Chapter 22
The morning of the art festival came way too fast.
Yura shook me awake like a storm. "Eun-ji! Up! Your big day!"
I groaned into my pillow. "It's just an exhibition."
"Your painting's literally trending on the campus board!" she said, grabbing my blanket. "And people are whispering about your 'connection' with Soo-min."
I sat up, hair a mess. "Wh—why are they—"
She grinned. "Because it's obvious, duh."
I threw my pillow at her. "You're impossible."
---
By noon, the art building buzzed with voices, laughter, and the smell of paint and coffee. Mirae was at the entrance fixing banners while Hye-jin barked orders like a drill sergeant.
Soo-min stood near our section, fixing the label on our joint painting. Her rolled-up sleeves, her calm face — somehow she looked like she owned the whole room.
When she spotted me, her lips curved into that quiet smile that always melted me.
"You made it," she said.
"You kidnapped me last time. I wasn't risking that again."
Her laugh was low, warm. "Fair point."
---
Our painting — Even When Apart — drew a steady crowd. Two canvases: mine cool and distant, hers bright and warm. The colors met perfectly in the middle, blending like a heartbeat.
Visitors paused, whispered, smiled. Some took photos.
Yura nudged me. "They're obsessed."
I pretended to shrug. "It's just color theory."
"Sure," she said. "Color theory and longing."
I elbowed her. "Shut up."
---
Hours flew by. We greeted visitors, explained our concept, endured teasing.
Mirae brought snacks; Hye-jin filmed everyone for "posterity"; Yura turned into our unpaid PR rep.
"You two should've named it 'Soulmates Anonymous'," she said, earning a glare from both of us.
Soo-min handled it better than I did. Calm, composed, unbothered — until our eyes met and she gave me a look that said she knows.
My heartbeat forgot how to function.
---
When the crowd thinned, I escaped outside for air. The autumn wind was cool against my face, carrying faint music from the courtyard.
Footsteps followed.
"You always vanish after big events," Soo-min said, offering me a soda.
"You always find me," I replied.
"Habit." She leaned against the same tree, shoulder brushing mine. "You were incredible today."
"So were you."
Silence. Not awkward — just full.
Then she said softly, "You know, I thought staying quiet would protect what we had."
I turned. "What?"
"Back then — when people started talking." She exhaled, eyes on the ground. "I was scared you'd get hurt because of me. I didn't want to make things worse."
I blinked. "So instead you disappeared?"
"Yeah." Her voice cracked slightly. "And I hated it."
The words landed heavy and real between us.
"I missed you," I said before I could stop myself.
Her head lifted. "Then maybe we stop missing each other."
For a heartbeat, everything froze.
Then Yura's voice screeched from the hall: "Lovebirds! Group photo time!"
We both jumped apart.
Soo-min chuckled. "Saved again."
I laughed, flustered. "She has terrible timing."
"Or perfect," she said, eyes glinting.
---
By evening, lanterns painted the courtyard gold. Everyone was buzzing with leftover energy — Hye-jin showing off selfies, Mirae passing out snacks, Yura teasing me mercilessly.
We posed for one last photo. Soo-min's hand brushed my shoulder — casual, grounding. The flash went off.
Later, as we cleaned up, she asked quietly, "Favorite part of the day?"
I thought. "When people smiled at our painting."
"Not when Yura called you my muse?"
I groaned. "Why do you keep bringing that up?"
She grinned. "Because you blush every time."
I glared at her. "You're impossible."
"Maybe," she said, stepping closer. "But you're smiling again, and I'll take that."
The lights flickered against her face — soft, golden, too close.
My breath caught.
"Let's go," she said finally, voice gentler now. "Before Yura drags you home."
I nodded, heart still racing.
---
That night, lying in bed, I traced the bracelet on my wrist — her gift from my birthday — and stared at the photo Yura had sent.
The five of us under lanterns, laughing.
And right in the center, Soo-min's hand resting lightly on my shoulder.
I smiled.
Maybe color theory wasn't just about light and contrast.
Maybe it was about finding the shade that finally made you feel whole.