If Only Spring Would Come.

Today, Bom decided she would lose a friend. Not just any friend, but someone she had met at twenty and cherished for over ten years.

[Are you free this evening? If you are, let’s grab dinner.]

Was this the right thing to do?

Bom typed the message on her phone, but her finger hovered hesitantly over the send button. Even though she had already made up her mind, actually taking action filled her with a wave of uncertainty.

‘What’s there to hesitate about, Choi Bom? Just press send!’

But her fingers didn’t cooperate. Just as she was stuck in indecision, the bus jolted over a speed bump, making her body lurch forward. And then…

‘Oh no… it sent!’

She stared blankly at the screen, realizing the message had gone through without her final resolve.

Maybe it was for the best. She couldn’t keep dragging this out indefinitely. If she’d already made her decision, the least she could do was respect him enough to let him know.

‘Right, you’ve decided!’

With that thought, she pressed the bus stop button with determination.

Stepping off the bus, Bom walked along a familiar path, her footsteps steady. The bustling noise of the bus faded as her feet touched the pavement, and the crisp October air kissed her cheeks, refreshing her spirit.

Bom let the autumn breeze wrap around her like a comforting blanket as she headed toward work.

Turning a corner and walking a few more steps, she spotted Yangji Art Academy, the place that always radiated joy. Cheerful laughter spilled out from the building, the sound a constant source of warmth.

As she approached the academy’s entrance, her phone vibrated in her bag.

Dongwook?

Taking a deep breath, she pulled out her phone to check the message.

[Of course, I’m free! Have you made up your mind?]

As expected, it was Dongwook.

[Yes. Sorry it took me so long.]
[It’s okay. ^^]
[Where should we meet?]
[I’ll come to the academy when you’re done.]
[Okay, call me when you’re on your way!]
[Sure. Take care today. ^^]

After wrapping up the brief exchange, Bom slipped her phone back into her bag. Now, she had to deliver the decision she’d agonized over for more than a week.

‘We… can’t be friends anymore.’

Nine days ago, Dongwook had stood outside her house late at night and told her those very words. His tone had been calm, even gentle, despite the weight of his declaration. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t been entirely shocked.

No, that wasn’t it. She had already noticed the subtle shifts in him over the past few months.

He would gaze at her with eyes full of quiet tenderness, linger at her doorstep insisting on walking her home, or show up at the academy unannounced to share an evening meal. Some days, he’d surprise her with a single flower, handed over without explanation.

‘You didn’t say anything, so you must have already known… right?’

‘Dongwook…’

‘Yeah. I like you.’

When those words finally slipped from his lips, her heart sank with a heavy thud. The feelings she had brushed off as overthinking or fantasy had suddenly become undeniable reality.

“I was just as confused. I mean, we’ve been friends for 12 years, and now this,” Dongwook said, his voice steady but heavy with emotion.

He continued, carefully choosing his words. “I’ve thought about this a lot. I was scared, too. If you say no… not only will I lose this chance, but our 12 years of friendship might disappear as well.”

Bom stayed silent, her heart wavering.

“But even so, I had to confess. I can’t keep pretending anymore. I can’t stand in front of you, acting like I’m just your friend.”

“Dongwook…”

Her voice finally broke the silence, trembling as she called his name. At her hesitant response, Dongwook’s eyes flickered with nervous anticipation.

“You’re right… I won’t say I didn’t know. I had a vague feeling.”

“…”

“But… it’s all so sudden. I don’t even know what to say.”

“That’s okay. I’m not going to rush you.”

Dongwook smiled warmly, his effort to mask his anxiety tugging at Bom’s heart. Knowing how serious and thoughtful he was, she realized he wouldn’t have said these words without being absolutely certain of his feelings.

Yet, even knowing his sincerity, Bom couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. Her mind raced, and she blurted out something to fill the silence.

“Um… Dongwook, uh… I don’t mean to hurt you, but… this is important, so there can’t be any misunderstandings.”

“What are you trying to say?”

The mention of “hurt” made Dongwook’s expression falter, a faint fear flashing across his face.

“I just… wondered if maybe you were confused,” Bom stammered. “I mean, after I broke up with Junyoung last year, you were there for me the whole time, comforting me.”

As much as she hated bringing up that guy’s name, it felt necessary to address the root of her doubt.

Bom, Dongwook, and Junyoung had been friends since their college days. They met in a club at twenty, and Bom started dating Junyoung at twenty-three, a relationship that lasted eight years until their breakup last year. Dongwook had been a constant presence, witnessing every up and down of those years. How could she not question his feelings?

“I cried so much in front of you… You saw me at my weakest.”

“…”

“In that time, maybe… without realizing it, you started to mistake sympathy for love—”

“It’s not sympathy.”

Before she could finish, Dongwook interrupted firmly.

“At first, sure,” he admitted. “I stayed by your side because I felt bad for you. You seemed so fragile, and I wanted to be there for you.”

“…”

“But… over time, it stopped being about you needing me. It became about me needing you. I wanted to see you all the time. I hated saying goodbye after meeting you. And now, I don’t think I can live without you. How is that sympathy?”

Dongwook’s voice was steady, but his gaze burned with a passion Bom had never seen before. His heartfelt confession left no room for denial or misunderstanding. His feelings weren’t a mistake or a phase—they were real.

Faced with the weight of his sincerity, Bom knew there was only one thing left to do: decide.

“Can you… give me some time?”

It wasn’t a decision she could make on the spot. As he had said, this was about twelve years of shared history—a bond too important to risk on a rushed answer.

“Of course. Take all the time you need. I’ll wait,” Dongwook said with a faint but hopeful smile.

And so, nine days passed. Days filled with agonizing introspection, endless what-ifs, and countless rewrites of how she’d finally tell him.

Now, as Bom stood outside the art academy, her resolve was set. Today, she would give him her answer.

“Knock, knock!”

Eunju mimicked the sound of knocking as she stepped into the classroom where Bom was busy preparing materials for her next lesson.

“Wow, perfect timing. I was just thinking about grabbing a coffee,” Bom said, glancing up from her work.

Eunju, now standing in front of her, handed over a cup of coffee with a smug grin.

“Of course you were. That’s why this oh-so-heavy body of mine graciously dragged itself to the café for you!” Eunju declared, dramatically rubbing her flat belly as though carrying a great burden.

“Oh, yes, I’m sure it’s so heavy, what with you being three months pregnant,” Bom quipped, chuckling at Eunju’s antics.

Eunju, the director of Yangji Art Academy and Bom’s college senior, was currently three months into her pregnancy. While her belly wasn’t showing yet, she often exaggerated her condition for comedic effect.

“I’m jealous. You get to drink coffee,” Eunju said, eyeing Bom’s cup enviously as she sipped on her own yuzu tea.

“Can’t you have just a little now and then? Not too strong, but lightly brewed. I’ve heard even avoiding it completely isn’t ideal.”

“I know. I’ve been indulging just a bit when the cravings get really bad,” Eunju replied with a gentle smile, taking another sip of her tea.

But her expression soon turned uneasy as her gaze flickered toward the clock on the wall. Something was clearly on her mind. In truth, she had used the coffee as an excuse to approach Bom, but finding the courage to say what needed to be said wasn’t proving easy.

“Hey… Bom,” Eunju began tentatively, tapping her fingers on her cup.

“Yeah?”

“Um…”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s just…”

“What is it? Why are you dragging this out? Did you come here to tell me something?” Bom asked, growing impatient with Eunju’s uncharacteristic hesitation.

“Yeah, I did, but…”

“Oh, come on! What’s with you today? Spit it out already!”

Eunju let out a long sigh, shaking her head as if to dismiss her own thoughts. “Ugh… never mind. It’s not like knowing ahead of time will change anything anyway.”

That only made Bom more anxious. Eunju, who was normally so forthright, was being frustratingly cryptic.

“What is it? What won’t change? Why are you acting so weird?” Bom pressed, concern now evident in her voice.

“Sorry, Bom. I’ll take the hit for this later,” Eunju muttered before abruptly standing up.

“Unnie! Tell me what’s going on! Director!” Bom shouted after her, but Eunju didn’t turn back. She walked out of the classroom without another word.

“What the heck? She’s leaving me hanging like this…” Bom muttered, frustrated.

“Okay, has everyone finished their sketches?”

Bom asked the three children seated around the large table in the classroom.

“Yes!” they chimed in unison, their eyes bright with enthusiasm.

“I haven’t finished yet,” Jia said softly, her voice tinged with nervousness as if being the only one falling behind was weighing on her.

“It’s okay, Jia. Take your time. Right, teacher?”

Hoon spoke up, his tone reassuring and mature, like that of an older brother. But the way he looked at Jia—warm, tender, almost glowing—was anything but subtle.

Kids can be so obvious sometimes. How adorable! Bom thought, smiling to herself.

“Of course, Jia. Take your time,” Bom said warmly, soothing the anxious girl.

“How about Ye-eun and Hoon start tearing the colored paper while Jia finishes up?”

“Yes, teacher,” they answered together.

Bom picked up a piece of colored paper and demonstrated how to tear it into small pieces. This activity didn’t involve crayons or paint but instead required the children to color their pictures by gluing tiny bits of torn paper onto their drawings. Ye-eun and Hoon quickly caught on, enthusiastically mimicking Bom’s demonstration.

Just then, a knock on the classroom door interrupted the peaceful atmosphere.

“Sorry I’m late.”

The voice that followed was one Bom hadn’t heard in what felt like forever, but it was unmistakably familiar—low, warm, and painfully recognizable.

“…!”

Bom instinctively turned toward the sound and froze.

It was Cha Jun-young. That guy.

Why are you here? Of all places, why here? You’re the last person I ever wanted to see again.

Her mind raced, struggling to process the sight before her. This was her haven, her workplace—and now Jun-young, her ex from a year ago, stood at the door as though nothing had ever happened.

“Long time no see, Choi Bom,” he said, his lips curling into an easy smile as he stepped forward and extended a hand toward her.

Bom didn’t move. Her mind reeled as her body stayed rooted to the spot. Despite herself, she couldn’t deny that Jun-young still looked annoyingly good. His sharp yet gentle eyes exuded warmth, his straight nose gave him a refined air, and his confident smile, so effortlessly bright and genuine, was as magnetic as ever.

“…What are you doing here?” Bom finally managed, her voice a mix of disbelief and irritation. She didn’t even glance at the hand he held out. How dare he show up here?

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Jun-young replied, lowering his hand awkwardly but keeping his tone composed. “Didn’t you hear?”

“Hear what?” Bom snapped, thoroughly confused. What could she have possibly missed? Dongwook had long since cut ties with Jun-young, and as far as she knew, there was no one left to link them.

“Teacher, who is he?”

The question came from one of the children, their curious eyes darting between Bom and Jun-young.

Bom swallowed hard, still grappling with the shock of Jun-young’s sudden appearance. She had no idea how to answer—not to the kids, not even to herself.

In the chaos, Ye-eun’s clear, curious voice pierced through the tension.

“Right… I’m in the middle of a class!”

Suppressing a sigh, Bom turned her attention back to the children. All three had stopped what they were doing, their wide eyes fixed on her and Jun-young. The dull throb in her temples grew stronger. Why, of all times, did he have to show up during class?

“Uh, well…”

“I’m a new student! I’ll be joining your class from now on,” Jun-young announced, cutting off her flustered explanation.

Bom’s sharp cry of disbelief rang through the room.

“WHAT?!”

“Whoa, calm down. You’ll scare the kids,” Jun-young said, his tone annoyingly casual.

“Are you out of your mind? A student? What are you even talking about?!”

Her head swirled as Eunju’s earlier cryptic remarks came rushing back.

“Haa… never mind. Knowing ahead of time won’t change anything.”
“…Sorry, Bom. I’ll take the hit for this later.”

So this is what she was hiding?

Bom felt a surge of frustration. Eunju, who knew every painful detail of her history with Jun-young, had somehow allowed this absurd situation to happen.

“You’ve got that look like you’ve figured it out,” Jun-young said with a faint, irritating smirk.

“Ugh…”

Bom exhaled a long, weary sigh, her energy already drained. What is even happening right now?

Focus. Calm down, Choi Bom. You’re in a classroom. You can’t lose it here. You definitely can’t kill him in front of the kids.

She made a decision. Jun-young had to be dealt with—outside. Turning to Ye-eun, who was not only the oldest but also naturally good at taking charge, Bom decided to leave the class in her capable hands.

“Hey, kids, I need to grab something from the supply room. Can you all keep working while I’m gone? Ye-eun, can you keep an eye on Hoon and Jia for me?”

“Yes, teacher!” Ye-eun answered promptly, nodding with confidence.

“Thanks. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Bom managed a smile for the children, though inside, she was boiling with irritation. She turned back to Jun-young, her voice dropping to an icy whisper.

“You. Follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, she strode out of the room, her steps quick and purposeful. Passing the adjacent classroom, she cast a sharp glare at Eunju, who was teaching as though nothing was wrong. You better have a good explanation for this later.

Bom reached the supply room, taking a deep breath as she pushed the door open. She stepped inside, silently chanting to herself, Stay calm, Choi Bom. Stay calm.

A moment later, Jun-young entered behind her, and the door shut with a soft click. Bom didn’t waste a second.

“I don’t have much time, so let’s keep this short. Why are you here?”

Her tone was sharp, her eyes cold as they bore into his.

Jun-young didn’t answer right away, instead holding her gaze with an expression she couldn’t read.

Bom’s frustration flared as she continued to glare at him, willing him to speak. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his calm, deliberate voice broke the silence.

“To save you.”