The First Text
Chapter 6 — The First Text
They left the restaurant with warmth still clinging to them.
The street outside was cold enough to make their breaths visible again, small clouds that drifted away like the day was already trying to disappear.
Jeonju had softened in the afternoon light. The earlier confusion of roads felt distant now, replaced by narrow streets lined with low shops and old walls, the kind of city texture that made you slow down without noticing.
Crystal walked ahead, talking animatedly with Mina’s friends. Isabelle stayed near the center of the group, smiling, listening, translating when needed. Ivan walked slightly behind, as if he preferred to guard the rear.
Aleem found himself doing something he didn’t plan.
He slowed—just a little.
Mina slowed with him.
It happened naturally, like their bodies had agreed without consulting their minds.
They walked side by side, half a step behind the others.
Not separate.
Not obvious.
Just… paired.
Aleem kept his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t fidget.
Mina held the flower again, still wrapped in its thin paper, as if she hadn’t decided where to put it.
“You’re very popular with my friends,” Mina said, voice light.
Aleem glanced at her. “Me?”
Mina nodded, amused. “Yes. They say you’re… how to say… reliable.”
The word landed strangely.
Reliable.
Aleem had been called that so many times it had stopped meaning anything.
At work, it meant he delivered.
In ABIX, it meant he carried them.
In the army, it meant he didn’t break.
But hearing it from Mina—quiet, simple, unforced—made it feel like something else.
Like it was a compliment instead of a responsibility.
Aleem cleared his throat. “They don’t know me that well.”
Mina’s eyes slid toward him. “I think I know enough.”
His heart gave a small, stupid kick.
Aleem kept his face neutral. “From one lunch?”
Mina smiled. “From how you are. You notice things. You listen.”
Aleem’s fingers tightened in his pockets.
He didn’t know what to do with being seen like that.
He didn’t know what to do with the softness in her voice.
So he did what he always did when faced with emotional uncertainty.
He tried to anchor it in logic.
“You travel often?” he asked.
Mina’s expression shifted—thoughtful. “Now, yes. Before, no.”
“You said you want normal things.”
Mina nodded slowly. “Yes.”
She looked ahead at Crystal’s loud gestures, Isabelle’s gentle laughter, Ivan’s quiet presence.
Then she said, softly, “Normal is… harder than I thought.”
Aleem’s chest tightened.
He knew what she meant.
Not because he’d lived it.
But because he’d watched her live it, even in the last few hours.
People looking.
Phones lifting.
The way she had to calculate every simple step.
“It shouldn’t be,” Aleem said.
Mina hummed. “But it is.”
They walked in silence for a few seconds.
Then Mina’s eyes flicked toward him again.
“You’re not… weird,” she said.
Aleem almost choked.
He coughed once, disguising it as a laugh. “Thank you?”
Mina smiled, cheeks faintly pink from the cold. “I mean… many people are weird. When they recognize me.”
Aleem swallowed.
His instinct was to say something safe.
Something polite.
Something that kept him within the strict boundaries of a stranger.
But he remembered how she’d smiled at his honesty.
So he said the truth.
“I was close,” he admitted quietly.
Mina blinked, amused. “Close?”
Aleem glanced at her, then away. “When you turned. I…”
He exhaled slowly. “My brain stopped.”
Mina’s laugh slipped out—soft, delighted. “Really?”
“Yes,” Aleem said, dead serious. “For a full second. It was… embarrassing.”
Mina laughed again, warmer this time. “But you controlled.”
Aleem’s throat tightened. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Mina’s smile softened.
“Thank you,” she said again.
It was the second time she’d said it today.
And Aleem felt, irrationally, like he wanted to keep earning it for the rest of his life.
—
They reached a small intersection where the group naturally began splitting.
Mina’s friends were heading toward a nearby café they’d bookmarked earlier, something about soufflé pancakes. ABIX needed to return to their accommodation to check in and drop luggage.
Plans were made quickly, with the easy coordination of people who had traveled together enough to move as a unit.
“We meet later for night market?” Crystal asked, gesturing widely.
Mina’s friends nodded enthusiastically.
Isabelle exchanged numbers with Airi, smiling brightly.
Ivan spoke to Jun in calm English, confirming the address.
Aleem stood slightly apart, hands still in pockets, watching Mina.
This was the part where normal goodbyes happened.
The part where strangers left each other behind.
The part where chance encounters ended.
He told himself that was what this was.
Chance.
Luck.
A day in Jeonju that would become a story ABIX told at gatherings for the rest of their lives.
And then it would end.
Aleem’s chest tightened as the thought formed.
Mina adjusted the flower in her hand.
She glanced at her friends, who were already moving ahead.
Then she looked at Aleem.
“You go?” she asked.
Aleem nodded. “We’re checking in.”
Mina’s lips parted like she wanted to say something, then closed again.
Her gaze dropped briefly.
Then lifted.
A quiet decision settling behind her eyes.
She stepped closer.
Not too close.
Just enough to make Aleem’s heart stumble.
“Aleem,” she said.
Hearing his name in her voice did something violent to his self-control.
“Yes?”
Mina held his gaze for a beat.
Then, gently, “Can we… exchange contact?”
Aleem’s brain stopped again.
Not for a full second.
Less.
But enough.
He forced himself to breathe.
“Yeah,” he said, voice steady. “Of course.”
Crystal, across the street, turned at the exact wrong moment and saw them.
Her eyes widened.
Isabelle grabbed her arm instantly.
Crystal mouthed something that looked like a scream.
Ivan didn’t turn.
Aleem was grateful.
He pulled out his phone, hands steady because he refused to let them shake. Mina did the same.
They stood there, screens glowing between them, while Jeonju traffic flowed quietly in the background.
Aleem’s fingers hovered over the add-contact screen.
He hesitated.
Not because he didn’t want it.
Because he did.
Too much.
And he was afraid of what wanting could do to him.
Mina’s voice was soft, as if she sensed the shift. “If it’s… uncomfortable, it’s okay.”
Aleem looked up sharply. “No.”
The answer came too fast.
Too honest.
He forced his tone back into calm. “It’s not uncomfortable.”
Mina watched him, eyes quiet.
Aleem added, more carefully, “I just… I don’t want to cross lines.”
Mina blinked once, then her expression softened.
“Lines?”
Aleem exhaled. “You know. People. Expectations. I don’t want you to feel like—”
He stopped, because the word he almost said—trapped—felt too heavy.
Mina filled the silence gently. “Like you are fan?”
Aleem’s chest tightened.
He nodded.
“Yes.”
Mina stared at him for a second.
Then she smiled.
Not amused.
Not teasing.
Just… warm.
“You can be both,” she said softly. “You can have liked me before. And still… like me now.”
Aleem’s throat went tight.
He didn’t know what to say.
Mina looked down at her phone again and tapped.
A new contact appeared.
Mina
Just Mina.
No stage surname.
No glitter.
No distance.
Aleem saved it with hands that didn’t tremble.
He didn’t add emojis.
He didn’t add notes.
He just… saved.
Mina tilted her screen toward him. “Now you.”
Aleem entered his number.
Mina saved it.
Then she looked up.
Her gaze held his.
A second longer than necessary.
A second long enough that the air between them felt like a held breath.
“See you later?” she asked.
Aleem nodded. “Yeah. See you later.”
Mina’s friends called her name from ahead.
She turned, then paused again.
She lifted the flower slightly, as if reminding him.
“Thank you,” she said once more.
Aleem’s chest fluttered.
He nodded. “You’re welcome.”
Then she walked away.
Not quickly.
Not dramatically.
Just a normal pace.
Like she trusted that she didn’t need to run.
—
The moment Mina disappeared around the corner, Crystal erupted.
She sprinted across the street like the traffic laws didn’t apply to her.
“ALEEM!” she hissed, grabbing his sleeve. “EXCHANGE CONTACT?!”
Isabelle followed at a safer pace, laughing softly, cheeks pink from cold and amusement.
Ivan came last, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable.
Aleem slid his phone into his pocket like it was contraband.
Crystal’s eyes were sparkling dangerously. “This is the beginning. This is literally the beginning of a romance novel.”
Aleem glared. “It’s a contact.”
Crystal leaned in. “It’s a door.”
Ivan spoke calmly. “Contact exchange implies continued communication.”
Crystal pointed at him like she’d found an ally. “Exactly!”
Isabelle smiled gently at Aleem. “How do you feel?”
Aleem opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
He didn’t know how to say it.
He felt… steady and unstable at the same time.
Like his life had tilted by one degree, and that was enough to change everything.
“I feel fine,” he said.
Crystal rolled her eyes. “He’s lying.”
Ivan’s tone was mild. “He is repressing.”
Aleem glared harder. “I am not repressing.”
Isabelle’s smile softened. “Aleem.”
Aleem exhaled.
“Okay,” he admitted quietly. “I… didn’t expect it.”
Crystal’s grin turned softer, less feral. “You deserve nice things.”
Aleem blinked, caught off guard.
Crystal immediately snapped back into chaos. “BUT ALSO IF YOU BREAK HER HEART I WILL END YOU.”
Isabelle groaned. “Crystal!”
Ivan said calmly, “You won’t break her heart.”
Crystal stared at him. “Wow. Did you just have faith in him?”
Ivan blinked. “It’s an observation.”
Aleem felt something warm settle in his chest.
His friends—ridiculous as they were—had already decided to hold him steady.
They began walking back toward their accommodation.
Aleem’s phone sat in his pocket like a small weight.
A new contact.
A new possibility.
He told himself not to check it.
Told himself not to look like a teenager.
Told himself he was a grown man.
An engineer.
A leader.
He didn’t need to stare at a name on a screen.
He didn’t.
He waited.
He made it all the way back to the accommodation.
He dropped the luggage.
He sat on the bed.
He took off his coat.
And only then—only when no one was watching—did he pull out his phone.
The screen lit up.
No messages.
Aleem stared anyway.
He felt stupid.
He set it down.
He stood up.
He walked to the window.
Jeonju stretched outside, quiet rooftops and winter light.
He told himself again: This is normal.
Then his phone buzzed.
Aleem froze.
He turned.
The screen showed a message.
From: Mina
A simple line.
Did you get back safely?
Aleem stared at it.
His chest fluttered like something had opened.
A door.
Crystal was right.
Aleem’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard.
He typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Deleted.
Because every version sounded either too cold or too eager.
Finally, he forced himself into something honest and steady.
Yes. We’re back. Thank you for today.
He paused.
Then, because his heart wouldn’t let him stop there, he added one more line.
I hope you got back safely too.
He stared at it for a second.
Then sent.
The message whooshed away.
Aleem exhaled, long and slow.
His phone buzzed again almost immediately.
I’m back. 오늘 즐거웠어요.
Today was fun.
Aleem’s heart tightened.
She used his words.
His punishment line.
She remembered.
He typed back before he could overthink.
나도요. 당신 덕분에.
Me too. Because of you.
He hit send.
And for the first time all day, alone in a quiet Jeonju room, Aleem let his face soften.
Not into a grin.
Just into a small, private smile.
Because whatever this was—whatever line he was trying so hard not to cross—it didn’t feel like danger.
It felt like a beginning.
A normal one.
Built carefully.
Held gently.
Two people texting under winter light.
And somehow…
that was enough to make his heart feel like it had finally found somewhere to rest.