The first light of dawn spilled softly through Yuna's bedroom window, brushing her face with pale pink and gold. Outside, the city was just beginning to stir — the distant hum of cars, the faint chatter of early risers, and the whisper of wind carrying fallen leaves through narrow streets. Autumn was slowly creeping into every corner of Seoul, and even the smallest sounds seemed charged with promise and melancholy.
Yuna lay still for a moment, listening to the quiet rhythm of the world waking up. Her mind was tangled with memories, hopes, and a strange knot of anticipation she couldn't explain. It had only been a week since she'd met Jisoo, but already his presence lingered like the scent of the ginkgo leaves — subtle, undeniable.
She rose and dressed quickly, pulling on a soft sweater against the morning chill before heading out into the cool air. The walk to Seoyeon University felt different today. The usual bustling energy was tempered by the muted colors of the season — ochres, browns, and reds blending like brushstrokes on an endless canvas. Somewhere inside, Yuna felt like she was stepping into a story, the first lines written with trembling hands and a hopeful heart.
At the entrance to campus, students rushed past her, their laughter and conversations floating like bubbles in the crisp air. Yuna paused, letting the moment sink in — the scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby vendor, the crunch of leaves beneath her boots, the ancient stone paths worn smooth by countless footsteps. And beyond all that, the ginkgo tree, standing like a sentinel beside the library, waiting for her.
She made her way there, notebook tucked under her arm, the pages half-filled with scattered thoughts and unfinished sketches. Today she hoped to write something real, something that captured the strange mix of longing and fear inside her.
When she reached the bench beneath the tree, Jisoo was already there — sitting with his usual quiet grace, absorbed in a book so worn it seemed to hold decades of stories. He looked up as she approached, eyes meeting hers with that calm intensity she'd come to recognize.
"Good morning," he said softly.
"Good morning," Yuna replied, settling beside him and opening her notebook. "I'm trying to write, but my thoughts keep drifting."
Jisoo smiled gently. "Maybe your thoughts are trying to tell you something."
Yuna glanced at him, curiosity sparking. "What do you mean?"
He closed his book and shifted to face her more directly. "Sometimes when we're stuck, it's not because we don't have answers, but because we're afraid of the questions."
His words hung between them, soft but weighted. Yuna traced a leaf etched on the corner of her page, wondering which questions she had been avoiding.
"What about you?" she asked after a moment. "What brought you here?"
Jisoo's eyes darkened, flickering with a shadow she hadn't noticed before. "I'm running from my past," he admitted quietly. "Not just the usual struggles — something deeper. I thought moving to Seoul would mean a fresh start, but the past has a way of following you no matter where you go."
Yuna listened, her heart tightening. She wanted to reach out, to say it was okay to lean on someone, but words felt fragile, easily broken.
"Do you ever wish you could just erase everything?" Jisoo continued, voice barely above a whisper. "Start again without the mistakes, without the pain?"
"Sometimes," Yuna confessed, "but then I think maybe it's the mistakes that teach us who we really are."
He smiled faintly, a ghost of warmth in his eyes. "That's a hopeful way to see it."
They sat in silence for a while, watching leaves spiral down in slow circles. Around them, the campus life carried on, but here beneath the ginkgo tree, time seemed to slow.
Yuna closed her notebook and turned to him. "You don't have to face your past alone, you know."
Jisoo looked at her, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his calm mask. "I'm afraid if I let someone in, they'll see the parts of me I'm trying to hide."
"Sometimes," Yuna said softly, "the parts we hide are the ones that need the most love."
Her words seemed to reach him. He reached out tentatively and brushed a stray leaf from her hair.
The simplicity of the gesture sent warmth blooming in her chest.
---
Days turned into weeks, and autumn deepened its hold on the city. The ginkgo tree lost most of its leaves, and the air grew colder, but Yuna and Jisoo's friendship grew warmer. Each afternoon spent beneath the tree was a step toward something neither wanted to name yet but both felt.
They shared stories of childhood — Yuna spoke of her quiet life in a small neighborhood on the city's outskirts, her dreams of becoming a writer, and her fears about the future. Jisoo talked about his move from Busan, the weight of expectations from family, and the loneliness of starting over.
One chilly afternoon, Jisoo invited Yuna to see his sketches. They sat in the campus art studio, surrounded by charcoal and watercolor paints, where he pulled out his notebook filled with drawings.
Each page was a window into his soul — delicate renderings of the ginkgo tree through the seasons, candid portraits of classmates, and landscapes from places Yuna had only dreamed of visiting.
"You see the world differently," Yuna said, tracing the lines of a particularly vivid sketch of the campus at dawn.
Jisoo smiled, eyes shining. "Art is how I make sense of everything. The chaos, the beauty, the pain."
Yuna felt a swell of admiration and something deeper—an ache for the boy who carried so much inside.
---
But the peace was fragile.
One evening, as the city lights blinked on like stars brought to earth, Yuna received a message from Jisoo. "Can we meet? I need to talk."
Her heart thudded with worry and curiosity.
They met beneath the ginkgo tree, now bare and skeletal in the cold air. Jisoo looked exhausted, shadows under his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he began, voice strained. "There's something I haven't told you."
Yuna listened as he revealed the truth — a story of family conflicts, mistakes made in anger, and a past that had forced him to leave everything behind. The guilt weighed on him, shaping who he was, threatening to pull him under.
Tears pricked at Yuna's eyes as she reached out to hold his hand.
"You don't have to carry this alone," she said firmly. "We'll face it together."
For the first time, Jisoo let himself believe it might be true.
---
As winter whispered its way over Seoul, Yuna realized the season he arrived had changed her in ways she hadn't expected. It wasn't just about falling leaves or cooling winds — it was about the way hearts could open, how love could grow from the most unexpected places.
The story of Yuna and Jisoo was only beginning, but already it felt like the most important chapter of her life.