Dear Diary,
I got dressed today.
That doesn't sound like much, I know — but it is.
I picked out a cropped top and baggy pants. High ponytail, subtle lip tint. I didn't want to look good for anyone. I just wanted to see if I could look in the mirror and not feel like a ghost wearing my skin.
When I left the apartment, the air felt different. Not quite warm, not quite cold. The kind of spring breeze that almost tricks you into believing the world is soft again.
I was going to take the bus. I missed it.
Of course I did.
I stood there, wheezing from running, cursing the universe under my breath. I was about to text Chae-Sun to tell her I'd be late to school when I saw him.
Leaning against a black car like he belonged in a commercial. Clean lines, sharp suit, that same quiet intensity. Jung-Kyo.
I froze. Just… paused in the middle of the sidewalk like a loading screen. He looked up from his phone and smiled — just a little — like he'd been expecting me.
8:37 AM "Need a ride?" he asked.
Three words. So casual. Like it was a perfectly normal thing for him to just appear again.
I almost said no.
But then I thought of the walk ahead, the blisters already forming in my boots, and the way he didn't stare at me like I was broken glass.
So I said:"Uh, sure."
8:39 AM The inside of his car smells like pine and something else I can't name. Expensive, but not obnoxious. Like he cares about details most people overlook.
He didn't speak much. Just adjusted the volume on the radio, classical piano humming under the silence. I sat with my hands in my lap, trying not to let my knees bounce.
Then he asked:"Why did you block me?"
I nearly choked.
I fumbled for my phone, checking it — and there it was. His number. Blocked.
Oh god. I had done it by accident the night I panicked and silenced every "unknown" number that reminded me of Se-Jin's calls.
My heart jumped to my throat.
"I didn't mean to," I blurted, cheeks flushing. "I was... overwhelmed. I thought you were someone else."
He didn't seem offended. He just nodded and said,"Glad to know it wasn't personal."
I couldn't meet his eyes. My reflection in the window looked like a guilty child. But he didn't push. He just kept driving, hands steady on the wheel like he knew when to steer the conversation — and when to let it drift.
8:51 AM As we neared the office, my nerves kicked in. I hadn't finished my morning prep. My teacher would kill me.
He must've noticed because he said, "We'll make it in time. Don't worry."
How did he know?
I asked him what he was doing out this early. He just said, "Family business." The way he said it made me think he wasn't telling the whole story — but I let it go.
Some silences aren't meant to be broken on the first try.
8:59 AM He dropped me off right at the front.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to thank him — but before I could speak, he said:"You don't owe me anything, Mi-Chan. Just take care of yourself."
It stopped me. Not because of the words, but the way he said them. Like someone who'd said it before. Like someone who meant it.
I nodded and stepped out. Before I closed the door, I looked back at him — just once. His eyes met mine. Unflinching. Gentle.
Then he drove away.
12:14 PM Lunch break.
I couldn't focus on my morning tasks. Everything felt like static. I kept replaying that car ride, the way he looked at me — like I wasn't a problem to be solved or a wound to be avoided. Just… a person.
It's been a long time since someone looked at me like that.
Even longer since I let them.
12:41 PM I went to the lunchroom downstairs to grab something — just toast and milk— when I saw him again.
At the far end of the lunchroom, tucked in a booth, sipping from a glass mug like he had all the time in the world. He didn't see me at first. He was reading something. Handwritten. A letter maybe?
I almost turned around and left.
But before I could, he looked up.
And he smiled.
"Hungry?" he asked, motioning to the empty seat across from him.
I don't know why I said yes. Maybe because I didn't want to sit alone again. Maybe because I liked the way my name sounded when he said it.
Or maybe, Diary… maybe I'm just tired of pretending I don't want company.
12:46 PM We talked.
About nothing.
Favorite seasons. He likes autumn — says it's when people are most honest.
Music. He plays a little piano.
I told him I used to dance when I was younger, but stopped after my mom got sick. He didn't ask for details. Just nodded like he understood the weight of the pause.
He told me he owns his own company. I laughed. Thought he was joking. He wasn't.
He's the CEO of something called the Geomkyo Group. I Googled it later. It's real.
My face must've gone pale because he chuckled and said, "Don't look so surprised. I wasn't always this boring."
12:59 PM Before we parted, he handed me a napkin. On it, a sketch — just a doodle, but surprisingly good — of a bird resting on a branch.
"It reminded me of you," he said. "Looks small. But it doesn't shake in the wind."
I didn't know what to say.
So I just took it and folded it into my pocket.
Now I'm home. My essay is still calling me. My phone buzzes every few minutes.
But I keep looking at that napkin.
It's such a small thing. A scribble.
But it makes me feel… like maybe someone sees a version of me I've forgotten how to be.
Small. But steady. Unshaken.
I don't know what's happening between me and Jung-Kyo. It's too early to call it anything. And I'm still bleeding from what Se-Jin did to me.
But today, I felt warm. Not euphoric. Not healed.
Just... warm.
And for now, that's enough.
– Mi-Chan
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