The bus station in the village was crowded with people—not because of regular travel, but because it seemed like everyone had come to see Nana off.
Her mother stood closest, trying to hold back tears and failing. Lili clung to Nana's leg, sobbing openly. The twins were crying but trying to act mature about it. Meimei kept hugging her, then stepping back, then hugging her again. Even Xiaohua, usually so quiet, had tears streaming down her face.
"It's just Linkon," Nana said, her own voice breaking. "It's only three hours away. I'll visit. I'll call. It's not goodbye forever—"
"I know," her mother managed. "But my baby is leaving home. I'm allowed to be emotional."
The neighborhood aunties had formed a protective circle, offering advice:
"Make sure you eat properly!"
"Don't trust city men—except Doctor Li, he's proven himself!"
"Call your mother every week!"
"Study hard but not too hard—rest is important!"
"If anyone bothers you, you tell us and we'll come deal with them!"
Mrs. Chen from the supermarket was there too, having given Nana a generous severance package and a letter of recommendation. "You were the best worker we ever had. Don't forget us when you're a famous artist."
"Never," Nana promised, hugging her. "Never."
Lili's sobs intensified. "Who's going to make breakfast? Who's going to help with homework? Who's going to tell the bedtime stories?"
Nana knelt down, cupping her baby sister's face. "Meimei will help with homework. Mama will make breakfast. And the twins will tell even better stories than me—probably with more drama."
"But I want YOU!" Lili wailed.
"I know, sweetheart. I know." Nana pulled her close, breathing in the scent of her hair, memorizing this hug. "But I'll be back to visit. And you can call me anytime. Anytime at all, okay? I'll always answer."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
The bus driver called final boarding. Nana stood, wiping her eyes, trying to compose herself. Her small suitcase—filled with simple clothes and art supplies—sat beside her, representing everything she owned that mattered.
"Go," her mother said, pushing her gently toward the bus. "Go chase your dreams. We'll be fine. We're so proud of you."
One more round of hugs—each sibling, her mother, even some of the aunties—and then Nana climbed onto the bus, finding a window seat so she could wave.
When the bus pulled away, she watched her family grow smaller. Lili was still crying. The twins were waving frantically. Her mother stood tall and proud despite her tears. The whole village, it seemed, had turned out to wish her well.
I'm really doing this, Nana thought, tears streaming down her face. I'm really leaving.
It felt like the end of everything and the beginning of something new, all at once.
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The apartment was tiny.
Nana stood in the doorway of the three-bedroom place she'd be sharing with Mina and Jisu, taking it all in. It wasn't much—old building, small rooms, shared bathroom, kitchen barely big enough for one person let alone three. The furniture was mismatched and worn. The walls needed paint. The windows overlooked a busy street that never seemed to quiet.
But it was theirs.
"It's perfect!" Mina declared, throwing her bag on the floor. "Our first place! Our independence! Our—"
"It's a dump," Jisu said pragmatically. "But it's OUR dump."
"It has potential," Nana offered, already mentally cataloging what they'd need. Cleaning supplies. Curtains. Maybe some plants to brighten things up.
"You know," Mina said carefully, "Doctor Li offered to help you find a place. A nicer place. Maybe even—" She waggled her eyebrows. "—his place?"
Nana's face burned. "I couldn't. We're not—we're not married. It wouldn't be appropriate."
"Girl, this is the city. Couples live together all the time—"
"I know. But I'm from a village. We have—we have different values about these things."
Nana fidgeted with her bag strap. "And I want to do this properly. Build my own life here first. Not just—not just move into his."
Jisu nodded approvingly. "That's actually really mature. Making sure you can stand on your own before combining lives."
"Plus," Mina added with a grin, "it's more romantic this way. The struggling artist phase. He can visit and bring food and be all supportive boyfriend while you pursue your dreams independently."
Nana smiled despite her nerves. "Something like that."
What she didn't know—what she wouldn't know for months—was that Zayne had already paid their first six months of rent directly to the landlord. Had set up a standing grocery delivery every week. Had arranged with her mother to send money monthly to help with the siblings' expenses, money that mysteriously appeared as "anonymous donations from a grateful former patient of the old hospital."
He didn't tell her because he knew she'd refuse. Would feel like charity. Would insist she could manage on her own.
So he helped secretly, quietly, the way he did everything when it came to her—making sure she was safe and supported while still allowing her the independence she needed.
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The first week was overwhelming.
Classes started immediately—art history, studio techniques, color theory, drawing fundamentals. Nana's head spun with information, with talented classmates whose skills made hers look amateur, with professors who expected excellence and weren't shy about pointing out weaknesses.
"This perspective is off," one professor said, marking her drawing with red pen. "See here? The vanishing point is inconsistent. Study linear perspective again. Do better."
Nana nodded, swallowing the urge to cry. She wasn't used to such direct criticism. In the village, everyone had praised her drawings. Here, she was average at best.
"Don't take it personally," Jisu whispered after class. "He's harsh with everyone. It's how art school works—they break you down to build you up better."
"I know. I just—I didn't realize how much I don't know."
"Any of us did," Mina assured her. "We're all struggling. That's the point. We learn together."
The three of them had found work together too—a small café near campus that needed part-timers. Nana worked the coffee bar, learning to make drinks with names she couldn't pronounce.
Mina waited tables with natural charm that earned excellent tips. Jisu handled the register with quiet efficiency.
The hours were long—classes until three, work until nine, homework until midnight. Nana fell into bed exhausted every night, wondering how she'd survive the semester.
But Mina made everything fun.
She introduced them to K-dramas—elaborate romantic stories that made them cry and laugh and stay up too late. She taught them about skincare—"You have amazing skin! So smooth! Imagine if you wore makeup? Doctor Li would malfunction!"—and insisted on weekly face mask sessions where they'd sit together, looking ridiculous, gossiping about classmates and dreams.
Jisu balanced Mina's chaos with practicality. She created study schedules. She meal-prepped to save money. She found free events around the city—art galleries, concerts, festivals—so they could experience Linkon without breaking their tiny budgets.
And every night, without fail, Zayne called.
"How was your day?" His voice was a lifeline through the phone, grounding her when everything felt too much.
"Exhausting. My professor told me my perspective is inconsistent."
"Is it?"
"Probably. I don't know. Everything feels inconsistent right now."
"That's normal. You're learning. Growing. It's supposed to feel uncomfortable." A pause. "Are you eating enough? Sleeping?"
"Yes, honey," she teased, but her heart warmed at his concern.
"I'm serious, Nana. You work too hard. You need rest."
"Says the surgeon who does eighteen-hour shifts."
"That's different—"
"It's exactly the same. We both push ourselves because we love what we do."
He was quiet for a moment. "Fair point. But if you burn out, I'm coming over there and forcing you to rest."
"Threatening me with your presence? How terrible," she said, smiling.
"Go to sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Zayne. I love you."
"I love you too. Sweet dreams."
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The weeks into city life, Nana developed a new routine.
Every morning, before her eight AM class, she'd wake up at five-thirty and take the subway to Zayne's apartment. She had a key now—he'd given it to her "for emergencies," but they both knew what he really meant: you're always welcome here.
She'd let herself in quietly. Sometimes he was already awake, getting ready for early rounds. Sometimes he was still asleep, and she'd move silently through his kitchen, preparing breakfast.
Nothing fancy. Just what she knew he needed—proper food instead of the efficiency meals he'd survive on otherwise. Rice, eggs, vegetables, soup. Food made with care.
She'd plate everything, leave it warming on the stove with a note—Eat all of it. Don't skip breakfast. I'll know if you do. —N.
And slip out before he could insist on paying her or driving her to school or doing anything that would make this feel like obligation instead of love.
He would find the breakfast, find the note, and sit alone in his kitchen eating food that tasted like home. Some mornings he'd catch her—grab her before she could leave, pull her close, press a kiss to her forehead and whisper "thank you" like she'd given him something priceless instead of simple breakfast.
"You don't have to do this," he'd say every time.
"I know. I want to." She'd cup his face gently. "You take care of everyone. Let me take care of you."
And he'd let her go, watching from his window as she disappeared into the subway crowd, this woman who woke up before dawn to make sure he ate properly.
He was falling more in love with her every single day.
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This Saturday afternoon, three weeks into the semester, the three roommates were sprawled across their tiny living room, doing homework and gossiping.
"I don't understand perspective," Mina groaned, erasing her drawing for the fifth time. "Why do parallel lines meet at a point? That's not how lines work!"
"That's literally how perspective works," Jisu said without looking up from her own assignment.
"Well it's STUPID."
Nana was sketching Zayne from memory—the way he looked when he was concentrating, that small furrow between his eyebrows. She'd been drawing him a lot lately, trying to capture the details she was afraid she'd forget between visits.
"You really love him, don't you?" Jisu observed quietly.
Nana looked up, startled. "What?"
"Doctor.Li You love him." Jisu gestured at the sketch. "You draw him all the time. You wake up at ungodly hours to make him breakfast. You light up when he calls." A soft smile. "It's nice. Seeing real love. Not the drama kind—the real, quiet, everyday kind."
"I do," Nana admitted. "Love him. More than I thought possible."
"When's he going to propose?" Mina asked bluntly.
"MINA!"
"What?! I'm just asking what we're all thinking! That man is clearly planning to marry you. I give it three months. Maybe six if he's weirdly traditional about timing."
"We've only been together for—" Nana tried to calculate. "—seven months? Eight? That's not long enough to—"
"When you know, you know," Jisu said. "My parents got engaged after four months. Married at six. Together for twenty-five years now."
"See!!" Mina pointed triumphantly. "If Doctor McDreamy asked you tomorrow, what would you say?"
Nana opened her mouth to protest that it was too soon, too fast, too—
"Yes," she said instead, surprising herself. "I'd say yes."
Both girls squealed, abandoning their homework to bombard her with questions about wedding plans and dress styles and whether they'd be bridesmaids (obviously yes, they'd already decided).
Nana laughed, letting herself imagine it.
Marriage to Zayne. Building a life together. Waking up next to him every morning instead of sneaking away. Coming home to each other instead of phone calls and subway rides.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Zayne:
Found breakfast again. You're going to spoil me. How am I supposed to function when you're not here to cook? —Z
She smiled, typing back:
You'll have to marry me then. Someone has to make sure you eat properly. —N
Three dots appeared immediately. Disappeared. Appeared again. Finally:
Is that a proposal?
Her heart stopped. Was she—? Had she just—?
Maybe. Would you say yes? —N
The dots took forever. She could imagine him staring at his phone, that analytical mind working through implications and possibilities and—
Yes. In a heartbeat. But when I propose—and I will—it's going to be proper. Romantic. Everything you deserve. —Z
Nana's eyes filled with tears. Mina and Jisu were reading over her shoulder now, shrieking with excitement.
"HE'S GOING TO PROPOSE!"
I GIVE IT! THREE TO SIX MONTHS!"
"WE'RE GOING TO BE BRIDESMAIDS!"
Nana wiped her eyes, laughing through tears, and typed:
I'll wait. However long it takes. I'm not going anywhere. —N
Good. Because neither am I. —Z
Later that night, long after Mina and Jisu had fallen asleep, Nana lay in her small bed in their small apartment, thinking about the strange, beautiful path her life had taken.
A year ago, she'd been a village girl with no prospects, working night shifts, believing her small world was all she'd ever know.
Now she was a university student in the city. Living independently. Chasing dreams. And in love with a man who was planning—planning!—to propose. To build a life together.
Grandpa Li had known. Somehow, he'd known that this was possible. That two lonely people from different worlds could find each other and create something beautiful.
Thank you, she thought toward the universe, toward wherever Grandpa was. Thank you for believing in us when we couldn't believe in ourselves.
Her phone buzzed one last time. Zayne's final message of the night:
Sleep well. Dream of our future. I'll be dreaming of you. —Z
She clutched the phone to her chest and smiled.
The future wasn't scary anymore.
It was full of possibility, of love, of a life they'd build together—one breakfast, one phone call, one small moment at a time.
And that—that was everything.
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To be continued __