Ahana's POV
I sat on my dorm bed, counting my savings with a heavy heart. The realization hit me—I couldn't rely solely on my scholarship for pocket money. If I wanted to survive in this new country, I needed a part-time job, but being here for only a week, I had no idea where to start. With a sigh, I asked Ellisa and Joe to let me know if they heard of any cafes or stores hiring part-timers.
Minwoo, the dorm mate with a gaze sharp enough to pierce through steel, surprised me by asking if I had any problems. Her tone was cold, but the gesture made me oddly happy. I applied to a few places, fingers crossed for a response. Two days passed, and the only call I received was from my mom. Frustrated, I stared at my phone for an hour, willing it to ring. When it didn't, I gave up and went out for dinner, leaving my phone behind.
When I returned, there were two missed calls from an unknown number. My heart raced as I called back, tears streaming down my face when a warm voice invited me to meet her on Sunday for an interview. The relief was overwhelming.
Sunday arrived, and I dressed as neatly as I could, trying to look professional. Based on her voice, I imagined a woman in her 40s, but to my surprise, she was an elderly lady with a radiant smile. I greeted her with a deep bow, and she asked me one question:
"How much do you want me to pay for the hours you selected?"
Caught off guard, I replied, "You can decide after seeing my work."
She chuckled softly and said, "You're too naïve. Join from tomorrow."
The café was beautiful—its white-themed decor accented with soft gray and gold hues. Abstract paintings adorned the walls, and a bookshelf overflowed with novels, magazines, and encyclopedias. It wasn't big but had a calm, cozy vibe perfect for students and professionals.
My classes ran from 6 a.m. to 3 p.m., so I decided to head to the café straight after. Customers came and went, some engrossed in books, others typing away on laptops, while a few simply enjoyed their meals. During the quieter moments, I worked on my portfolio for an internship.
Summer vacations were near, and students were gearing up to apply to top companies. I had set my sights on the three leading names in the fashion industry. The week was so hectic I barely found time to eat, surviving on instant noodles most days.
One evening, as closing time approached, I decided to grab a quick bite. While waiting impatiently for my noodles to cook, my mind wandered to my first day of college—and him. The hazel-eyed stranger who had been haunting my thoughts.
Just as I was about to take a bite, the door clicked open, and my heart froze. There he was—the face I tried so hard to push out of my mind. My chopsticks slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor.
I forced myself to snap out of my daze and noticed he was drenched, a fresh cut at the corner of his lips. Worry bubbled in my chest as questions raced through my mind. How did you get hurt? What happened? Is it painful? But I couldn't muster the courage to ask.
He broke the silence. "Did I interrupt something?" he asked, pointing at my cup of noodles.
I quickly shook my head. "No."
"Good," he said. "I know it's not the best time to ask, but is there anything hot to drink?"
Still stunned, I nodded and handed him the menu. "What would you like to have, sir?" I asked, my voice barely steady.
"Black coffee," he replied. "Make it as bitter as possible."
I was surprised but didn't question him. As I prepared his order, he suddenly said, "Aren't you the girl in the yellow frock from that day?"
My heart skipped a beat. He remembered me—and even my dress. Struggling to keep calm, I stammered, "Y-you remember me?"
He smirked. "You seem like the kind of person who lives inside her head rather than the real world."
Embarrassed, I wanted to disappear. He handed me a sleek, expensive credit card for payment. As he turned to leave, he paused at the door, glanced back, and locked eyes with me.
Then he left without saying a word.
I collapsed into my chair, my thoughts a whirlwind. Why do you always look back and leave without saying anything?
That night, as I lay in bed, his image wouldn't leave my mind. His disheveled state haunted me. What happened to you? How did you get hurt?
And most of all, Why do those hazel eyes affect me so much?