He was only a second-year university student.
Every morning before class, he worked at a construction site. By the time he arrived on campus, his hands were rough, scratched, and stained no matter how hard he scrubbed them. His clothes were always simple, his shoes worn out, and the dark circles under his eyes told everyone he barely slept.
He never complained.
He just kept working.
He had already convinced himself of one thing:
No girl would ever fall for someone like him.
Who would choose a poor guy with dirty hands over someone rich, handsome, and carefree?
So he stopped looking.
Stopped hoping.
Until...
There was a girl.
He didn't even know her name.
She always sat near the window in the lecture hall, yet somehow, whenever he looked up, she was already looking at him.
The first time, he thought it was an accident.
The second time, a coincidence.
But weeks passed...
And every single day, her eyes found him first.
Sometimes she'd smile when he entered the classroom.
Sometimes she'd secretly leave the seat beside her empty, even when the room was full.
He never sat there.
He couldn't.
"She probably feels sorry for me," he thought.
One rainy afternoon, he was washing the cement dust off his hands in the university restroom before class.
No matter how hard he rubbed them...
They never looked clean.
He stared at his reflection and whispered,
"These hands aren't meant to hold someone's hand."
Just then, the restroom door opened.
It was her.
She hesitated for a second before walking toward him.
"You work before class... don't you?"
He froze.
"...How do you know?"
She smiled softly.
"Because I've seen you almost every morning."
He quickly hid his hands behind his back.
"They're dirty."