Tomi's POV
The first thing I did the next morning was just… breathe. Not the shallow, half-panicked kind of breathing I'd been doing for days, but a deep, lung-stretching inhale that actually felt like it was doing something good for me. My chest didn't feel tight anymore. My head wasn't buzzing. I kept on reading Tae-ho's text over and over again. I read it about twenty times before I finally let myself sleep. The relief was strange. Heavy, but not suffocating. It was more like a weighted blanket. It didn't erase the past week, but it dulled the sharp edges. For the first time in days, I didn't immediately reach for the news feed when I woke up. I didn't want to see flashing headlines or screaming comment sections. I just wanted quiet. Outside my window, the sun was peeking through thin clouds. The heater hummed in the corner of the room, and Nia was already gone, probably for her early morning class. Yuri's bed was still a mess from where she'd slept in, and Sasha's desk light was on, I guess she was probably cramming for something again. I lay there for a while, fingers curled around my phone, thinking about how fast everything had spun out of control. Just a week ago, I'd been panicking about shifts at the café, my scholarship review, and whether I'd have enough for groceries. Then Min-Jae's accident had ripped through all of that like a storm, throwing me into days of waiting, refreshing, worrying, not eating properly… Now, he was okay. And I could finally think about my own life again. I got up, showered, and made myself an actual breakfast — not just instant coffee and a piece of toast. While the eggs cooked, I kept glancing at my phone, wondering if it would buzz again with another update from Tae-ho. But nothing came. That was fine. It wasn't like I had a right to constant updates. Tae-ho didn't owe me anything. Min-Jae didn't, either. I was just… someone who happened to know him. But the truth sat stubbornly in my chest: I wanted to be more than just "someone who happened to know him." By the time I got to my first class, I'd already made a mental list of what I needed to fix: Stop missing shifts, Catch up on all my readings and make sure my scholarship advisor saw that I was committed. The problem with making lists, though, is that life never seems to care. At the café, the owner gave me one of those half-disappointed, half-relieved looks when I walked in on time. "You're actually here," she said, tying her apron. "Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Back to normal." The day was busy, and I was almost thankful for it. It kept my mind moving. No space for spirals, no space for imagining Min-Jae lying in a hospital bed with tubes and wires. Just orders, receipts, and wiping tables. But breaks are dangerous. During my ten-minute break, I pulled out my phone and, against my better judgment, opened the entertainment news tab. I decided to check up news on Seo Min-Jae and then I saw her. The headline read:
"Han-Ji Soo Returns to Korea After Years Abroad — Model Says She's Back 'For Someone Special.'"
The picture was of a beautiful woman stepping out of Incheon Airport, dressed like she'd walked straight off a magazine cover. Her hair was glossy, her makeup perfect. The caption under the photo mentioned she was Min-Jae's first love. I stared at the screen, my stomach turning cold. It didn't say his name outright, but the comments didn't hold back.
Of course it's her. Everyone knows they dated before. They're meant to be.
Childhood sweethearts reunited? I'm here for it. I locked my phone and shoved it into my apron pocket like it had burned me. By the time my shift ended, the story had already spread everywhere . It was on Twitter, Instagram, even the group chat my roommates shared. Yuri had sent a link with, Isn't this your celebrity friend? followed by ten side-eye emojis. I didn't answer. I told myself it didn't matter. Min-Jae's personal life wasn't my business. I wasn't even in his life, not really. He was a star, and stars were allowed to have their own constellations. But on the way back to campus, walking under the dim orange streetlights, I caught myself wondering if Han-ji was at the hospital right now, sitting beside his bed, holding his hand. And something in my chest tightened. I thought I was done with surprises for the day. I thought I could just go home, eat instant noodles, and lose myself in Netflix. But when I got to the library, someone called my name. "Tomi?" I turned, and standing there, in a perfectly tailored blazer, leaning casually against a black Audi car was Ji-Hoon. Han Ji-Hoon, the most famous guy on campus. I heard he majored in Korean History and culture. And we should have had about two classes together. He was the kind of guy every girl wanted to be with, he was about 6'3 feet tall with a perfectly sculpted body that looked like he walked straight out of a magazine, face that could take your breath away and he always had a killer smile. His family has wealth that could last 10 generations and he was the perfect type of guy. A Chaebol. He was a guy that was whispered about but no one really knew what he was like. He rarely showed up on campus and our paths have only crossed once, when I was leaving the café after my last meeting with Min-Jae. I had bumped into him by accident and had my bag scattered on the floor. He helped me in packing the contents of my bag that day and asked for my name. He also added me on Wechat but never sent me a text. "I've been looking for you," he said and just like that, I knew the quiet part of my life was officially over.