I smooth the tulle ruffles of my dress nervously as I stand at the entrance to the walking path at Seokchon Lake Park. I’m waiting for Minjae, but I feel slightly ridiculous and more than a little insecure about the outfit I’ve picked for our cherry blossom outing.
Was it too much?
Why did I pick the dress with ruffles?
No one else here seems to be wearing ruffles. What was I thinking?
It’s too late to worry about those things now, I tell myself. Focus on something else.
I turn my attention to the scene around me instead.
The walking path is full of people—couples, families, friends—all marveling at the stunning display of delicate white and pale pink blossoms growing from gnarled tree trunks. Phones are everywhere as people pose beneath the trees with the lake behind them.
Winter is finally, truly over.
Spring is here—full of promise and fresh beginnings.
I smile to myself.
The last two weeks have brought the most change. The stranger I met in that bar has somehow become part of my daily routine.
As if he knows I’m thinking about him, a text buzzes on my phone.
I am here. Where are you?
At the entrance, waiting for you.
I don’t see you.
I look up and around.
I can’t see him either.
A frown pulls at my lips as I respond.
I am near the castle.
At Seokchon Lake, there is an amusement park called Lotte World. The castle sits in the middle of the lake, surrounded by roller coasters and winding paths that look like they belong somewhere far more magical than the middle of Seoul.
Ah, that’s why. I am by the mall.
Oh. Where is that?
Don’t worry. ^^ I will come to you.
Okay, thank you.
I snap a picture of exactly where I’m standing and send it to him.
He hearts it almost immediately, and I let out a happy sigh.
Minjae is always so thoughtful.
Every day for the past two weeks, he has kept up a consistent, comforting stream of text messages.
“Good morning! Have a good day today! Hwaiting!”
“Did you have lunch?”
“How was work?”
“Did you have dinner?”
“Text me when you get home.”
He knows my schedule inside and out, but he’s also so open with me about his.
“I am having lunch now,” followed by a picture of the office lunch provided in his company’s cafeteria.
“I am going to the gym,” with a picture of his workout shoes.
“I have a big project,” followed by a picture of his desk and computer at work.
And then there are the more intimate texts.
“I miss you.”
“I want to see you.”
The thought of those simple yet incredibly effective messages makes my ears glow hotly.
He never misses a check-in.
And here he is, coming to meet me on a warm spring day to show me one of Seoul’s most popular cherry blossom displays.
The blossoms, the warmer weather, and Minjae’s attention have wiped the idea of going back home completely from my mind.
I still spend as much time as possible outside my moldy apartment, but now I can enjoy being outdoors. I can walk beneath the cherry blossoms and pretend my life here is finally becoming what I hoped it would be.
Even Subin Teacher’s snide remarks don’t seem capable of ruining my mood anymore.
“Ah, Violet Teacher!”
My heart freezes. I know that voice.
I turn around, trying to hide the grimace that crosses my face.
“Hi, Subin Teacher.”
Subin Teacher is ten years older than me, but she doesn’t look it. Her skin is pale and clear. Her dark hair is silky and never seems to be out of place.
Sometimes I feel like she has so much criticism for me because she is so perfect in comparison.
She stands smiling at me in an expensive-looking silk blouse. The cream color makes her pale skin glow, while the ribbon tied near her neck makes her look almost dainty.
Her pleated, pale pink midi skirt is almost an exact match for the cherry blossoms, and the golden accents on her white shoes and purse coordinate perfectly with her necklace and earrings.
I brush nervously at my ruffles again. I wish I could be anywhere else.
Even in my own moldy room.
“Did you come alone?” Subin Teacher asks as she intertwines her arm with the tall man standing beside her.
He is wearing a pale pink dress shirt tucked perfectly into his trousers, with shoes that seem to match Subin Teacher’s outfit almost exactly. His black hair is perfectly coiffed.
He has a kind face.
And he’s handsome.
“I am meeting a friend,” I mumble, looking around and hoping Minjae won’t appear until after they’ve left.
“Oh, that’s good! Your dress is so pretty. You look so nice with your makeup on today,” Subin Teacher says sweetly.
Why is she being nice to me?
“Um, thank you! I like your outfit, too! It’s perfect for spring photos!”
“Let’s take a picture together, Violet Teacher!”
What in the world?
Subin Teacher hands her phone to her partner and says something to him in Korean that I assume means he should take our picture.
She wraps her arm around mine and pulls me toward a nearby tree.
She poses with a V sign. I do the same.
“I will send the photo to you on Kakao!” Subin Teacher says brightly. “See you on Monday!”
“Ah, yes. Bye!”
I awkwardly bow slightly to her and her partner as they walk away.
“Are they your friends?”
A voice behind me makes me jump.
The man standing there couldn’t look more different from the tired office worker I met in a bar on a random Tuesday night.
He wears pale blue jeans that match the spring sky and a ribbed, fitted white T-shirt beneath a pink button-down.
His black hair looks softer today, falling in loose waves around his forehead.
And he isn’t wearing his thick black glasses.
His dark eyes—full of unmistakable amusement—stand out immediately.
My breath catches in my throat.
We haven’t met on a weekend yet, so I’ve only ever seen him in office clothes and glasses.
This must be the magazine version of Minjae.
And he’s my date.
This can’t be real.
“Minjae?”
“Minjae Oppa*,” he corrects, smiling. “I am two years older than you, remember?”
“Minjae Oppa,” I repeat.
That seems to satisfy him.
“How are you?”
“Happy now that I am with you.”
Thank God I wore my hair down so he can’t see how red my ears must be.
“Same,” I reply. “Are we going down to the path to walk?”
I gesture toward the red walking track below the stone-hewn steps.
“Of course.”
He reaches out his arm for me to take.
We start walking along the path, and I feel like I’ve been transported into another world.
Is it possible to have this much natural beauty in such a huge metropolis?
Even though it’s crowded, I find myself enjoying it.
The trees. The lake. The white ducks strutting around.
The way we have to zigzag around other people’s photo shoots.
“Let me take a picture of you here,” Minjae says abruptly, gesturing toward a particularly full tree.
I walk over and immediately start adjusting myself.
I turn my head three-quarters away from the camera.
Cross one leg slightly in front of the other.
Pull my shoulders back.
Anything to avoid looking so huge.
Minjae laughs. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to look… you know… so big in my photos.”
I glance down at my dress. “The ruffles can only hide so much.”
Minjae frowns. “If you want to look smaller, you have to be smaller.”
I freeze.
The world seems to shift beneath my feet.
A lump the size of a grapefruit rises in my throat.
“There is nothing wrong with how you look now,” Minjae continues, as if nothing has happened. “You are just you. Be confident!”
And he smiles at me.
“Okay, but…” I choke out. “I just like posing this way, okay? I know I won’t like my photos if I don’t.”
Minjae shrugs.
Then he reaches out and pats my head.
“Do what you like. But don’t worry about being smaller so much.”
I give him a half-smile and pose again.
I just want to get the photos over with.
If you want to look smaller, you have to be smaller.
The words repeat themselves in my head.
If you want to look smaller, you have to be smaller.
“Let’s take a selca,” Minjae says as he comes toward me again.
“A what?” I blink at him. “What’s a selca?”
Minjae switches the camera to the front-facing camera and holds his arm out after positioning himself beside me.
“Like this.”
“A selfie?”
“Yes!” Minjae says, pleased that I understand. “In Korea, we say selca. Self-camera.”
I look at myself on the screen again.
Honestly, what does Minjae see in me?
It seems almost incongruous that someone so clean-cut would want to be seen with me, let alone create photographic evidence that he was spending his Saturday with someone who looked nothing like a woman such as Subin Teacher.
“Violet Teacher!”
Dear God.
Does this woman know when I’m having even the most fleeting thought about her?
“Subin Teacher!”
“Ah, is this your friend, Violet Teacher?” Subin Teacher asks as she and her partner return.
“Um, yes. This is Minjae. Minjae, this is Subin Teacher and her—boyfriend?”
“My husband,” Subin Teacher corrects.
She tucks her hair behind her ear at the same time, revealing the ring on her left hand.
How did I not notice that before?
“Minjae Oppa,” Minjae corrects again before bowing politely.
“Ah, Oppa?”
Subin Teacher’s smile turns incredulous.
“So he is your boyfriend, Violet Teacher?”
“Uh—”
Before I can answer, Minjae says something to Subin Teacher in Korean.
She responds.
Her husband adds a few short comments.
I look between them, completely lost.
I am studying Korean, but I am nowhere near prepared for this conversation.
What are they saying?
Is Minjae my boyfriend?
That’s ridiculous.
We’ve only known each other for two weeks.
We’re on a date, sure.
But a friend date.
A courting type of thing, maybe.
I am certainly interested in Minjae.
But there’s no way he feels the same about me.
Is there?
“It was so nice to meet your friend, Violet Teacher,” Subin Teacher says finally.
Minjae seems to stiffen beside me.
“I will see you at work. Bye!”
“What did you guys say?” I ask as soon as Subin Teacher and her husband are out of earshot.
“Nothing,” Minjae says. “They asked me how we met and what I did for work.”
“And whether you were my friend or boyfriend?”
What possessed me to say that out loud?
Minjae looks at me thoughtfully.
“Would you like that?”
Again, the world seems to slip out from beneath me.
A gust of wind blows through the trees, and a small shower of blossoms falls between us.
“Y-yes,” I stammer before my courage fails me. “I think that would be nice.”
I stare firmly at my feet, bracing myself for the rejection that is surely coming.
I messed up.
I screwed up this entire thing.
It is officially the Blossom Bungle.
I can already picture myself writing about it in my diary later tonight.
I know Minjae will let me down easily.
He’s kind like that.
But there is no way he would even consider—
“I would like that too.”
*Oppa (오빠) — Literally, an older brother from a younger woman’s perspective. It can also be used by women when referring to or addressing an older male friend or romantic partner.
From Seoul to You 
Leave a comment