The campus garden was quiet, sunlight dappled through the cherry blossom trees, painting the stone pathways in soft shades of pink. Sunoo sat cross-legged on a bench, notebook in hand, scribbling furiously. She was chasing a story idea, something human-interest, something that could capture the small but meaningful moments of university life.

A soft click made her glance up. Sunghoon was crouched a few meters away, camera in hand, adjusting the lens. He was always like that—focused, precise, quietly observing the world.

“Hey,” Sunoo called out, standing and brushing off imaginary dust. “Do you mind if I—”

“You mean take my photo?” he interrupted, not looking at her. His voice was calm, casual, but there was a smile tugging at his lips.

Sunoo shook her head. “No, I mean… can I ask you a few questions? I’m doing a piece on student artists for the campus magazine.”

Sunghoon finally looked up, eyes meeting hers, and there was something in his gaze that made her heart stutter. “Sure,” he said, standing. He slung his camera over his shoulder. “Walk with me?”

They strolled along the winding paths, Sunoo’s notebook clutched tightly, Sunghoon occasionally stopping to snap a photo of a blooming flower or a sunlit statue.

“What made you pick photography?” she asked, jotting down notes.

He shrugged, a casual motion that somehow looked effortless. “I like capturing things that people don’t always notice. Moments that feel small but mean something. Kind of like… life in a snapshot.”

Sunoo scribbled furiously, but she couldn’t help staring at him. There was a gentle focus in his eyes that pulled her in. “That’s… really poetic,” she admitted softly.

He glanced at her, a small, almost shy smile forming. “I could say the same about journalism. You chase stories, but also… moments. You notice things people overlook.”

For a moment, they walked in silence, the air between them easy, like two friends discovering a rhythm together. Then Sunghoon crouched down again, raising his camera toward her.

“May I?” he asked, voice low.

Sunoo blinked, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

The click of the camera sounded soft, almost intimate. When he lowered it, Sunoo saw the preview on the screen: a candid shot of her, notebook open, hair catching the sunlight, eyes bright with curiosity.

“That’s… really good,” she said, cheeks warm. “You really notice the small things, don’t you?”

He shrugged, smiling a little wider. “Maybe I notice some things because I want to.”

Sunoo’s heart skipped. And in that quiet campus garden, between cherry blossoms and soft sunlight, she felt something new beginning—an unspoken understanding that they were noticing each other too.