Monday morning running club felt different.
Not in an obvious way—we still met at 6 AM, still did the same warm-ups, still ran the same route around campus. But something had shifted over the weekend, some invisible line had been crossed, and now when Bok-Jin fell into pace beside me, it felt less like coincidence and more like inevitability.
"Morning," he said, his breath fogging in the cold air.
"Morning. Did you finish that business ethics essay?"
"Barely. Stayed up until 2 AM. You?"
"Got through two more LEET practice sections. Wanted to cry by the end of it, but I survived."
"That's the spirit. Survival through tears."
"It's a valid strategy."
We ran in comfortable silence for a while, finding our rhythm. The campus was still mostly dark, just the soft glow of streetlights and the promise of dawn on the horizon. Other club members were scattered around us—Min-Ji up ahead setting a brutal pace, golden retriever freshman somewhere in the middle pack, a few stragglers bringing up the rear.
"Can I ask you something?" Bok-Jin said as we rounded the turn near the library.
"You always can."
"Are we... I mean, is this—" He seemed to struggle with the words, which was unlike him. "What are we doing? Officially."
My heart rate kicked up, and it had nothing to do with running. "What do you want to be doing?"
"I want to be dating you. Officially. If that's something you want too."
I almost tripped over my own feet. "You want to date me? Like, be in a relationship?"
"Yes. Is that surprising?"
"A little? I don't know. I guess I thought we were just... figuring things out."
"We can keep figuring things out. But I'd like to figure them out as your boyfriend. If that's okay."
Boyfriend. The word felt strange and thrilling and terrifying all at once.
"Okay," I said.
"Okay?"
"Okay, let's do it. Official dating. You're my boyfriend. I'm your girlfriend. We're... doing this."
"You sound very certain."
"I'm panicking internally, but I'm committing to the bit."
He laughed, and the sound was bright in the pre-dawn air. "That's very on brand for you."
"I'm a consistent person."
We finished the run, and as everyone was cooling down and chatting, Min-Ji sidled up to me with a knowing look.
"So," she said, "you and Hot Librarian Chaebol Guy looked very cozy during that run."
"His name is Bok-Jin. And we were just running."
"You were running together. There's a difference. Also you're smiling like an idiot."
"I am not."
"You absolutely are. What happened?"
I glanced over at Bok-Jin, who was talking to one of the other club members, and felt that stupid smile get wider. "We're officially dating."
Min-Ji squealed. Actually squealed, loud enough that several people turned to look.
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! When did this happen? Just now? During the run?"
"Like five minutes ago. He asked if we could be official."
"That's so cute I could die. Does Yoo-Na know?"
"You literally just found out. How would Yoo-Na know?"
"Fair point. But we're telling her immediately when we get home."
"I have class at 8:30—"
"IMMEDIATELY."
I laughed despite myself. "Okay, okay. We'll tell her."
Bok-Jin finished his conversation and walked over, and Min-Ji gave him a look that was equal parts approval and warning.
"I hear congratulations are in order," she said.
He looked at me, slightly panicked. "You told her?"
"She interrogated me. I cracked under pressure."
"That was fast."
"I'm very persuasive," Min-Ji said. "Also, Bok-Jin-ssi, if you hurt my friend, I know seventeen ways to make a body disappear and at least three of them are legal."
"Noted," he said seriously. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go text Yoo-Na immediately." She bounded off before I could stop her.
Bok-Jin looked at me with amusement. "Your friends are protective."
"They're the worst. But also the best. It's complicated."
"I like complicated."
"Good, because my entire life is complicated."
He smiled and reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together right there in front of the remaining running club members. Public. Official. Real.
"I should go," I said reluctantly. "I need to shower and get to class."
"Me too. But I'll text you later?"
"Please do. Otherwise I'll spiral into thinking this morning was a fever dream."
"It wasn't a fever dream. I'm your boyfriend now. That's legally binding."
"I don't think that's how relationships work."
"I'm a business major. Everything is legally binding."
I laughed and squeezed his hand once before letting go. "See you Wednesday?"
"Wednesday. And maybe before then, if you're free."
"I'll make time."
Class was a blur. I sat through Constitutional Law II and barely absorbed anything Professor Kwon said, which was dangerous considering midterms were coming up. But my brain was stuck on a loop: I have a boyfriend. Choi Bok-Jin is my boyfriend. This is actually happening.
After class, I met up with Yoo-Na at a campus café—her treat, since she'd insisted we celebrate even though I protested that official dating wasn't really celebration-worthy.
"It absolutely is," she said, sliding an Americano across the table to me. "You've been single since I've known you. This is a momentous occasion."
"I've been busy. I didn't have time for dating."
"And yet you're making time now. For him." She smiled knowingly. "That says something."
"It says I make poor life choices."
"It says you're allowing yourself to want something beyond your five-year plan. That's growth."
I took a sip of coffee. "His family is still planning his future. That hasn't changed."
"Has he said anything more about that?"
"Not really. Just that they have expectations and he's trying to navigate them." I played with my coffee cup. "I'm trying not to think about it too much. Just... enjoy this while it lasts."
"That's very pessimistic."
"That's realistic. We're from different worlds, Yoo-Na. You know that better than anyone."
She was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "Can I tell you something? About my world, as you call it?"
"Of course."
"Money doesn't actually solve everything. I grew up with wealth, with connections, with all the advantages you think matter so much. And yes, they do matter. But they also come with their own kind of prison." She stirred her latte slowly. "My parents have been planning my life since I was born. The right schools, the right major, the right social circles. When I graduate, I'm expected to join my father's company, marry someone suitable from our social class, and produce heirs to continue the family line. My opinions on any of this are considered cute but ultimately irrelevant."
I'd never heard her talk about this before. "I didn't know."
"I don't talk about it much. But I'm telling you now because I want you to understand something: Bok-Jin choosing you isn't just romantic. It's rebellious. It's him saying that he'd rather have something real than something convenient. And that's not nothing."
"But what happens when his family pushes back harder? When convenient becomes mandatory?"
"Then you'll deal with it together. Or you won't. But at least you'll have tried." She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Don't sabotage something good because you're scared of it ending badly. That's just a different kind of prison."
Her words sat heavy in my chest as I headed to my library shift. I wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe that choosing each other was enough, that love or whatever this was could overcome the practical realities of wealth and class and family obligation.
But I'd spent too many years being practical to suddenly become an optimist.
My phone buzzed during a quiet moment at the circulation desk.
Bok-Jin: Missing you already. Is that pathetic?
Me: Extremely pathetic. Also very cute.
Bok-Jin: I'll take cute. What are you doing?
Me: Working. Shelving books. Living my best life.
Bok-Jin: Sounds thrilling.
Me: It's actually kind of meditative. Books don't talk back or have opinions or complicate your life.
Bok-Jin: Unlike boyfriends?
Me: Unlike boyfriends.
Bok-Jin: In my defense, I'm a very uncomplicated boyfriend. I like you, I want to spend time with you, I think about you constantly. Simple.
Me: That's actually pretty complicated when you're supposed to be focusing on business ethics homework.
Bok-Jin: Business ethics can wait. Texting my girlfriend is clearly the priority.
I smiled at my phone like a fool, and Ji-Won, my coworker, noticed.
"You've been smiling at your phone a lot today," she observed.
"I have not."
"You absolutely have. Did something good happen?"
I considered lying, but what was the point? "I'm seeing someone. It's new. Very new."
"That's great! Who is he?"
"Just... a guy from my running club. Business major, second year."
"Cute. Is it serious?"
"I don't know yet. We're figuring it out."
She smiled. "Well, you look happy. That's nice to see. You're always so stressed."
Was I happy? I considered the question as I went back to shelving books. Happy felt like a dangerous word, like tempting fate. But also... yeah. Despite everything, despite the practical concerns and the impossible complications and the fact that this was probably going to end badly, I was happy.
That had to count for something.
Wednesday morning I woke up to a text sent at 3 AM.
Bok-Jin: Can't sleep. Family stuff. Looking forward to seeing you this morning though.
I checked the time—5:45. Running club in fifteen minutes.
Me: You okay?
Bok-Jin: Yeah. Just stressed. I'll tell you about it later.
That wasn't ominous at all.
I got dressed quickly and headed to campus, arriving to find Bok-Jin already there, looking tired. There were shadows under his eyes again, and his usual calm demeanor seemed more strained.
"Hey," I said, coming to stand beside him. "You look exhausted."
"Family conference call until midnight. Then couldn't turn my brain off." He managed a small smile. "But I'm here."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"After the run? I don't want to bring everyone down with my chaebol heir problems."
"They're not just chaebol heir problems. They're your problems. That makes them valid."
Something in his expression softened. "Thank you for saying that."
We ran—him setting a slightly slower pace than usual, me matching it without comment. The physical exertion helped, I could see it in the way his shoulders gradually relaxed, the way his breathing evened out into something more centered.
After the cool-down, when most people had dispersed, we sat on our usual bench.
"So," I said. "What happened?"
"My father informed me that an old family friend is returning from the United States. Someone I grew up with who's been studying abroad for the past few years. He wants me to... reconnect with her."
My stomach tightened. "Reconnect how?"
"He didn't say explicitly. But knowing my family, it's not just a friendly catch-up." He looked down at his hands. "They've been doing this more lately. Mentioning suitable people, arranging coincidental meetings, applying subtle pressure. This feels like part of that pattern."
"When is she arriving?"
"Next week, apparently. There's going to be some family dinner thing. I'm expected to attend."
"Are you going to tell them? About us?"
He was quiet for a long moment. "I want to. But I also know that the moment I do, they'll escalate. They'll start actively interfering, making things difficult for both of us. And I'm not—" He stopped, frustrated. "I'm not ready for that fight yet. Not when we've barely started."
I understood. I did. But it still hurt a little, the idea of being kept secret.
"So what do we do?" I asked.
"We keep doing what we're doing. I go to the family dinner, I'm polite to this person, and I make it clear that I'm not interested in whatever they're planning. And in the meantime, I'm with you. Officially. That's what matters."
"Okay."
"You're upset."
"I'm not upset. I'm just... processing."
"Ji-Mang—"
"No, really. I get it. You can't just tell your family to back off when they control so much of your life. I understand that." I made myself look at him. "But at some point, if this gets serious, we're going to have to deal with them. You know that, right?"
"I know. And when that time comes, I'll deal with it. I promise." He reached for my hand. "But right now, can we just... be us? Without worrying about what's coming?"
I wanted to say no. Wanted to insist we plan, strategize, prepare for the inevitable conflict. But I also understood the appeal of pretending, just for a little while, that we could be normal.
"Okay," I said. "We can just be us."
He smiled with relief, and we sat there holding hands as the morning sun finally crested over the buildings, washing everything in gold.
It was a nice moment.
I tried not to think about how temporary nice moments always were.