Chapter Eight – Eyes That Follow Her
Amara never tried to stand out. She wasn’t the loudest voice in class, nor the type to push herself into the spotlight. Yet somehow, people noticed her.
That week, it was Daniel Park.
He sat two rows behind her in History of Modern Art, and for days she felt his gaze flicker toward her whenever she raised her hand to answer, whenever she tucked her braids behind her ear, whenever she laughed softly at the professor’s dry jokes.
After class one afternoon, he caught up with her.
“Hey,” he said, flashing a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You’re Amara, right? From Cameroon?”
She blinked in surprise. “Yes. How did you—”
“You mentioned it once in class. I remember.” His grin widened. “I’m Daniel. Thought I should finally say hello.”
There was an openness about him, a warmth that felt easy. He didn’t hesitate to ask about her background, about her favorite places in Seoul so far, about whether she missed home. Amara found herself answering without the usual guardedness she carried.
She didn’t think much of it—until she noticed someone else’s gaze.
Joon-Ho.
He was across the courtyard with Min-Seok and a few other friends, pretending to scroll through his phone. But his jaw was tight, his shoulders rigid, and his eyes—dark and unblinking—kept flicking toward her.
Amara swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close Daniel was standing, how his easy laughter seemed to fill the air between them.
Daniel, oblivious, tilted his head. “If you ever want someone to show you around Seoul, I volunteer.”
Before Amara could answer, her eyes betrayed her, darting toward Joon-Ho. He wasn’t even hiding it anymore—his gaze was locked on her, sharp and unmistakably jealous.
For the first time since the night of the party, Amara felt the ground shift between them.
Because if Joon-Ho was watching her like that…
It meant he cared.
Joon-Ho’s grip tightened around his phone, though he hadn’t read a single word on the screen for the past five minutes. His eyes kept pulling back, no matter how hard he tried to stop them—back to her.
Amara.
Her laughter drifted across the courtyard, light and effortless, like sunlight breaking through clouds. And standing too close to her, leaning in with that ridiculous grin, was Daniel Park.
Joon-Ho knew his type—confident, polished, the kind of guy who never had to try too hard. Daniel wasn’t like him, carrying secrets and shadows. He was the safe kind of boy a girl’s parents would approve of. The kind who could hold her hand in public without consequence.
And she was smiling at him.
A sharp ache twisted in Joon-Ho’s chest. He told himself it didn’t matter, that he had no right to feel this way. After all, he was the one who had left her that morning without a word. He was the one who avoided her gaze in the cafeteria, who chose silence when she deserved the truth.
But watching her now—watching Daniel lean closer, hearing Amara laugh—his control cracked.
Min-Seok nudged him. “Hyung, you okay? You look like you’re about to kill someone.”
Joon-Ho forced his lips into a faint smirk, shaking his head as if it were nothing. “Just tired.”
But his eyes never left her.
When Daniel said something that made Amara tilt her head back in laughter, Joon-Ho’s knuckles whitened around his phone. A dark, unfamiliar feeling surged through him—jealousy. It burned hotter than he expected, raw and uncontrollable.
He wanted to walk over there, pull her away, remind her that she wasn’t Daniel’s to make laugh. That her smile belonged to him.
But he stayed rooted to the spot. Because the truth was, he didn’t know if he had any claim over her at all.
Still, as Amara’s gaze flicked toward him—just for a heartbeat—he knew she had felt it too. The invisible thread between them pulling tight, no matter how hard he tried to sever it.
And that terrified him more than anything.
