Chapter 8
My Woman
“Don’t mind me. Just focus on your practice. I’ll be right here.”
As Kang Yeoul stepped into the music department building at Korea University, Ha Geon-woo’s voice echoed in her mind.
That firmness wrapped in warmth—so resolute that she couldn’t even bring herself to tell him not to wait.
And then—
“Make sure to visit your professor, too.”
She’d blinked in confusion at what he meant, only for him to add,
“It’s time to reclaim the chances you gave up on.”
What kind of man is Ha Geon-woo?
She’d thought he was indifferent—but he was actually attentive.
She’d thought he was dull—but he was incredibly perceptive.
He kept defying her expectations again and again, to the point she now felt almost afraid of how he might surprise her next.
“Yeoul!”
The moment she reached the second floor, where the practice rooms were, a familiar voice called out.
Oh, right. Chaerin.
She had completely forgotten.
When she returned to this point in time, she realized that Chaerin—her friend throughout all four years of university—was also one of the people whose life would change depending on her choices.
Back then, she’d learned something.
Even if someone was from a rich family, that didn’t necessarily mean they mingled with the true elites.
Chaerin was no exception.
Sure, she dressed head to toe in luxury brands and drove a foreign car, but that didn’t mean her connections were boundless.
Still…
She really went all out with her look.
Yeoul hadn’t noticed it before, but Chaerin was the very embodiment of the word glamorous.
Her striking features drew the eye immediately.
Her light brown hair, curled thickly from shoulder to waist, shimmered and rippled like waves every time she moved.
Her outfit’s design and patterns were far from ordinary, and the large earrings on both ears glittered as if trying to outshine everything else.
Looking at Chaerin, dripping in designer clothes and expensive jewelry, Yeoul suddenly thought—
Maybe I don’t have to feel so guilty.
Maybe she didn’t have to apologize for taking back the opportunity that had originally been hers.
Chaerin was well-off enough that missing one chance wouldn’t ruin her.
Ordinary people might be limited by money, but Chaerin could buy her opportunities if she wanted to.
Of course, it wouldn’t be the same level of fame she’d reached in the previous timeline.
It was mine from the start. If not for Kim Seung-tae’s inferiority complex, I never would’ve given it up.
So she decided—no more guilt.
The discomfort remained, but she refused to feel sorry anymore.
“You’ve changed. You used to tell me everything, but today you won’t even answer me. Is that all we are now?”
Because Yeoul had given up her original opportunity, Chaerin had risen in her place.
With it, she became a renowned cellist who represented Korea, famous for her performances and beauty. Every concert sold out completely—so much that fans had to fight for tickets.
“Yeah, Chaerin.”
Maybe that was why, even though it had been six years since graduation, Yeoul couldn’t bring herself to greet her warmly.
She just felt guilty.
“You’re on your way to practice?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s this? You’re late for once?”
“Guess so…”
She didn’t know what else to say and tried to end the conversation.
But Chaerin didn’t seem ready to stop talking—just like always, she kept the questions coming.
“Did you take the bus again today?”
“Someone gave me a ride.”
“Someone? Who?”
“Someone you don’t know.”
Yeoul’s tone made it clear she didn’t want to answer.
She had no intention of mentioning Geon-woo to someone who didn’t even know him.
So, being rich doesn’t mean you know everyone after all.
Kim Seung-tae’s family wasn’t a chaebol, but they were wealthy.
Yet he constantly attended every possible social event just to expand his network.
He acted like he was part of the upper class, desperate to be seen among them.
Yeoul remembered that same pattern in Chaerin—the habit of prying into everything.
Do you have a boyfriend?
Yeah, I do.
What does he do?
He works at a company.
A company? What kind? A big one? A small one?
It’s… my father’s company…
Oh, a family business? Or is it one of those people who just call their little store a company?
I-I’m not sure…
Right, you only know about the cello, huh?
Yeah… sorry.
Don’t be. We’re friends.
Mm.
That conversation came rushing back to her.
So she was looking down on me all along.
Only now did Yeoul realize.
She’d once brushed off Chaerin’s words as just blunt honesty, convincing herself that as her friend, she should understand.
She hadn’t even noticed the contempt behind it.
“I still think of you as my best friend. I just didn’t bother saying who it was because you wouldn’t know them anyway.”
Yeoul smiled the same way Chaerin always had—hiding her true thoughts behind politeness.
“Kang Yeoul, that’s so hurtful! I tell you everything, but now you’re keeping secrets from me. You must not think of me as your friend anymore. You won’t even tell me who gave you a ride, right?”
“I’m sorry, Chaerin, but I missed my morning practice and I’m in a hurry. Can we talk later?”
She took out her phone, glancing between the time on the screen and Chaerin’s face, making it clear she didn’t want to stay.
It was intentional. She didn’t want to deal with Chaerin any longer.
“You’ve changed, Yeoul. You’re not like before…”
As always, Chaerin refused to back off.
Yeoul barely managed to suppress a sigh.
Why pretend to be my friend if you look down on me so much?
What was there to gain?
If it wasn’t sincere, why keep up the act?
“I’ll get going. You probably need to practice too. Sorry for getting in your way.”
With that, Yeoul ended the conversation and walked past her toward the practice room.
She didn’t see it—
Chaerin’s gaze following her toward the parking lot outside.
“Haah…”
Ha Geon-woo’s chest rose and fell as if he’d just sprinted a hundred meters.
He exhaled deeply to steady his racing heart—but the more he tried, the more exhilarated he felt.
He knew he shouldn’t hope for anything. But he couldn’t help it.
He’d only allowed himself to dream about her—yet even in dreams, she had always stayed just out of reach.
And now that dream was real.
Maybe that was why it felt like a miracle—too good to handle, almost overwhelming.
He never knew that too much happiness could make the mind go blank.
“I don’t ever want to wake up.”
If this was a dream, he wanted to stay in it forever.
He looked out through the windshield, a smile tugging at his lips before he even realized it.
Only then did the parking lot around him come back into focus, and he understood—it was all real.
“So there really is no such thing as ‘never.’”
Yeoul coming to find him.
Her learning his phone number.
Being her man—even if only on the surface.
Things he thought would never happen were happening now, and the world felt blinding again, just like the first time he saw her.
Then he remembered something.
He hurriedly pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and typed in her number.
Yeoul.
He didn’t need to look it up; he’d memorized it long ago.
Her name appeared on the screen—the name he’d whispered to himself countless times when no one was around.
Geon-woo edited the contact.
He deleted “Yeoul” and replaced it with My Woman.
He’d changed it back and forth so many times before that his fingers moved almost instinctively now.
My Woman.
A title he could finally save without shame.
His chest swelled again, his heart overflowing.
Knock, knock.
The tap on his driver-side window snapped him out of it.
For a split second, his expression shifted—half worried something had happened, half thrilled at the thought of seeing her again.
He turned quickly toward the window—
And his face froze solid.
