitation. "Tonight."
Seo-in inhaled deeply, fear knotting under her ribs like barbed wire. "Okay … fine." It didn't feel safe, but maybe love wasn't meant to feel safe all the time anyway.
***
While Seo-in went to the restroom, Anya and Ye-rin immediately leaned close.
"I get how she feels," Ye-rin murmured, arms crossed. "But honestly? Her parents probably know what they're doing. They're not going to marry her off to some loser. A chaebol heir isn't exactly the worst thing."
Anya shot her a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "Her own good? Really?"
Ye-rin held her ground. "Her family's rich. They wouldn't pair her with some bum. At least the guy would be stable."
"Stable," Anya repeated flatly. "Yeah, because that's totally what Seo-in wants—financial stability instead of the person she actually loves."
For the first time, Ye-rin faltered. A flicker of guilt cut through her expression before she masked it with stubbornness.
"I just … worry," she said defensively. "What if one day Luca leaves her? Men can be unpredictable. And he knows he could get someone prettier after her."
Anya rolled her eyes so hard they nearly fell out. "Oh please. Luca's obsessed with her. Whipped. He'd jump off a bridge if she asked."
Ye-rin grimaced. "Yeah, now. But they started dating in high school. What if it's just puppy love? What do they even have in common anymore besides nostalgia?"
Anya opened her mouth to argue, but—
The restroom door creaked open.
Seo-in stepped out, her face unreadable.
Had she heard?
Silence thickened the air. Ye-rin forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"So, uh … ready for the next class?"
Seo-in nodded, expression calm—but her grip on her bag tightened slightly.
***
When the last class ended and her two friends went home first, Seo-in stood near the campus gate. Luca usually came to pick her up—he always did, especially on days like this when she was exhausted from back-to-back lectures she hated.
But after waiting twenty minutes, he still hadn't appeared.
Seo-in fidgeted anxiously, thumb brushing over her phone screen as she checked it again, brows drawn tight. It wasn't like him to be late. Not anymore. Not after … everything that had happened the last time he went silent for too long.
She tried to steady her breathing.
He's fine. He's probably just busy. It's just one time … right?
She typed a message telling Luca that she could go home alone if he was really busy and not to worry about her. But even after she got off the bus, the message was still unread.
A faint tremor ran through her fingertips.
His phone could've died.
He might be stuck with something at work.
It doesn't mean he's gone again.
But her chest felt tight anyway.
Walking the last stretch to their apartment, she clutched her phone like it was the only thing anchoring her. The unread message glared back at her with the same cold, familiar weight she hated remembering—the same silence she had once endured for days without explanation, before she knew what he'd been going through. Before he'd told her the truth years later, voice trembling, about his father, the shattered phone, and the bruises he'd tried to hide. And the part he still struggled to speak about even now.
Seo-in shook her head, forcing the memory aside.
That was then. He's different now. You're different now. He wouldn't disappear like that again...
But her heart didn't quite believe her.
She stepped into the apartment, kicking off her shoes. The silence inside felt heavier than usual—dense, almost humming.
"Luca? I'm home…" she called out gently.
Nothing.
Her stomach twisted as she checked the kitchen, living room, bathroom—empty. Too empty.
He wouldn't just vanish again. He promised.
Maybe he's just running late. Maybe—
She opened the bedroom door cautiously. A dark silhouette made her heart lurch before she realized it was just his black coat hanging on the wall.
He hadn't come home at all.
Seo-in sank onto the edge of their bed. She checked her phone again, more out of desperation than expectation—
And froze.
A single notification lit up the screen like a warning bell:
[Luca] 19:20: We need to talk.
Her heart plummeted. Those four words were never good. Not from anyone. And especially not from him.
She could almost picture him saying it—jaw tight, shoulders rigid, eyes avoiding hers in that way he did when something deeply troubled him.
This should've been the moment she told him everything—about why she had been acting strange lately, about the fear that gnawed at her whenever he didn't answer. About the real wound she had been hiding since before they even got back together.
But she couldn't. Her fingers trembled too violently to type.
She typed Where are you? then deleted it.
Are you okay? delete.
Did something happen? delete.
Nothing felt right.
Eventually, she settled on the simplest, safest words:
[Seo-in] 19:28 : I'm home. Where are you?
Seconds stretched painfully long. Then—
The typing dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Reappeared.
As though he, too, was caught in some internal tug-of-war.
Finally:
[Luca] 19:32 : Be there soon.