April 15 "Unexpected Lunch"

Dear Diary,

I wasn't supposed to see him today.

Mondays are always chaotic — back-to-back lectures, group projects with people who think "reply all" is a love language, and deadlines I pretend don't exist until five minutes before they're due. I had exactly twenty-three minutes to inhale food, rehydrate my brain, and maybe even breathe.

So I did what all emotionally drained students do — I went to the basement cafeteria. Not glamorous, but quiet. Predictable. Comfort food at cafeteria prices. I ordered my usual — spicy rice cakes and a tiny bottle of strawberry milk (don't judge me) — and scouted out the corner table I always sit at.

Except… someone was already there.

12:11 PM Jung-Kyo.

Of course.

Because fate likes to play Connect Four with my nerves.

He was halfway through his own tray — bibimbap and black coffee — dressed down in a hoodie this time, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly messy like he'd run his fingers through it a few too many times.

He looked up at the same moment I froze in the doorway.

And he smiled.

Like he'd been expecting me.

Which is weird, because I definitely hadn't been expecting him.

12:13 PM I almost left. I had my tray halfway turned when he said, "You can sit here, if you want."

And then, softer: "You don't have to pretend you didn't see me."

My pride wanted me to bolt.

But something warmer — smaller and softer and far more dangerous — made me walk toward him instead.

I sat.

12:16 PM Neither of us said much at first.

He kept eating. I poked at my rice cakes, too aware of the way my hand was trembling slightly when I uncapped the milk.

I took a sip. He glanced over. Then:

"You still drink that?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Strawberry milk. You mentioned it once. Freshman year, I think. During orientation."

Orientation?

I nearly choked. "You remember that?"

He nodded, expression unreadable. "You said it tasted like childhood. But better. Sweeter."

I stared at him. "I barely remember saying that."

"Well," he said, shrugging, "I did."

That did something weird to my chest. A kind of flicker. Like someone lit a match and forgot to blow it out.

12:24 PM We ate in silence for a bit.

Then, because the awkwardness was eating me alive, I said, "Do you always remember random things people say?"

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and gave a half-smile. "Only when it feels important."

That shut me up real quick.

12:28 PM We shifted into small talk. Nothing earth-shattering. Class schedules. The weather. A professor we both hate (bless him and his fifty-slide lectures on nothing).

But there was something… nice about it.

Easy.

He didn't try to impress me. Didn't flirt. Just listened. Really listened. Like he was more interested in how I said things than what I said.

At one point, I caught him watching me — not in a creepy way. Just quietly observing.

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head. "You chew like you're in a hurry to leave."

I froze mid-bite. "That's… weirdly accurate."

He smirked. "You don't have to rush. No one's chasing you."

Except maybe my own thoughts.

But I didn't say that out loud.

12:40 PM I asked him why he was even here — the student cafeteria felt too casual for someone like him.

He shrugged. "Meetings ran late. Skipped breakfast. Needed fuel."

I nodded. Then, curious: "Aren't CEOs supposed to eat in mysterious rooftop lounges or something?"

That made him laugh.

And Diary… I don't think I've heard him laugh before.

Not like that.

Not full and real and caught-off-guard.

It was nice.

Too nice.

Dangerously nice.

12:52 PM When we finished eating, I started to gather my tray, but he reached over and gently stopped me.

"I'll take it," he said.

I blinked. "You really don't have to."

He gave me that look again — quiet steel wrapped in warmth. "Let me."

So I let him.

And watched as he walked to the tray return, casual and unrushed, like we weren't standing on some invisible line between friendship and something more complicated.

When he came back, I stood up. "Thanks for letting me crash your lunch."

He glanced sideways. "I don't mind surprises."

I smiled. "That's dangerous. You never know what kind you'll get."

He nodded. "Some are worth it."

And just like that, he walked with me all the way to the stairs.

2:11 PM Back in class now. Or pretending to be. I've re-read the same sentence four times. The professor is droning about something important, probably.

But all I can think about is that look in his eyes.

Like I wasn't interrupting anything.

Like I was the thing that was supposed to be there.

3:40 PM I opened my phone to text him — something dumb, like "Thanks again for lunch," but stopped.

Because when I unlocked the screen… there was already a message from him.

"Don't forget to finish your strawberry milk next time."

Three minutes ago.

Like he knew.

Like he'd waited for the exact moment I'd look for him again.

4:18 PM I didn't reply.

Not yet.

I just sat there.

And smiled.

Not because I'm falling for him — I'm not. It's not that simple.

It's because, for the first time in a long time, someone remembered the smallest thing about me and treated it like it mattered.

And that?

That means more than grand gestures ever could.

I think I needed today more than I realized.

Not a confession. Not a dramatic kiss.

Just… lunch.

Unexpected. Uncomplicated.

But quietly important.

– Mi-Chan