NOVEL NEXT Chapter 18: Chapter 18: Seeing Julie Clearly
As the group left Wonderland, Jiko lagged behind, silently vowing never to attempt matchmaking again.
The next morning, Jiko tried to shake off the lingering thoughts as he walked into class. But as he settled into his seat, he felt the subtle weight of Julie sitting nearby. She leaned in slightly, her eyes fixed on him in a way that made his heart skip a beat. She was wearing a soft smile, but it didn't reach her eyes—it was calculated, cautious, almost like she was holding something back.
Jiko shifted in his seat, feeling uncomfortable under her gaze. He knew the truth now—it was more than just friendly curiosity. She liked him. And it was clear she wanted more than what they had ever shared.
As they worked on a class project, Julie accidentally brushed her hand against his while passing him a notebook. Her fingers lingered there for a second too long, and Jiko felt the heat rise to his face. He pulled his hand back instinctively, but the moment didn't go unnoticed. Julie's eyes flashed with something—desire?—and then she quickly looked away, pretending nothing had happened.
Jiko tried to focus on his work, but the moment stuck in his mind. The more he tried to push Julie away, the harder it became to ignore her advances. Something deep inside him twisted, unsure of what to make of it all.
Despite the awkwardness between them, Julie's kindness and charm slowly begin to chip away at Jiko's defenses. Her actions speak louder than the unspoken words between them, and they carry an undeniable warmth. One rainy morning, as Jiko stands under the school gate without an umbrella, staring at the relentless downpour, he mentally prepares himself to make a dash for it. That's when Julie appears beside him, her presence as sudden and comforting as a break in the storm.
"You'll catch a cold like that," she says, extending her umbrella toward him. Her tone is gentle, but her eyes hold a playful insistence.
"I'm fine," Jiko replies, his voice curt. He tries to wave her off, but Julie simply presses the umbrella into his hands.
"Stop being stubborn," she says with a small, teasing smile. "You'll be sneezing for a week, and I don't want to hear you whining about it later."
Jiko hesitates, torn between his pride and the practicality of her offer. Eventually, he accepts the umbrella, mumbling a quiet "thanks" under his breath. Julie doesn't wait for a proper acknowledgment; she simply steps back and, without hesitation, dashes into the rain, her figure quickly disappearing into the gray haze.
Jiko stands there, watching her go, clutching the umbrella tightly. A strange feeling stirs in his chest—an unfamiliar warmth, a pang of guilt. Julie, drenched and unprotected, had chosen his comfort over her own without a second thought. Her concern was genuine, her actions thoughtful, even when he hadn't done much to deserve them.
As the day unfolds, that moment stays with him. Later, while passing the library, Jiko's gaze falls upon Julie once more. She's seated at a table, leaning over a workbook to help a younger student with their homework. Her expression is patient, her tone encouraging. The junior looks visibly less anxious under her guidance, their smile timid but growing with every word Julie speaks.
Jiko lingers in the doorway, unnoticed, watching the scene unfold. For the first time, he begins to understand what Tito must have seen in Julie in the original timeline. She wasn't just charming or kind—there was a quiet strength to her, a willingness to give herself to others without expecting anything in return.
The realization leaves him unsettled. He'd been so focused on keeping his distance, on preserving the timeline as he knew it, that he hadn't taken the time to truly see Julie for who she was. And now that he did, it made everything more complicated.
At lunch, Julie joins him at his usual spot under the large oak tree in the schoolyard. It's an unspoken ritual they've fallen into, even amid the awkwardness. She places her bento box beside his and nudges it toward him slightly.
"I made too much," she says casually. "Want some?"
Jiko eyes the neatly arranged box, his stomach betraying him with a quiet growl. He sighs and takes a small portion, muttering, "You didn't have to."
Julie shrugs, her smile soft but unwavering. "Maybe I wanted to."
They eat in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the rustling leaves above and the distant chatter of other students. It's a peaceful moment, and for a brief second, Jiko allows himself to relax.
"Why do you do it?" he asks suddenly, breaking the quiet.
Julie looks up, tilting her head in confusion. "Do what?"
"Be so… nice," Jiko says, his voice low. "Even when people don't deserve it."
Jiko meant himself.
Julie's expression softens, and she leans back slightly, gazing up at the branches overhead. "I don't know," she says after a pause. "Maybe it's because I know what it feels like when people aren't nice. Sometimes, it just takes one person to make someone's day better. Why wouldn't I want to be that person?"
Her words catch Jiko off guard. He hadn't expected such an honest answer, and it leaves him feeling both humbled and guilty. He realizes how much he's taken her kindness for granted, dismissing it as simple friendliness or, worse, as a threat to the timeline he's trying to protect.
That night, lying awake in bed, Jiko couldn't stop thinking about Julie. He kept replaying moments in his head: the way she'd looked at him when she'd given him the umbrella, the gentle tone of her voice as she'd helped the junior in the library, the sincerity in her words under the oak tree. It was so different from the Julie he knew from the future—Tito's wife, a woman he respected but had never really connected with.
The thought made him uneasy. He'd been so focused on not changing the timeline, but now he wondered if he'd missed something important along the way. What if this version of Julie—the one who shared her umbrella, her lunch, her kindness so readily—wasn't just some deviation from the original timeline? What if she'd always been like this, and he'd just never noticed or appreciated it before?