Redyyn
College in Korea was nothing like I imagined—and exactly how I feared.
My classes were challenging, the language barrier exhausting, and the loneliness heavier than I wanted to admit. I smiled a lot, nodded even when I wasn't fully sure what was being said, and spent most nights curled up on my dorm bed pretending I wasn't homesick.
Weeks passed.
I learned which café had the strongest coffee, which streets were safest to wander at night, and how to blend in just enough not to feel completely foreign.
It was on one of those late evenings, walking back from the library, that everything changed.
I wasn't paying attention. My headphones were in, my mind elsewhere.
I collided with someone hard enough to knock the breath out of me.
"I'm so sorry!" I blurted out, bowing instinctively.
The guy froze.
He wore a mask and a cap pulled low, but his eyes—dark, sharp, startled—met mine.
"No, it's my fault," he said quietly, his voice calm but guarded.
We stared at each other for a second too long.
Something about him felt… different. Like he didn't belong on a quiet campus sidewalk at midnight.
"I should've watched where I was going," I said, embarrassed.
He nodded, stepping back. "Be careful."
And just like that, he disappeared into the night.
I stood there long after he was gone, my heart racing for reasons I couldn't explain.