DAMIR
It had been four years since I last saw Junseo Seo my closest friend, a man who had stood by me during my lowest moments. I still remembered when he first told me about the divorce. Over the phone, his voice had cracked, layered with exhaustion and disappointment. That call had turned into long conversations, sleepless nights, and finally, the decision: he and his son would move to Russia for a fresh start.
I hadn't seen him since the business summit in Shanghai years ago, but we'd spoken often. He never stopped talking about his son, Eli bright, reserved, respectful. Always respectful. The way Junseo spoke of him, I had envisioned a smaller version of him—serious-faced, rigid shoulders, the kind of kid who barely spoke unless asked to. So when Junseo told me they'd finally booked their flight, I felt a strange kind of excitement bubble inside me. Finally, I'd get to see them again.
I even offered to send a car to the airport, but Junseo declined. "We'll manage," he said. Typical of him.
The first time I walked into their new apartment with Junseo after helping him sort some legal papers, I didn't expect to see anyone else there. He didn't mention Eli would already be home. I was busy talking, listening to him rant about the state of Russian plumbing compared to Korea, when my gaze slid to the sofa and that's when I saw… her.
No. Not her.
At first, I genuinely thought there was a girl sitting cross-legged on the couch headphones in, head tilted, arms folded in that casual, elegant way only girls seem to perfect. The oversized sweater she wore hung just slightly off one shoulder. Her…his…legs were tucked under in tight, dark jeans, slim and graceful. I blinked, then blinked again. My words faltered mid-sentence, and I felt my footsteps pause.
She looked up…or rather, he looked up.
Big, almond-shaped eyes. Soft lashes. A small nose, delicate mouth. I think I stopped breathing for half a second.
"This is Damir," Junseo said proudly, and then he chuckled like he knew what I was thinking. "And that's Eli. My son."
I felt like someone slapped me clean across the face.
"Son?" I mumbled to my self shocked
Eli looked at me, offered a small, disinterested nod. eyes drifting back to his phone like I wasn't worth a second glance.
I stood there for a heartbeat too long. I could feel my ears heat with shame. I had just spent a solid five seconds admiring the curves of someone I thought was a young woman… only to realize he was sixteen, and my best friend's son.
He didn't reply. Not rudely….just indifferently. There was a wall around him, invisible but thick. It wasn't disrespect. It was… detachment.
Later, when we sat for tea, I tried not to look too closely, but my eyes kept flicking toward him. Eli moved like a breeze, light, quiet, almost too graceful. And I noticed things I shouldn't have. His hips curved in a way that was… anatomically unexpected for a boy. The narrow dip of his waist, the way his thighs pressed together in those jeans. it created a silhouette so feminine, it confused every assumption I had.
Was it just the way he dressed? The way he sat? Was it intentional?
No. No, it wasn't. That was the most unsettling part.
He wasn't trying to look like a girl. There was no performance in it. It was just the way he was built.
But what really got me wasn't the way he looked. It was how nonchalant he was. He didn't care about my presence. Didn't try to impress. Didn't act shy or over-polite like many teens did when adults visited. He didn't even glance at me twice.
And something about that amused me.
Not in the way I feared…but in the way you find yourself concerned about how he was coping in a world like today looking like an Asian lady.
I still can't forgive myself for thinking like a pervert towards an innocent boy whom I mistaked for a lady.