Chapter 21 – The Things We Did at Jeju
The salt air hit them the moment they stepped off the plane. Jeju smelled of sea foam, green hills, and something softer—like a place that held secrets gently.
Erica paused, her hand resting on Jepoy’s arm. “It’s warmer than I expected,” she whispered.
He glanced at her, her face turned slightly upward as if her skin could see the sun. “I told you. It’s like a different world here.”
They rode a small shuttle to their guesthouse, nestled at the base of Mount Hallasan. The road curved through hills wrapped in orange tangerine groves, the ocean flickering like silver beside them.
Their guesthouse was modest but charming—wooden beams, a garden filled with soft grass, and a rooftop overlooking the sea.
“We’re staying here?” Erica asked, smiling as they stepped in.
“I told you I picked the best,” he said, proudly. “You’ll like the rooftop. At night, you can hear the waves even from the bed.”
She didn’t reply right away, but her smile softened.
Their first day, they explored the coast. Jepoy described everything to her in detail—the way the cliffs dropped suddenly, the color of the sea changing from turquoise to deep navy, the jagged black rocks carved by time.
He offered her his hand as they walked along the trail.
“You okay?” he asked gently, watching as she stepped carefully on the uneven ground.
Erica nodded. “I’m not afraid. Not with you here.”
He didn’t say anything. He just kept walking beside her, hand in hers, fingers firm and warm.
They ate grilled mackerel by the harbor, with rice wrapped in seaweed and pickled vegetables. She laughed when she accidentally bit into something spicy and downed her entire iced tea in one gulp.
“It’s kimchi, Erica,” Jepoy chuckled, offering her water. “You should’ve smelled it first.”
“I can’t tell the spicy from the scary,” she joked, still fanning her mouth.
“You’re braver than most people who can see,” he said, half-serious.
Later that afternoon, they visited a field of canola flowers. The wind whispered through the endless yellow, and Jepoy guided her through it, letting her touch the petals.
“They’re like sunshine,” she murmured, kneeling and letting her hands drift through them.
He watched her, his heart full. “You look beautiful.”
She turned to him, caught off guard by his tone.
But he quickly looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean—the flowers. You with the flowers. That kind of beautiful.”
“Jepoy.”
“Hm?”
“I heard what you meant,” she said, softly.
He swallowed. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t.”
They said nothing after that, but the silence between them changed.
That night, they sat on the rooftop. The sea below shimmered with the reflection of the moon, and Jepoy had brought his drum pad and sticks.
“You play,” Erica said, her knees pulled to her chest, her voice steady. “And I’ll listen.”
He did. He played soft, steady rhythms—mimicking the pulse of the waves, the lull of her breathing. She hummed now and then, unconsciously. He could feel her letting go, bit by bit.
“I don’t want this to end,” she said after a long while.
He paused his playing. “What part?”
“This. The peace. The way you make me feel... not broken.”
“You’re not broken, Erica,” he said instantly.
She shook her head, her voice tight. “You know what I mean.”
Jepoy put down the drum pad. “Do you remember when I asked you to come here?”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to show you something... that even in the middle of your healing, there’s still beauty left. That you can want things again. Laugh. Be happy.”
She was quiet.
“And I wanted you to know that someone sees you. Even in the dark.”
Erica swallowed hard.
“You once said I shouldn’t fall for a girl who’s healing,” he continued, voice low. “But I didn’t get to choose. I just did.”
She turned toward him, lips slightly parted.
“I like you, Erica,” Jepoy whispered. “Not out of pity. Not out of timing. But because you're you. Because when you smile, something inside me wants to protect that light.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly. “You’re still healing. And I’m still trying to figure out if I’ll ever be enough for someone like you. But I needed you to know.”
Erica leaned back against the rooftop wall, eyes closed. The stars, though unseen, pressed gently above them.
“I knew,” she whispered. “Even before you said it.”
Jepoy didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just sat there, the confession suspended between them like something fragile and sacred.
Then she reached for his hand.
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
“I know,” he said. “Me too.”
They didn’t kiss. They didn’t say I love you.
But in the hush of the Jeju night, they sat there, fingers entwined. A beat of something beginning.
The next morning, they visited the beach.
Jepoy knelt in the sand and traced their names slowly—ERICA and JEPOY—then pressed a shell beside them. Erica crouched near, running her hands across the letters he made.
“What did you write?” she asked.
“Our names.”
“Are they side by side?”
“Yes.”
She smiled. “Then I don’t need to see it.”
They laughed, ate tangerines on the porch of a local café, and watched the clouds roll over Hallasan.
When it was time to leave, Erica stood by the window of the plane, blind eyes fixed on nothing—but her smile said she saw everything.
Jeju didn’t change everything.
But it gave them the memory of almost—14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM2pRDZjn2q
And sometimes, that was enough to begin.
