This story is close to my heart, and I’m so excited to share it with you. Within these pages, you’ll find emotions, choices, and connections that I hope will make you feel, smile, and maybe even ache a little.

Every chapter was written with love, and my wish is that you enjoy the journey just as much as I enjoyed creating it. Settle in, turn the page, and let the story carry you away.

Joon-Ho was the kind of boy people noticed—even when he tried to disappear into the background. He was tall, with broad shoulders that made his slim frame look elegant rather than fragile. His black hair fell neatly over his forehead, and his skin was pale and smooth, like porcelain. What caught most people’s attention, though, were his features: sharp jawline, straight nose, and warm brown eyes framed by lashes too long for a boy.

He looked like he had stepped straight out of a drama—handsome in a way that felt almost unreal, much like Cha Eun-woo, the celebrity most girls at campus whispered about. Yet despite his looks, Joon-Ho carried himself with quiet restraint, as if he neither noticed nor cared about the attention. He preferred his sketchbook and silence to crowds and admirers.

Amara was different, but just as striking in her own way. Her skin was a deep, radiant brown, glowing softly beneath the afternoon sun. Her braids, neat and glossy, cascaded down her back and framed her face with graceful ease. She wore a yellow blouse that brightened her complexion, and her smile—open, unguarded—was the kind of smile that made strangers want to smile back.

Joon-Ho noticed her before he even realized it.

She was laughing, walking across the courtyard with another student, her voice rich and warm. It wasn’t just her beauty that caught him—it was her presence, confident yet gentle, standing out naturally among the sea of faces.

His pencil stilled against the page.

Instead of clean lines and rooftops, he found himself sketching her—the curve of her lips, the tilt of her eyes, the way her laughter seemed alive even in stillness.

Min-Seok, lounging beside him, peeked and smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re sketching her? The Cameroonian exchange student? You know she just arrived.”

Joon-Ho closed the book too quickly, his ears burning. “It’s nothing,” he muttered.

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t nothing.

Something about her had already unsettled the balance of his carefully ordered world.

And even though he hadn’t spoken a word to her yet, Joon-Ho felt as if fate had quietly introduced him to the girl who would change everything.

Amara adjusted the strap of her bag as she walked across the courtyard, her braids swaying gently with her steps. She carried herself with quiet confidence, though being new to Seoul was never easy. The curious stares, the unfamiliar rhythm of the city—it all felt heavy at times. Yet she smiled anyway, her laughter spilling out warm and bright, like sunlight breaking through a cloudy day.

That was when Joon-Ho noticed her.

His pencil froze mid-line. He had always preferred lines and symmetry, things he could measure and control. But there was nothing measured about the way she caught his attention. Her presence was too vivid, her smile too alive, her beauty something that seemed untouchable.

Beside him, Min-Seok leaned over, following his gaze. He smirked. “Her? The Cameroonian girl? She’s not your type, Joon-Ho. You’d never last five minutes with someone like her.”

Joon-Ho shut his sketchbook quickly, though his heart gave him away by beating faster. “I didn’t say anything,” he muttered.

But he had already drawn her. The curve of her braid. The faint sparkle in her eyes. The way her shoulders lifted when she laughed. It was as though his hands had betrayed him before his mind could even catch up.

He tried to tell himself Min-Seok was right. She probably wasn’t his type—or maybe he wasn’t hers. But as Amara’s figure disappeared into the building, Joon-Ho felt a pull, strong and unfamiliar, like gravity itself had shifted.

Maybe she wasn’t his type.

But she was unforgettable.

And that alone was enough to unsettle everything he thought he knew about himself.

The university library was hushed, the kind of place where voices dared not rise above a whisper. Shelves stretched like tall walls, their shadows soft against the warm light. Amara wandered slowly, clutching the list of books her professor had given her.

The titles were all in Korean. Some words she could piece together, but most of them left her lost. Her Korean classes were helping, but not fast enough..

Amara sighed. “This is impossible,” she murmured under her breath.

“Do you need help?”

The voice startled her. She turned and found him standing there—the boy from the courtyard. His features were so sharp and flawless that for a moment she forgot what she had been struggling with. Pale skin, a strong jawline, eyes that seemed thoughtful even in silence. He looked as though he had stepped straight out of a drama scene, and being this close to him felt strangely unreal.

“Oh… um, yes,” Amara said quickly, trying to recover. She held out the paper. “I can’t find this book.”

Joon-Ho studied the list. “This is in the Korean literature section. I’ll show you.”

He walked ahead, and Amara followed, her eyes catching the quiet grace of his movements. He was tall, his dark hair falling neatly into his eyes, yet he seemed completely unaware of how many students turned to glance at him as he passed.

At the shelf, he reached easily for the book she needed and handed it to her. “Here.”

Amara’s smile bloomed, soft and warm. “Thank you. I thought I’d be wandering these aisles forever.”

Joon-Ho’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “It happens. Especially if you’re new here.”

She tilted her head. “That obvious?”

He gave a small shrug. “A little.”

Amara hesitated, then decided to introduce herself. “I’m Amara. My dad’s Nigerian, my mom’s Cameroonian—but I grew up in Cameroon. My parents divorced when I was young, so I stayed with my mom there before coming to Seoul for exchange.” She chuckled lightly, hugging the book against her chest. “So, yes, I’m very new here.”

Joon-Ho absorbed her words quietly, his gaze steady, curious but not prying. “Amara,” he repeated softly, as if testing the way her name sounded on his tongue. Then he gave a short nod. “I’m Joon-Ho. Architecture major.”

There was a pause. Not awkward—just filled with the quiet weight of two strangers meeting for the first time.

“Well… thank you, Joon-Ho,” Amara said at last, smiling again. “It was nice to meet you.”

She turned toward the study tables, her braids swaying behind her as she walked. Joon-Ho stood where she left him, his sketchbook heavy in his bag, his heart strangely lighter.

It had been only a name, only a beginning.

But for Joon-Ho, beginnings mattered most.

The library was quiet, almost too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed against Amara’s ears until she could hear her own thoughts echo back. She moved slowly down the aisles, clutching the paper her professor had given her. A list of required reading—all in Korean.

She traced the characters with her finger, then tried to match them to the spines of the books. After a few minutes, her shoulders sagged. Everything blended together, the titles a blur of unfamiliar letters.

“This is impossible,” she whispered to herself, her voice almost swallowed by the shelves.

“Do you need help?”

The voice came from behind her, low but clear. She turned quickly, startled.

It was him—the boy from the courtyard.

Up close, he was even more breathtaking. His face was all sharp lines and flawless symmetry, his skin pale and smooth under the soft glow of the overhead lights. His hair fell neatly across his forehead, framing brown eyes that were calm and steady. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine, not standing in the middle of dusty shelves.

For a moment, Amara forgot what she had been struggling with.

“Oh… um, yes,” she said finally, holding out the paper with the list. “I can’t find this book.”

He glanced at it once, then nodded. “This way.”

His voice was measured, gentle. Not rushed, not impatient. He started walking, and Amara followed, adjusting the strap of her bag against her shoulder.

As they moved through the aisles, she couldn’t help noticing how easily people’s eyes followed him. A girl at one of the tables lifted her head to watch him pass, her friend leaning close to whisper something with a giggle. Joon-Ho didn’t react. He seemed completely unaware—or maybe uninterested.

Of course he wouldn’t notice, Amara thought, her lips pressing into a small smile. Boys who look like that never do.

He stopped in front of a shelf, scanned the spines, and without hesitation pulled out the exact book she needed. He held it out to her.

“Here.”

Amara accepted it with both hands, relief softening her face. “Thank you. Really. I thought I’d be stuck here until midnight.”

Something flickered in his eyes, and then the corners of his mouth curved slightly. “You’re not the first. This section confuses even Koreans.”

That made her laugh, light and genuine. “That’s comforting. I was starting to think maybe I wasn’t cut out for this exchange program.”

“You are,” he said simply.

His tone was quiet, but certain. It startled her a little—how someone who didn’t know her could sound so sure. She hugged the book to her chest, unsure how to reply.

To fill the silence, she offered her name. “I’m Amara. My dad is Nigerian, my mom is Cameroonian. They divorced when I was little, so I grew up with my mom in Cameroon. This is my first time living outside of Africa.” She chuckled softly. “And now here I am, getting lost in libraries in Seoul.”

He seemed to take in every word with steady attention, his gaze lingering on her as if she was more than just another student passing through. “Amara,” he repeated, his voice wrapping around the name as though testing how it felt. Then he nodded once. “I’m Joon-Ho. Architecture major.”

“Architecture?” she tilted her head. “That explains the sketchbook.”

His brows rose slightly. “You saw that?”

She smiled. “When I passed by the steps earlier. You looked so focused I thought you might be sketching the entire building.”

For the first time, something like amusement touched his expression. “Not the building,” he admitted softly.

Amara blinked, surprised, but before she could ask, he cleared his throat and added, “I sketch… a lot of things.”

She decided not to press. Instead, she asked, “Do you like it? Architecture?”

He nodded. “It’s what makes sense to me. Lines, balance, design… I like when things fit together.”

There was a weight to his words, something deeper than he intended, and for a moment Amara felt it too.

She shifted the book in her arms, breaking the silence. “Well… thank you again, Joon-Ho. Maybe next time I get lost in here, I’ll know who to find.”

This time, his smile reached his eyes, faint but unmistakable. “Maybe.”

Amara gave a small wave before turning toward the study tables, her braids swaying behind her with each step.

Joon-Ho watched her go, his hands buried in his pockets, his heart beating faster than he wanted to admit. He stood there for a long moment, the faint smile still on his lips.

It had been nothing more than small talk. Just a name. Just a moment.

But for Joon-Ho, it was enough to feel like the start of something that would change him.