Seen
Chapter 8 – Seen
It started the next morning with nothing.
A quiet buzz.
A soft vibration against Aleem’s bedside table.
He reached for his phone half-asleep, eyes barely open, and saw a message.
From: Mina
Good morning. Are you awake?
Aleem stared.
A good morning text.
Not dramatic.
Not romantic in the obvious way.
Just… normal.
His heart did something ridiculous anyway.
He sat up, cleared his throat like it would steady him, and typed:
Morning. I’m awake now. Did you sleep well?
A reply came quickly.
Yes. Not too cold. Today we go hanok village?
Jeonju hanok village.
The place ABIX had intended to go from the start, before the city humbled his NAVEX ego.
Aleem’s brain tried to stay rational.
This was a plan.
A group plan.
Nothing private.
Nothing dangerous.
Still, his thumbs hovered as if he was afraid the words would betray him.
Yes. We can go. ABIX also going.
He added, after a beat:
We meet at the entrance?
Mina’s reply came with a small emoji–something simple.
Okay 😊
Aleem stared at the emoji like it had physical weight.
Then he rolled out of bed and immediately regretted everything because Jeonju winter did not care about romance.
–
The hanok village was beautiful.
Not in a touristy, glossy way.
In a lived-in way.
Old wooden beams and tiled roofs that curved like careful brushstrokes. Narrow stone paths. Warm sunlight caught on paper windows. The air smelled faintly of roasted chestnuts and sweet bread.
ABIX arrived first–Crystal already filming, Isabelle quietly taking photos of rooftops, Ivan scanning maps with the seriousness of a man who refused to be lost twice.
Aleem stood near the entrance, hands in his coat pockets, pretending he was just waiting like any normal person.
Then Mina and her friends appeared.
Mina had her hood up again, mask on, hair tucked. A long coat that made her look smaller than she was. The flower wasn’t with her today.
But the photo strip was.
Aleem knew it was.
He didn’t know how he knew.
He just did.
When Mina spotted him, her eyes brightened above the mask.
She lifted a hand in that small wave again.
Aleem’s chest fluttered.
He waved back.
Crystal, of course, saw everything.
She turned to Isabelle and whispered loudly, “They are waving again. Still married.”
Isabelle elbowed her gently. “Crystal.”
Mina’s friends laughed. Mina’s eyes crinkled.
And for a moment, Jeonju felt safe.
They walked through the village together–shops selling handmade crafts, cafés tucked into old houses, tourists taking selfies near wooden gates.
Mina stayed close to her friends, but she drifted near Aleem often.
Not always.
Not obviously.
Just enough.
Aleem kept it steady.
He made sure she never ended up walking alone at the edge of the group.
He made sure he didn’t crowd her.
He made sure she had space.
Normal.
Practice.
–
They stopped at a small tea house.
It was tucked away behind a wooden fence, quiet inside, warm with the smell of herbs and steamed rice cakes. They took off their coats and settled into cushions around low tables.
Mina’s friends were in high spirits. Crystal matched them easily.
Isabelle sat beside Mina, speaking softly, asking gentle questions.
Ivan sat across from Aleem, watching the room without looking like he was watching.
Tea arrived.
They drank.
They laughed.
And for a while, it felt like Mina truly could be a normal girl in a hanok village, just another traveler sipping tea with friends.
Then Aleem noticed a shift.
Not in their table.
In the room.
A group at the far side–two girls and a guy–kept glancing over. The kind of glances that weren’t casual.
Their phones were on the table.
One of them lifted theirs slightly.
Not fully raised.
Just angled.
Aleem’s pulse tightened.
He didn’t move immediately.
He watched for confirmation.
The phone tilted again.
The girl’s eyes darted toward Mina.
The guy whispered something.
The second girl covered her mouth with her hand.
Recognition.
Aleem’s chest tightened.
He glanced at Mina.
Mina was laughing at something Isabelle said, but the laugh didn’t reach her eyes fully.
As if she’d sensed the air shift too.
As if she lived with it in her bones.
Her shoulders raised slightly.
Preparation.
Aleem felt that line inside him harden.
He didn’t want to ruin the moment.
But he refused to let the moment be stolen.
He leaned toward the table slightly, voice calm, casual.
“Let’s switch seats,” he said.
Crystal blinked. “Why?”
Aleem didn’t look at the other table. He kept his tone normal.
“Sunlight,” he lied smoothly. “It’s in my eyes.”
Ivan’s gaze flicked briefly toward the far side.
He understood instantly.
Without a word, he shifted his cushion and moved, creating a new arrangement.
Isabelle followed naturally, guiding Mina to a different seat without making it obvious.
Crystal, confused but cooperative, shuffled over while muttering about Aleem being dramatic.
Mina’s friends adjusted too.
In less than ten seconds, Mina’s face was no longer in direct view of the far table.
Aleem’s body became a barrier again.
Subtle.
Casual.
Normal.
The phone at the far table lowered.
The whispers stopped.
The air loosened.
Mina exhaled softly.
Aleem didn’t look at her.
Not yet.
He didn’t want to make it a thing.
But Mina spoke quietly.
“You notice fast,” she said.
Aleem’s throat tightened.
He nodded once.
“Yeah,” he murmured.
A pause.
Then Mina added, barely audible, “It’s… nice.”
Aleem’s chest fluttered.
He kept his face calm.
But something warm spread through him anyway.
Because it wasn’t about heroism.
It wasn’t about control.
It was simply about giving her a moment to breathe.
–
They left the tea house after.
The village was busier now–more tourists, more movement, more phones.
Crystal wanted to shop.
Mina’s friends wanted snacks.
ABIX wanted photos.
They wandered.
And then, it happened.
Not loud.
Not explosive.
But sharp enough to slice through the afternoon.
A voice from behind, hesitant but excited:
“Excuse me… Mina?”
The group slowed.
Mina’s body stiffened.
Aleem turned slightly.
A young woman stood a few steps away, phone already in hand, eyes bright, trembling with adrenaline.
Her friend stood beside her, whispering urgently.
“I’m sorry,” the girl continued quickly. “I don’t want to bother you. But are you–”
Mina’s eyes flicked to Aleem.
Just a quick glance.
A question without words.
Aleem’s chest tightened.
He stepped slightly forward–not aggressively, not threatening.
Just… present.
Mina inhaled.
Then she nodded once.
“Yes,” she said softly. “It’s me.”
The girl’s hands flew to her mouth.
“Oh my God. Oh my God.”
Her friend started crying.
Crystal made a noise behind Aleem that sounded like she was about to combust.
Isabelle gently grabbed her sleeve like a leash.
Ivan watched carefully.
The girl bowed repeatedly. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be rude. Can I… can I take one photo? Just one?”
Mina hesitated.
Aleem felt his stomach tighten.
This was Mina’s choice.
Not his.
He couldn’t speak for her.
He couldn’t decide for her.
But he could do one thing.
He could make sure she didn’t feel trapped.
Aleem leaned slightly toward Mina and spoke quietly, only for her.
“You don’t have to,” he said.
Mina blinked.
Her shoulders loosened slightly.
She looked at the girl.
Then she said gently, “Okay. One.”
The girl squealed.
Mina’s friends immediately moved around her–positioning, shielding, creating space.
ABIX did the same instinctively.
Crystal forced herself to stay calm, which looked like physical pain.
Isabelle stood near Mina’s side, smile gentle.
Ivan stepped slightly behind the girl to make sure no one else rushed in.
Aleem stood beside Mina.
Not too close.
But close enough.
The photo was taken.
The girl bowed again, tears in her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you.”
Mina smiled softly. “Thank you.”
And then–like a spark catching dry grass–the recognition spread.
A whisper.
Another phone lifted.
A head turned.
A small cluster forming.
Not aggressive.
Not dangerous.
But hungry.
Too many eyes.
Too much attention.
Mina’s posture tightened.
Her friends’ smiles became strained.
Aleem’s chest tightened.
This was how normal got stolen.
Not by one person.
By the crowd.
Aleem leaned toward Ivan.
Ivan met his eyes immediately.
No discussion needed.
Ivan spoke calmly to the group, voice low. “We should move.”
Crystal nodded rapidly. Isabelle already guided Mina gently by the elbow, not pulling, just steering.
Mina’s friends created a path.
Aleem stepped ahead slightly.
Not running.
Walking fast.
Controlled.
He didn’t want to make it look like panic.
Panic attracted attention.
They turned into a narrower side street.
The crowd followed for a few steps.
Phones still lifted.
Someone called her name again.
Mina didn’t respond.
She kept walking.
Her breathing was controlled.
But Aleem could feel the tension in her like static.
They reached a small corner where a convenience store stood beside a low wall.
Aleem made a decision.
He stepped toward the convenience store entrance and held the door open.
“Inside,” he said quietly.
Mina hesitated for half a second.
Then she stepped in.
Her friends followed.
ABIX followed.
The door shut.
The noise outside dulled instantly.
Inside, the store was bright, quiet, mundane–rows of snacks, bottled drinks, a bored cashier.
Normal.
Mina stood near the drink fridge, shoulders rising and falling slightly.
Her mask hid most of her face.
But Aleem could see her eyes.
They were wide.
Not frightened.
Just… tired.
Airi whispered something to her, offering comfort.
Jun stood near the door, watching outside.
Crystal hovered helplessly, finally silent.
Isabelle stood near Mina, hands clasped, presence gentle.
Ivan leaned against a shelf, calm.
Aleem stepped closer.
Not too close.
Just enough.
“Mina,” he said softly.
Mina’s eyes flicked to him.
Aleem spoke carefully, voice steady.
“Do you want to leave? We can go back. Or we can wait. Your choice.”
Mina stared at him.
Then she exhaled.
A long breath.
Like she’d been holding herself up and finally allowed the weight to drop.
“I’m okay,” she said quietly.
But her voice didn’t sound fully okay.
Aleem nodded.
He didn’t challenge her.
He didn’t insist.
He just offered again, softer.
“We can practice normal,” he said. “But we don’t have to force it.”
Mina’s eyes softened.
A tiny smile appeared under her mask–visible only in the way her eyes curved.
“You say that again,” she murmured.
Aleem blinked. “What?”
Mina’s voice was quiet. “Practice normal.”
Aleem swallowed.
He hadn’t realized it had become a phrase.
A vow.
Mina looked down at her hands.
Then back up.
Her voice dropped even lower.
“I want,” she admitted, “to do normal things. But sometimes…”
She paused.
“…it reminds me I can’t.”
Aleem’s chest tightened painfully.
He wanted to fix it.
He couldn’t.
But he could do the only thing he knew how to do when something couldn’t be fixed immediately.
He could build a workaround.
A system.
A safe corridor.
He nodded once.
“Then we make smaller normal,” he said.
Mina blinked.
Aleem gestured lightly around them. “This is normal. Convenience store. Snacks. No one cares.”
Mina’s eyes crinkled.
She let out a small laugh.
A tiny sound.
But it mattered.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Aleem stepped back and grabbed two small bottles of warm tea from the shelf.
He offered one to her.
Mina accepted it with both hands.
Their fingers did not touch.
But the air between them felt charged anyway.
Outside, the crowd dispersed slowly.
The world moved on.
Inside, Mina stood under fluorescent lights, holding a warm bottle, breathing more evenly.
And Aleem realized something with quiet certainty:
He didn’t need to fight the world.
He just needed to keep finding corners where she could breathe.
Where she could be herself.
Where she could practice normal.
Even if it was small.
Even if it was temporary.
Because every small normal moment…
was a step back into a life she deserved.
And Aleem–steady, logical, single Aleem–found that he wanted to walk that path with her.
Not as a fan.
Not as a savior.
Just as someone who stayed.