The Meaning of Liking
When I look back on my childhood, the first memory that surfaces—faint as a mirage—is of my mother weeping over a photo of a man, surrounded by people in black clothes. The man in the framed picture was smiling, and to the little girl I was then, that smile felt strangely familiar. But no matter how much she called out to him, there was no answer. All she knew was that someone with the same face had been laid to rest in a coffin, never to appear before her again...
I didn't realize until I started kindergarten that this was the man I should call father. But the words from those who told me were laced with sharp thorns.
"I heard you don't have a dad. Is that true?"
"Hehe, I have a dad. Aren't you jealous?"
Children in their early years, before any sense of morality takes root. To them, anything out of the ordinary became a target for discrimination, so they saw the girl as easy prey and began bullying her relentlessly. That perception spread like a contagion, turning into group hatred, leaving the girl isolated from the pack. She spent more and more time alone, filling it by reading books or lost in her own thoughts. This habit solidified even after kindergarten, carrying over into elementary school.
A quiet, timid child who sometimes spaced out but always excelled academically. In a class steeped in such awareness, the girl spent her time away from prying eyes, graduating without forming any real bonds with others.
The school she entered next was a girls-only middle school. There, too, she lived without meddling in anything, but her classmates disapproved of her aloofness and reached out to her first.
"You're always by yourself. Don't you get lonely?"
"If it's okay with you, why not hang out with us? It'll be fun, I promise."
It was probably the first time in her life she had friends. Life with these classmates felt utterly foreign, yet the girl didn't find it unpleasant. No, she actually liked it. They had pulled her from a life of isolation, where she could never bring herself to reach out to others—like rescuing her from a pit. Perhaps it was salvation itself...
In those times, she felt her world expanding, sparking a fierce curiosity about everything. When something caught her eye and raised questions, she observed it closely, focused intently, pondered deeply, and arrived at her own answers. Once hooked on a subject, she delved into it relentlessly. Before she knew it, as high school loomed, a new interest emerged.
"I'm glad our daughter worked hard and got into a prestigious school... but it's co-ed. Are you okay with that?"
Co-ed. A new environment where boys and girls coexisted. For her, it meant confronting boys—beings she'd never connected with. This became her latest fascination.
She had lost her father before her sense of self fully formed, then endured bullying without male peers and spent her days only with girls. What would these boys her age be like?
Days passed in anticipation of this, until on the day of her school's entrance ceremony, she met one such boy. A boy who saved her from the discomfort caused by another boy.
He was a stranger in her life, and she in his, yet he extended a hand without hesitation, pulling her from trouble. The first time in her life a boy her age showed her kindness.
From the moment she became aware of him, whenever he entered her view, she observed him closely, lost in thought. Despite her shyness—whether when he covered for her mistake during the entrance speech, or when he became her seatmate, letting her watch him up close, or even when they ate lunch alone in the classroom...
Yes, through those repeated moments, she had come to notice him. But she didn't know why. Was it mere curiosity? Gratitude for his help?
Everything felt so alien that confusion reigned, so she paid even more attention to him to understand her feelings. And in doing so, new questions arose.
How did he see her? What emotions drove his help?
Those doubts peaked when he saved her from a classmate who made her uncomfortable. Sensing his aid once more, her feelings toward him intensified.
I want to know. What this emotion was that she felt for him. What caused her heart to race whenever they met, this urge to never look away...
I like you.
Yes, there wasn't even a hint of rejection. So the feeling must be positive, what people commonly call "liking."
I think... I like you.
She had fallen for the first boy she ever noticed. That much was certain. A trivial trigger had sparked a connection, blossoming into feelings for him...
Yeah, we're friends, right?
But why did a corner of her heart ache when he said that?
Friends...?
Yeah, I think it's just liking you as in being grateful and wanting to hang out as close friends.
Yes, "liking" has many meanings. From preference for objects to bonds with people—among family or friends. So varied that perhaps her "liking" was exactly what he described. A bond from a small spark, nothing more than friendship.
Is that really it?
There was no certainty. He was the first stranger in her life like this; the emotion he stirred was entirely new.
All she knew was that she wanted to keep seeing him, that her heart pounded in his presence.
Can that truly be defined as friendship?
No matter how much she thought, no answer came. Why had her heart stung at his words...
Yes, if she named it, it was anguish. A small but definite negative emotion, the opposite of the "like" she felt for him.
She didn't want to accept it. In that impulse, she surrendered her mind and body.
And she did it.
Before reason could judge, an act too intimate for mere friendship.
I did it...
Realizing it, her heart pounded wildly, her face burned, and she turned and fled.
She hadn't anticipated such an impulse without thought. She knew her feelings weren't simple liking—something more complex, heavier.
I really did it.
Not something for just anyone, so all the more conscious an act. Feeling the lingering sensation on her lips, that night she replayed it, clutching her racing heart.
And she defined her heart.
I like... you. What she felt was surely love.
No matter the trigger or process, the result was that she liked him.
Even acknowledging the specialness, one question lingered.
But what kind of liking is it?
Liking encompassed so many directions and meanings. It might exceed mere friendship. Gratitude for his kindness, joy at his help...
Countless possibilities, but she couldn't settle on one. This was her first pure affection.
To clarify it, she needed to explore this pounding heart more.
Someday, will a day come when I can name this feeling?
The pondering would continue, certain to find an answer. Today may end, but tomorrow and the days after, she could always meet the boy she noticed.
The first skinship of my second life. The faint sweetness from it kept me tossing and turning in bed for a while.
I couldn't fathom why that child did it, nor imagine such feelings from someone I'd known only weeks.
...No, triggers and processes vary by person. Even knowing that, the confusion stemmed from my inability to accept her.
Betrayed by people, fearing I'd betray others, I wanted distance.
"Hey, you okay?"
A soft voice pulled me from those past thoughts. Drawn by its familiarity, I lifted my head and looked at the one before me.
There stood a girl in a pure white dress... no, a woman of grace and beauty befitting a lady.
"You've been quiet since earlier. Are you nervous?"
"Nervous...?"
"Hehe, that's unexpected. Even you, always so confident, have days like this."
Her warm smile and the voice tickling my ear eased my turmoil. She took my limp hand, whispering her feelings.
"That's why I'm happy. It means you're taking today seriously."
Yes, she was delighted. Blessing our union at this grand celebration with all her heart.
Having shed her timidity to become an adult, now leading me.
"Come on, let's go."
Yes, she was my lover. Chosen by me, choosing me—my lifelong partner.
"We have to show ourselves to everyone at the venue."
Yoo Soeun. Once my seatmate, now my life's companion, walking the same path.