The morning sun filtered through the classroom windows, casting long, warm beams across the polished floors. Ha-rin adjusted her bag strap, glancing around to make sure the desks were perfectly aligned. As usual, she arrived early.
And as usual, Arjun was already there.
He sat at the desk near the window, headphones draped around his neck, fiddling with something on his phone. When he saw Ha-rin, he lifted a hand in a half-wave, half-bow.
"Good morning," he said, a little breathless, as if the movement had been exhausting.
Ha-rin smiled politely. "Good morning. You made it on time today. Impressive."
Arjun shrugged. "Subway… late. But… fast."
Ha-rin rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips.
The day began with English class, where Ha-rin secretly noticed how Arjun's accent made the teacher's words come alive in an unfamiliar rhythm. He participated carefully, hesitating sometimes, but always trying.
After class, she found him struggling with the vending machine in the hallway.
"You need help?" she asked.
Arjun looked flustered. "Yes… machine… bad."
He had inserted a thousand-won coin, pressed a button, and nothing came out. A small line of sweat formed at his temple.
Ha-rin pressed the same button, and the soda can tumbled down with a soft clink. She handed it to him.
"Thank you," he said, smiling sheepishly.
"No problem," she said. "Next time, ask before fighting vending machines."
Lunch was a small chaos of trays, noisy chatter, and cafeteria smells that Arjun cautiously sniffed.
"Rice… spicy?" he asked.
"Sometimes," Ha-rin said, passing him a portion of kimchi. "Try a little first."
He took a tiny bite and immediately coughed. His eyes watered, but he refused to let go of the chopsticks.
"Too… spicy," he admitted, laughing softly.
Ha-rin giggled. "You're braver than I expected."
After lunch, Ha-rin had arranged to show Arjun around the neighborhood near the school. It was a small stretch of streets lined with convenience stores, stationery shops, and a few cafés that were already filling with students.
As they walked, Arjun's phone buzzed with a notification. He looked down and frowned.
"What's wrong?" Ha-rin asked.
"I… message… friend… home. Missing… Chennai." His words were clipped, careful.
Ha-rin stopped and gave him a small, empathetic smile. "It's okay. You're here now. You have friends here."
He hesitated, then nodded. "Friends… yes."
Their first stop was a tiny music shop tucked between a café and a bakery. Ha-rin had passed it countless times but never entered. Inside, rows of CDs, vinyl records, and small speakers filled the space with the faint scent of paper and plastic.
Arjun's eyes widened. "Music… here…?"
Ha-rin laughed. "Yes. Do you want to see?"
He followed her down the narrow aisles, picking up CDs with curiosity. When he found a Tamil album, his face lit up. "Home… music."
He pressed play on a small player, and soft drums filled the air. Ha-rin tilted her head, listening to the rhythm, trying to follow the words. They were strange, unfamiliar, but… somehow vibrant.
"It's… different," she said.
Arjun smiled. "Different… good?"
"Very good," Ha-rin said. She realized, again, how little she knew about life outside her neatly planned schedule. This was a small adventure, but it felt enormous.
After music, Ha-rin suggested they try a nearby snack shop. Arjun ordered a spicy rice cake with confidence. When the first bite burned his tongue, he laughed, grabbing a bottle of water. Ha-rin couldn't stop laughing either.
"You okay?" she asked, wiping tears from her eyes.
"Yes… spicy… fun."
The day rolled on with small misadventures: Arjun bowing too low to a stranger, getting confused by a one-way street, almost boarding the wrong bus. Each time, Ha-rin would gently guide him back, correct his mistakes, or help him navigate the chaos of Seoul.
By the time they returned to the school gate, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. Cherry blossom petals, caught in the evening wind, twirled around their feet.
Ha-rin realized she had stopped paying attention to her usual schedule. She wasn't thinking about homework, deadlines, or grades. She was thinking about Arjun — the way he tilted his head, the way he laughed, and the strange warmth in her chest she hadn't expected.
"Thank you," Arjun said softly, as they paused. "Today… good day."
Ha-rin tilted her head. "It was. For you?"
"Yes… good. You… good guide."
Her cheeks warmed. "Guide?"
He nodded earnestly. "Yes. Guide… and… friend?"
Ha-rin blinked, the word hitting her softly. Friend. That was simple, but… it carried weight she hadn't realized.
"Friend," she repeated, smiling. "Yes. Friend."
That night, Ha-rin lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her neat life, her perfectly planned schedule, suddenly felt different. She thought about Arjun — his accent, his laughter, the tiny ways he stumbled yet kept going.
And she realized, with a mix of excitement and fear, that maybe this year wasn't going to be ordinary at all.
Maybe, just maybe… it was going to be unforgettable.