The city of Seoul was slowly transforming under the quiet hand of autumn. It was a season that held a strange kind of magic—a bittersweet promise that everything old could fall away and make room for something new. Golden ginkgo leaves carpeted the wide sidewalks and fluttered like fragments of old memories, carried by the gentle breeze. The sun cast a warm glow but could no longer chase away the coolness that seeped into the air with every passing day.
Yuna wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck as she stepped lightly along the campus grounds of Seoyeon University. The familiar paths felt different somehow, touched by the subtle shift in the season and in her heart. Around her, groups of students laughed and chatted, their voices blending with the rustling leaves and the occasional distant bell of the old campus clocktower.
But Yuna's thoughts were elsewhere.
This was the beginning of her third year in university, a milestone she had anticipated with equal parts excitement and dread. The dream of her future, once so vivid and bright, had started to feel more like a fragile thread she wasn't sure she could hold onto. What she wanted, what she was supposed to want—those things tangled in a confusing knot she was afraid to untangle.
Her gaze drifted upward to the canopy of trees lining the walkways, the golden leaves slowly falling like silent confessions from the branches. Every leaf seemed to whisper a message she couldn't quite hear.
She walked past the familiar library building and found herself drawn instinctively toward the small park tucked just behind it. Here stood an ancient ginkgo tree, its branches heavy with golden leaves that shimmered like precious coins in the afternoon sun. This was Yuna's sanctuary—a place where she could escape the noise of her life and find a quiet space to breathe.
Today, something felt different.
She hadn't come here with any plan, but as she reached the bench beneath the tree, she saw him.
He was seated alone, a figure almost blending into the soft light and shadows. Dark hair slightly ruffled by the breeze, clothes simple yet neat, and eyes that held a calmness that seemed almost out of place in the bustling campus around them.
He held a small notebook loosely in one hand, occasionally jotting down something with a delicate precision. Yuna hesitated for a moment, her heart inexplicably fluttering.
She had never been the type to be easily drawn to strangers—she was cautious, thoughtful, preferring the steady comfort of books and routine. But something about this boy made her want to close the distance between them, to step out of her quiet shell.
Her footsteps were soft but certain as she moved closer.
He looked up, meeting her gaze with eyes that were deep and serene, like the surface of a calm sea hiding depths beneath.
"Hi," he said, his voice low and smooth, a gentle warmth in it that made Yuna's cheeks flush without warning.
"Hi," she answered, feeling suddenly shy under his steady gaze. "Are you new here?"
He nodded, closing the notebook and placing it carefully on the bench beside him. "Yeah. I transferred last week. My name's Jisoo."
"Yuna," she said, extending her hand almost instinctively.
He smiled softly and shook it, the contact warm and reassuring. "Nice to meet you, Yuna."
They sat side by side in a silence that felt comfortable rather than awkward, watching as the golden leaves danced in slow spirals down to the ground.
"You come here often?" Yuna asked, glancing at the notebook still resting on the bench.
Jisoo nodded again. "I like this spot. It helps me think. There's something about the quiet, the way the leaves fall… it's peaceful."
Yuna smiled. "Me too. It's like the world slows down here for a moment."
They fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, talking about light things at first—their favorite books, the changing seasons, the small joys that made life worth living. Jisoo's voice was calm but carried a quiet intensity that made her listen more closely, want to know more.
As the afternoon sun began to dip lower, the shadows lengthening beneath the trees, Yuna realized she had forgotten how long she'd been there. The worries she had carried all day—the pressure of exams, the uncertainty about her future—felt lighter somehow. It was as if this unexpected meeting had given her a small seed of hope to hold onto.
But beneath the calm surface of Jisoo's gentle smile, Yuna sensed a complexity she couldn't yet understand. A sadness that lingered just beyond the edges of his eyes, like a shadow waiting to be acknowledged.
"Is everything okay?" she asked hesitantly, searching his face.
Jisoo's smile flickered for a moment, then returned with more quiet strength. "I'm… working through some things. Coming here helps."
Yuna nodded, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Sometimes, it was enough just to be present for someone—to share the silence and the falling leaves.
As twilight painted the sky in soft purples and golds, Yuna knew this moment was the beginning of something important. The season Jisoo arrived was not just the turning of autumn—it was the start of a new chapter in her life.
And for the first time in a long while, she felt ready to turn the page.
---
Later that week…
The campus was alive with the energy of a new semester. Lecture halls buzzed with conversations about assignments, clubs were recruiting new members, and the scent of roasted chestnuts from street vendors mingled with the crisp autumn air.
Yuna found herself drawn back to the ginkgo tree every day after class. Sometimes Jisoo was there, scribbling in his notebook or quietly reading a book. Other times, she sat alone, watching the leaves fall and imagining what stories they might tell.
Slowly, the distance between them shrank. Small smiles became greetings, greetings turned into conversations, and conversations blossomed into a fragile friendship.
One afternoon, as the wind picked up and the leaves scattered like confetti around them, Jisoo pulled his jacket tighter around himself.
"Do you want to see something?" he asked suddenly, a spark of excitement in his voice.
Curious, Yuna nodded.
Jisoo pulled out his notebook and flipped it open. Inside were sketches—delicate, detailed drawings of the campus, the trees, the leaves, and people she recognized. His art captured the quiet beauty of everyday moments, freezing them in time.
"You're really talented," Yuna said softly, touched by the thoughtfulness of his work.
Jisoo shrugged modestly. "It's how I make sense of things."
Yuna glanced up at him, feeling a flutter in her chest. "Maybe I'd like to learn how to see the world through your eyes."
For the first time, Jisoo's eyes softened, and his smile grew just a little brighter.
"Maybe," he said, "we can discover it together."
---
The days passed, and the leaves turned from gold to fiery red, carpeting the paths in warmth and color. With every meeting beneath the ginkgo tree, Yuna and Jisoo shared more than just words—they shared dreams, fears, and moments of silence that spoke louder than any conversation.
But the deeper their connection grew, the more Yuna sensed there was something Jisoo wasn't telling her. A shadow behind his calm gaze, a story waiting to be told.
One evening, as they watched the sunset bleed into the horizon, Yuna gathered her courage.
"Jisoo," she said softly, "whatever you're going through, you don't have to face it alone."
He looked at her, the weight in his eyes finally breaking through the calm. For a moment, the walls around him seemed to crack.
"I'm scared," he admitted, voice barely more than a whisper. "That if I let anyone in, they'll see the parts of me I'm trying to hide."
Yuna reached out, her hand brushing his gently.
"Sometimes," she said, "the parts we're most afraid to show are the ones that need love the most."
The autumn wind swirled around them, carrying the scent of falling leaves and whispered promises. In that fragile moment, beneath the fading light, a new season began—not just outside, but inside their hearts.