The next afternoon, the air had that quiet hush before a weekend—a softness that made the halls feel emptier than usual. I clutched the strap of my bag a little tighter, my steps light but my mind heavy.
I was almost at the school gate when I heard it.
"Eun-ha! Eun-haaa!"
My whole body tensed.
I didn't need to turn to know who it was. That voice was unmistakable—bright, cheerful, fake. Slowly, I turned around, forcing a small smile onto my face.
There they were—Min-ah, Soo-hee, Hyun-min, and ... Joon-seo —all walking toward me like nothing had ever gone wrong. Min-ah led the group, waving like we were still best friends.
"Hey! I've been calling you for ages," Min-ah said as she caught up and gave me a half-hug, the kind that looked warm to everyone else but felt ice-cold to me.
"Oh," I replied quietly, glancing at the others. "Sorry, I didn't hear you."
Min-ah gave a light laugh. "You look out of it lately. Is something bothering you?"
That voice—so sweet, so caring, so painfully fake. I stared at her for a beat too long.
Was she seriously asking that?
As if she didn't know.
"No," I said finally, forcing a smile. "I'm just tired. That's all."
"Well, that's no good!" she chirped, looping her arm around mine. "Come on, let's hang out for a bit. Like old times?"
Old times. Like those weren't the same times that cracked my heart open.
But I followed. What else was I supposed to do?
If I refused, I'd be the bitter one. The ungrateful one. The dramatic girl who couldn't let go of a little "misunderstanding."
And maybe… maybe part of me still wanted to believe it wasn't all gone. That things could somehow return to how they were before.
That hope—faint and foolish—was the only thing I had left.
We went to our usual spot—a cozy little café tucked in a corner street near the school. The place hadn't changed, but I felt like a stranger inside it. We all sat at the booth we always used to crowd into, laughing about meaningless things. Inside jokes. TikToks. Random gossip.
It was like watching a play I'd seen too many times.
I excused myself to get a drink. My heart felt like it was folding into itself, my chest tight as I walked up to the counter.
"Strawberry milk, please," I said softly.
"Make that two," said a voice beside me.
My heart stuttered.
I turned, and there he was.
Joon-seo.
Of course it was him.
I hadn't even noticed him getting up.
"I'll pay for hers too," he told the cashier, already pulling out his wallet.
"No, thank you," Isaid quickly, almost too quickly. "I can pay for myself."
The words fell out stiff, like they were holding something back—anger, maybe. Or something worse.
The cashier looked between us, awkward, before taking my money. I grabbed my drink and turned to leave.
"Wait," Joon-seo said.
I stopped, frozen.
But I didn't turn around.
His voice came quieter, gentler, like he was trying not to break something already shattered.
"You've changed."
I turned then. Slowly. And met his eyes.
His beautiful, hazel eyes that used to feel like home.
"Me?" I said, voice trembling. "Is it me who changed, Joon-seo?"
There was so much I wanted to say. So much I had kept buried just to keep breathing around him.
But he just stood there.
Silent.
And that silence said everything.
So I nodded once. Bit my lip hard enough to hurt.
And walked away—before my tears could ask him the questions my voice was too tired to carry.
I walked back to the table, leaving him standing there with an unopened drink and his mouth slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
As I slid back into my seat, the group quieted for a moment. Then Soo-hee spoke, lightly but with a tinge of something else.
"You've been... different lately, Eun-ha. Distant," soo-hee said, not unkindly, but it stung anyway.
I blinked. "Different how?"
"You barely talk in the group chat anymore," Hyun-min chimed in, his tone flat like he'd been waiting to say it.
"And you don't sit with us like you used to," Soo-hee added, frowning slightly. "It's like you don't even want to be around us."
Min-ah leaned in then, elbows on the table, eyes wide with concern that somehow felt too polished. "You've been avoiding us, haven't you?"
I stiffened. "I've just been busy," I said. "Trying to focus on school and stuff." It wasn't a lie. But it wasn't the full truth either. I was hiding. And maybe—just maybe—I wanted them to notice.
"Right," Hyun-min muttered under his breath. "Classic excuse."
"Honestly, if there's something we did," Soo-hee said, "you should've just told us. Instead of acting like we're the problem."
My fingers curled tightly around my drink. I remembered the way Soo-hee used to braid my hair during exam season, humming under her breath while I ranted about formulas. Back then, she made me feel heard. Now, her voice was sweet, but sharp. Like a knife wrapped in ribbon.
"I never said that," I replied, trying to keep my voice even. "Why are you all making such a big deal out of this?"
"Because you're making it weird," Soo-hee said, a little sharper this time. "We're your friends, or did you forget that?"
Joon-seo looked at me, quiet but unreadable. "You're acting like we're strangers."
The words twisted deep.
"You said I've changed," I said, forcing the lump in my throat down. "But maybe I had to."
Min-ah gave a soft sigh, her voice almost too gentle. "So that's it? You just cut us off? No explanation, just silence?"
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?" Soo-hee asked. "Because from where we're sitting, it just looks like you're sulking."
"She's been cold to everyone," Hyun-min added. "You can't even say hi without her acting like it's a chore."
My mouth opened, but the words were trapped. Tangled.
Min-ah tilted her head. "We care about you, Eun-ha. That's why we're asking. But you've been... off. Like you're punishing us for something we don't even understand."
I laughed then. Just a little. Bitter and breathless.
"Does it really feel that way?" I asked, voice trembling. "Because from where I've been sitting, it felt like I was already gone."
Silence.
Their eyes were still on me—hovering, dissecting, like I was under a microscope. Like I was the one unraveling everything.
*Was I being dramatic? Did I make it all up? The whispers, the side glances, the way Min-ah always showed up whenever I tried to connect with someone new? Was it my fault this friendship started to rot from the inside?*
I stood up suddenly, the chair scraping sharply behind me. "I should go."
"Eun-ha—" Joon-seo said, his voice finally soft.
"Thanks for inviting me," I said, voice cracking. "But I think I need more time. Or maybe just… distance." I wanted them to stop me. Even if I knew they wouldn't. Even if I told myself I didn't care anymore. But they didn't.
I stepped out of the café, the bell above the door chiming behind me. The breeze hit my face—cool, unfamiliar, like the world had shifted just slightly off its axis.
*Did they invite me just to corner me like that? Have they ever even stopped to think about how I've been feeling—how much I've been hurting these past few days? Did they ever truly see me as a friend?*
And why now? Why bring it up like this, all at once, like an ambush? From their tone, it didn't even sound like they cared. Not really. It felt more like they were trying to make a point. To make *me* the problem.
The weight of their stares still clung to me like shadows. I didn't cry. Not yet.
But every step I took felt like I was peeling something away—like I was leaving behind parts of myself I couldn't get back. And I wasn't sure there'd be anything left once I was far enough away.
There was a time we all sat in this very café, laughing so hard Min-ah nearly dropped her drink. Joon-seo had looked at me and smiled like I was the only person in the room. That version of us feels like a dream I can't wake up from.
*Maybe I walked out on them… but it still felt like they were the ones who left me behind.*