The in and out, the tension—it dragged on for weeks.
Until it didn't.
Joon-seo started avoiding me completely. It wasn't just the silence or the cold looks anymore—it was something sharper. Snide little remarks, "playful" jabs that didn't feel playful at all. And he never said them alone. Min-ah was always there. Always just close enough to catch my reaction.
They laughed together like they were in on a secret joke.
Like I didn't matter.
It was subtle. Too subtle.
They never said anything outright. Never told me not to come. But Min-ah would "forget" to invite me to lunch. Joon-seo would glance my way, smirk, lean in to whisper something to her—and the two of them would chuckle.
Like I was invisible. Like I wasn't even there.
One afternoon, I saw him alone, leaning against the same window where we used to joke around. For a second—just a breath of time—I thought I saw the boy I used to know. The one who used to flick my forehead and call me silly.
I stepped closer, heart pounding.
"Don't you like hanging out with me anymore?" I asked softly.
He looked at me, and something flickered in his eyes. Something unreadable. But it disappeared just as fast.
He smirked. That same bitter curve of his lips.
"You always take things so seriously," he muttered. "Relax."
Then he pushed off the wall and walked away—like it meant nothing.
I stood there, staring after him.
Frozen.
Later, I tried asking Hyun-min about it, His bestfriend. I caught him after class, forcing my voice to stay even.
"Is something going on with Joon-seo?" I asked. "Did I… do something?"
He looked at me with that same expression people wear when they don't want to deal with you—part pity, part boredom.
"Nothing happened," he said too quickly. "He's the same as always."
"But he—"
"You're imagining things," he cut in, already turning to leave.
Just like that, I was alone again.
I tried to fit in.
I'd ask what they were laughing about, join them when they hung out—not because I wanted to wedge myself between them, but because I still wanted to be part of something. Still wanted to stay friends.
But they didn't care.
They'd snicker when I sat beside them. Whisper when I was around, pretending it wasn't about me.
I laughed with them, even when it stung.
I tried to belong. To hold on.
But the truth was clear—I was trying to be included in a space where I was no longer welcome.
And they made sure I felt it.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while everything spun in my head. The teasing. The laughter. The way Min-ah still smiled at me like we were fine. Like I didn't know what she'd done.
Maybe to them, nothing had changed.
But to me, it felt like the floor had disappeared beneath my feet.
So I made a decision.
If they were going to act like I didn't matter, then maybe it was time I stopped pretending I did.
The next day, I walked into class with my heart steeled and sat somewhere far from them. It hurt more than I thought it would.
Even from across the room, I could hear them laughing.
Min-ah's cheerful voice. Joon-seo's low, teasing tone. Soo-hee's giggles.
It echoed louder than anything.
During breaks, I stopped following them.
Instead, I wandered aimlessly until I found myself beneath the old tree near the edge of campus. It was quiet there. Detached. Like the world paused for a moment.
I'd sit with my lunch, alone. Sometimes I brought a book, pretending to read—but the words always blurred behind the ache in my chest.
Other times, I joined my clubmates. Smiled. Laughed at their jokes. Acted like everything was fine.
But no matter where I went, the emptiness followed.
I told myself I was fine. That I didn't care.
"This isn't easy," I whispered one day, fingers clenched around my sandwich as I stared at them from afar. Min-ah was laughing again, leaning into Joon-seo's shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I looked away.
In class, Min-ah would sometimes talk to me—casually, like nothing was wrong.
"Eun-ha, did you finish Professor Kim's assignment?"
"Yeah," I'd reply, without looking at her.
She'd nod, say something meaningless, and then the moment Joon-seo walked in, her entire world would shift. She'd drift to his side like it was where she'd always belonged. And I…
I faded into the background.
It hurt. More than I ever let on.
Sometimes, Joon-seo would glance at me too.
Just for a second.
But he never said anything. Never came over. Never asked if I was okay.
So I stopped hoping he would.
I started spending more time in the library, losing myself in dusty corners and quiet places. I liked the silence there. It didn't hurt as much as the spaces we used to share.
But even in the silence, my thoughts chased me.
*Did I do something wrong? Was I too much? Not enough? Did someone twist things? Did he believe them? Was any of it even real?*
The questions played over and over like a scratched record.
I didn't have the answers.
All I had was silence.
But I also had my pride. And for now, that was enough to keep me going.
Even if I was just barely holding on.