The Waiting Heart
1173 Words
That night, after returning from Checkers and replaying her encounter with Minjun over and over in her mind like a favorite scene in a movie, Sisanda found herself staring out the window of her room. The Cape Town sky was clear, the stars shining gently like scattered diamonds. The moonlight stretched across the city, soft and quiet.
She hugged her teddy bear tightly against her chest.
“I can’t believe this happened, Sisanda… Is it real?” she whispered to herself, eyes still fixed on the stars. “No, maybe it’s just my hallucinations, right? Yes, Sisanda, be serious. How can this happen to you?” She let out a shocked laugh at her own disbelief. “You haven’t even gone on a date with a Black guy, now straight to an Asian… A Korean.” She covered her face with her hands, giggling. “Wow, Sisanda. Bravo. Just wow.”
Then something hit her.
“Wait… is this considered a date? …a date?” Her eyes widened in slow shock. “Oh my God. I can’t believe this, Sisanda—oh my goodness.”
She squeezed her teddy bear so hard the stuffing practically protested.
“No, no… I should sleep. But how am I supposed to sleep after THIS?” she groaned dramatically, falling back on her pillow. Yet, even as she tried to calm down, her heart glowed with something warm and fluttering—excitement. Pure, unfiltered happiness.
The next morning—Friday—came faster than she expected.
She got up, cleaned herself, did her skincare routine, and went to campus as usual. She tried to act normal. She tried to focus. She tried to be present.
But today felt… empty.
Because Minjun was nowhere.
She looked around campus more than once—trying to seem casual, but her eyes searching. The hallways, the cafeteria area, the courtyard… nothing. No glimpse of him, no warm smile suddenly appearing, no familiar voice calling her name.
And what made her chest tighten a little more—
There wasn't even a text.
Maybe he's busy.
Maybe he forgot.
Maybe it wasn’t that important to him.
Those thoughts crawled into her chest like tiny needles. She tried to brush them off, focusing on her classes, her books, her notes—but her heart remained a little heavy.
---
Then Saturday arrived.
No class today. Just a free, quiet day.
But the quiet felt loud.
The morning passed.
Still nothing.
No text.
No call.
No “Hey I’m on the way.”
No “Still meeting today?”
By 2 PM, she had already given up. She placed her phone aside, opened her notebook, and started reading one of her favorite books. Reading always brought her peace. Words made her feel safe. Writing helped her breathe.
And just when her mind was finally sinking into the story—
Ring… Ring… Ring…
Her phone lit up.
Unknown number.
She blinked. Let it ring.
It stopped.
Then it rang again.
She stared… Still didn’t answer.
It stopped.
Then it rang a third time.
She sighed, picked it up, and with the laziest, softest voice said:
“Hello…”
A familiar voice chuckled gently on the other end.
“You finally answered.”
Her heart dropped, then jumped so high she nearly flew.
Her mind screamed:
Wait—who—Minjun? Minjun!?
She shot up from her chair so fast the book fell to the floor.
Her inner voice started panicking: Calm down, Sisanda. Calm down. Breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out…
Meanwhile, Minjun spoke again, his tone teasing but warm: “So… you don’t like to speak? Or you just don’t want to speak to me?”
“No!!! No, no— it’s not like that,” she blurted very fast. “I just didn’t expect your call… since you didn’t text me.”
“Easy, easy,” Minjun said softly, almost laughing. “Are you okay? I was busy, I’m really sorry. But it’s still early, right? We can still meet. Or… are you busy now?”
“No—No!” she said quickly, almost shouting. “I’m free. I’m coming!”
She didn’t even believe the words that came out of her own mouth.
The moment the call ended, she flew to her closet.
Clothes flew everywhere.
“What do I wear!? What do I wear!?” she mumbled frantically.
Finally—she chose baggy boyfriend jeans, a long-sleeve crop top, and white sneakers. Simple. Comfortable. Cute.
She grabbed her bag, requested an Uber, and paced by the door praying the car flies to her.
Thankfully, it arrived faster than expected.
During the ride, her heart was beating louder than the passing traffic.
---
When she stepped inside Plato Coffee Shop, she froze.
Minjun was already seated.
And he was looking at her.
Not casually.
Not politely.
But directly.
Like she was the only thing in the room.
Her breath got stuck in her chest.
But she forced herself to walk toward him and sit down.
“H-hi…” she whispered.
Minjun smiled softly. “Hey. Relax, okay? We’re friends now, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah… I guess. So—um—how are you doing today?”
“I’m fine,” he replied, eyes not leaving her face. “I’m just happy to see you. I thought you weren’t coming after the call ended.”
“Oh—no! I thought you were done speaking so I hung up. I’m sorry,” she said shyly.
But Minjun didn’t respond immediately.
He just stared.
Quietly.
Deeply.
Softly.
Her heart hammered wildly.
She touched her face nervously.
“Is there something on my face?”
Minjun shook his head.
“No… I was just staring.”
Her heart nearly exploded. She grabbed the water glass and sipped—too fast.
They talked. And talked. And talked.
Minjun asked about her school. Her home. Her dreams. Her grandmother. Her thoughts. Her opinions.
He discovered something:
Sisanda is a talker.
Soft-toned. Gentle. Calm. But full of stories, meaning, and depth.
And Minjun listened. Really listened.
He loved the way she spoke.
---
By the time the coffee shop was closing around 5 PM, neither wanted to say goodbye. So they walked outside, side by side, just talking gently as the sky shifted into sunset.
When it grew dark, Minjun insisted on taking her home.
Sisanda panicked in shyness, refusing again and again.
But Minjun didn’t listen.
He wanted to take her home.
He wanted to make sure she was safe.
He drove her to her residence, surprised to learn that her res had both guys and girls living there. He stopped the car, turned to her, and smiled warmly.
A smile that reached his eyes.
She told him softly, “Call me when you get home, okay?”
He nodded.
And that small moment—
that tiny exchange—
felt like something blooming.
Something gentle.
Something warm.
Something rare.
As she walked inside, her heart whispered:
Maybe… this is the beginning of something.
- Writer
