*Chapter Seven – "Matthew with the Basic Name"*
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Dear Diary,
Before we go any further into the magical dreamland that is my *Starlight encounter*, let me backtrack and talk about something… (or rather, someone) I *almost* forgot.
Actually, scratch that. I *tried* to forget.
*Matthew.*
Yep. Even the name sounds like it came from a random name generator.
Matthew. Basic. Predictable. Matthew.
Now don't get me wrong—he's a good guy. Kinda sweet. Kinda awkward.
But the problem is:
I did *not* spend five years stanning the hottest five men alive just to end up with someone whose whole aesthetic screams "forgot-my-password-nerd."
He's a fellow History major (which already makes me question the universe's sense of humor), and he looks like he walked straight out of a 2005 Tumblr blog:
Shaggy hair covering half his face,
Glasses that magnify his eyeballs three times,
And this hunched-over walk like he's carrying the weight of every historical fact ever known to man.
He's *always* around.
Café? He's there.
Library? There.
Fan meet pics reveal? Somehow, *he's there*.
Sometimes I wonder if he's using Harry Potter's invisibility cloak.
Even worse? He *proposed* to me.
*PUBLICLY.*
In the middle of the school cafeteria.
With a ring box and everything like we're in some low-budget K-drama remake.
Shaun still hasn't recovered.
> "Girl, your life is a Wattpad fanfic."
> "I'm being haunted by a live-action historical nerd."
> "I dub thee Lady of the Matthewverse."
> "I dub thee Blocked."
People say I'm being too hard.
That at the end of the day, I'll probably marry someone *just like him*.
*Excuse me??*
After years of worshipping *Renzo*, *Eunjae*, *Kairo*, *Taehyun*, and *Juwon oppa*—you think I'll settle for someone who still says "golly"?
Absolutely not.
I've drawn the line so many times, it's practically a fence now.
But Matthew? He doesn't get the hint. Or the text. Or the message in the group chat I never added him to.
So no, Diary.
It's not happening.
Not now.
Not ever.
*Juwon oppa or nothing. Period.*
–
It happened after class, right under the old cherry blossom tree in front of the library. Matthew stood there, clutching a crumpled paper bag like it was his last ounce of courage. Inside? A sandwich. Tuna. Again.
"Amara," he said, eyes hidden behind thick glasses and that emo fringe of his. "I just thought maybe... lunch?"
She blinked, stared, then let out a sigh.
"Matthew, we've talked about this. Again and again."
"I know," he mumbled. "But I just—"
She stepped closer, her hands crossed like a K-drama queen mid-confrontation. "You're not like my oppas, okay? You don't have abs. You don't have tattoos. You don't sing like Juwon oppa. You're not even mysterious. You're just… Matthew. Plain, basic, Matthew."
His face fell. A full collapse.
"And look," she added, softer this time, "you're a good guy. But I stan legends. Icons. Men with fan cams that crash Twitter."
"So… you're saying I should leave you alone?"
She nodded. "Exactly."
And just like that, he did.
No dramatic exit. No angry words. Just a quiet nod, a small wave… and he disappeared. Like a glitch in the matrix.
Days passed. Then weeks. No Matthew. No tuna sandwiches. No awkward hallway hellos.
Even Shaun noticed.
"Girl, did you hex him?"
"I just told him the truth."
"Well dang, next time let him down with a gentle fan chant."
But truthfully, part of her missed the chaos. Just a little.
Because not even Juwon oppa's fan cam could deliver tuna at 1PM sharp.