Hello Stranger

You should have realised something was up when you had to carefully pick your way around a sea of shoes surrounding the front door like a moat — Asian household things, but really it’s the amount of shoes that’s the problem. And the girl standing in front of you.

With a huff, you follow Hwasa as she guides you into the apartment, stopping every now and then to say hello and hi and oh it’s so good to see you to people you know only in passing. 

“Mind telling me why there’s a fucking party going on here?”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Hwasa replies, waving her hand as if to fend off your negative aura. “And for the record, I did say this was an open invite kind of thing.”

“That doesn’t explain all of this!” You gesture frantically at the size of the crowd in the living room, having given up on counting past fifteen. People you definitely do not know are milling about, holding canapes and solo cups filled with God-knows-what. Not to mention the coffee table overflowing with catering food. And— is that a chocolate fondue station? You make a mental note to check it out once you’re done interrogating Hwasa. 

Said person turns around and jabs a finger at your chest.

“First of all, sue me for making friends with half the class. Second,” she prods at your chest again to accentuate her point, “it would be pretty cool to make some memories with them while watching the last lecture together, wouldn’t it?”

She’s got you there. Professor Han is beloved by his students, and for good reason too — you didn’t think you would enjoy a course on environmental ethics, but the eccentric instructor has a way of weaving in funny stories and charming anecdotes to liven the atmosphere during lectures. Though it just so happens that he had to fly out of town due to some urgent family business, forcing him to livestream the last lecture of the semester from his home office.

Sensing your hesitation, Hwasa presses her advantage. “Anyway, be a good co-host and plug your laptop to the TV monitor. We’re already five minutes late for the lecture!” 

You grumble under your breath about being finagled into doing tech support as you connect the display cable to your MacBook. The living room crowd lets out a loud cheer as Professor Han’s round face fills the TV screen. 

Job done, you make your way to the back of the crowd. You don’t like being at the center of attention, unlike Hwasa who revels in it. You also don’t know most of the people who’ve come over for the watch party, and you start to suspect that Hwasa must have extended the invite to plus-one’s as you hastily scan the crowd, noting that the turnout far exceeded the class size.

The chocolate fountain at the corner (next to the hideously large monstera plant Hwasa insists on keeping alive) has been calling your name for a hot minute, so you succumb to its siren call. You dip a skewerful of strawberries into the fondue and take a big bite. Sometimes it pays to live with a rich party girl. Sometimes. 

Right as you reach for a second skewer, you feel a tap on your shoulder from behind. You turn around, annoyed that someone is interrupting you from enacting your secret revenge plot (eating all the strawberries before Hwasa can get any). 

You don’t think you can forget how she looks. Sure, her clothes are more chic — definitely more leather and darker accents than the pastels and lace of before. Her hair is a mess of ringlets resting on her shoulders, very unlike the waist-length straight hair you were used to. But her face. Rosy cheeks, button nose, and that smile. That cheeky smile. 

Eunbi stands before you. Your ex-girlfriend Eunbi. The one you broke up with two years ago, right before starting college. First love, first kiss, first—

“You look like a chipmunk,” she smirks, a teasing glint in her eye.

Swallowing the chocolate-coated strawberries with a noticeable amount of effort, you bite back. “And you haven’t grown any taller since we last met.” 

Shit, was that too much? 

The last time you spoke to her was the day you dumped her. You don’t remember exactly how it started, but at some point you felt less enthusiastic about hanging out with Eunbi. More hesitant to pick up the phone when she called. Taking longer to reply when she texted. 

At some point, you were no longer in love with her.  

When the guilt became too heavy to bear, you broke things off with Eunbi. She asked (begged and cried, really) whether it was something she did. As if it could ever have been her fault. This wonderful girl, beautiful both inside and out, bawling at the thought that she fell short as a girlfriend — that was enough to make you cry too. Especially because you never deliberately wanted to fall out of love with Eunbi. 

What you didn’t tell her was that you never stopped caring about her. 

So seeing Eunbi here was a lot. You’re not sure how she feels about it. Hell, you’re not sure how you feel about it.

Surprisingly, she doesn't look offended. If anything, the smirk turns into a warm smile.

"You’re still a meanie," Eunbi remarks. "Some things never change, do they?" The playfulness in her voice pushes out whatever guilt you felt after the earlier dig.

"And you’re still sensitive about being vertically challenged."

"I'm not—" She stops herself, pressing her lips together into a thin line. Then, she snorts uncontrollably into laughter. You join her, infected by the whimsy and relieved that you didn’t step on her feelings.

You hand her a skewer. "Strawberry?" She takes it without comment.

The lecture drones on from the TV across the room — Professor Han launching into a rant about capitalism and environmental sustainability — and the two of you move away from the fondue station and toward the window, looking at the crowd who is hanging onto every word of the lecture. Hwasa catches your eye from across the room and wiggles her eyebrows angrily at you, gesturing at the solo cups strewn across the living room which she no doubt wants you to clean up. Still annoyed over having to play tech support earlier, you turn away before she starts gesturing obscenities.

"He told that fishing village story before," Eunbi observes, nodding toward the screen.

You glance at her sideways. "You're in Professor Han's class?"

"Section B, evening class." She looks at you in surprise. "You?"

"Section A, morning class." A beat passes as you make the connection. "So Hwasa invited both sections."

Eunbi turns to scan the room, taking stock of the crowd the way you probably should have done when you first walked in. "That explains a lot, actually."

You shake your head. "She’s too popular, I swear."

Eunbi snorts. Then she glances at you, an easy smile on her face. "She seems good for you, though."

It isn't quite a question, but you think about how to answer it honestly anyway. "She’s a bit of a mess," you say, "but yeah. She is."

Eunbi nods slowly, choosing to ignore the hesitation in your response. "That’s good."

You shift the topic to plans for the holidays and recent trips when it hits you without warning.

***

The noise from the party lowers into soft rumbles as all the colour leeches from the room. For a moment, a scene unfolds in your mind’s eye. 

You see the front door of an apartment. Your front door. It’s later in the day. You can tell because the horde of shoes are gone. There’s Eunbi, stepping out into the hallway. She’s got her coat on, her bag slung over one shoulder, and she’s looking back at someone over her shoulder. Laughing. Not a demure laugh, but a full on, ugly snort, as undignified as the one you heard when you two were bantering by the chocolate fountain.

She reaches back. Someone takes her hand. You don’t see his face clearly. You don’t need to. What you see is the way her shoulders loosen, the way she leans slightly towards him — open, vulnerable, like a flower turning toward the sun. 

She looks happy.

The monochrome world fills with colour once again, and the myriad sounds of the watch party slam back into place — overlapping conversations, Professor Han’s voice, the soft gurgling of the chocolate fountain, the rustling of paper plates and plastic cups.

Eunbi watches you with a slight frown. “Hey. You okay?”

“Sorry. Just spaced out for a bit,” you smiled ruefully. “I don’t like parties.” She doesn’t look fully convinced but she lets it go. “So what were we talking about?”

“Hwasa. You told me she brought you to the Dolomites over recess week.” Your face lights up at the memory.

“Yeah! I think I have some photos of the trip on my phone.” So you show them to her, and she swoons at the pictures of the majestic mountain range. 

“These photos look like paintings.” She frowns as you swipe through more pictures. “Wait, why aren’t you in them?”