Walk With Us

Chapter 2 — Walk With Us

The car felt too small for the amount of disbelief inside it.

Aleem drove with both hands on the wheel like it was the only thing keeping his life from tipping over. Outside, Jeonju slid past in muted winter colors—low walls, bare branches, the occasional burst of bright signage—and yet none of it registered the way it should have.

Because in his side mirror, a few meters behind, a girl in a hood walked with a small group of friends, holding a single flower like it was something she’d just remembered how to accept.

Crystal was the first one to break.

“ALEEM.”

The shout would’ve been loud if she hadn’t strangled it mid-breath. It came out like a whisper that still managed to carry the force of a siren.

Isabelle leaned forward from the back seat, her voice softer but no less urgent. “Is that…?”

Ivan’s gaze stayed forward, but his tone was calm—too calm. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

Aleem swallowed, eyes fixed on the road. “It’s not a ghost.”

Crystal grabbed the back of his seat. “DON’T SAY IT LIKE THAT. SAY IT LIKE—like—”

“Like it’s Mina,” Isabelle finished, barely audible.

Aleem’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

He didn’t want to say her name out loud. Not in the car, not in this casual air, not like it was a punchline.

But Mina had already said it, in a way.

Not directly. She hadn’t introduced herself. She hadn’t offered the celebrity version of who she used to be.

She’d just… turned.

And Aleem had known.

“Yes,” he admitted.

Crystal made a sound that could’ve been a strangled scream or the beginning of a prayer.

Isabelle’s eyes widened. “Aleem…”

Ivan finally turned his head slightly, just enough to look at Aleem’s profile. “Are you sure?”

Aleem let out a slow breath. “I’m sure.”

Crystal slapped her palm over her mouth and sank back into her seat like her bones had given up. Then, as if reality rebooted, she surged forward again, eyes blazing.

“Okay. Okay. Rules.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow. “Rules?”

Crystal pointed aggressively at all of them like a general taking command. “Rule one: nobody screams. Rule two: nobody does anything weird. Rule three: Isabelle will keep me alive.”

Isabelle blinked. “Why me?”

“Because Ivan will pretend he doesn’t care and I can’t trust him,” Crystal said, without hesitation.

Ivan’s mouth twitched. “That’s unfair.”

“It’s accurate,” Crystal countered.

Aleem was quiet, listening, letting them burn off the shock because it was better than sitting in silence with his own pulse.

He glanced in the mirror again.

Mina was talking to her friends, head slightly bowed as she listened. The flower was still in her hands. There was a softness in the way she held it—gentle, careful.

Not like a trophy.

Like a real gift.

He felt a strange pinch in his chest.

Then, Mina looked up.

Not directly at him.

Just… up.

And her gaze swept forward, briefly catching the car.

Aleem’s heart lurched.

He looked away instantly, like he’d been caught.

Crystal saw it.

“You made eye contact!” she hissed.

“I didn’t.”

“You did. I saw your soul leave your body.”

“It left earlier.”

Ivan, for once, let the corner of his mouth lift. “At least you’re self-aware.”

Aleem pulled away from the shoulder slowly, careful not to accelerate too fast. The road widened ahead into something more believable. His phone’s map steadied, finally acting like a tool instead of a joke.

He drove a short distance, then stopped again at a safer point where the road opened into a small side lane. He put on the hazard lights.

“We should let them get in,” he said.

Crystal snapped around. “IN?”

Aleem shot her a look. “It’s cold.”

“And?”

“And they offered to go together.”

Isabelle’s voice was gentle, as if reminding Crystal to breathe. “Crystal. Let him be normal.”

“I am being normal,” Crystal whispered, eyes shining like she was about to cry. “This is just… historically abnormal.”

Ivan glanced toward the back. “How many of them are there?”

“Five,” Aleem said automatically. He’d counted without meaning to.

Crystal leaned forward again. “Our car seats five.”

“We can split,” Aleem replied. “We’re two cars anyway.”

They were. ABIX had rented two vehicles for the Jeonju drive—one for Aleem and whoever ended up in his car, the other for their luggage overflow and the inevitable snack hoarding.

Right now, the second car was behind them somewhere, following their earlier chaos.

Aleem grabbed his phone, typed quickly, and sent a message to the group chat:

Aleem: We found the place. Pulled over. Come to the side lane next to the wall.

Seconds later, a reply:

Crystal: we are literally in the same car

Aleem didn’t dignify it.

Mina and her friends approached. As they got closer, Aleem saw details he hadn’t noticed earlier: the way Mina’s hood framed her face, the faint flush on her cheeks from the cold, the minimal makeup—if any—like she didn’t need the performance version of herself today.

Her friends were a mix—two Japanese girls, one Korean guy, another girl who looked Southeast Asian. They laughed as they walked, nudging Mina lightly in a way that made it obvious they had the kind of comfort that came with years.

Mina stopped near the driver’s window.

Aleem rolled it down.

The winter air rushed in again, carrying the scent of spice from their tteokbokki.

“Is it okay?” Mina asked. Her English was even smoother up close, less careful than he expected. “We go together?”

Aleem nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

He added quickly, because he didn’t want her to think he was hesitating. “We have two cars. We can… split.”

Mina turned to her friends. They spoke rapidly—Japanese, then Korean, then laughter.

One of them pointed at Aleem.

Another pointed at Mina.

Mina’s shoulders lifted in a tiny sigh that looked suspiciously like embarrassment.

Then she looked back at Aleem.

“They say…” she paused, lips pressing together like she couldn’t believe she was about to say it. “I should go with you.”

Crystal made a sound so sharp it could’ve punctured glass.

Aleem didn’t move. He kept his face neutral, like he hadn’t heard Crystal’s soul combust in the passenger seat.

“Okay,” he said.

Mina blinked, and then smiled—small and genuine.

“Okay,” she echoed.

Aleem forced himself to breathe.

Mina’s friends began coordinating with ABIX. Isabelle stepped out of the car immediately, her expression open and friendly, the INFJ warmth that made strangers feel safe without knowing why.

“Hi,” Isabelle said in English, then tried, carefully, “안녕하세요.”

Mina’s friends returned the greeting with bright laughter.

Crystal slid out next, practically vibrating. “Hello. Hi. I’m Crystal. I’m—”

Isabelle gently touched her arm.

Crystal swallowed and forced herself into a calmer smile. “I’m very normal.”

Ivan stepped out last, composed as ever. He gave a small nod, polite and reserved.

Aleem watched it all through the windshield, hands still on the wheel, mind racing.

This was happening.

Not a dream. Not a fan edit.

A normal road. A normal winter day.

A girl who used to belong to stadium lights now standing at his car door like she was simply someone heading to an escape room.

Mina climbed into the back seat, behind Ivan.

The door shut with a soft, decisive thud.

Aleem felt it in his chest like a punctuation mark.

For a second, there was silence.

Then Mina looked around, eyes moving from Crystal to Isabelle to Ivan.

“Hi,” she said again, a little shy this time.

Isabelle smiled at her gently. “Hi.”

Crystal’s smile was painfully controlled. “Hi.”

Ivan nodded once. “Hello.”

Mina’s gaze finally shifted forward.

She met Aleem’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

Aleem’s heart stuttered.

He kept his face steady. Kept his voice steady.

“Seatbelt,” he said, because apparently he was going to die if he didn’t say something practical.

Mina laughed softly as she clicked it in.

“Okay,” she murmured.

And there it was again—the word, said like a promise even when it wasn’t.

Aleem started the engine.

Behind them, the second car finally pulled up, parking neatly. ABIX’s other pair—whoever was in it—stepped out and began ushering Mina’s friends in with the kind of casual coordination that made Aleem realize something:

His friends were already adapting.

They weren’t fangirling.

They weren’t making it about her past.

They were making it about now.

Aleem felt an unexpected wave of gratitude.

He pulled out slowly, merging back onto the road.

Mina leaned slightly forward in her seat, looking at the map on Aleem’s phone mounted near the dashboard.

“You go straight,” she said, pointing. “Then right. There is a big sign.”

Aleem nodded, absorbing every word like it mattered.

“It’s funny,” Mina added quietly, almost to herself. “Jeonju is not tourist place like Seoul. Easy to get lost.”

Aleem let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“Yeah,” he said.

Then, after a beat, he allowed himself something honest.

“But maybe… getting lost isn’t always bad.”

Mina went quiet.

In the mirror, he saw her eyes shift to him again, thoughtful.

A small smile touched her mouth.

“Maybe,” she agreed.

And as Jeonju opened ahead—roads widening, signs becoming clearer, the city finally giving them a path—Aleem realized with a strange, fluttering certainty that he wasn’t just driving toward an escape room.

He was driving toward the first moment of a story he didn’t know how to control.

And for the first time in a long time…

He didn’t entirely mind.