Chapter 1
THE NERVE TO SAY HI
Eleven times a failure! Eleven mornings of perfect opportunities, blown by sneezes, phone calls, early exits, and his own spectacular cowardice.
But today—today—he was ready.
The subway doors opened. She stepped in, curly hair damp from the morning dew, that same faint scent of roses trailing behind her. She scanned the car, found the seat beside him, and sat.
Jun Ho cleared his throat. His heart hammered like he was about to negotiate a hostile merger, not speak two simple words to a stranger.
Good morning. Just say good morning.
“Good morning,” he managed, voice barely above a whisper.
She glanced up from her phone. A polite nod. “Good morning.”
Then she went back to scrolling.
Jun Ho felt like he’d just summited Everest.
He unlocked his phone, hidden beneath his briefcase strap. A notification slid down:
REMINDER: “Say good morning to subway girl.” 10 days overdue.
He tapped Complete. Tiny confetti animation popped across his screen.
The smallest, proudest smile spread across his face as the train rocked them side by side, two strangers who’d finally said hello.
How it all began.
Day one started like any other. The subway shuddered into Gangnam Station, brakes hissing, doors sliding open with mechanical indifference. It was a typically busy morning with people streaming into the car nonstop.
Jun Ho was fortunate enough to live in an apartment with a subway entrance from the garage, just a few stops from his engineering firm.
This meant the car was nearly empty every morning and he could people-watch as they streamed in, stop by stop.
He liked to guess what they did the night before.
Some were easy to guess from their bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothing.
Others looked more than ready for the day, dressed in their best.
He liked to guess what they had planned for the day. A date or drinks after work?
He hoped their lives were more interesting than his, which consisted of work, sleep, weekend football, repeat.
People rarely paid attention to him. But then again, he looked like an average salary man — three-piece suit, classic taper haircut with side part, polished dress shoes, briefcase — very basic.
The majority of riders looked down at their phones, or books, or out into space, paying no attention to one another. Jun Ho himself barely looked up from his phone this morning—until the crowd parted.
She swept in with seconds to spare, curly hair bouncing, dark brown skin glowing in the brief shaft of morning light. The scent of roses and citrus cut through the stale subway air as she brushed past.
She scanned the car. Found the empty seat next to him. Sat down.
Jun Ho’s throat went dry.
Just say hello. Two words. You’ve given presentations to a hundred people. You’ve worked on budgets worth millions. Just say—
His phone slipped from his hand.
He caught it at the last second, fumbling like an idiot. The woman glanced at the noise, then politely returned to her phone.
Jun Ho exhaled as if he’d just survived a battlefield.
She walked off at her stop. Jun Ho whispers: “You blew it.”
The halmeoni – elderly woman – next to him smiled at his reaction. Jun Ho nodded to her, embarrassed.
Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow I’ll say it.
On day two, she was back! Jun Ho shifted his briefcase to his lap. The woman saw the open spot, sat, and nodded politely.
Jun Ho said, “Good–” someone’s sneeze detonates.
On day four, Jun Ho cleared his throat, readying himself, and the woman got off a stop early.
On day six, Jun Ho rehearsed in his head – “Good…morning…” – his boss called.
On day nine, she dropped her subway card; another passenger picked it up first. Jun Ho snoozed his reminder.
On day twelve, he FINALLY said hello, after completing the first reminder, a second popped up:
REMINDER: “Try again tomorrow (if you chicken out again).”
He smirked and deleted it.
Jun Ho pocketed the phone, the smallest, proudest smile on his face—as the train rocked them side by side.
THE GOLDEN BOY
THE GOLDEN BOY
Jun Ho stared out the window during a slideshow presentation.
He wasn’t lazy.
Just bored.
Speaker: “As a founder of this firm, I can confirm this year has been a landmark success thanks to one employee. He landed us three major clients and saved a level 2 budget at the Incheon airport...Seo Jun Ho.”
The room broke out in light applause.
The sound brought Jun Ho back to reality.
Min Soo, his coworker, and best friend, seated next to him at the table, patted him on the back. “Congrats, man!”
Jun Ho quickly sat upright and looked around.
He tugged at his tie, not quite sure about the conversation.
Jae Min golf-clapped, glaring at Jun Ho.
As they exited the meeting room, Dae Hun whispered to Min Soo, “I heard corporate is preparing a glass plaque for Jun Ho.”
“For a partner? No way, he’s too young,” Min Soo shook his head lightly.
Jae Min sneered to himself and walked back to his desk.
Jun Ho’s boss, on his way out of the meeting room, called out, “Jun Ho, one moment.”
Jun Ho bows, “Sir.”
“Your work has been remarkable. I’m not the only one who notices. Just so you know, partnership is sealed,” he slapped his back firmly, then said with emphasis, “if you stay focused.”
DAN THE SCRIPTED MAN
Shana lingered over a stack of lesson plans, exhausted, in the teacher’s lounge at the English school.
Dan, a Korean-American English teacher at the school, leaned casually against the counter, coffee mug in hand, smile already loaded. He was a world-traveler who stopped in Korea to earn money for his next destination on the map.
The only thing he loved more than his own reflection was a woman staring at it.
He loved the challenge of racking up women’s phone numbers like his passport racked up countries’ stamps.
“You must be the new teacher. Shoshana, right? Or can I call you Shana? Beautiful name. Exotic,” he said with slippery delivery.
“Shana’s fine. It’s just a name,” Shana replied guardedly. She poured herself coffee.
Dan tilted his head. “Don’t be modest. Some names just… belong on the cover of a novel.”
Shana arched a brow, finally meeting his eyes, “And others belong on wanted posters. Which is yours?”
Dan laughed and grinned even wider, “Touché. I like your spunk. I have a feeling I’ll like a lot about you, Shana.”
Shana looked at him, unimpressed and grabbed her coffee, “We’ll see.”
Dan lingered a bit longer than necessary, curiosity piqued. For once, his charm didn’t land — and that intrigues him. Shana, unfazed by his persistence, sipped her coffee quietly. She didn’t flirt back — her silence an answer.
Later that night, Shana journaled about her day:
“First week and already tested. Dan — the kind of man who talks like he’s reading from a script.
He’s way too familiar. Charming, polished, flattering… until he’s not.
No, gracias. I promised myself: I won’t be fooled twice. My ex-fiance did enough damage.”
SUDDENLY ENGAGED
Jun Ho dined with his family. The table gleamed with porcelain and polished silver. Fine art loomed from the walls, but the air felt colder than marble.
Jun Ho sat stiffly, eyes flicking toward the clock, counting the minutes until he could leave.
Hye Jin sat poised. She was the picture of “put together”: perfectly polished hair, nails, and clothes, as always, grooming retained from her beauty queen days.
The only thing sharp was her voice: “Jun Ho-ah, your car is back from the shop. What will people say? Stop taking the subway like a—,” his mother started.
“—commoner? Ne, Mama!” Eun Ji, his younger sister, chimed in, bowing with mock drama.
Jun Ho smirked despite himself. Eun Ji was six years younger than him, majoring in art, and was born with the spunk to say everything he wanted to say, but dared not.
Hye Jin shot Eun Ji a glare until she lowered her eyes back to her chopsticks.
Hye Jin returns her attention to Jun Ho. “What will Ji Yeon think?”
“Who?” Jun Ho asked with a blank look.
Ji Hwan cleared his throat, shifting uneasily in his chair, “Yoebo (Darling). I thought we weren’t going to mention that until later.”
“Why wait? It’s time to finalize arrangements,” Hye Jin retorted curtly.
Jun Ho’s head lifted, his expression sharpening.
Silence stretched until his father spoke with a heavy voice. “Son. Mom and Dad have chosen someone for you to marry.”
Eun Ji gasped, bounced upright on her knees. “Oppa! Are you getting married? Since when?”
Hye Jin chided her daughter, “Eun Ji! Sit properly.”
Jun Ho pressed his lips into a thin line. “…This is news to me, too.”
…
The city glided past the tinted windows of his father’s car. Jun Ho stared out at the people on the street. Going about their lives with their own intention. He envied them.
His attention returned to his father when Ji Hwan pulled up in front of Jun Ho’s apartment. His father spoke quietly, “Son, I didn’t want you to find out this way.
Her father works at my law firm. She seems like a decent young lady.
Just… humor your mother. Try to get to know her.
If you don’t like her, you can stop. Ok?”
His father looked at him with the same patient expression he always did when he knew Hye Jin was asking for too much.
Jun Ho bowed shallowly, silently, then stepped out of the car and walked into his apartment building.
His apartment door clicked shut behind him.
Inside, the usual oppressive quiet.
He dropped his shoes by the door. The sound echoed, carrying his father’s words back to him like chains.
FIRST NIGHT ALONE
Shana shifted, trying to find a comfortable position on her hostel bunk. The sheets scraped against her skin. Her eyes are wide open.
Shana whispered, “Bena… I planned this trip for you and me. Now it’s just me.”
She sighed, “I wish I could go back and change everything.”
Her mind drifted back to her apartment one year ago.
QUEENS, NEW YORK, USA - ONE YEAR AGO
Shana hid her hands behind her back. Abena, eyes covered, laughed in anticipation.
Abena, in Spanglish, “Ay, hurry up! I can’t take the suspense.”
Shana jumped lightly in excitement, “Open up, Bena!” She flashed two tickets to Korea.
Maria and Bediako, their parents, yelled: “Surprise!”
Abena shrieked with joy. Maria’s eyes misted. Bediako squeezed her shoulder.
Abena startled, read, looked up amazed, “Wait, it’s one way!”
Shana nodded, “I promised you one year in Korea. I’ll just get a little teaching job to pay our way. Nothing serious.”
PRESENT DAY
Shana covered her eyes with her hands, a silly attempt to rub the memory away. Of course, it doesn’t work.
Her eyes drifted over to an untouched bunk — a void where someone should have been.
Shana pressed her face into her pillow, holding back tears.
MISSED YOUR STOP?
Jun Ho stared at his book, unread. His thoughts churn like the subway’s motion.
“Engagement? C’mon, you went to the school they wanted… chose the career they wanted… the firm they wanted. And now this? When are you going to stand up for yourself?”
The doors opened. A breeze slipped in. Shana stepped aboard. She sat beside him. He stiffened, shifting his bag closer.
Jun Ho looked up at her usual stop. The train rolled past, but she didn’t move. Neither did he.
The bell dinged. He pulled for his stop — one stop just past her usual. He stood. She stood too.
He let her step off first — courteous, unthinking.
Jun Ho spoke up, awkward but brave, “Did you… miss your stop?”
[A/N: Ok, that escalated quickly! Is Shana going to be working with Jun Ho now?]
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