When Love Remembers

Argh. Here we go again.”

Christy muttered the words under her breath, a quiet protest against the heavy morning air. There was absolutely nothing special about this college.

For as long as she could remember, her life had been reduced to a monotonous, black-and-white loop: attend lecture, pick at lunch, sit through another lecture, walk home, repeat.

She starved for something new. A spark, a plot twist, a reason to actually wake up in the morning. But as the cynical voice in her head always reminded her: This isn’t a K-drama, Christy. It’s real life.

And real life had already given her a masterclass in heartbreak. She had the scars to prove it. Yet, despite the wreckage of her past, a stubborn, foolish ember of hope still burned deep inside her. Just one more trial won't kill me, she would whisper to the full moon on quiet nights, treating the sky like a wishing well.

The harsh metallic chime of the campus bell shattered her thoughts. It was time. Students—a chaotic blur of returning seniors and lost-looking freshmen—began flooding into the lecture hall.

Like we’re actually going to see anyone interesting, she thought, sliding into her usual seat.

Then, she looked up.

He was standing near the doorway. And he was already looking at her.

In an instant, the background noise of shuffling papers and scraping chairs faded into a low hum. The air in Christy’s lungs went completely still. His gaze was heavy, holding hers with an intensity that made her heart do a violent, erratic flip. Panic—or maybe something else—flared in her chest. She violently jerked her head away, staring down at her blank notebook, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

Somehow, she survived the lecture. The professor droned on, weaving personal anecdotes into the syllabus, assigning chapters, and finally dismissing the class.

Slam!

“Tada!” Anna dropped her heavy textbook onto Christy’s desk, her face glowing. “Look at how many followers I got in a single week. Seriously, Christy, I feel famous.”

Anna had been Christy’s anchor since childhood, which meant she could read Christy’s mood shifts like a book. She stopped flexing her phone screen and narrowed her eyes. “Earth to Christy. Earth to Christy... Care to tell me why you look like you’ve been visited by a ghost?”

“Look behind you,” Christy murmured, her voice barely a breath.

Anna turned, straining her neck like a dog trying to chase its own tail. “My back? Okay... what am I supposed to be looking at?”

“Four o'clock,” Christy whispered, tilting her chin slightly. “Keep it subtle.”

Anna shifted, her eyes scanning the thinning crowd until they landed on the target. “The guy in the blue jacket?”

Christy gave a microscopic nod.

“Oh.” A knowing, mischievous chuckle escaped Anna’s lips.“Are you talking about Trip?”

Christy’s eyes widened, the secret instantly blown. “You know him?”

“Uh, yeah,” Anna said, amused by her friend’s sudden panic.“He’s been going to this college—and sitting in this exact class—for three years now.”

The words hit Christy like a physical blow. “Three years?!”

Anna burst out laughing. “What is that reaction? Wait, are you seriously telling me you’ve shared a room with him for three years and never noticed him?”

When Christy only stared back in shocked silence, Anna gave her a sympathetic, teasing look. “How did you miss him? Actually, don't answer that. You were probably wrapped up in your own head, ignoring the local scenery. But honestly, why the sudden interest? In a year, we’ll be seniors, and then it’s bye-bye college.”

Anna’s phone buzzed with a sharp vibration. “Oh, shoot, I gotta run. Someone just accepted my duet invite. I have to go shoot this content.” She leaned down, planting a swift, warm kiss on

Christy’s forehead. “Honey, let’s not overthink this. But if you’re ready to put yourself out there again... you know I’m always in your corner. Love you.”

“Love you too, Anna. Bye.”

Anna jogged toward the exit, but just before she crossed the threshold, she paused and looked back at Christy. Beneath her bubbly exterior, Anna’s heart ached a little. She knew the depth of the pain Christy carried, and more than anything, she wanted her best friend to find joy again. She just didn't know how to force the universe to hand it to her.

“Bye, Christy! See you at the hostel!” she called out, finally disappearing into the hallway.

He has been here for three years.

The phrase echoed in Christy’s mind, completely unsettling her. If he had been this close for thirty-six months, how had he been invisible to her?

She closed her eyes, recalling the sharp contours of his face and the way he had looked at her. His expression had been entirely blank, his eyes dark and unreadable.

I don’t know who this stranger is, she thought, packing her notebooks into her bag. But I want to see how this story ends. Happy ending, sad ending... does it even matter? In a year, I’m out of here anyway. And they say time heals everything.

Before leaving, she couldn’t resist the pull. Just one more look.

She lifted her head, searching the empty rows. And there he was. Still standing there. Still looking right at her.

Her breath hitched. Why is this happening?

Desperate to prove she was just being paranoid, Christy quickly spun around to see if there was someone else behind her. Maybe a gorgeous girl had walked in? Maybe he was looking at a clock?

Nothing. The lecture hall was entirely empty. It was just the two of them.

She slowly turned back. His gaze hadn't wavered. It was locked onto her, steady and devastatingly deliberate.

The sudden, loud ring of a phone broke the spell. Trip’s hand moved to his pocket, his attention finally snapping away from her to answer the call.

“Oh, thank god,” Christy breathed. She grabbed her bag and practically bolted out the door, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

She hated the sudden loss of control. She hated how easily a stranger had managed to throw her off her axis. But as she stepped out into the afternoon sun, a small, unfamiliar smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Her final year was going to be a lot of things. Monotonous was no longer one of them.