The Boy Who Walked Past Me Every Spring

Chapter 4: The Moment, She Misread Him

By

Femina Ashik

Min-ji kept telling herself she was overthinking things.

After all, they had only crossed paths a few times. They were not close. They had only spoken formally, and even that had been brief. There was no real reason for her to keep thinking about Ji-hoon the way she did. He was just a senior from another department, quiet and hard to read, nothing more.

And yet, every time she remembered the last glance they had shared, the moment stayed with her longer than it should have.

The next day, she found herself wondering whether she had imagined too much. Maybe he had only been polite. Maybe he had only looked at her because she was standing there. Maybe he really did see her only as a junior and nothing else.

That thought should have made things simpler. Instead, it made her feel oddly unsettled.

At the same time, Ji-hoon had begun noticing something too.

Every time he came near the place where she was, Min-ji seemed to leave soon after. Not abruptly, not in a way anyone else would notice, but enough for him to wonder if he was disturbing her. He started asking himself whether he was making her uncomfortable. Maybe she did not like talking to him. Maybe she preferred to keep her distance. Maybe he was simply too much.

He did not say any of this out loud. He only became quieter, more careful, and more aware of every small reaction she gave.

When they crossed paths again the next day, the feeling between them had changed only slightly, but enough for both of them to notice.

Ji-hoon was speaking to another female student when Min-ji saw them. The girl seemed nervous, as if she wanted to say something important. Min-ji slowed her steps without meaning to, then looked away before she could stare too long.

The girl finally gathered her courage and tried to confess.

Ji-hoon listened for a moment, then rejected her gently but clearly.

Min-ji stood still for a second after seeing it.

It was not a dramatic scene. It was not meant for her. But it still made something shift quietly inside her. Ji-hoon had not seemed cold. He had simply been honest. And in that brief moment, Min-ji realized she had been thinking about him too lightly, only as a senior she happened to notice.

Maybe she should not keep placing him at such a small distance in her mind.

Maybe she should think about him as someone more than that.

The thought came slowly, almost shyly, but it stayed with her.

Later, while she was still carrying that feeling, Min-ji received a call from her parents. They asked whether she would be coming home for the vacation.

She looked out toward the campus path while answering them, her thoughts still divided between the call and the scene she had just seen. The conversation with her parents was ordinary, familiar, warm, but it only made her feel the contrast more clearly. One part of her was still standing in the courtyard, watching Ji-hoon reject a confession. Another part of her was being asked about home, about family, about what came next.

And somewhere between those two feelings, Min-ji began to understand that Ji-hoon was no longer just a senior passing by her life.

yes please

Absolutely — here is the continuation in the same soft, careful flow.

Ji-hoon did not know why that small moment stayed with him either.

He had only seen Min-ji for a few brief moments so far, but each time, she seemed to disappear from his sight sooner than he expected. When he looked in her direction, she often turned away. When he walked a little closer, she seemed to become quieter. It was nothing he could prove, nothing he could even call a pattern, and yet it made him uneasy.

Was he disturbing her?

He did not want to think that she disliked him, but the possibility still lingered in his mind. Maybe she only saw him as a senior from another department. Maybe he was overreading every glance, every pause, every quiet reaction.

Still, he could not help noticing her.

The next day, when their paths crossed again, Min-ji saw him speaking to another female student. The girl looked nervous, as if she had gathered a lot of courage just to stand there. Min-ji slowed without meaning to, then stopped herself from looking too closely.

The student said something quietly, then seemed to confess what was on her mind.

Ji-hoon listened, calm as ever. After a short silence, he rejected her gently but without hesitation.

Min-ji stood still for a moment after seeing it.

She had not meant to witness such a thing, and yet it stayed with her. There was no coldness in the way he replied. No harshness. Just a quiet firmness that made him seem even more distant, and also strangely honest.

Min-ji looked away and told herself she should not keep thinking of him only as a senior who passed by now and then.

Maybe she had been placing him too far away in her thoughts.

Maybe he was becoming someone she needed to notice more carefully.

That thought settled in her mind more softly than expected, but it did not leave.

A little later, her phone rang. It was her parents.

They asked if she would be coming home for the vacation.

Min-ji answered them while looking out toward the campus path, where students were moving through the afternoon light. Their voices felt familiar and warm, and yet she found herself distracted by the memory of Ji-hoon’s face only moments earlier. The call was ordinary, but it made her aware of how divided her thoughts had become.

One part of her was still standing in the courtyard, watching Ji-hoon turn away from another girl’s confession.

Another part of her was listening to her parents ask about home.

And somewhere between those two places, Min-ji began to understand that Ji-hoon was no longer just a quiet senior from another department.

He was starting to stay in her thoughts.

When the call ended, she tucked her phone away and took a slow breath.

That evening, Ji-hoon found himself thinking about her again too.

He remembered the way she had looked when he first noticed her watching from a distance. He remembered how quickly she had lowered her gaze. He remembered how often she seemed to leave before he could tell whether he was imagining her reactions or not.

That was what troubled him most.

If he came closer, would she step back again?

If he tried to speak more, would she think he was interfering?

He did not want to make her uncomfortable.

At the same time, he could not deny that he wanted to know her better.

The next time he saw her, he told himself he would be careful. Not distant. Just careful enough not to push. Careful enough not to lose the small chance he felt beginning to form between them.

By the following day, that chance arrived in the simplest way.

Min-ji and Ji-hoon crossed paths again near the walkway.

This time, he was not speaking to anyone else. He only stopped when he saw her, and she slowed at the same time. Neither of them spoke at first.

The silence between them was familiar now, but not uncomfortable.

Ji-hoon was the first to break it.

“You were here yesterday,” he said quietly.

Min-ji looked up. “Yes.”

He nodded once, then glanced toward the path behind her. “I thought you might have been in a hurry.”

Min-ji almost smiled at how carefully he said it. “I wasn’t.”

Ji-hoon gave a small pause, then replied, “I see.”

There was nothing dramatic in the exchange. Nothing that would have looked unusual to anyone passing by. But to Min-ji, it felt different from the earlier moments they had shared. He was paying attention. She noticed that he was paying attention. And neither of them knew quite what to do with that.

Min-ji lowered her gaze, then looked back at him. “You’re always that quiet?”

Ji-hoon seemed slightly surprised by the question, but only for a second. Then he answered, “Usually.”

That answer made her think of the girl from before, the confession, the calm way he had turned it down. It made her think of how serious he seemed even when he said very little.

Maybe that was simply who he was.

Maybe she had been trying too hard to give meaning to every glance.

And yet, she still could not stop herself from noticing him.

Ji-hoon saw the change in her expression and wondered whether he had said something wrong. Min-ji looked thoughtful, almost as if she were measuring him against a question she had not spoken aloud.

He wanted to ask her what she was thinking.

Instead, he only said, “If I’m interrupting, I can leave.”

Min-ji quickly shook her head. “No, you’re not.”

The answer came too fast for her to hide it.

Ji-hoon looked at her for a moment, and something quiet shifted in his expression. Not relief exactly, but something close to it.

Then he nodded once and said, “All right.”

Min-ji stood there after he left, watching his figure grow smaller along the path.

She thought about the girl from earlier.

She thought about the call from her parents.

She thought about the small, careful way Ji-hoon had spoken to her, as if every word mattered more than he wanted to show.

And then, very slowly, she understood that this was how it began — not with a confession, not with a promise, but with two people learning to notice each other a little more clearly than before.