Chapter Three – Shared Spaces
The library glowed in soft afternoon light, sunlight streaming through the tall windows and casting long shadows across the rows of books. Amara sat at a table near the corner, her notebooks and pens scattered in an organized chaos. She stared down at her Korean grammar book, chewing the end of her pen in frustration.
No matter how many times she read the sentence, the rules made no sense.
“This language is trying to kill me,” she muttered, dropping her head against her folded arms.
A shadow stretched across her table.
“You’re here again,” a calm voice said.
Amara lifted her head, and her heart gave a tiny jolt. Joon-Ho stood there, sketchbook in hand, his tall frame blocking part of the light. His face, flawless as ever, looked like it had been carved from a daydream—sharp jawline, perfectly arched brows, and eyes that always seemed to see more than he let on.
She gave a playful smile to hide her fluster. “Well, I figured if I got lost again, maybe my personal tour guide would appear.”
The corner of his mouth tugged upward. “And did he?”
“Looks like it,” she said with a laugh.
Without asking, Joon-Ho pulled out the chair beside her and sat down, setting his sketchbook on the table. He glanced at her book. “Grammar?”
She groaned. “Yes. But I think grammar is winning the battle.”
“Show me.”
He leaned in, and Amara caught the faint scent of soap and paper that clung to him. His long fingers held the pen neatly as he scribbled an explanation in the margin, circling words and adding arrows. His concentration was intense, yet there was a gentleness in the way he explained.
Amara tried to follow his notes, but her eyes kept straying to his lashes, the sharp bridge of his nose, the way his lips moved slightly as he explained.
She forced her attention back. “Ah, I get it now. So it changes depending on who you’re speaking to, like in French.”
“You speak French?” His brows lifted slightly.
“Of course. In Cameroon, it’s everywhere. French and English both, but I grew up mostly with French because of my mom.”
Something flickered in his gaze. “So you already balance two worlds.”
“And now I’m struggling to survive a third.” She laughed softly.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the silence was charged with something unspoken.
“I can help you,” he said finally.
Amara blinked. “Really? You’d have time?”
“I study here most evenings anyway. We could meet. You practice, I explain.”
Warmth bloomed in her chest. “That sounds… perfect.”
He gave a small nod, almost a smile, and bent back to the page.
⸻
They had only been working for fifteen minutes when voices and laughter broke the quiet. A group of students walked in—three boys and two girls. Amara recognized one of them immediately: the guy from before, Min-Seok, who had teased Joon-Ho outside the lecture hall.
“Ohh, look who’s here,” Min-Seok said with a grin, striding over. “Our star architect, tutoring already?”
Joon-Ho’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.
The others drifted closer, their gazes landing on Amara. She felt their eyes sweep over her—curious, appraising, and not entirely friendly.
One of the girls, tall with glossy black hair, crossed her arms. Her voice was smooth but edged. “Joon-Ho, I didn’t know you were offering study dates now.”
Amara blinked, realizing instantly who she must be. His ex.
Joon-Ho’s expression remained unreadable. “We’re just studying, Hye-Jin.”
Hye-Jin’s eyes flicked to Amara again, a small smile tugging at her lips, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course. Studying.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice just enough. “She doesn’t even look like your type.”
Heat rushed to Amara’s cheeks, and she quickly looked down at her notes, pretending to be focused. But she could feel the weight of their stares.
“Let’s go,” Joon-Ho said flatly, closing Amara’s book with a quiet finality. He slid it back toward her and stood. “We’ll find another spot.”
The group exchanged knowing glances, and someone chuckled under their breath. Amara packed her things quickly, her heart pounding, and followed him as they left the table.
When they reached the quieter corner of the library, Amara exhaled slowly. “You didn’t have to—”
“I don’t like noise,” Joon-Ho interrupted softly. His voice was steady, but his jaw was still tense. “And they were being rude.”
Amara hesitated, then smiled faintly. “It’s fine. I’m used to people staring. It happens… back home too.”
His eyes softened at that, lingering on her. He didn’t say anything, but in the silence, Amara could almost feel the thought behind his gaze—
That to him, she wasn’t something strange. She was just… Amara.
And for the first time since arriving, she felt a quiet, fragile sense of belonging.
