Chapter 1

As Jurin walked toward the record store, a light breeze tousled her short black hair. The street was quiet, the kind of stillness that made every small sound feel magnified. Inside, the soft murmur of voices mingled with the faint clatter of jewel cases. Rows of cassette tapes and CDs stretched out before her like relics from another time. The refreshing scent of fabric softener drifted through the air, catching her off guard as she stepped in. She glanced sideways toward a man browsing nearby—something about the smell stirred a memory she couldn’t place. Shaking off the feeling, she waved a hand by her cheek, as if swatting at an invisible mosquito.

Jurin slid a disc into the CD player, pulled the headphones over her ears, and closed her eyes. Music flooded in, crisp and full. Again, the scent of freshly laundered shirts filled her senses. A breeze brushed her face. She opened her eyes.

A tall man stood near the shelves, his back to her. His hair was a soft golden hue, gently ruffled by the wind. He wore a bright white T-shirt and carried a black shoulder bag. As he turned around, their eyes met—his gaze warm and honey-colored, impossible to ignore. Then he smiled, and the effect was dazzling.

"Are you… sunshine?" the thought flickered in her mind.

A sudden screech from the headphones jolted her back to reality. She yelped, quickly pulling them off and clutching her ears, wincing from the sharp noise. The man looked over, concern etched across his kind features.

Flushed, Jurin stammered, “I—I’m sorry about that.”

He stepped closer, picked up the disc, and examined it. “Looks like it’s scratched. I can grab you another copy, if you want. What album is this?”

She held up the case, and he leaned in slightly to read it. Jurin’s pulse quickened. His presence made it hard to breathe evenly, let alone speak.

“It’s called Miniskirt by AOA,” she said, steadying her voice. “Do you work here?”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Kind of. My aunt owns the place, so I help out sometimes. I’ll go check the back—wait here.”

As he walked off, she noticed he wasn’t wearing a name tag like the others. Maybe that was why. Jurin wanted to ask his name, but stopped herself. One question would lead to another, and she feared coming off too eager.

She watched him disappear into a room marked STAFF ONLY, then turned to the window, leaning gently against the glass. Outside, the sky was slipping into twilight. A soft wind lifted the hem of her shirt. Summer nights had always comforted her—quiet, warm, like a whisper in the dark. They felt worlds away from the suffocating crush of the city. For a moment, she felt light again.

From now on, she thought, whenever she remembers someone, the wind will carry their memory, and the music will never stop playing. Each breeze is a gentle embrace, impossible to replicate.

Winter air bites at her lungs and stings her cheeks. But summer? Summer feels like being held close. A breeze passed, almost like a voice.

“Hey,” the man called, returning with a new CD in hand. “This one’s on the house—don’t worry about it.”

His voice matched the scent that lingered around him—fabric softener, soap, or maybe something that was just… him.

“Thank you,” Jurin said, reaching out. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he replied. “Just trying to help. That CD’s kind of old—are you into classics?”

She fidgeted with the hem of her tote bag, suddenly self-conscious. “Not really. I just like songs that feel… uplifting.”

He tilted his head. “Huh. I guess that makes sense. I don’t really listen to music much myself.”

Jurin blinked. “Seriously? But you work in a record store!”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. A flush crept up her neck as she realized how eager she sounded. Something about him made her want to be known—and liked.

Chapter 2

She had already begun sketching possibilities in her mind—daydreaming little moments with the man, running through endless what-ifs, wondering which questions would seem natural and which might be too much. Her thoughts wove scenarios from the mundane to the romantic, a quiet excitement growing with each imagined detail.

Eventually, she settled on a simple offer, hoping it wouldn't sound too forward.

"I could recommend some songs, if you'd like?" she said, voice light but purposeful.

The man's face lit up so brightly it nearly made her squint—it wasn't just a smile, it was a whole sunrise.

"Yeah! I'd love that!"

Jurin blinked, taken aback by his enthusiasm. He seemed familiar somehow—not just his face, but the aura he carried, and that scent... something uniquely his, warm and nostalgic. Her mind tried to grasp a memory, but nothing concrete came. Still, the feeling lingered like a song you know but can't name.

He leaned in slightly, eyes shining. "Could we meet here tomorrow? I'd love to hear your recommendations."

She looked up at him again. His honey-colored eyes met hers, and for a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe. There was something in them—something kind, unguarded, and deeply inviting. She quickly looked away, gathering herself.

With a voice that matched the bubbly tone she'd practiced in her head, she replied, "I'd love to meet up with you! I'll bring you the best recommendations I have."

"Great," he said, his smile widening. "Let's meet at 3:30 then. Bye!"

She waved slowly as he walked back into the store, still not quite believing the moment had happened. On her way home, she couldn't stop smiling. Something about today had changed everything.

Yes—moving here had been the right decision. A fresh start. A blank canvas in a town that smelled of sea salt and coffee grounds.

The summer night's breeze combed gently through her hair, brushing away the heat of the day. Streetlights shimmered above, casting soft halos across the sidewalk. The moon hung in the sky like it had been waiting for her to look up. In the distance, the soft sound of crashing waves met her ears, steady and soothing.

By the time she reached her cozy apartment, her heart was still fluttering. She slipped off her shoes, dropped her keys into a bowl by the door, and collapsed onto the couch with a soft sigh. Her mind replayed everything—his face, his voice, the way he said "tomorrow."

Grinning to herself, she grabbed her earbuds, popped them in, and cued up a playlist of her favorite songs. Music filled the space, each note colored by the warm memory of that golden smile.

✦✦✦

The next day, Jurin walked to the record store, a quiet determination guiding her steps. Her ankle-length skirt swayed with each movement, fluttering slightly in the gentle breeze. She had picked out the outfit carefully, casual but with intention.

The storefront came into view, nestled between an old bookstore and a tiny plant shop. She took a breath, then stepped forward.

Jingle.

The little bell above the door chimed as she entered. The scent of vinyl, aged wood, and something citrusy welcomed her. She hesitated near the front desk, suddenly realizing something critical—she didn't know his name.

What do I even ask? She thought. Maybe I could just say I'm looking for the owner's nephew...? No. That sounds so weird.

She sighed internally, cursing herself for not asking yesterday. But then—

"Oh! The recommendations girl."

She turned, heart lurching at the sound of his voice.

"That's right... We didn't exchange names," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry about that. I'm Luka. And you are?"

"Jurin," she said, with a warm smile. "Nice to finally know your name."

"Same here," Luka said, grinning. There was an easy friendliness in the way he spoke, like they'd known each other longer than just one conversation.

"Let's take this opportunity to get to know each other better," she said. "Want to head to a café while we talk about music?"

"Yeah! Sounds great to me," Luka replied without hesitation.

Jurin's heart picked up again, quick and fluttery. That smile—why did it feel so familiar, so disarming? She quickly composed herself, slipping her emotions into a drawer and shutting it with practiced ease.

As they walked side by side toward a nearby café, she glanced at him. The late afternoon light hit his features just right—golden, soft, almost cinematic.

This is it, she thought. The beginning of something...

She didn't know exactly what yet, but she was ready for the ride—heart-racing, confusing, thrilling. A new chapter, finally unfolding.

Chapter 3

Jingle—

The door swung open with a soft chime, and the warm scent of pastries mingled with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The air was heavy with a comfort that Jurin could almost feel wrapping around her. She followed Luka inside, her footsteps light but unsure, as if she was a little too conscious of how everything felt at the moment.

He led the way to a small corner booth, tucked away behind a row of potted plants. The soft hum of quiet conversations and the clink of cups created a kind of warm harmony in the space.

“Let’s sit here,” Luka said, gesturing to the cushioned chairs. His voice, steady and calm, didn’t betray any excitement about being in this cozy little cafe, but Jurin obeyed. She sat down, the fabric of the chair soft against her skin, but the tension in her chest remained.

“This place is nice,” she offered, her words drifting in the air, almost as an invitation for him to engage.

Luka gave a quiet nod, his eyes scanning the menu. She waited for more, something that would make her feel noticed. Something that would make her feel... special. But there was only silence in return.

She could feel her pulse quicken. Praise me, she thought, the words echoing in her mind like a mantra. She wanted him to see her. She wanted him to admire her—the way she held herself, the way she dressed, the way she spoke.

Instead, there was just the soft rustle of the menu as Luka flipped through it, his gaze unfocused. It’s fine. I don’t need him to say anything.

But her stomach twisted.

“So, what do you recommend I order?” she asked, trying to fill the silence. Maybe he’d notice her then. Maybe this would be the moment.

Luka didn’t look up. “Anything you like, really. Even if it’s the most expensive item on the menu.”

Jurin blinked, her smile stiffening. That's it? The words “sweet” and “considerate” echoed in her mind, but there was something almost dismissive in his tone. She wanted him to say something more—something that would make her feel important like her choices mattered to him. But instead, it was just... a suggestion.

“That’s so sweet of you! I couldn’t possibly do so,” she replied with a laugh that was too high-pitched as if the words weren’t entirely genuine.

She hated that she still felt the pull of attraction despite his indifference. No, she reminded herself. It’s not attraction. It’s admiration. I crave admiration.

Jurin took a deep breath, trying to shake off the disappointment. It was just a moment, a small crack in her expectations. She couldn't let it ruin everything.

The drinks arrived soon after—a tall glass of iced matcha latte for her, and an iced tea for him. The barista’s voice was loud, almost jarring in the calm atmosphere of the cafe. “One iced matcha latte and one iced tea. Enjoy!”

Jurin flinched at the tone. It was too cheerful, too... obnoxious. The sound of her name being called out like that felt like a disruption, like an unwanted spotlight on a stage she didn’t want to be on. She almost wanted to turn away, but she forced a smile instead.

“Thanks,” she murmured, accepting the drinks.

The latte, with its delicate green color, was refreshing against her tongue, but the coolness only made the warmth inside her chest seem even more suffocating. She let out a soft moan as she took another sip—exaggerated, deliberate, but perhaps convincing enough to mask the tightness she felt inside.

Luka didn’t seem to notice, his attention fixed on his tea.

Jurin glanced at him, trying to catch his eye. “So those recommendations… Let’s see. What type of music suits your fancy?” she asked, her voice lighter now, almost playful.

Luka hesitated, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his glass. “...Actually, I’m here with you because I need recommendations. But I don’t really know what kind of music I’d be into.”

Her heart sank. So this was it. This was the moment she had been waiting for—the chance to share her passions, to feel like the expert, to have him rely on her. But his confession of ignorance stung. She forced herself to keep smiling, but inside, something inside her snapped.

Am I wasting my time? The question hovered, cold and sharp in her mind. Why am I even here?

But then, a small thrill tugged at the corners of her mouth. No. I’m not wasting my time. Not yet.

The thought of being able to talk about her interests, her music, her world, with someone who was genuinely listening... it was enough to rekindle a sense of purpose in her. Even if it wasn’t Luka’s admiration she was after, even if it wasn’t the praise she so desperately craved, the thrill of speaking her mind was something. It was something.

She leaned forward, her posture growing more animated as she spoke. “Well, I could introduce you to some of my favorite artists. Maybe we could find something you’ll like. You might surprise yourself.”

There was a pause, and Luka’s eyes finally met hers. There was a flicker there—a moment of acknowledgment, maybe. But it was fleeting, almost unnoticeable.

"Maybe," he said softly, his voice uncertain. "But what about you? What kind of music do you listen to?”

Jurin blinked, caught off guard by the question. For a moment, the room seemed to still be around her, and she found herself staring at Luka as if she could read him through the layers of his words. The question felt different—more personal, less like a distraction.

She didn’t know how to answer. What kind of music do I listen to? she thought. She could rattle off names, genres, and artists. But maybe the real answer was something more complicated.

“I—" She faltered, then cleared her throat. "I like music that makes me feel something. Anything that can stir up... emotions, you know? Something raw. Maybe that's why I care so much about being noticed. I think we all want to feel like we matter like we’re part of something bigger.”

It was the most honest thing she’d said all night. She wasn’t sure if she was speaking for him or for herself, but the words slipped out before she could stop them.

Luka looked at her for a long moment, then took a slow sip of his iced tea. He didn’t say anything for a while, and the silence between them stretched, thick and heavy.

Jurin’s heart pounded in her chest, but she didn’t look away.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but clear: “Maybe that’s why I came here.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The moment felt fragile as if the world might shift on its axis if she said the wrong thing.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Luka’s eyes softened, and for the first time that evening, he seemed truly present. “Maybe I wanted to feel like I mattered. Like I could connect with someone who understands that.”

Jurin didn’t know what to say. All the walls she’d built up inside herself—walls of cynicism and pride—suddenly seemed unnecessary, fragile. She could almost feel the air between them change, charged with something unspoken.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t about praise at all. Maybe it was about connection.