A Return To Normalcy

The sun hung low in the sky, casting warm orange hues over the school courtyard. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the air was still—no cryptic messages, no shadowy figures, no unraveling threads of fate. It was just another ordinary day, or at least, that's what I wanted it to be.

I leaned against the railing outside the classroom, watching as students mingled below. Laughter echoed, a welcome contrast to the tension that had ruled my life lately. Mirae was sitting beneath the cherry blossom tree, her usual spot, scribbling in that enigmatic notebook of hers.

"Are you going to keep staring at her like a creep or actually say something this time?" Seulgi's voice startled me out of my trance.

"Do you always have to appear out of nowhere?" I grumbled.

Seulgi smirked. "Your awkwardness is hard to ignore. Seriously, JiHo, if things are settling down, maybe you should… I don't know, enjoy the peace?"

"That's the plan," I muttered, though I wasn't sure if I believed it.

---

By lunchtime, I'd gathered enough courage to approach Mirae. She didn't look up as I sat down across from her, her pen gliding smoothly across the page.

"Hey," I began, unsure of where to start.

"Hey," she replied without stopping.

For a moment, I watched her write. The notebook still intrigued me, though I'd learned to respect its mysteries. "So, uh… I guess things are kind of normal again?"

Mirae finally looked up, her dark eyes meeting mine. "Normal is subjective, JiHo. What's normal to you might be chaos to someone else."

"Wow," I said, blinking. "That's… deep."

She smirked, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "You're easy to impress."

I laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck. "You know, for someone who doesn't talk much, you're pretty good at making me feel dumb."

Mirae shrugged, returning to her notebook. "Maybe you just need to think harder."

I watched her for a moment longer before blurting out, "Do you ever wonder what you'd be doing if all this weird fate stuff hadn't happened?"

She paused, her pen hovering above the page. "Not really. Everything happens for a reason, right?"

"Yeah, but like… what if it didn't? What if we were just two regular people? No apps, no cryptic messages, no strange men in suits. Just… high school kids."

Mirae tilted her head, studying me like I was a particularly puzzling equation. "Is that what you want?"

I hesitated, the weight of her question sinking in. "I don't know. Maybe. Don't you ever get tired of all the secrets?"

Her expression softened, and for the first time, I saw a hint of vulnerability. "Sometimes," she admitted. "But normal isn't always better, JiHo. Sometimes, it's just… boring."

I grinned. "Boring sounds amazing right now."

Mirae rolled her eyes but didn't argue.

---

Later that day, we found ourselves walking home together, an unspoken agreement to share the path. The city buzzed with its usual energy, a stark contrast to the quiet tension that had defined our recent days.

"So, what are you going to do with all your free time now that the world isn't ending?" I asked, shoving my hands into my pockets.

Mirae glanced at me, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Probably the same thing I always do—read, write, think."

"You're really selling the excitement of your life," I teased.

"What about you?" she countered.

"Me?" I shrugged. "Maybe I'll finally focus on my grades. Or take up a hobby. Who knows? The possibilities are endless."

"Endless," Mirae echoed, her voice tinged with something I couldn't quite place.

We walked in silence for a while, the city's noise filling the gaps. It wasn't uncomfortable, though—just… peaceful.

Finally, as we reached the point where our paths diverged, I stopped and turned to her.

"Mirae," I began, hesitating.

"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage. "If I said something really weird, would you promise not to laugh?"

She crossed her arms, clearly intrigued. "Depends on how weird it is."

"Okay, so…" I trailed off, realizing too late that I had no idea how to phrase what I was about to say. "Do you think… if fate hadn't thrown us together, we'd still find a way to meet?"

Mirae blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, I thought she might actually laugh. But instead, she looked at me with a seriousness that made my heart race.

"I think," she said slowly, "that some things are inevitable, no matter what."

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Cool. Cool, cool, cool."

She smirked, turning away. "You're so weird, JiHo."

"Yeah, but it's part of my charm," I called after her, watching as she walked down the street.

As I turned to head home, I couldn't help but smile. For the first time in a long while, life felt normal—or at least, as normal as it could get with Mirae in it.

I watched her figure disappear into the distance, her black hair swaying gently with each step. The city lights were beginning to flicker to life as the evening crept in, casting a warm glow over the streets.

Normal.

The word replayed in my head like a mantra. Mirae's words still lingered—some things are inevitable, no matter what. Did she mean that in the way I hoped, or was I reading too much into it?

When I finally reached my house, I dropped my bag by the door and collapsed onto the couch. My phone buzzed, jolting me out of my thoughts.

It was Seulgi.

Seulgi: Did you finally confess your undying love, or should I write your speech for you?

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. Typical Seulgi.

Me: For your information, we had a normal conversation. No dramatic declarations.

Seulgi: Boring. You're never going to win her over like that.

Me: I think we're past the "winning over" phase. It's complicated.

Seulgi: Complicated sounds like an excuse for being chicken.

I didn't bother replying. Instead, I stared at the ceiling, Mirae's face flashing in my mind. She was still an enigma, even now. But something about today felt different—lighter, easier. Maybe, just maybe, the threads of fate were finally loosening their grip on us.

I picked up my phone again, opening the Fate Rewrite app almost instinctively. The familiar interface greeted me, its quiet hum a reminder of everything we'd been through.

But this time, there was no cryptic message, no glowing progress bar. Just a simple notification:

"Status: Dormant. Awaiting new thread."

For the first time, I didn't feel the need to press further.

Whatever lay ahead, I could wait. For now, normalcy was enough.