Chapter 3

As the days passed into early October, Matthew immersed himself in his biochemistry coursework, scrolling through dense notes, equations, and biochemical pathways on his tablet. Alex, meanwhile, sat on his bed night after night, writing code for his programming assignments—earbuds in, the faint beat of K-pop leaking into the room as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

One evening, while taking a study break, they were sprawled on their beds—a half-empty bag of tortilla chips split between them, the window cracked open to let in the crisp night air. Alex was scrolling through his phone, chuckling at something.

“What’s so funny?” Matthew asked, propping himself up on one elbow.

Alex turned the screen toward him. It was a video of a toddler waddling after a duck, arms outstretched, while a woman laughed in the background, her voice sharp and rapid-fire in Korean. “My little cousin back in Chicago,” Alex said. “Kid’s fearless. My aunt’s losing her mind trying to keep up.”

“Your family close?” Matthew asked.

“Yeah, we are.” Alex’s tone softened. “My parents can be kind of intense, though. Very traditional. They’ve got this whole life planned out for me—a good job, wife, a couple of kids to carry on the family name. I know they only want what’s best for me, but, well . . . you know how it goes.”

Matthew nodded—but he didn’t know, not really. His own parents never talked much about their expectations beyond “make us proud.”

“That ever . . . feel like a lot?” he asked.

Alex shrugged, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Sometimes. But I guess it’s what most parents want for their kids.” He paused, his voice almost dropping to a whisper. “Not sure it’s what I want.”

Matthew’s eyes widened at that. He started to ask what he meant, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he grabbed a handful of chips and crunched them, the sound awkward and too loud.

After the moment had passed, Alex continued, “So, how’s life on the farm?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s quiet. You can hear the wind in the corn, the cows in the pasture. Here, it’s all noise.”

Alex nodded. “Hmm . . . sounds nice. My mom’s always going on about how the city’s too crowded and loud, but I know she’d miss all the Korean grocery stores and restaurants.”

Matthew chuckled. “Well, we’ve got a couple of places to eat in Keosauqua: a pizza joint and an ice cream shop—oh, and a gas station, too—but that’s about it. Dad says it’s all we need. Mom’s the one who keeps us fed—best cook in the county.”

“How old are your sisters now?” Alex asked.

“Jessie just turned sixteen, Grace is fourteen. They’re a handful—always pestering me, begging me to drive them into town.” He paused a beat. “But—they’re good kids.”

Alex tilted his head slightly. “Bet they miss you.”

After a moment, he added, “What about a girl back home? You got a sweetheart waiting for you?”

Matthew froze, a chip in his hand, halfway to his mouth. For a second, he saw his life as he thought Alex might imagine it—flannel shirts, sunlit porches, a girl waving from the steps. It was a picture he’d painted for himself a hundred times growing up.

But there was no girl. Never had been.

Then the words came tumbling out before he could stop them. “Yeah, her name’s Sarah. We went to high school together. She still lives in Keosauqua, works at the Circle B.”

He forced a grin, but it felt more like a grimace.

Alex’s expression remained impassive. “That’s cool. You two serious?”

“I guess so . . . maybe.” Matthew forced a shrug, layering one lie on top of another as his chest tightened.

Alex nodded and resumed scrolling on his phone. “Well, it’s good you have someone waiting back home for you.”

The conversation drifted after that, toward safe ground—midterms, the cafeteria’s questionable meatloaf. But Matthew couldn’t shake the sour taste of his own words—or the irritation he felt at being asked the question in the first place.

*

Later that evening, Matthew grabbed his shower caddy and headed down the hall. Alex stayed behind on his bed, staring at his laptop’s wallpaper. It was a photo from a Lunar New Year gathering at his parents’ home in Schaumburg: his mom and dad, his brother and sister-in-law, and their son and daughter, all smiles and red envelopes.

Sarah.

Of course Matthew had a girl back home. A whole life, a world that had nothing to do with him. Why wouldn’t he?

And yet . . . he’d never mentioned her before now, not once in the six or seven weeks they’d been living together. That seemed odd.

He stood abruptly, crossed to the window and pushed it open wider. The air rushed in, cool and biting, stinging his skin. He rested his forehead against the frame, watching the scene below—students laughing, heading out in packs. Finally, he heaved a sigh and pulled the window shut.

Returning to his bed, he picked up the laptop and settled back against the pillows. He tried to refocus on his programming assignment, but it was no use.

His mind was a thousand miles away.