Chaewon's gaze lingered on his face. A faint flicker, quickly gone. Had she imagined it? His smile remained, a little too wide, a little too fixed. He had just confirmed his birthday was January third. "January third," she repeated, testing the words. "That's soon." He nodded, already turning back to his box of books. "It is." "Do you usually do anything big for it?" she asked, trying for casual. His hand paused mid-air. "Big? No. Not really." He pulled out a worn textbook, placing it carefully on the desk. "It's just... a day." Just a day. Her brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. Most people looked forward to their birthdays. Even if they didn't have huge parties, there was usually some small tradition, a family dinner, a special treat. His tone held a strange flatness. She started unpacking her own box of stationery, stacking notebooks neatly. "Everyone has a birthday, though. Don't your parents do anything?" Juhoon shrugged. "They're busy. Work, you know." He offered a small, apologetic smile. "It's fine. Really. I don't mind." Mind. The word hung in the air. He said he didn't mind, but his shoulders were a little too stiff, his movements a little too deliberate as he arranged his few possessions. Chaewon had a knack for reading between the lines, for noticing the tiny tells people thought they hid. His "it's fine" sounded less like acceptance and more like resignation. "So, no cake? No special meal?" she pressed gently. She wasn't trying to pry, but a genuine curiosity bubbled within her. How could someone not celebrate their birthday? He laughed, a short, humorless sound. "Sometimes my mom remembers to make seaweed soup. That's about it." He caught her eye, as if expecting her to drop the subject. "It's not a big deal. Honestly." Her heart twinged. Seaweed soup was traditional, yes, but it sounded like an afterthought, a duty. Not a celebration. His parents seemed to have instilled in him the idea that his birthday was an ordinary event, nothing to mark. He truly believed it. "Okay," she said, letting the conversation drift to other topics. They talked about their majors, the layout of the campus, the best places to eat. Juhoon relaxed a little, his earlier tension easing. He was shy, yes, but also kind, quick to offer help. When she struggled to lift a heavy box, he was there, taking it from her with a murmured apology for intruding. Hours passed. The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Slowly, their shared space transformed from a collection of boxes into something resembling two distinct homes. Juhoon's side was neat, almost sparse, dominated by books and a large monitor. Chaewon's corner bloomed with a small potted succulent, a stack of art books, and a colorful throw draped over her chair. Later, as evening approached, she walked to the campus grocery store to pick up some essentials. Milk, bread, a few fruits. Her mind kept circling back to Juhoon's birthday. January third. Two days away. Returning to the dorm, she found him at his desk, headphones on, typing furiously. He was already immersed in his studies. His focus was impressive. She quietly put away her groceries, the soft rustle of plastic bags the only sound besides the distant hum of the dorm building. "Need anything from the convenience store?" she asked, pulling off her jacket. He startled, pulling off his headphones. "Oh, no, I'm good. Thanks, though." His eyes were a little bloodshot from staring at the screen. "Working late?" "Just catching up on some readings." He rubbed his temples. "Computer science never sleeps." A tired smile. She nodded. "Get some rest soon. Don't burn out on the first week." He chuckled softly. "I'll try." A comfortable silence settled between them as she prepared a simple dinner – a quick ramen with some added vegetables. The aroma filled the room. Juhoon eventually took a break, joining her at the small, fold-out table in their common area. They ate mostly in silence, punctuated by occasional comments about the food or their classes. After dinner, Juhoon disappeared into the communal bathroom. Chaewon used the time to send a quick text to her mom, assuring her she'd settled in. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, a new thought forming. What could she do? How could she make January third not just a day? He returned, towel-drying his hair, and settled back at his desk. The soft glow of his monitor illuminated his face. He seemed content in his solitude, accustomed to it. A pang of empathy hit Chaewon. No one deserved to feel their birthday was insignificant. She spent the next hour organizing her desk, her mind racing. She didn't have much time. What could be meaningful? What would make a difference? A small, quiet celebration. Nothing grand, nothing that would embarrass him. Something that would simply say: *you matter*. --- The next morning, January second, felt different. A sense of purpose hummed beneath Chaewon's usual calm. She woke early, before Juhoon, and slipped out to the common lounge to make a few calls. A quick search on her phone had given her some options. The campus bakery. A small flower shop downtown. A local cafe known for its artisanal coffee. She spoke in hushed tones, making arrangements, confirming details. Returning to their room, Juhoon was just stirring, groggy from what looked like too little sleep. "Morning," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Morning," she replied, her voice light. "Sleep well?" He grunted, stretching. "Could be better. Another night with my nose in a textbook." He pushed himself out of bed, heading for the bathroom. Chaewon pulled out her own textbook, a biology tome, and tried to focus, but her mind kept drifting to her plans. The little list in her head grew longer, more detailed. She had to be subtle. She had to ensure he suspected nothing. His quiet, humble nature meant any overt fanfare would likely make him uncomfortable. This needed to be a gentle surprise. Later that day, they had a shared orientation session. The lecture hall was packed, a sea of new faces. Juhoon, as usual, kept to himself, eyes fixed on the speaker. Chaewon found herself observing him, noting the small details. The way he unconsciously fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve, a nervous habit. The way he smiled politely when someone addressed him, but never initiated conversation himself. His self-effacing manner, the way he downplayed his own importance, resonated with a quiet sadness. It wasn't just about his birthday; it was a way of life. He expected little, asked for less, and accepted whatever came his way with an uncomplaining shrug. This made her resolve stronger. He deserved to be seen, to be celebrated, even if he didn't know how to ask for it. Returning to the dorm that evening, the air was crisp, signaling the approach of a colder day. They made small talk as they prepared their separate dinners. He was working on a coding project, his fingers flying across the keyboard. She was sketching in her notebook, feigning a relaxed evening. The tension of her secret plan thrummed beneath the surface of her calm. "So, January third," she said, letting the words hang in the air. She watched him, a slight shift in his posture the only indication he'd registered her comment. He glanced up, his expression a mix of politeness and slight confusion. "Yes? Tomorrow." "You really don't celebrate, do you?" she asked, a direct question this time. She needed to be sure. She needed him to confirm it, one last time. He shook his head, a small, almost imperceptible movement. "No. Not really. It's just... a Tuesday." A faint, self-deprecating smile touched his lips. "Nothing special." Chaewon met his gaze, her own unwavering. She didn't argue. She didn't try to convince him. She simply let the silence stretch, absorbing his words, letting them sink into her bones. His belief was so deeply ingrained, so absolute. He had no idea what she was thinking. Then, a slow, deliberate smile formed on her face. A different kind of smile than his. One filled with quiet determination. "Okay," she said, her voice soft but firm, a clear note in the quiet room. Juhoon blinked, waiting for her to elaborate. He probably expected her to drop the subject entirely, to move on to homework or dorm rules. He had no idea what she was truly thinking. "Okay. Then tomorrow won't be ordinary."

Chapter 2: You Really Don't Celebrate?