Spring Fever- Episodes 3-4
Old Memories Resurface as Kindness, Rumours, and Feelings Collide
Episode 3 of Spring Fever gently deepens everything the first two episodes set in motion. As Bom continues to observe Jae-gyu from a distance, her curiosity grows, not because of the rumours swirling around him, but because of the quiet, consistent kindness he shows when he thinks no one is watching. At the same time, whispers among the teachers about his past begin to spread, adding unease to her growing interest.
The episode opens inside the metro train, picking up from the tense moment where Bom nearly loses her balance. Jae-gyu catches her just in time, and in that instant, something clicks for both of them. They recognize each other from childhood. Nothing is said out loud, but the shared silence speaks volumes. Before either can process it, Bom spots the man she saw with Se-jin and urges Jae-gyu to follow him.
The pursuit leads to an unexpected confrontation, the man turns out to be Yi-joon. The moment he and Jae-gyu lock eyes, the air turns cold. Their stiff expressions and sharp words make it immediately clear this isn’t a simple reunion. The tension hints at a once-close relationship that ended badly, and neither man seems willing to let go of old resentment. Bom quickly steps in and asks about Se-jin, stopping the situation from escalating.
The misunderstanding unravels when Yi-joon reveals that Se-jin is his younger sister. With her safety confirmed, Bom, Jae-gyu, and Han-gyul begin their drive back. Exhausted, Jae-gyu decides they should rest for the night, only to discover the hotel has a single family room left, complete with one large bed and one small one. The situation is awkward at first, but the tension eventually fades, and they make it through the night quietly, almost peacefully.
During their stay, Jae-gyu rushes into danger to save a drowning child. In a cruel twist, the child’s mother, overwhelmed with fear, slaps him instead of thanking him. The moment cuts deeper than expected. It triggers Bom’s buried trauma, pulling her into a painful memory of being slapped by a student’s mother who falsely accused her of having an affair. The injustice and humiliation she once endured resurface instantly, and this time, Bom refuses to stay silent.
She demands that the woman watch the CCTV footage. When the truth is revealed, the mother realizes Jae-gyu was trying to save her child and apologizes in tears. The moment becomes quietly powerful, not just for Jae-gyu, but for Bom, who finally stands up against the kind of injustice that once broke her.
The next day, as Bom and Jae-gyu discuss a possible trip to Seoul, one of the teachers overhears them and issues a warning. She claims Jae-gyu is not Han-gyul’s uncle but his father, recalling a time when a woman once begged him to return her child. The rumour leaves Bom shaken, planting doubt where trust had just begun to grow.
That night, Bom spots Jae-gyu in the rain, struggling to lift a drain cover. She instinctively holds an umbrella over him and watches as he rescues a trapped puppy. He explains that he once saved the same dog during a landslide, revealing yet another layer of gentleness beneath his rough exterior. They rush the injured puppy to the vet, where Jae-gyu jokingly lists himself and Bom as the dog’s parents. When he names the puppy Han-gyul, Bom freezes after hearing the vet refer to Jae-gyu as the “father,” only to relax once the misunderstanding clears. Quietly, she decides that if no owner appears, she will adopt the dog herself.
Meanwhile, Yi-joon finds himself unable to let go of his lingering feelings for Bom. Seeing her again reignites old hopes. When he later meets Jae-gyu and receives the money he once gave him, Yi-joon admits he never wanted the money back, he wanted an apology. Jae-gyu walks away without responding, leaving their fractured past unresolved.
Han-gyul’s feelings for Se-jin also grow sweeter. He lends her his notes so she can outrank him in exams and offers her his umbrella, only for her to pull him under hers instead, completely unaware of how fast his heart is racing.
The episode ends on a softer, more intimate note. After their visit to the vet, Bom and Jae-gyu share dinner together. Jae-gyu jokingly tells the waitress that Bom is his wife, flustering her more than she’d ever admit. When Bom later invites him to drink with her the next day, Jae-gyu is left stunned and quietly hopeful. As they walk together through the night, he hesitantly begins to ask if she feels the same way. Before he can finish, she nods.
He believes he has his answer. But what that nod truly means is a question left waiting for the next episode.
Misunderstandings, Old Wounds, and the Strength to Choose for Yourself
Episode 4 of Spring Fever opens right where emotions were left tangled. Jae-gyu, still holding onto the belief that Bom’s invitation for drinks meant something more, is quickly brought back to reality. Bom calmly clarifies that she never meant to confess feelings, she simply remembered him from the past and wanted to thank him for being there during one of the darkest moments of her life. Her honesty shifts the mood instantly, and the story finally fills in the missing pieces.
Through a flashback, we see Bom on a long, lonely drinking binge at a restaurant, drowning in her pain. Jae-gyu notices her by chance and only intends to wake her and make sure she gets home safely. Things turn frightening when she nearly stumbles into traffic, and he rushes in without hesitation to save her. Back in the present, Jae-gyu asks a question that cuts too deep, whether that moment was an accident or whether she wanted to disappear altogether. The implication reopens a wound Bom has never healed. She shuts down, snaps at him, and firmly tells him not to interfere in parts of her life she isn’t ready to share.
As the days pass, Yi-joon visits Bom’s home to thank her for protecting Se-jin and brings food as a gift. When Bom tastes it later, she breaks down in tears. The dish instantly transports her back to childhood, to her father’s cooking and the comfort she’s been missing. Overwhelmed, she calls Yi-joon to thank him, but before he can answer, her doorbell rings.
Standing outside is a wasp control worker, or so it seems. Without suspicion, Bom lets him in, only for viewers to learn that the “pest controller” is actually Jae-gyu in disguise. After overhearing Bom complain about wasps the day before, he creates a fake advertisement and shows up dressed for the job, determined to help in his own clumsy way. While working, he accidentally cuts one of her trees and overhears her phone call with Yi-joon. Realizing they’re about to meet at a café, jealousy bubbles up, and his frustration makes him strike the tree harder than he should.
The tree nearly falls on Bom, but Jae-gyu pulls her out of harm’s way just in time. The moment she hears his voice, she recognizes him. Furious, Bom lashes out, accusing him of constantly interfering in her life. Hurt and shaken, Jae-gyu walks away, convinced that she may be growing closer to Yi-joon.
At school, tensions rise in a different way. The staff divides everyone into blue and white athletic teams, and Bom is initially placed on the white team. Without asking her, a colleague switches her to blue, dismissing her choice entirely. The disrespect leaves Bom visibly angry, and Se-jin notices the injustice unfolding.
Meanwhile, Yi-joon meets Bom’s parents, and the truth behind the food is revealed. Bom’s father was the one who cooked the dish and quietly asked Yi-joon to deliver it without revealing the source. Yi-joon also learns why Bom cut off contact with her family. In a painful flashback, we see Bom wanting to sue the woman who falsely accused and slapped her. Her mother insisted she stay silent to protect the family’s reputation. Even worse, her father hesitated, asking if Bom truly had done nothing wrong. That doubt shattered her trust completely.
Back in the present, Yi-joon takes the legal documents with resolve, determined to fight for Bom’s justice. Soon after, both he and Jae-gyu volunteer to help train the athletic teams. Yi-joon chooses the blue team, while Jae-gyu works with the white team, each driven by rivalry, pride, and unspoken feelings. Yi-joon assumes Bom will be on his team. Jae-gyu believes she belongs with his. When Jae-gyu later learns Bom was deliberately moved to blue without her consent, he’s disappointed, but he doesn’t waver.
On sports day, Bom arrives and quietly steals the scene. She unzips her jacket to reveal a white team uniform underneath. In front of the senior staff who had tried to make the decision for her, she calmly but firmly stands her ground, reclaiming her choice and her voice.
DramaZen's Opinion
When Quiet Kindness Turns Into Something Deeper
Watching Episodes 3 and 4 of Spring Fever felt surprisingly emotional for me in ways I didn’t expect. These episodes don’t rely on dramatic twists to leave an impact. Instead, they lean into small moments, uncomfortable truths, and emotional reactions that feel painfully human. By the time Episode 4 ended, I realized I wasn’t just watching the story unfold, I was feeling everything right alongside the characters.
Episode 3, in particular, pulled me in with how gently it handled recognition and memory. The moment Bom and Jae-gyu realize they’ve known each other from childhood hit quietly, but it lingered. There was something so realistic about how neither of them rushed to talk about it. That silence felt heavy and honest, like two people afraid of opening a door they’re not sure they’re ready to walk through. I found myself holding my breath during that scene, waiting for one of them to say something and understanding why they didn’t.
The hotel stay and the misunderstanding around Se-jin brought warmth and tension at the same time. I loved how awkward but peaceful the family room felt, especially with Han-gyul there grounding everything. But what truly stayed with me was the scene where Jae-gyu gets slapped after saving a child. Watching Bom freeze as her past trauma surfaced was heartbreaking. When she insisted on showing the CCTV footage, it didn’t feel like a dramatic hero moment, it felt like someone finally standing up for the injustice that once broke her. That scene genuinely made me emotional.
Episode 4 shifted the tone in a way that felt heavier but necessary. The misunderstanding between Bom and Jae-gyu hurt to watch, especially because neither of them was really wrong, they were just speaking from two very different emotional places. Jae-gyu’s question about whether Bom wanted to die was blunt and painful, and I could feel why it pushed her away. Her reaction didn’t feel cold or cruel to me; it felt like self-protection.
The reveal about the food Yi-joon brought her caught me completely off guard. Watching Bom break down over a familiar taste felt deeply personal, like grief sneaking up on her when she least expected it. Learning that her father had cooked the meal but stayed silent made that moment even sadder. The flashback explaining why Bom cut off her parents was devastating. Seeing how her pain was dismissed for the sake of reputation made me ache for her, especially when even her father hesitated to fully believe her. It explained so much about why Bom has been carrying herself the way she does.
The wasp exterminator scene was awkward, funny, and painful all at once. Jae-gyu disguising himself to help her was ridiculous in the most endearing way, but the jealousy and misunderstanding that followed hurt. When Bom yelled at him again, I didn’t feel angry at either of them, I just felt sad that they keep missing each other emotionally, even when their intentions are good.
What really stayed with me at the end of Episode 4 was Bom’s quiet strength on sports day. Watching her unzip her jacket to reveal the white team uniform felt incredibly satisfying. She didn’t raise her voice or make a scene, she simply chose for herself and stood by it. After everything she’s been through, that small act of defiance felt powerful.
By the end of these episodes, Spring Fever stopped feeling like just a romance to me. It started to feel like a story about healing, boundaries, and learning to trust again. Episodes 3 and 4 made me feel tender, frustrated, hopeful, and protective all at once. They reminded me that sometimes the softest dramas leave the deepest marks and this one is quietly becoming something I’m very emotionally invested in.
