Year 2014
"Ren, your tuition starts today with Mrs. Eve. After school, go straight to her house. No wandering around, I've already told her," my mom reminded me.
Mrs. Eve was perfect at every subject, and instead of teaching at school, she often held classes at her home. It was my first time attending tuition after school, not because I needed extra help, but because both my parents worked late. They thought it would be better for me to study than spend the afternoons alone. I wasn't completely alone anyway; a few friends joined too, so I didn't mind.
After school, my friend Suho and I were walking out through the gate when he suddenly nudged me.
"Hey! Look over there," he said, pointing toward the corner across from us. A boy and a girl were standing close together, clearly lost in their own world.
"They're dating right in front of school, and here we are, stuck with each other," he added in his usual flirty tone.
"Shut up," I muttered, though my eyes lingered on the couple. They looked like first-year students. The girl caught my attention, soft brown hair, big, curious eyes behind glasses. It was the first time I'd ever noticed her.
"Let's go," I said, trying to sound casual. We stopped by a small shop on the way to grab a few snacks, which made us even later for our extra class.
When we finally arrived at Mrs. Eve's home, I was surprised. The place was filled with flowers, bright, colorful, and neatly arranged. It felt warm and peaceful.
As we entered the study room, my eyes scanned the class, and there she was again, sitting quietly in the corner, focused on her notes.
A few days later I learned something that stopped me short: the quiet girl I'd noticed was Mrs. Eve's daughter. Her name was Aria. The name fit her, soft, simple, somehow sad in a beautiful way. Two days after that I saw her again, this time with the same boy. He laughed too loud, leaned too close, the kind of guy who wore charm like a costume. Aria, by contrast, looked small and innocent beside him. It made me curious in a way I didn't expect.
I chose the corner road, pretending to be casual. I wasn't trying to be a hero, I was only curious. It was easier to follow when no one was around. I walked slowly, keeping my distance, telling myself it was nothing.
Then I heard Aria. Her voice was quiet but steady: "Please stop following me. I don't like you."
The boy answered in that practiced, playful tone: "I'll make you happy, Aria. I've liked you since the start of ninth grade."
The words were greasy; my skin crawled.
He and his friend moved with her, closing the space like they owned it. I couldn't stand watching her shift under their attention. I fell into step beside her and said, quietly, "Don't look back. Just walk."
She glanced at me, our eyes met for the first time. For one breath the world narrowed: her lashes, the small crease by her mouth, a hint of wariness. Then she kept walking, and I walked with her.
We reached Mrs. Eve's gate and, like that, the boys were gone, melted into the street as if they'd never been there. Aria's shoulders relaxed a fraction. She turned to me, cheeks warmed. "Thank you," she whispered.
Before I could answer, the front door opened. Mrs. Eve stood framed by the warm light of her garden. "Ren, you're on time today," she said with a smile that smelled of sunlight and flour. There was no extra class, no scolding, just the slow calm of someone who always made space for guests.
Mrs. Eve stepped aside. "Come in. I made cookies." The words were ordinary and perfect, a small ceremony of safety. Aria's fingers found the strap of her bag. She looked at me, a shy, grateful half-smile that made my chest tighten.
As we went inside, the world felt softer: the clink of cups, the hush of leaves, Aria's quiet laugh when Mrs. Eve teased her about burning one cookie. I realized I had followed out of curiosity, but I stayed because I wanted to be the kind of person who would walk beside her when things felt wrong.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks quietly slipped into months. Somewhere in between, we grew closer, without even realizing it. Every evening, I'd walk her home, and it became our small routine. We'd stop by the snack shop on the corner, arguing over who ate more, laughing at the smallest things. She'd tell me about her day, how a patient smiled at her mother, how a stray cat followed her halfway to school, and somehow, even the simplest things sounded special when she said them.
The closeness between us was no longer just that of a senior and junior. It was something softer, deeper, a bond that words couldn't quite describe. Every moment with her felt warm and effortless, like everything around us had slowed down just for the two of us. But just when everything felt right, the time came for me to leave for Germany to continue my studies. The thought of leaving her behind felt heavier than I expected, like I was walking away from something I wasn't ready to lose.
The evening before the flight, I went to her house for a final goodbye. We wandered to the small park near her home and sat on the swings, the night sky above us glittering with stars. The air felt quiet, almost sacred.
"So, what do you want to be, Ren?" she asked softly, her eyes tracing the constellations.
"An engineer," I replied, glancing at her with a small smile. "What about you?"
"I want to be a teacher, like my mom. And one day, I want to open my own school," she said, her voice full of dreams. Then she turned to me, her smile gentle. "I also want you to be there for me, Ren."
Her words made my heart ache, so simple, yet so full of hope. I looked down, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I might not be… not yet. I need to leave first," I said quietly, forcing a small smile. "I want to become someone worthy of standing beside you."
She looked at me, and in her eyes, I saw understanding, the kind that didn't need words. "Then let's promise," she said, holding out her pinky with a small, trembling smile. "The next time we meet, we'll both be who we dreamed of becoming."
I couldn't help but smile back. I reached out, hooked my pinky around hers, and we sealed that promise beneath the soft starlight.
As I walked her home, the night breeze carried the faint scent of flowers, wrapping the moment in something almost magical. Just as I turned to leave, I heard her call out, "Ren!"
Before I could respond, she ran up and hugged me tightly from behind. My heart stopped for a second. Her warmth, her heartbeat, her presence, it all felt too precious to let go.
She stood on her toes, her breath brushing against my ear as she whispered, "I'll be waiting, Ren." Then she smiled, that small, unforgettable smile, and slipped quietly back into her house.
I stood there for a long time, staring at the door, the sound of crickets echoing softly around me. That was ten years ago.
Time flew, life changed, and the distance between us grew wider… but somehow, my heart never did. Even after ten years, I fell the same way toward her.
But.... does she even remember me?