Chapter Fourteen – Between
The lecture hall buzzed with noise as students filed in, balancing coffees, laptops, and notebooks. Amara sat near the middle, opening her laptop but staring blankly at the glowing screen. The professor’s slides hadn’t even loaded yet, but her mind was already somewhere else.
Joon-Ho.
She hated it—how his face kept intruding into her thoughts, how his voice still echoed in her chest like an unshakable melody.
“Amara,” a smooth voice cut in.
She turned, startled. Daniel slid into the seat beside her, offering a casual smile that seemed to brighten the entire room. He placed a pen on her desk. “You always forget these. I brought an extra just in case.”
Her lips curved despite the heaviness in her chest. “You’re too prepared.”
“Or maybe I’m just learning your habits,” he teased, leaning slightly closer. His cologne was subtle, warm, the kind that lingered. “You should slow down once in a while. University isn’t a race.”
Amara chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Easier said than done.”
Daniel’s presence was… comfortable. He had this way of making her feel seen, like she belonged here in Seoul’s whirlwind of faces and voices. It should have been enough. He should have been enough.
But then the sound of footsteps made her glance up.
Joon-Ho entered the lecture hall, expression composed, his sharp features drawing more than one set of eyes. He looked every bit the heartthrob—effortlessly handsome, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead, his posture calm yet commanding.
And yet—he didn’t look at her. Not even once.
Amara’s chest tightened painfully.
Daniel noticed her distraction. His gaze followed hers, and a small smirk tugged at his lips. “That guy? He’s always by himself. Doesn’t seem like your type.”
Her jaw tensed. “He’s not.”
The words left her mouth too quickly, too defensively.
Throughout the lecture, Daniel leaned over now and then, cracking a quiet joke about the professor’s monotone voice, explaining one or two complex theories when she drifted off. He made her laugh under her breath, and for those fleeting moments, the ache inside her dulled.
But then, as students packed up after class, she felt it again—eyes on her.
She turned slightly.
Joon-Ho stood by the exit, one hand in his pocket, watching her walk out beside Daniel. For a heartbeat, their gazes clashed, and she saw it—jealousy, fierce and unguarded, burning behind his calm façade.
Her breath caught.
But just as quickly, he turned his face away, slipping into the hallway as though she meant nothing.
And somehow, that hurt more than his anger.
Joon-Ho leaned against the wall outside the lecture hall, his hand tightening around the strap of his bag as he watched Amara walk out with Daniel at her side.
She was laughing.
That sound—light, effortless—hit him harder than it should have. He hadn’t heard it in weeks, not directed at him, not since that night. And now she was giving it to someone else.
His jaw tensed.
Daniel walked close to her, too close, his body angling toward hers like he was claiming a space Joon-Ho had no right to. Every little detail stung—how Daniel carried her books, how she didn’t push him away, how natural they looked together.
For a split second, Joon-Ho wanted to march over, grab her wrist, and remind her of the way she had looked at him that night in the party room—the way she had whispered his name like a prayer.
But he forced himself to stay still.
Because what right did he have?
He had been the one to avoid her gaze, to stay silent when she needed answers. He had left her alone in that bed, walked away because he thought it was safer for her.
And yet… watching her with Daniel now made every carefully built wall inside him start to crack.
“Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, shoving his hand deeper into his pocket. He was supposed to be stronger than this, supposed to stay detached. He couldn’t afford to drag her into his family’s world, into the kind of mess he had been born into.
But when Amara’s eyes lifted for just a second, meeting his across the hallway, the force of it nearly undid him.
She looked hurt. Angry.
And he knew—it was his fault.
Joon-Ho turned sharply and walked away before he did something reckless, before the storm inside him spilled out in front of everyone. His long strides echoed down the corridor, but his thoughts refused to quiet.
He hated himself for staying away.
He hated Daniel for being brave enough to stay close.
And most of all—he hated the way his heart still raced, only for her.
