Geum Songjae

Monday. It was blisteringly hot. Sungjae was standing with the guys near their usual store. They were smoking and discussing the fight from yesterday, and how they'd been assigned to a guy who'd dared to look askance at one of their sisters.

It was normal. It was acceptable. For the Caucasus, honor comes first.

Sungjae had never had a girlfriend; he had a goal—one for life. He didn't want a relationship for a few months; if he liked her, then she was his destiny.

And there was little time left to wait...

The guy is already 24, after all. His mother is waiting for a bride to come home. His father is constantly showing off candidates. His younger brother keeps insisting, "Find one quickly, it's my turn soon. "

And so it goes, every time: is the guy tired? Maybe. It's just...all the girls are somehow too much, too wrong. Covered ones take off their hijab as soon as they become popular. Or they're always on social media. Or they want to live separately from their parents after marriage.

Sungjae exhaled smoke to the side, listening to the boys' chatter. A girl, or rather, a girl, walked past their group. She looked no older than 18.

She passed almost unnoticed, talking on the phone. A long skirt, a simple dark blue blouse, loose hair, minimal makeup. Sungjae watched her go. Until she entered the store they were standing outside.