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Kim Dokja adjusted the strap of his backpack and stared at the campus map on his phone like it was in a language he couldn’t understand. It didn’t. It just told him that the Humanities Building was behind the Law School, not next to it like he remembered. Lots of things had changed in the last two years.
He changed too. Well, it would be weird if he didn’t.
He looked older now. Not just because of the military buzzcut that had grown out a bit into a shaggy mess he hadn’t bothered to style or the slight tan he’d picked up from months under the sun. But something in his face… maybe his eyes, felt different. Like he was still waiting for someone to shout his name at roll call and tell him to drop and give twenty. Maybe he still had some trauma left.
He adjusted his bag again, checked his class schedule for the fourth time, and walked.
Campus was noisy. A mix of returning students, nervous freshmen, a talented group of students who looked like they’re waiting to be scouted as idols and others who looked like they belonged on magazine covers.
Laughter, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the occasional clatter of a coffee cup against a metal trash can. He kept his head down, as usual. Old habits.
He didn’t expect to see anyone he recognised. Not that he would recognise his high school classmates right away but…
He certainly didn’t expect to see her .
Yoo Sangah.
Standing by the cafe near the library, waving at him like they were old friends.
No, not like that.
Waving like she was happy to see him.
Kim Dokja froze instantly.
She looked almost exactly the same. Or maybe better. Definitely better. Still with that clean, put-together look, the kind of confidence only someone who used to be the class president could carry without seeming smug. Her hair was longer now, tied loosely at the nape of her neck. She was dressed casually in a simple shirt, jeans, a tote bag slung over her shoulder. She looked like she had just walked out of a study abroad brochure.
That reminded him, didn’t she go abroad after high-school graduation?
When he looked at her again, she was smiling.
At him.
He blinked. Once. Twice. Then turned slightly, just to check if someone was standing behind him.
Nope. No one. So, technically the greeting was for him.
He looked back at her.
Still smiling.
Still waving.
And when she started walking toward him, he panicked. Not visibly, but internally. Was it still possible to act like he didn’t know her? Maybe he could make a quick run to the bathroom…
He hadn’t spoken to anyone outside of his military unit and his mom in weeks. What was he supposed to say?
She stopped a few feet in front of him and gave him a wide, open smile.
“Kim Dokja.”
Her voice was exactly as he remembered. Calm, soft and definitely kind but somehow she sounded like she was excited for some reason.
He cleared his throat. “Yoo Sangah.”
“You’re back.”
“Yeah,” he said, trying not to sound awkward. “So are you, it seems.”
“I saw your name on the course roster. I was hoping I’d run into you. Thank goodness, I did.”
She… looked for his name?
“Really?” he asked, voice flatter than intended.
She laughed, brushing a strand of hair that was scratching her cheek behind the ear. “Yeah, you were kind of hard to forget, you know. Both you and your name.”
He wasn’t. He knew that for a fact. In high school, he barely spoke unless someone made him. He read books in the back of the classroom and ate lunch alone behind the building.
Yoo Sangah, on the other hand, was the one who always smiled at everyone, the one who got people to participate in class discussions. She was class president for two years in a row. She probably ran a club or two in her spare time. Everyone liked her. Teachers, students, staffs, cleaners. You name it.
They hadn’t really talked much. Not really. But sometimes, after school, when the classroom was quiet and she was staying late to finish paperwork and he was waiting out the noise outside before heading home, she’d say things. Small things like:
“You read a lot, don’t you?”
“That book’s good. The ending surprised me.”
“You don’t have to leave. I don’t mind the company.”
And once, when he’d shown up with a split lip and dried blood on his knuckles:
“Do you want me to pretend I didn’t see it?”
She never pushed. She never pried.
She just… there. With him. Maybe that was the main reason why he stayed back after school often although he didn’t have a reason to. He didn’t want to admit it out loud but he liked her company.
Now that she was here, standing in front of him with sunlight in her hair and a smile that was probably the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in recent years, something made his stomach twist.
“How was the military?” she asked, like it was a normal thing to ask.
He shrugged. “Well, it was the military.”
“Sounds about right.”
“And studying abroad?”
“Cold. Expensive. I missed rice.”
He blinked at that.
“Seriously,” she said, “I’d kill for a decent kimchi stew. You want to grab lunch? We can catch up.”
He should’ve said no. He hadn’t planned to talk to anyone. He wasn’t ready to deal with people, let alone her. She was too bright. Too kind. Too much for him. Too good for him.
But she was already walking toward the campus cafeteria and turning her head to make sure he was following. “Are you coming or not?”
And maybe it was because he remembered the quiet afternoons in the empty classroom where there were only the two of them. Or maybe it was because she was the first person in months who looked at him like she was glad he survived the military.
So, he followed her. “Coming.”