Autumn Calculus

Ch.17.

Eun-ji sat in her favorite corner of the campus café, twirling a pencil between her fingers, eyes darting between her notebook and the clock on the wall. Ji-hoon was late—again. She took a deep breath, telling herself it wasn’t a big deal, but the impatience was starting to get to her. The café was cozy as ever, with the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the light hum of student chatter. It was a place that had slowly become their spot over the past few weeks.

Just as she was about to give up and leave, the door swung open, and Ji-hoon walked in, looking slightly out of breath. His eyes found her immediately, and he flashed that sheepish, apologetic smile she was getting too used to forgiving.

“Sorry, I got held up,” he said, sliding into the seat across from her. He placed a small, slightly crumpled box on the table between them. “I, uh... brought you something.”

Eun-ji raised an eyebrow. “And what’s this for?”

Ji-hoon shrugged, his ears turning the faintest shade of pink. “Just... thought you could use a break.”

Curious, she opened the box, revealing a small, beautifully decorated mochi with a cute, handwritten note saying, “For the hardest-working person I know.” Eun-ji’s heart fluttered at the unexpected gesture, and she quickly looked down, hiding a smile.

“This is... sweet,” she said, a little flustered. “Thank you.”

Ji-hoon leaned back, watching her reaction with a pleased expression. “You’ve been working so hard lately. You deserve a treat.”

For a moment, they sat there, the noise of the café fading into the background as they shared a quiet moment, a comfortable warmth settling between them. Eun-ji didn’t need to say anything more; she simply broke the mochi in half, offering one piece to Ji-hoon, who accepted it with a grin.

They ate in silence, but it wasn’t the awkward silence of their earlier days. It was the kind of silence that felt right—comfortable, easy, and familiar. Ji-hoon was becoming less of a distraction and more of a constant presence, a reassuring anchor in her otherwise hectic life.

Just as Eun-ji finished her half, she noticed someone waving from the entrance. It was Ha-neul, one of her new friends from the dorm. She waved back, and Ha-neul made her way over, pulling up a chair and joining them.

“Wow, look at you two, always in the same spot,” Ha-neul teased, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’re becoming quite the regulars here.”

Eun-ji rolled her eyes, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. “We’re just studying.”

Ji-hoon leaned in, clearly enjoying her embarrassment. “Yeah, just two hard-working students, nothing more.”

Ha-neul laughed, sensing the shift in Eun-ji’s usually composed demeanor. “Sure, just studying. That’s why you both look so cozy.”

Eun-ji shot Ji-hoon a look that clearly said, Stop encouraging her, but he just chuckled, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly charming grin.

“Oh, Eun-ji,” Ha-neul said, changing the subject. “Are you still coming to the traditional market this Saturday? A group of us are going, and I know you mentioned you wanted to check out the hanbok shops.”

Eun-ji hesitated, glancing at Ji-hoon. He caught her look and smiled softly. “You should go. It’s been ages since you took a real break.”

She nodded, finally giving in. “Yeah, I’ll be there. I’ve been wanting to get a few things.”

Ha-neul beamed. “Great! Ji-hoon, you’re welcome to come too if you want. It’s going to be a lot of fun!”

He seemed genuinely surprised by the offer but nodded. “Sure, sounds good. I haven’t been to the market in forever.”

Eun-ji felt a strange mix of excitement and nervousness at the idea of them all going together. It was becoming clear that Ji-hoon was no longer just the “annoying upperclassman” she had initially thought him to be. He was becoming something more—a friend, maybe even something closer.

The days leading up to the market visit passed quickly, with Ji-hoon and Eun-ji falling into an easy rhythm. They studied together regularly now, and their conversations were peppered with jokes and playful banter, their connection deepening with each passing day.

When Saturday finally arrived, Eun-ji felt a flutter of excitement as she walked to the market. She had always loved the bustling atmosphere, with colorful stalls selling everything from handmade crafts to street food. The scent of freshly made tteokbokki and hotteok wafted through the air, mingling with the chatter of vendors and customers.

She spotted Ha-neul first, standing by a stall of vibrant hanbok fabrics, and waved. Ji-hoon was right beside her, and when he saw Eun-ji, he waved enthusiastically, making his way over.

“Look who’s finally embracing the idea of a break,” he teased, his eyes warm.

“Don’t get used to it,” she shot back, but her smile was genuine.

They spent the day wandering the market, eating snacks, and browsing the shops. Ha-neul’s bright energy made the whole outing even more enjoyable, and Eun-ji found herself laughing more than she had in a long time. Ji-hoon was always nearby, joking and teasing, but he was also attentive, making sure she tried the best street food and pointing out things he knew she’d like.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the market, Eun-ji found herself standing before a small hanbok stall. A delicate, pale pink hanbok caught her eye, its simple elegance drawing her in. She reached out, feeling the soft fabric between her fingers.

“It suits you,” Ji-hoon said softly, standing just behind her. “You should try it on.”

She looked at him, surprised by his sincerity. For a moment, the noise and bustle of the market faded, and it was just the two of them, standing side by side.

Maybe, she thought, this is what it feels like to let someone in—to have someone who makes you laugh, who sees past your walls, and who’s there, day after day, without expecting anything in return. It was a strange, exhilarating feeling, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it. But looking at Ji-hoon’s quiet, encouraging smile, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she wanted to try.

“Okay,” she said, nodding, a warmth spreading in her chest that had nothing to do with the setting sun.