The Woman From The Airport
1075 Words
Carmela’s POV
"Aren’t you that woman from the airport?" the guy who had just arrived blurted out.
Carmela frowned slightly, thrown off by the sudden question.
"Huh?" she asked, tilting her head in confusion.
Airport? What is he talking about? I just got here in Korea. I don’t even know anyone in this country. How and when did we meet?
She looked between the two men, trying to piece things together. The guy with the coffee-stained shirt seemed to stiffen, while the other one appeared surprised, like he had just accidentally revealed something he wasn’t supposed to.
"You’re the woman, Jay—"
Before he could finish his sentence, the man with the coffee stain swiftly reached out and covered his mouth with his hand. It was a quick and firm motion, like someone desperately stopping a secret from slipping out.
Carmela’s eyes widened. The sudden action was unexpected, and even stranger, the other guy was also wearing a face mask. There wasn’t even a need to physically shut him up—unless whatever he was about to say was really that serious.
The scene feels too suspicious. What is going on?
"Never mind this man," Jay—the guy with the coffee-stained shirt—said smoothly, retracting his hand after a few seconds. His voice was calm but held a clear message: drop it.
"He meant nothing."
"Aaaah. Okay," Carmela replied, dragging out the word, still puzzled but deciding to let it go for now.
She glanced between the two again, noting the tension between them. It was subtle, but it was there. The man who had just arrived—his friend, apparently—was looking at Jay with a mixture of frustration and amusement, as if he wanted to argue but also knew better than to push it.
"What are you doing, Jay-a?" the other guy asked, his voice laced with exasperation.
"I already apologized to her. You can go back to the car now," Jay said, his tone steady but firm.
"But she is the—"
"Jen-a," Jay cut him off sharply, a warning edge in his voice.
The other guy hesitated before sighing, clearly annoyed but choosing to comply—at least for now.
Carmela, on the other hand, felt more and more like an outsider in whatever private conversation they were having. It was obvious they weren’t telling her something. The way Jay was quick to shut down any mention of the airport, the way his friend kept insisting on bringing it up—it was strange.
But what can I do? I’m not about to force them to explain themselves. I don’t even know them.
Clearing her throat, she subtly signaled that she was about to take her leave.
Both men turned their attention back to her.
With their masks covering their faces, it was difficult to read their expressions, but something about their body language felt oddly familiar. Especially Jay’s.
For some reason, I feel like I’ve seen him before.
But where?
She dismissed the thought. Maybe I’m just overthinking it.
"By the way, I have to go. Thank you very much for everything," she said politely.
As a last-minute thought, she quickly checked her bag, hoping to find a calling card so she could properly give Jay her contact information.
Nothing.
She sighed. Great. Of all days to forget my calling card…
Her gaze flickered back to Jay’s shirt, where the coffee stain had darkened the fabric. She winced a little, guilt creeping up on her again.
"Ahm, about your clothes… I don’t have my calling card with me, but I’ll still give you my number," she offered, trying to make up for the inconvenience she caused.
Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a pen, quickly uncapped it, and carefully wrote her number on the palm of her hand.
She then extended her hand toward him, showing him the numbers.
"You can copy or save my number. Just contact me, and I’ll pay for the damage. Thank you, and I really am very sorry," she said sincerely, hoping this would at least lessen the trouble she caused.
Jay’s friend looked at her, clearly amused. Meanwhile, Jay remained silent, his expression unreadable.
Then, just when she expected him to type the number into his phone or maybe ask her to repeat it, he did something completely unexpected.
Without hesitation, Jay gently took her wrist, lifting her hand to his eye level.
Carmela froze.
Wait.
What?
Before she could even react, Jay pulled out his phone, positioned it carefully, and—
Click.
He took a picture of her hand.
Carmela’s mouth parted slightly in shock.
Wait. What just happened?
Did he just… take a photo of my hand?
Her brain needed a second to process what had just happened. She had expected him to copy the number down, maybe even send himself a text to save it properly. But this?
She looked at him, bewildered. "You—You just took a photo of my hand?"
Jay finally let go of her wrist, slipping his phone back into his pocket like nothing had happened.
"That way, I won’t mistype it," he said simply, as if this were a completely normal thing to do.
Carmela stared at him.
He could’ve just—
"Now that I have your number, what’s your name?" he interrupted smoothly, shifting the conversation like nothing was unusual.
Carmela blinked.
What in the world is with this guy?
"Really? Jay?" his friend interjected, his tone filled with amusement.
Jay ignored him, waiting for her answer.
Carmela exhaled, deciding to move past the weirdness of the situation.
"Oh, I’m Carmela Reyes, but you can call me Kim Shin Bae. That’s my Korean name," she introduced herself, offering a small smile.
Jay’s friend raised an eyebrow. "New version of introducing yourself, huh?"
Carmela tilted her head. "I’m sorry?"
"Never mind," Jay muttered, a faint smirk in his voice. "But I prefer Carm."
Then, for the first time since they met, his gaze locked onto hers.
It was brief but intense, and for some reason, it made her stomach flip.
For a moment, she forgot about the strange way he saved her number.
She forgot about how suspiciously familiar he seemed.
She forgot about everything except the way his eyes held hers, like he was seeing something in her that she hadn’t quite figured out yet.
Carmela swallowed, suddenly feeling like this encounter wasn’t as simple as she thought.
- Writer
