JULIET

Juliet had imagined her first day in Seoul at least a hundred times. In every version, she looked effortlessly beautiful stepping out of the airport, her dark bob moving perfectly in the breeze while the city lights glowed behind her. She imagined herself finding a cute little café, ordering coffee in fluent Korean, and taking a picture that would make everyone back home wonder how she had suddenly become the main character. Reality was considerably less glamorous. She stood outside Incheon International Airport with two oversized suitcases, a handbag hanging from one shoulder, and a coat that was doing absolutely nothing against the cold. One of her shoelaces was untied, her hair was a mess from the flight, and she had been standing in the exact same spot for nearly fifteen minutes. She looked down at her phone. Seven percent battery. Then she opened her map. The screen froze. Juliet frowned. “No.” She tapped it again. Nothing. “No, no, no.” The phone died. She stared at the black screen in disbelief. “You cannot be serious.” The phone, being an inanimate object with no interest in her suffering, remained dead. Juliet closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had spent months planning this trip. She had saved money, packed carefully, memorized the name of her apartment, and even learned enough Korean to order food without accidentally asking for something horrifying. She had simply forgotten one tiny detail. She had no idea how to get from the airport to her apartment. “Okay,” she whispered. “I can handle this.” She opened her handbag and searched for the piece of paper with her address. She found it after digging through lip gloss, headphones, receipts, a passport holder, and a packet of gum she didn't remember buying. “Mapo-gu,” she read. That was it. No directions. No train number. No station. Just Mapo-gu. Juliet looked around at the crowds moving through the airport. Everyone seemed to know exactly where they were going. Families walked together, businessmen hurried toward taxis, couples laughed beside each other, and tourists pulled their luggage behind them. She felt completely out of place. “Welcome to Seoul, Juliet,” she muttered. “Talking to yourself already?” Juliet froze. She slowly turned around. A man was standing a few feet behind her. He was tall, probably a little over six feet, with black hair that looked like he'd run his fingers through it several times. He wore a long black coat and dark trousers, and his hands were tucked into his pockets. He had the kind of face that made Juliet immediately suspicious because nobody should be allowed to look that calm after surviving an airport. She glanced around. There was nobody else nearby. “Were you talking to me?” “You were talking to yourself.” “I wasn't.” “You said, 'Welcome to Seoul, Juliet.'” Juliet stared at him. “You were listening?” “You weren't exactly whispering.” “I was thinking out loud.” “That's usually called talking.” She narrowed her eyes. He looked completely serious. Then she noticed the tiny smile hiding at the corner of his mouth. “You're making fun of me.” “A little.” Juliet picked up the handle of her larger suitcase. “Well, congratulations. You've successfully annoyed me within thirty seconds.” “That's fast.” “I'm talented.” That actually made him laugh. It was quiet, almost reluctant, but it made Juliet pause for a second. She immediately looked away. No. She had been in Korea for less than an hour. She was not going to start noticing the laugh of a random stranger. She turned toward the exit. The suitcase wheel caught against the pavement. The suitcase tipped. Juliet grabbed it. The handle snapped off. She stared at it. The man behind her went silent. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were about to laugh.” “I wasn't.” “You're smiling.” He looked down, trying unsuccessfully to hide it. Juliet pointed at him. “Don't.” He finally laughed. She sighed dramatically. “Today is officially terrible.” He stepped closer and picked up the suitcase. “Where are you going?” “Mapo.” “From here?” “Yes.” “By yourself?” “Yes.” “With no phone?” She looked at her dead phone. “Yes.” “No Korean money?” Juliet's silence answered for her. He shook his head. “You're in trouble.” “I've noticed.” He looked at the address in her hand. “You need to take the airport railroad.” Juliet nodded as though she already knew that. “Obviously.” “You don't know where the station is.” “I was about to find it.” “You don't have a ticket.” “I was about to buy one.” “You don't have money.” “I was about to—” She stopped. He raised an eyebrow. Juliet sighed. “Okay. I have made several mistakes.” “Several?” “Don't push it.” His mouth twitched. “I'm Sung.” Juliet hesitated. “Juliet.” “I know.” She frowned. “How?” “You said your name.” “Right.” She mentally blamed the jet lag. Sung picked up her broken suitcase as though it weighed nothing. “Come on.” “Where?” “I'll take you to the station.” Juliet didn't move. “You always help random women at airports?” “No.” “Then why me?” He looked at her for a moment. “Because you look like you're about five minutes away from sitting on your suitcase and crying.” Juliet gasped. “I do not cry.” “You look like you might.” “I absolutely do not.” “Good.” He started walking. Juliet remained where she was. After a few seconds, Sung looked back. “Are you coming?” She glanced at her suitcase. Then at him. Then at the enormous airport around her. “Fine.” She followed him. The airport train was quieter than she expected. Juliet sat beside the window while Sung sat across from her, scrolling through his phone. She watched Seoul gradually appear beyond the glass. Buildings stretched across the horizon, mixed with hills and clusters of trees. Neon signs began glowing as evening settled over the city. Cars moved through the streets in endless lines, their headlights creating ribbons of light. Juliet pressed her forehead lightly against the window. She smiled. This was what she had come for. Not the perfect photographs. Not the fantasy she'd built in her head. This. A new city. A new language. A completely unfamiliar life waiting for her. “You like it?” She looked at Sung. “Yeah.” “You've barely seen anything.” “I know.” She turned back toward the window. “But I already like it.” For the first time since meeting her, Sung didn't have a sarcastic response. He simply watched her for a moment before looking away. When they finally reached Mapo, he helped her carry the suitcase through the streets. The neighborhood was beautiful. Small restaurants spilled warm light onto the sidewalks. Couples walked together beneath umbrellas. Music came from an upstairs bar, mixing with the sound of traffic and distant laughter. Juliet stopped outside her apartment building. “This is it.” Sung handed her the suitcase. “You made it.” “Barely.” “You'll survive.” She smiled. “Thank you, Sung.” He nodded. She reached for the door, then turned around. “Wait.” He looked at her. “Are you always this rude?” “Yes.” Juliet laughed. “Good to know.” She disappeared inside. Sung stood outside for a moment before shaking his head and walking away. Neither of them knew that they had just met the person who would eventually become the most important part of each other's lives. Juliet didn't know that the handsome stranger from the airport lived in the same neighborhood. She didn't know that he worked only a few streets away. She certainly didn't know that, within a month, she would be sitting in his apartment at two in the morning wearing his sweatshirt, arguing with him about who had eaten the last strawberry. And Sung had no idea that the girl who had arrived in Seoul with two broken suitcases and absolutely no sense of direction was about to turn his carefully organized life upside down. For now, though, they were strangers. And that was probably for the best. Because neither of them was ready for what came next.