It happened after school.

Hana was halfway down the stairs, juggling her bag and her phone, when someone rushed past her—

—and she lost her footing.

She braced herself for the fall.

It never came.

A hand grabbed her wrist, steady and warm.

“You okay?”

She looked up too fast and immediately regretted it.

Minjae.

Up close, he was worse. Long lashes. Clear skin. That quiet kind of beauty that didn’t feel loud but still demanded attention.

“I—yeah. I’m fine,” she said, quickly pulling her hand back.

He didn’t let go right away.

“Careful,” he said gently. “You almost fell.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, cheeks warming.

He smiled. Not the charming smile people probably expected—but something small. Almost shy.

“You’re Hana, right?”

Her heart skipped.

“…Yeah.”

“I sit behind you,” he said. “By the window.”

She blinked.
She had never noticed.

“Oh,” she said. “Right.”

There was a pause. An awkward one.

Then Minjae spoke again.

“I like your drawings.”

Hana froze.

“You… noticed those?”

He nodded. “You draw in the margins of your notebook. They’re really pretty.”

No one had ever said that before.