My mood becomes heavy, the cellphone slipping through my fingers. I watch the cellphone ricochet helplessly against the car interior, finding solace under the driver’s seat. YoungJi nuzzles deeper into my shoulder, unaware of my discovery. As I try to comprehend the meaning of the text, the tow truck arrives.

            “YoungJi. The towing company is here,” I say, gently tapping her thigh.

            Opening her drowsy eyes, she promptly rises. Just as she is about to exit the vehicle she pats her pockets.

            “Jackson. Have you seen my phone?”

            Feigning ignorance, I say I haven’t. In attempt to keep my cover, I pretend to look for her lost phone, moving my hands under the driver’s seat.

            “Ah. Here it is,” I inform YoungJi, placing a half hearted smile on my face.

            “Thanks.”

            YoungJi and I wait patiently on the side of the freeway, while the worker swiftly attaches the lifeless car to the back of the truck. The drive home is just as quick, mainly due to my mind being elsewhere. Before I know it, we arrive at YoungJi’s dorm.

            “Thank you,” I tell the worker, as we get out of the truck. “As for the car, you can drop the it off at Lemon Mechanic Shop. They’ll know whose car it is and what to do.”

            YoungJi being YoungJi, kindly brings a water bottle out from her dorm, giving the worker the refreshment and a beautiful smile of thanks.

            The text floats in my mind, but begins to drift towards the background. YoungJi entrances me, as I fall in love with her over and over again. I grab her hand, enjoying our time together. We enter the cozy apartment, making ourselves comfortable.

            “Wang Jackson. What do you want to eat?” YoungJi asks, walking into the kitchen.

            “Ooo. Are you going to cook for me?” I ask bewildered.

            “Yes. Since you went out of your way to prepare such an unforgettable date, I will make you dinner. So, what would you like?”

            Sitting down on the kitchen counter beside the stove, I lean my back against the wall.

            “I’ll take a chef’s special,” I say playfully.

            “You GOT it,” YoungJi laughs. She smiles brightly, proud of her pun.

            My eyes follow her as she roams the kitchen. A small laugh escapes me when I see her confidently open a ramyun package. The water boils under the fiery blaze, sizzling as YoungJi drops the noodles in. Grabbing a pair of chopsticks, she attempts to separate and mix the noodles. I hop down from the counter and press my chest against YoungJi’s back. My left hand wraps around her waist, as my right hand covers her right hand.

            “Yah, Jackson. What are you doing?” She asks shyly.

            “You have a hard time using chopsticks don’t you? Let me give you a hand.”

            With her hand under mine, I guide her fingers over the chopsticks. We mix the ramyun noodles, cooking them to perfection. I rest my cheek against the side of YoungJi’s head. Her hair feels heavenly against my skin. We remain close, finishing the final touches of the ramyun. We chat and laugh, becoming lost in one another. The text is completely forgotten until I hear the sound of my phone going off. My emotions that had been dormant soon begin to sprout with life. As YoungJi pours the ramyun into two bowls, I head to the dining table to set the utensils. My eyes gloss over my phone, which lies on the placemat. I can feel an unwanted surge of nervousness bloom within the pits of my stomach.

            “YoungJi. I need to ask you something,” I say, my throat parched.

            “What is it?”

            “Do you love me?” I ask quietly.

            “Huh? What kind of question is that?” She asks.