Flashback Back

The Han River shimmered under the late summer sun, its surface catching the golden light as a gentle breeze stirred the air. It was a bustling afternoon in Seoul, with cyclists and couples dotting the riverside path, and the faint hum of city life blending with the laughter of children playing nearby. *Riverside Bloom*, a charming restaurant with ivy-draped walls and large windows overlooking the water, was alive with the clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation. Inside, the scent of fresh herbs and warm bread wafted through the air, mingling with the soft jazz playing in the background.

Y/N, dressed in a light sundress with her hair loosely tied back, was running late. She’d been dragged to a work lunch by her colleagues, but her mind was elsewhere—on deadlines, on the book she’d stayed up reading, on the fleeting thought that she needed a moment to breathe. Clutching a takeaway coffee cup, she hurried through the restaurant’s outdoor seating area, her eyes scanning for an empty table where she could steal a quiet moment before rejoining her group.

Jungkook, meanwhile, was seated at a small table near the edge of the patio, his black cap pulled low to avoid attention. He was on a rare break from his hectic schedule, savoring the chance to blend into the crowd. Dressed in a simple white t-shirt and jeans, he looked effortlessly striking, his presence drawing subtle glances from passersby. He was sketching absentmindedly in a small notebook, the pencil moving in soft, deliberate strokes as he captured the curve of the river on the page. A half-finished iced Americano sat in front of him, condensation dripping onto the table.

Y/N, distracted by her phone buzzing with work messages, didn’t notice the leg of a chair sticking out slightly into the path. Her foot caught on it, and in a split second, her coffee cup slipped from her hand, tumbling forward. The lid popped off, and a cascade of iced latte splashed across Jungkook’s table, soaking his notebook and splattering his shirt.

“Oh my God!” Y/N gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as she froze, mortified. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—oh no, your shirt!”

Jungkook looked up, startled, his eyes widening as he registered the situation. The coffee dripped from the edge of the table, and his notebook was a soggy mess, but a slow grin spread across his face. “Well, that’s one way to make an entrance,” he said, his voice warm with amusement.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed crimson as she scrambled to grab napkins from a nearby table, thrusting them toward him. “I’m such a klutz, I swear I didn’t mean to—here, let me help!” She dabbed at the table, her movements frantic, until Jungkook’s hand gently caught hers, stopping her.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, his tone soft but firm, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s just coffee. And a shirt. I’ve got plenty of those.”

She looked up, meeting his gaze, and time seemed to slow. His eyes were warm, deep, and impossibly kind, with a spark of mischief that made her heart stutter. For a moment, she forgot how to speak, her embarrassment giving way to something else—a flutter in her chest she couldn’t quite name.

“I… I should at least buy you a new drink,” she managed, her voice quieter now, her hands still clutching the damp napkins. “Or a new notebook. God, I ruined your drawing, didn’t I?”

Jungkook glanced at the soggy sketch, chuckling softly. “It was just a doodle. But if you’re offering, I wouldn’t say no to another Americano.” He tilted his head, his smile teasing. “Unless you’re planning to throw that one at me too.”

Y/N laughed, the sound bursting out of her despite her nerves. “No promises,” she shot back, surprising herself with the ease of her reply. “I’m kind of a walking disaster.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. “Seems like a pretty good disaster to me.”

Her breath caught, and she felt her face warm again. There was something about the way he looked at her—not just with amusement, but with genuine curiosity, like he was seeing something worth noticing. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” she said, extending a slightly trembling hand.

“Jungkook,” he replied, taking her hand in his. His grip was warm, steady, and lingered just a moment longer than necessary. “Nice to meet you, coffee assassin.”

She groaned, but her smile widened. “Okay, I deserve that. But seriously, let me get you that drink.”

They ended up at the counter together, Y/N insisting on paying for his Americano while ordering another latte for herself. The barista, sensing the spark between them, hid a knowing smile as she handed over their drinks. They returned to Jungkook’s table, now wiped clean, and what started as an awkward apology stretched into a conversation that flowed like it had always been meant to happen.

“So, what were you drawing before I ruined it?” Y/N asked, sipping her coffee as she sat across from him, her work lunch forgotten.

Jungkook shrugged, a little shy now. “Just the river. The way the light hits it. I like capturing moments, you know? Things that feel… fleeting.”

She tilted her head, intrigued. “That’s beautiful. Are you an artist?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Something like that. I dabble. What about you? What’s your story, Y/N?”

She hesitated, then opened up about her job, her love for books, and her habit of getting lost in her thoughts. Jungkook listened intently, his eyes never straying, his smile softening as she spoke. He shared bits of himself too—not the full scope of his fame, but enough to paint a picture of a guy who loved music, art, and quiet moments by the river. They talked about favorite songs, the best food stalls in Seoul, and the way the city felt alive at dusk.

At one point, Y/N gestured animatedly, nearly knocking over her new coffee. Jungkook caught the cup just in time, his reflexes quick, and they both burst out laughing. “Okay, maybe we need to keep you away from liquids,” he teased, his voice warm with affection.

“Maybe,” she admitted, her eyes sparkling. “Or maybe we were meant to crash into each other like this.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she froze, wondering if she’d said too much. But Jungkook’s smile widened, his gaze softening in a way that made her heart race. “Maybe we were,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that felt like a promise.

They lingered there, the world around them fading until it was just the two of them, the river, and the unspoken spark that hummed in the air. By the time Y/N realized she’d completely abandoned her colleagues, the sun was lower in the sky, and Jungkook was scribbling his number on a fresh napkin, sliding it toward her with a shy grin.

“Call me,” he said, his eyes locking with hers. “I want to see you again, Y/N. No coffee spills required.”

She took the napkin, her fingers brushing his, and nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement. “Deal,” she whispered, already knowing this was the start of something extraordinary.

As she walked away, glancing back to see him watching her with that same warm smile, Y/N felt the first threads of their story weaving together—a story that would bring them back to this very restaurant, hand in hand, years later, with a love that had only grown stronger.

The Han River sparkled under the late summer sun, its waters reflecting a golden hue that seemed to hold a thousand tiny promises. *Riverside Bloom* buzzed softly with life, its outdoor patio alive with the hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. The air carried the scent of fresh coffee and blooming jasmine, wrapping the scene in a dreamlike warmth. It was here, in this fleeting moment, that Jungkook and Y/N’s worlds collided, their hearts catching fire in a single glance.

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**Jungkook’s POV**

I was sketching the river again, my pencil tracing the way the light danced on the water. It was one of those rare afternoons where I could slip away from the chaos of my life, hide under a cap, and just… be. The restaurant was my sanctuary, a place where I could blend into the crowd and let my thoughts wander. My iced Americano sat sweating on the table, the notebook in front of me half-filled with rough lines and smudged edges. I was lost in the rhythm of it—until she crashed into my world.

I didn’t see her at first, just heard the soft gasp and the clatter of a coffee cup hitting the ground. Then the cold splash of latte hit my notebook, my shirt, my hands. I looked up, ready to laugh it off, but then… there she was. Her eyes were wide, panicked, shimmering with a mix of embarrassment and sincerity. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair catching the sunlight like a halo, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. She was beautiful—not in the polished way I was used to, but in a real, unguarded way that made my chest tighten.

“I’m so sorry!” she stammered, her voice soft but laced with a warmth that pulled me in. She was already grabbing napkins, her hands moving in a flustered blur, and I couldn’t help but smile. There was something about her—something chaotic and alive, like a melody I didn’t know I’d been waiting to hear. When she looked up at me, her eyes locked with mine, and it was like the world tilted. They were deep, expressive, like they held stories she hadn’t told yet. I felt it—a spark, a pull, something that whispered, *This is important. She’s important.*

“Relax, it’s just coffee,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but my heart was racing. I caught her hand to stop her frantic wiping, and the moment our fingers touched, it was like a current ran through me. Her skin was warm, her touch grounding, and I didn’t want to let go. She laughed, a nervous little sound, and it was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard. I teased her about her aim, anything to keep her talking, to keep her there. Every word she said, every shy glance, made me want to know more—her name, her dreams, the way she saw the world.

When she said her name—Y/N—it felt like a lyric I’d been searching for. I didn’t know how, but I knew she was different. Sitting there, watching her sip her new coffee, her eyes crinkling when she laughed at my dumb jokes, I felt it deep in my bones: I was falling, fast and hard, like I’d been waiting my whole life for this moment. For her. I didn’t want the afternoon to end, didn’t want to let her walk away. So I scribbled my number on a napkin, my heart pounding as I slid it to her. “Call me,” I said, and I meant it with everything I had. Because in that one glance, that one spilled coffee, I’d already started to love her.

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**Y/N’s POV**

I was late, as usual, my mind a mess of work emails and half-formed thoughts. I just needed a moment to breathe, to steal a corner of *Riverside Bloom* and sip my coffee in peace. The river was gorgeous that day, all golden and serene, and I was distracted, scrolling through my phone, not watching where I was going. Then—*crash*. My coffee cup slipped, splashing everywhere, and I wanted to melt into the ground from embarrassment. I looked up, ready to apologize a thousand times, and then I saw him.

He was sitting there, a damp notebook in front of him, coffee dripping from his shirt, but his eyes… oh, his eyes. They were dark, warm, like they held a universe of kindness and mischief all at once. His smile was soft, almost teasing, and it hit me like a tidal wave. My heart stuttered, my breath caught, and I felt this strange, electric pull—like I’d known him forever, like I was *meant* to know him. He was beautiful, not just in the way his hair fell over his forehead or the way his jawline caught the light, but in the way he looked at me, like I wasn’t just some clumsy girl who’d ruined his day.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice low and smooth, and it wrapped around me like a warm blanket. When he touched my hand to stop my frantic napkin-grabbing, my skin tingled, and I swear my heart forgot how to beat. I was babbling apologies, but he just laughed, this soft, genuine sound that made my stomach flip. He was teasing me, calling me a coffee assassin, and I couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop looking at him. There was something about him—something that felt like home, even though we’d just met.

His name was Jungkook, and the way he said mine made it sound like poetry. We talked, and it was so easy, like we’d been friends for years. He listened, really listened, his eyes never leaving mine, and every time he smiled, I felt it again—that spark, that certainty that this was more than a chance encounter. I was falling, head over heels, in a way I’d never thought possible. It was reckless, maybe, to feel so much so fast, but when he slid that napkin with his number across the table, his gaze soft and hopeful, I knew I was already in love. Not the slow, cautious kind, but the kind that hits you like a comet, bright and undeniable. I walked away clutching that napkin like it was a lifeline, my heart singing with the promise of him, of us.

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To be continued ..