I’m reading the papers Jongin gave me earlier on a bench next to the library. I raise my wrist to look at the watch, and it’s five minutes to 5 PM. I bury half of my face under the scarf, and breathe out. I’ve done countless deep exhales since the beginning of the week, haven’t I?

                I’m climbing the stairs to the library, taking five seconds in each step. I don’t know what to expect from this meeting.

                I’m looking around the studying section of the library, trying to find Kim Jongin. He’s nowhere to be seen, though.

                “Joo Dana.”

                I almost let out a gasp when a voice is heard behind me, and I turn around. I need to take a step back so I can look up to see the culprit, and Jongin looks down at me, literally, with a flat face.

                “Here.” he walks past me, and heads to a table near the window. I sit in front of him, and do nothing. Jongin takes out some papers, the same ones he gave to me. “Have you read the content?”

                “Yeah.” I answer. “So Professor Han wants us to provide him with the main topic and abstract for our final project next week?”

                “Yes. I intend to discuss that with you now. Are you in a hurry? Or do you want to reschedule this?”

                “No, it’s fine.” I take out my own papers. “Let’s start.”

                We move on to talk about possible materials for our project, and the mood is bland at best. I like it this way, this is exactly how it’s supposed to be for me. Two random students work together without any emotional attachment, for the sake of academic obligations.

                “The abstract is almost done, the last thing to do is checking the book I left at home to complete the research method.” Jongin says as he clicks his pen.

                “If that’s so… Thank you. Then I will do the first research for the beginning of the paper. I will show it to you next week.”

                “Great. Thank you.”

                Silence. Jongin puts down his pen, and I quietly check my phone. We talked for almost an hour? I didn’t know I’d last this long.

                “How’s your arm?”

                I look at the table. “It will get better.”

                “Nothing worse happened, right?”

                Continuing meeting you is worse, I bitterly think. “No.”

                I’m packing my things, and Jongin just watches me. I zip my bag with unnecessary strength, and I almost stand up when Jongin speaks again.

                “Can I ask for your number?”

                I look at him right in the eyes. “Sorry?”

                “For our final project purposes. Don’t misunderstand.”

                “I don’t see the need to do that. We’ll meet in the class anyway.”

                Jongin moves his chair a bit forward, and puts his elbows on the table. “You know, I have a few friends in Political Science. I can easily ask for your contact info. I need to ask for your permission, that’s why I’m asking directly. I’ve said that it’s for the sake of our project, not anything else. What do you take me for, really?” he raises his tone a bit in the end, and someone on the neighboring table glances at us.

                My chest suddenly feels tight, and I grab his pen and the nearest paper. I roughly write my number and immediately stand up. “Here. I’ll go first.”

                I rush to the exit of the library, and almost trip while going down the stairs. I only have eyes for the main gate. I want to go home. I’m speedwalking through the street when my phone rings. Is that—? He’s calling already?

                I see ‘Mr. Gil Jungsik’ on my screen, and I stop walking. “Hello?”

                “Hello, Miss Dana?”

                “Yes… Why are you calling?”

                “Are you finished with your classes? I’m currently at the north parking area of your campus. Your grandparents want to see you.”

                When I arrive at the parking area, I see Mr. Gil, my grandparents’ driver, waiting in front of a familiar light grey car. He straightens up his thin figure once he sees me, and bows slightly with a smile. “Good evening, Miss Dana.”

                I get in the car, and Mr. Gil starts the engine with an exclamation. “I heard you got hurt, Miss?”

                “Ah… Yes.”

                “Are you okay? Your grandparents want to see you because of this.”

                There’s a skeptical feeling about this, and I look at the passing road outside. Did Mom tell my grandparents about the additional details?

                We arrive at the suburban Seoul where the house is located, and dim light on the wooden gate shines below the darkening sky. Before I reach the front door, it’s open already, and Grandma appears, her night gown is covered in thick knit cover. “Dana! My dear Dana… Come in.”

                She holds my shoulders as she leads the way inside, and I spot my grandfather in the living room, with a book glued to his eyes. He notices my arrival, and puts down the book. “Dana.”

                I formally greet them, and sit across from him. Grandma sticks beside me, and both she and Grandpa display worried faces. “You got hurt. Are you okay?”

                I take off my coat, and reveal the bulging bandage pattern under my long-sleeved shirt. “I’m okay.”

                “I don’t know you have night classes. It’s dangerous in winter, I’m thinking of sending Mr. Gil every night you have the class, so you can go home with him.”

                “There’s no need to, Grandpa. Thank you.”

                “You know he’ll send him anyway.” Grandma whispers beside me.

                Grandpa takes off his glasses, and looks at me. “There’s something I’m curious about. I heard the mugger was actually targeting someone else?”

                I my lips uneasily. “Yes.”

                “And that someone happens to be the grandson of the Kim family?”

                I’m focusing on a glass vase in the middle of the table in front of me, saying nothing. I don’t want to answer that.

                “And apparently you’ve been attending the same school as him for two years?”

                I’m struggling to stay still, and my head goes lower.

                “Why didn’t you tell me?”

                I know this has a different meaning from the exact same question Mom asked in the hospital that time. “Why would I? What are you trying to say?”

                “Fate works in fascinating ways, doesn’t it?”

                I look up, and my grandfather has this hopeful look on his face. I turn my head to see Grandma, and she avoids my eyes. “Grandpa. Did you forget what I tried to do that time?”

                Grandpa straightens his back, and the light glints on his grey hair. “That is not what I mean.”

                “I’m sorry, but please allow me to go home. Good night.”

                I leave the house, and after calling my name once, my grandparents’ voices aren’t heard again. Mr. Gil steadily opens the car door for me, and after it’s closed, I bury my face on my scarf with a hope to lessen my headache.