Hana sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, surrounded by boxes and suitcases. The room was a mess of half-packed belongings—clothes, books, trinkets, and sentimental items she wasn’t sure she could part with yet. As she folded a dress and placed it carefully into a suitcase, she sighed softly, the reality of her impending marriage settling in like a weight on her chest.

It had been a long day, and the quiet of her room was both comforting and suffocating. Her life was about to change in ways she still couldn’t fully comprehend. In just a few short weeks, she would be moving into a new home, starting a new life, and becoming someone’s wife—Namjoon’s wife. And while she had come to terms with the arranged marriage, there was still so much uncertainty surrounding the man she was about to spend the rest of her life with.

Namjoon was a mystery. Cold, distant, and polite—always polite—but rarely anything more than that. Despite the small progress they had made over the past few weeks, Hana still felt like she didn’t know him at all. Every time she tried to get closer, it was like there was an invisible wall between them that she couldn’t quite break through.

She sat back against the bed, staring at her half-packed suitcase. It felt strange, packing up her life to move in with a man she barely knew. A part of her longed to understand him, to know what made him tick, what his hopes and dreams were, what he cared about beyond his cold exterior. But every attempt she had made to connect with him so far had been met with polite indifference or brief, guarded responses.

Still, Hana wasn’t one to give up easily. She had always believed that with enough patience and understanding, even the coldest hearts could thaw. And she had seen a glimpse of something deeper in Namjoon during their dinner together, a flicker of warmth beneath his stoic surface. Maybe there was more to him than he let on, but she wouldn’t know unless she tried to break through that wall.

With a sigh, Hana reached for her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say to Namjoon—wasn’t sure if he would even reply—but something inside her urged her to reach out. Maybe, just maybe, this time he would respond with more than just a few cold words.

She hesitated for a moment, thinking about how to word her message. She didn’t want to come across as too eager or desperate, but she also didn’t want to keep things superficial. After a few moments of contemplation, she started typing.

*Hana: Hey, Namjoon. I hope you’re doing well. I’ve been packing up my things for the move and thought it would be nice to get to know you a bit better. I realized I don’t actually know much about what you do… What kind of professor are you?*

She read the message over a few times before hitting send, her heart beating a little faster as she stared at the screen, waiting for the inevitable silence. Namjoon wasn’t the type to engage in casual conversation, and she knew that. She had no expectations of receiving a reply. But still, she hoped.

Minutes passed, and then five, ten… She sighed and tossed her phone onto the bed, trying to push down the disappointment that was creeping up. She should have known better than to expect an immediate response—or any response, for that matter.

She stood up and continued packing, trying to distract herself from the awkwardness of reaching out to someone who clearly wasn’t interested in small talk. As she folded a pair of jeans, her phone buzzed, and her heart jumped. She grabbed it quickly, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw Namjoon’s name on the screen.

*Namjoon: English professor at the university.*

The message was short, curt, and straight to the point—just like him. But the fact that he had answered at all was enough to make Hana smile. She had expected nothing, and instead, she had gotten a glimpse into his life. An English professor. It wasn’t much, but it was something—another piece of the puzzle that was Namjoon.

She sat down on the edge of her bed, staring at his message. What now? Should she push for more conversation, or let it go? Namjoon clearly wasn’t one for long, drawn-out discussions, but if she wanted to know him, she couldn’t just leave it at that.

After a moment’s hesitation, she typed out another message.

*Hana: That sounds interesting. What do you teach specifically?*

She sent the message, feeling a little bolder now. There was a part of her that wanted to know more about his academic life—what his passions were, how he interacted with his students, what drew him to English. It might help her understand him better, and maybe even help her find some common ground.

The response came a few minutes later, as brief as the first one.

*Namjoon: Mostly literature. Some creative writing courses too.*

Hana’s curiosity piqued at the mention of creative writing. It was the first time Namjoon had offered any detail beyond the bare minimum. Creative writing wasn’t something she had expected him to be involved in—it seemed almost too expressive, too emotional for someone as reserved as Namjoon. But then again, maybe there was more to him than she realized.

*Hana: Creative writing? That sounds fun. Do you write as well?*

There was a longer pause this time, and for a moment, Hana wondered if she had pushed too far. She bit her lip, staring at her phone, waiting. She didn’t want to overwhelm him with questions, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. What kind of things did Namjoon write about? Did he pour his emotions into his work, or was his writing as structured and controlled as his personality?

Finally, her phone buzzed again.

*Namjoon: I used to write more when I was younger. Don’t have as much time for it now.*

Hana’s heart skipped a beat. He was opening up, if only just a little. There was something nostalgic in his words, a hint of a younger Namjoon who had once been passionate about writing. She wanted to ask more, to dig deeper, but she knew she had to be careful. Namjoon wasn’t the type to indulge in long conversations, and she didn’t want to push him too far.

*Hana: That’s understandable. Teaching must keep you busy. What kind of things did you used to write?*

She held her breath as she waited for his response, her fingers tapping nervously on the edge of her phone. This conversation felt like walking a tightrope—one wrong move and she might lose the connection they had started to build.

The reply came after a few minutes.

*Namjoon: Mostly poetry and short stories. I didn’t share them with many people.*

Hana’s eyes widened in surprise. Poetry? She hadn’t expected that from Namjoon at all. Poetry was so raw, so personal—so different from the cold, detached demeanor he usually presented to the world. It made her wonder what kind of things he had written about, what emotions he had poured into his words.

*Hana: Poetry? I would love to read something you’ve written someday.*

As soon as she sent the message, she regretted it. Maybe that was too forward, too personal. She quickly backtracked with another message.

*Hana: Only if you’re comfortable, of course! I didn’t mean to pressure you.*

She waited, her heart pounding in her chest. She had pushed too far, hadn’t she? Namjoon would probably retreat now, shut down the conversation entirely. She braced herself for the awkward silence that was sure to follow.

But then, to her surprise, her phone buzzed again.

*Namjoon: Maybe. Someday.*

Hana smiled, relief flooding through her. It wasn’t a definitive yes, but it was far from a no. The fact that Namjoon had even considered sharing something so personal with her felt like a victory. She wasn’t sure when that "someday" would come, but for now, she was content with the progress they had made.

*Hana: I’ll look forward to it.*

There was a pause before Namjoon responded.

*Namjoon: You should get some rest. Packing must be exhausting.*

Hana blinked, surprised by the concern in his words. It wasn’t much, but it was the closest thing to kindness she had heard from him in a while.

*Hana: It is, but I’ll manage. Thank you for chatting with me tonight, Namjoon. It means a lot.*

The reply was almost immediate this time.

*Namjoon: Goodnight, Hana.*

Hana stared at the screen for a long moment, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions. It wasn’t much—just a short conversation, a few glimpses into Namjoon’s life—but it was more than she had ever expected from him. He had opened up, even if just a little, and that gave her hope.

As she set her phone down and resumed packing, Hana couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. Namjoon was still a mystery, still distant in so many ways, but tonight, for the first time, she felt like they had taken a small step toward understanding each other.

And for Hana, that was more than enough.