You smiled differently than other people. Most smiles are for show—for politeness, attention, approval.
But yours... yours was for hiding.
The first time I saw it clearly was during lunch.
You sat with a few girls who talked loudly about things that didn't matter—exams, phone cases, which drama star was hotter. You laughed with them, head tilted, fingers twirling your chopsticks, but your eyes…
Your eyes looked like they were somewhere else entirely.
I watched from across the cafeteria with Seojin. He caught me staring and nudged my side.
"Crushing already?" he teased.
"Shut up."
He grinned. "I've never seen you look at anyone like that."
I didn't reply. I couldn't. Because I didn't know what I was feeling. I just knew it wasn't normal. It wasn't something small. You were becoming part of my thoughts in quiet ways—like a melody stuck in my head with no lyrics, just feeling.
Later that day, I found you behind the art building, alone.
"You didn't look happy at lunch," I said.
You looked startled that I'd noticed. Then, without flinching, you said, "They don't see me."
"They talk to you."
"They talk around me."
That line cut deep.
I asked, "What do you want them to see?"
You shrugged. "That I'm not as fine as I pretend to be."
That's when I realized something about you—your smile was armor. Pretty, disarming, but built from sadness. Every laugh, every joke… it was a way to keep people at a distance, to keep them from asking questions you didn't want to answer.
But I wanted to ask. I wanted to know.
That day, I gave you something.
A sketch—small, rough, torn from my notebook. It was you, sitting on the rooftop, headphones on, eyes closed, hair blown by the wind. I'd drawn it after our second meeting, never thinking I'd actually give it to you.
You stared at it a long time.
Then said softly, "You see me better than I see myself."
I didn't know what to say to that.
So you said it for me.
"Thank you, In-ha."
And your smile, for the first time, didn't feel heavy.
It felt real.
—