Chapter 4: A Lesson in Absence

The message came without greeting.

Studio 6A. Wednesday. 6 PM.

Don’t be late.

– R.H.

Nabi stared at it like it might explode in her hands.

No explanation. No compliment. No threat. Just a time and a command.

She should’ve said no.

But she didn’t.

Wednesday – 6:45 PM

The studio was empty except for him. His watch ticked loudly in the silence.

Ryu Han leaned against the edge of the central table, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the clock. The second hand mocked him with each sweep.

He had prepped the space. One of her canvases leaned on the easel under neutral lighting. His notes were on the table, beside a cup of untouched black coffee.

He didn’t like waiting.

He never waited.

But tonight, he waited thirty-seven minutes.

Every time the door didn’t open, something coiled tighter inside him. First curiosity. Then impatience. Then—

Something unnameable.

Finally, he stood, slowly, eyes burning.

And he left.

7:12 PM – Outside Nabi’s Dorm

She wasn’t expecting the knock.

Nabi opened the door halfway, still wearing her oversized paint-streaked hoodie, a graphite smudge across her cheekbone. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him—Ryu Han, standing in the corridor like a storm that had broken through the wrong door.

He didn’t speak at first.

He looked her up and down—seeing the mess, the bare feet, the undone hair—and something dark flashed in his eyes.

“You forgot?” he asked, voice quiet but sharp.

“I…” Her fingers clenched the door. “I didn’t forget.”

He stepped forward once. Just enough that she had to tilt her chin to meet his gaze.

“Then why didn’t you come?”

There was no mask this time. No professor’s poise. His voice held something brittle—wounded pride beneath cold control. A rare, dangerous fracture.

Nabi opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

He exhaled a bitter, silent laugh. “Do you think I invite just anyone to work with me?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“I rearranged my schedule.” His voice was lower now. Closer. “I waited for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

Wrong words. Too sharp.

His eyes darkened, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

But he didn’t yell. He didn’t touch her.

Instead, he looked at her as if she were a painting he couldn’t finish. Beautiful. Unforgivable.

“This,” he said, voice cold again, “was a mistake.”

And he turned around.

Nabi closed the door with trembling hands. Behind her, her heart thudded like a warning. And on the desk by her bed, her sketch of him—unfinished, hidden under other pages—seemed to hum with guilt.

Two Days Later – Art Class

He didn’t look at her.

Not once.

Ryu Han walked between canvases like a ghost of himself—clinical, distant, unreadable. He critiqued with mechanical precision, offering nothing more than necessary.

Nabi sat frozen at her easel. Her new piece—A Door Half-Open—remained untouched by his gaze.

He didn’t speak to her.

Didn’t even pause near her work.

That hurt more than his anger.

Saturday – Blind Date

It was Seol Ah’s idea, of course.

“He’s tall, charming, and rich,” she said, practically dancing around their dorm with a glittery dress in one hand. “The holy trinity. Don’t overthink it. Just go.”

Nabi didn’t want to.

But maybe that was the point.

Maybe she was tired of feeling things she couldn’t name for a man who looked at her like temptation, then walked away like punishment.

So she wore the burgundy dress.

The one with thin straps and a low back. The one that made her feel like someone else entirely.

The date was at Hotel Elyseé, a place far too elegant for something as simple as "getting to know each other." Her date—Hyun Min—was kind, attentive, a junior lawyer from Busan. He smiled easily and ordered her dessert before asking. He asked about her art, complimented her voice, called her elegant.

And for a while, it worked.

Until a familiar pair of footsteps echoed behind her.

Until her skin prickled before she even turned around.

And there he was.

Ryu Han.

Dressed in black. Sharp, magnetic, and holding hands with his fiancée.

Beak Jenna. The socialite, the brand manager, the woman who looked like she'd stepped out of a runway show. She was laughing at something he said. Her hand rested easily on his forearm.

Nabi froze mid-sentence. Her date asked something, but the sound blurred.

Then Ryu Han’s eyes met hers.

Just for a second.

She didn’t look away. Couldn’t.

His gaze moved from her lips to her dress to her companion—and stopped.

There was no smile. No acknowledgment. Just that look.

Like he had something he wanted to say.

Like he would say it—if they weren’t in public.

If she weren’t with someone else.

But he didn’t stop walking.

He just brushed past.

And Nabi sat there, pretending the taste of the dessert wasn’t suddenly bitter.

Back at the Rooftop – That Night

Seol Ah was waiting with a bottle of wine and two glittery masks. “So? Was it amazing? Was he hot?”

Nabi collapsed into the beanbag beside her. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” Seol Ah poured a drink. “You’re glowing like a girl who just saw her high school crush in a luxury hotel.”

Nabi blinked. “That specific, huh?”

“I know that look.” Seol Ah grinned.

Nabi didn’t answer. She sipped her wine and stared at the night sky.

Na Eun and Jae Wook arrived with snacks and updates from the art department. “Did you hear? Professor Ryu Han might be curating the final panel for the Year-End Exhibition,” Na Eun said. “That’s huge.”

“Maybe he’ll choose you,” Seol Ah teased, nudging Nabi.

But Nabi didn’t smile.

Because even if he never said it—she could feel it.

Something had shifted.

And if he called her again… she didn’t know whether she’d go.

Or run.

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