The next few days felt like living in a dream I was afraid to wake up from.
Friday running club where Bok-Jin kept pace with me and we held hands during cool-down, not caring who saw. Saturday afternoon studying together at a café, stealing kisses between practice problems and essay drafts. Sunday evening when he showed up at the convenience store with takeout dinner because I'd mentioned being too busy to eat properly.
We were in that new relationship bubble where everything felt easy and right and perfect. Where I could almost forget about the complications lurking on the horizon.
Almost.
Monday evening, his texts became shorter.
Bok-Jin: Family dinner tonight. The one I mentioned.
Me: With the family friend?
Bok-Jin: Yeah. I'll text you after?
Me: Good luck. You've got this.
Bok-Jin: Thanks. Miss you already.
That was at 5 PM. By 10 PM, I still hadn't heard from him.
I tried not to spiral. Tried to focus on my LEET prep, on the Legal Research assignment due Wednesday, on literally anything except checking my phone every three minutes.
"He's probably just busy," Min-Ji said, watching me fidget. "Family dinners with chaebols probably last forever."
"I know. I'm not worried."
"You're definitely worried."
"Okay, fine, I'm a little worried. But not because I think something's wrong. Just because..." I trailed off, not sure how to articulate the unease I felt.
My phone finally buzzed at 10:47 PM.
Bok-Jin: Sorry. That went longer than expected. Can I call you?
Me: Yeah, of course.
The call came through seconds later. I stepped into my room for privacy and answered.
"Hey," he said, and he sounded exhausted.
"Hey. How was it?"
"Complicated." I heard him sigh. "The family friend I mentioned? Her name is Park Seo-Yeon. We grew up together—her father and mine are business partners. She's been studying at Columbia for the past four years and just got back to Korea."
"Okay..." I prompted when he paused.
"She's... everything my family wants. Right background, right education, right connections. And they made it very clear tonight that they think we'd be a good match."
My stomach dropped. "A good match."
"For marriage, eventually. They didn't say it outright, but it was obvious. The way they kept pushing us to talk, suggesting we should meet up while she's adjusting back to Seoul, mentioning how our families have always been close." His voice was tight with frustration. "It was a setup. The whole dinner was a setup."
"What did you say?"
"I was polite. Because I had to be. But I made it clear I'm not interested in being matched with anyone. That I'm focused on finishing my degree." He paused. "I didn't mention you. I'm sorry. I know I should have, but—"
"It's okay," I said, even though it wasn't quite okay. "I understand. Starting that fight in the middle of a family dinner wouldn't have helped anything."
"You're not upset?"
I was upset. But not at him—at the situation, at the fact that his family thought they could plan his life like a business merger, at the existence of this perfect suitable girl who came from his world in all the ways I didn't.
"I'm not upset with you," I said carefully. "But I'd be lying if I said this doesn't worry me."
"I know. It worries me too. But Ji-Mang, you have to know—I don't have feelings for her. I barely know her anymore. We were friends when we were kids, but that was years ago."
"What's she like?"
"I don't know. Polished. Well-spoken. Everything you'd expect from someone who went to Columbia and grew up in this world." He sounded almost bitter. "She spent most of dinner talking about international business strategy and her plans to work in her father's company. Very suitable."
Very suitable. Unlike me, with my convenience store job and my used textbooks and my ramyeon dinners.
"Are you going to see her again?" I asked.
"My family will probably arrange something. But it doesn't mean anything. You're the one I want to be with."
"I know. I believe you. I just..." I struggled for words. "I guess I'm realizing what it actually means, you being from your world. It's not just abstract anymore. There's an actual person your family has picked out for you."
"A person I'm not interested in."
"But a person they want you to be interested in. And they're not going to give up just because you said no once."
He was quiet, and that silence said more than words could have.
"We'll figure it out," he said finally. "I promise. This doesn't change anything between us."
I wanted to believe him. I tried to believe him.
"Okay," I said. "We'll figure it out."
We talked for a few more minutes—him trying to reassure me, me trying to sound reassured—before hanging up. I lay in bed staring at my ceiling, unable to shake the knot of anxiety in my chest.
Park Seo-Yeon. Columbia graduate. Suitable match. Everything his family wanted.
I was being stupid. Bok-Jin had chosen me. He'd said so explicitly. But I couldn't stop thinking about what Yoo-Na had said weeks ago: What happens when his family pushes harder? When convenient becomes mandatory?
We were about to find out.
Tuesday I didn't see Bok-Jin—he had back-to-back classes and I had work. We texted sporadically, normal couple stuff, but something felt slightly off. Like there was a weight neither of us wanted to acknowledge.
Wednesday morning running club, he was back to normal. Smiling, affectionate, holding my hand during cool-down like nothing had changed.
"You okay?" I asked as we walked to the campus exit after the run.
"Yeah. Just tired. Family stuff has been intense." He squeezed my hand. "But this helps. You help."
"I'm very helpful. It's one of my best qualities."
"One of many."
We were standing near the main gate, about to go our separate ways for the day, when I saw her.
A girl—woman, really—walking across campus with the kind of confidence that came from never having to question whether she belonged. She was beautiful in that effortless way wealth afforded: perfect skin, perfect hair in a sleek ponytail, wearing an expensive-looking camel coat and designer bag. She moved through space like she owned it.
And she was walking directly toward us.
"Bok-Jin!" she called out, waving.
I felt him tense beside me.
"That's her?" I asked quietly.
"That's her," he confirmed, and I heard the resignation in his voice.
Park Seo-Yeon approached with a bright smile, and up close she was even more striking. Delicate features, expensive subtle makeup, the kind of polish that came from a lifetime of the best schools and the best everything.
"I thought that was you!" she said in English, then switched to Korean. "I was hoping I'd run into you on campus. Your mother mentioned you have classes in the mornings."
Of course his mother had mentioned his schedule. Because this was definitely not a coincidence.
"Seo-Yeon," Bok-Jin said, his tone carefully polite. "This is unexpected."
"I know, I should have texted first. But I'm still adjusting my phone situation after moving back." Her eyes slid to me, curious but not unkind. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm interrupting. I'm Park Seo-Yeon."
"Han Ji-Mang," I said, trying to match her confidence and falling short.
"Nice to meet you. Are you in business with Bok-Jin?"
"No, I'm—we're—" I looked at Bok-Jin, waiting for him to explain.
"Ji-Mang is in the running club I joined," he said. "She's the president."
Running club. Not "my girlfriend." Not even "my friend." Just running club.
Something in my chest cracked.
"Oh, how fun!" Seo-Yeon said brightly. "I've been thinking about getting back into exercise. Maybe I should join?"
"We meet Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings at 6 AM," I heard myself say. "Anyone can join."
"Perfect. I'll definitely consider it." She turned back to Bok-Jin. "Actually, I was hoping to steal you for coffee? My father wanted me to get your input on something business-related, and I figured we could catch up at the same time."
I watched Bok-Jin's face carefully. He looked uncomfortable, trapped, but also resigned.
"I have class at 9," he said.
"It's only 7:30. Plenty of time."
He glanced at me, and I saw the apology in his eyes. But he also wasn't saying no.
"You should go," I said, making the decision for him. "I have to get to my library shift anyway."
"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.
No. "Yeah, it's fine."
"I'll text you later?"
"Sure."
I watched them walk away together—him tall and handsome, her elegant and perfect, both of them looking like they belonged in the same world, the same magazine spread, the same life.
And me standing there in my running clothes that had seen better days, with my scholarship student status and my convenience store job and my complete and utter lack of suitability.
My phone buzzed.
Bok-Jin: I'm sorry. I didn't know she'd be here. This isn't what it looks like.
Me: It's fine. She's just asking about business stuff.
Bok-Jin: Still. I'd rather be with you.
Me: I know. It's okay.
I sent the texts because that's what you did when you were being a supportive girlfriend. But as I walked to the library for my shift, I couldn't stop replaying the moment.
"Ji-Mang is in the running club I joined."
Not his girlfriend. Not someone important to him. Just the running club president.
I understood why he hadn't said more. Seo-Yeon would probably report back to his family, and telling her about us would complicate things before we were ready for that fight.
But understanding didn't make it hurt less.
My library shift was torture. Every time someone asked for help, I had to force my brain to focus. Every quiet moment, my mind wandered back to them sitting in some café, talking about business and family and their shared world that I would never be part of.
Around 11 AM, I saw Seung-Ho come in. He spotted me at the circulation desk and made a beeline over with his trademark smug expression.
"Han Ji-Mang," he said. "Interesting news this morning."
"Not interested, Seung-Ho."
"Oh, I think you will be. I saw Choi Bok-Jin at that café near the business building. With Park Seo-Yeon—you know, the Park Seo-Yeon. Her father owns half of Seoul."
My stomach clenched. "And?"
"And they looked very cozy together. Apparently they're family friends, known each other forever. Word is their families are hoping for a match." He leaned against the desk. "Funny, I thought I saw you two together at running club a few times. But I guess that was just... what? Club president duties?"
"Is there a point to this conversation?"
"Just friendly information. Wouldn't want you to get your hopes up about someone who's clearly out of your league. Chaebol heirs don't date scholarship students, Ji-Mang. They marry other chaebols. That's how their world works."
"Good thing I'm not interested in him then," I lied.
"Sure you're not." He pushed off the desk. "Just remember this conversation when your heart gets broken. I tried to warn you."
He walked away, and I stood there feeling like I'd been punched.
Seung-Ho was an asshole. A petty, jealous asshole who got off on other people's misery.
But he also wasn't wrong.