It was one of those evenings where time dragged like a slow sigh. The sun had dipped behind the hills, leaving the sky in muted pastels. Laura sat cross-legged on her bed, the glow of her phone screen flickering across her face, as music played softly in the background, the kind of playlist meant for overthinkers and daydreamers.
She wasn't looking for anything special. Just scrolling, like every other night. But it happened anyway — suddenly and all at once.
There he was.
Not in a dramatic, lightning-strike kind of way. More like a gentle tug on the heart — a face that paused her world for a breath too long. The algorithm had tossed him into her feed, smiling casually in a short video clip, surrounded by people she didn't know, speaking a language she couldn't understand. And yet, in that five-second video, something in her chest moved.
She watched it again.
His smile wasn't perfect — his front tooth slightly crooked, his grin a little hesitant, as if he wasn't used to being caught off guard. But there was a softness in his eyes, like they knew how to listen before you spoke. He looked at the camera once, blinked slowly, and smiled wider.
Laura didn't blink at all.
His name sat quietly in the caption:
Evan Lee— a name she'd never heard, and somehow, a name she'd never forget again.
She clicked on his profile.
2.1 million followers.
Actor. Korean. Twenty-one. A face too beautiful to belong to real life.
He lived a world away, in Seoul — cities, oceans, and cultures apart. But as she scrolled through his posts, something about him felt oddly… familiar. Or maybe it was just her heart, already writing a story he hadn't signed up for.
She followed him. A simple tap.
The kind of move millions had made before her. But for her, it felt personal.
Over the next few days, Evan's smile became part of her routine.
She began to recognize the small things like— the way his right eyebrow twitched slightly when he laughed, the way he tilted his head to the side in photos. His voice, low and slightly raspy in interviews, became her comfort in silence. Even his silences, the gaps between his posts felt like spaces Laura waited to fill.
It didn't take long before her camera roll was full of screenshots. Her Spotify playlist now had Korean love songs she didn't understand, but played on loop anyway. And slowly, the way she talked about him in her head changed.
Not "that Korean actor I follow."
But Evan.
Just…Evan Lee.
***
"Okay, but he doesn't even know you exist", her friend Maya had said during one of their late-night calls, voice laced with gentle amusement.
Laura rolled onto her back, phone on her pillow. "I know."
"And you're aware this is borderline delusional, right?"
"Yeah."
A beat of silence. Then Maya added softly, "But I get it."
Laura smiled.
It wasn't about fantasy. It wasn't about wanting to be famous, or chasing a celebrity. It was about the way Evan's face felt like stillness. The way his expressions made something quiet inside her chest come alive. She didn't want his autograph. She didn't want to meet him at an airport with a shaky selfie stick.
She just wanted to matter — even if it was in the smallest, strangest way.
A few weeks later, she decided to DM him. It was impulsive, half-shy, half-silly. Just a reply to one of his story posts — a picture of his coffee and book. She typed:
"That book is one of my favorites. Hope you're enjoying it."
No emoji. Just polite. Simple.
She sent it.
And then she waited. Like a fool.
Minutes passed. Hours. She told herself it didn't matter, that she wasn't expecting anything. She shut her phone off that night and promised not to check.
"Still staring at the screen like it's going to answer you back?" Aiden's voice broke the quiet. He leaned against her doorframe, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. He had that easy grin that made people believe everything would be okay, even when it wasn't.
Laura snapped her eyes away. "I'm… fine," she murmured, not meeting his gaze.
Aiden pushed off the frame and stepped in, letting the door click shut behind him.
"You're not," he said softly, crouching beside her chair to peer at the screen.
"You've been like this all week. Ev—uh… whoever that is online doesn't even know you exist. You've got exams coming up. You need to focus."
Laura laughed, a sound that didn't quite reach her eyes. "He's… different." She paused, unsure how to explain the pull she felt toward someone who had never spoken to her.
"Even a little acknowledgement feels huge. Like it matters. And I know it's stupid, but…"
"Not stupid," Aiden said quietly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.
"Not when it matters to you." His fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled back, giving her space.
"But don't lose yourself in someone who doesn't see you. Promise me, okay?"
Laura looked at him, really looked, and saw the honesty in his eyes. The warmth. The care that had always been there, in the background of every late-night study session, every shared joke, every time life got too heavy. Aiden had been her constant, even when she wanted someone else to be.
She smiled faintly. "I'll… try."
He grinned, ruffling her hair playfully. "That's all I ask. Now, come on. Let's actually study. I'll make it fun. Promise."
Laura rolled her eyes but felt the corners of her mouth tug up. Maybe she could survive a night of calculus and physics with Aiden by her side. And maybe… just maybe, the rest could wait a little while.
She opened her notebook again, pen poised, and let the quiet rhythm of numbers and formulas fill the room. Outside, the rain continued its gentle patter against the window, and somewhere, in a world far away, Evan's presence lingered like a soft, unreachable light—just enough to make her heart ache, but not enough to distract her from the one constant she could rely on.
Days passed.
He didn't reply. Not even a double-tap or an emoji reaction. And the thought of it kept lingering in her mind.
It shouldn't have stung. He probably got hundreds of messages. Maybe thousands. Hers was just one of many— floating in the void.
But it still hurt. Because for a brief moment, she'd hoped for a miracle. And miracles rarely had read receipts.
Still, she didn't unfollow. Didn't mute him. Didn't stop watching his stories. Her feelings didn't fade — they just grew quieter, deeper. More rooted.
She wasn't obsessed. She wasn't delusional.
She was just… in love.
And that was the scariest part — because even when love isn't returned, it still grows.
A month later, something strange happened.
She had posted a photo of herself — rare for her — sitting at a library desk with her laptop and tea. Her caption was a simple quote:
"Maybe someday."
She didn't tag anyone. She didn't even think twice about it.
But that evening, when she opened her notifications, she froze.
Liked by lee.evan_official.
Her heart dropped. Then soared.
She checked three times to make sure it wasn't a fan account. It was him. Evan. The man who'd once left her message on read… had liked her post.
And now her world was on fire.