Chapter Text
Seulgi woke before the sun.
The room was still dark, the faintest trace of early light just beginning to press against the edges of the window, but her body had already registered something wrong. It settled low at first, a subtle unease coiling deep in her stomach before rising, slow and deliberate, toward the back of her throat.
The sensation wasn’t enough to force her up, not yet at least. Just persistent.
She kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, willing it to pass, to settle back into something manageable.
It’s nothing. It will go away.
From the other side of the wall, the steady sound of running water filled the silence. The shower was already on. Jaeyi, moving through her morning with the same precision as always. It made her feel more aware of herself.
Now’s not the time for this.
Seulgi inhaled slowly, drawing in a careful breath before letting it out with control. She stayed still, waiting for the feeling to dissipate, allowing enough time to pass that she could pretend it had never been there.
Eventually, her eyes opened. She adjusted to the dimness as she stared up at the ceiling. The first threads of sunlight had begun to slip through the curtains, thin and orange, catching faint particles in the air. Dust drifted lazily through the beam, slow enough to follow.
She focused on it and began to count without thinking.
One. Two. Three.
She held onto the rhythm of her breathing as she pushed the nausea down, forcing it to settle somewhere deeper where she wouldn’t have to feel it so harshly.
After a moment, she pushed herself upright.
The room tilted underneath her just slightly.
Her hand braced against the mattress as she steadied herself, her jaw firm as the sensation passed through her in a slow wave. Her mouth flooded faintly with saliva.
Her first thought wasn’t the sink.
Or the toilet.
It was…the chapstick.
Her hand reached blindly toward the nightstand, fingers brushing across the surface without looking, searching for the small, familiar shape.
Her hand came up empty.
She paused, her brow tightening slightly as she turned her head, her eyes scanning the surface more carefully this time.
Nothing.
Her hand moved again, slower now, checking the edge of the mattress, the space between the bed and the wall, the windowsill just beyond her reach.
Nothing again.
A quiet unease slipped in beneath the nausea.
She leaned forward with deliberate movements as she looked toward the floor, spotting the clothes she had left behind the night before. They lay in a loose pile near the side of the bed, slightly wrinkled where they had been dropped without thought.
Seulgi lowered herself into a squat, one hand pressing lightly against her temple as the room shifted again. With her other hand, she reached for the pockets, searching through them carefully.
Empty.
Her stomach twisted faintly.
A quiet sound escaped her lips, something between a breath and a groan, the discomfort settling deeper now, layered with growing confusion.
She wasn’t worried, yet.
From the bathroom, the water shut off.
The sudden silence rang louder than the sound itself had been, followed by the soft slide of the curtain, the muted shift of movement against tile, then the faint pressure of footsteps landing on the mat.
Seulgi stilled, waiting.
Time stretched in increments as she listened, counting the seconds without realizing it until the bathroom door finally opened, then closed again down the hall.
Jaeyi’s footsteps retreated.
Seulgi didn’t wait any longer.
She stood quickly, steadying herself once more before moving out into the hallway, her pace carefully urgent as she crossed the short distance and slipped into the bathroom.
The air inside was thick with heat.
Humidity clung to the walls, fogging the mirror, settling against her skin as she stepped further in. She moved immediately, her attention shifting from one place to the next. She dove toward the laundry basket first, her hand pushing through the pile with quick, searching movements.
Nothing.
Her gaze flicked to the counter. The sink. The narrow edges near the mirror.
She pulled open a drawer, then another, the motions quiet but increasingly restless.
Still nothing.
Seulgi stopped.
Her hands hovered for a moment before falling still at her sides as she tried to think, to pull the night back into something clear enough to follow.
The couch, the table, the window, she must have set it down somewhere, just not where she expected. Somewhere different. She would find it.
She had to.
The nausea shifted again, rising before easing back, less sharp now but still present, hovering just beneath the surface. Seulgi sank down where she was, breathing slowly, letting it pass without forcing herself to move.
She remained on the floor of the bathroom a moment longer, her reflection blurred in the fogged mirror, her posture stiff as she waited for her body to settle enough to continue.
Downstairs, the house had already begun to move.
Hyejoo stood at the sink, rinsing the last of the dishes. She didn’t look up immediately when Seulgi appeared in the doorway, lingering there just long enough to steady herself before stepping inside.
It was the stillness that caught Hyejoo’s attention.
She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze landing on Seulgi’s face, the slight gloss in her eyes combined with the way her posture held a bit too carefully.
“You’re up early,” she said, turning the faucet off. “Are you feeling alright?”
Seulgi hesitated.
“A little…sick.”
The words came out uneven, her voice pulled thin by the effort of keeping herself steady.
Hyejoo nodded, not surprised.
“Sit,” she said gently. “I’ll make some chamomile tea.”
The kettle clicked on a second later. Seulgi moved toward the table, lowering herself slowly into the same chair she had taken the previous mornings. Her hands settled into her lap, fingers loosely intertwined as she focused on staying still.
The kitchen smelled of clean citrus.
It turned her stomach almost immediately, the nausea rising again, heavier this time, less willing to settle. She pressed her lips together as she waited for it to pass.
Her thoughts flickered briefly to the chapstick.
The absence of it felt larger now, noticeable in a way that made everything else feel slightly off.
Hyejoo returned a moment later and set a mug in front of her, steam curling gently from its surface. Seulgi wrapped her hands around it, letting the warmth settle into her, though she didn’t lift it right away.
Hyejoo watched her quietly, attentive enough to notice the hesitation before Seulgi finally brought the mug to her lips, taking a small sip.
Too careful.
Hyejoo recognized it immediately, Seulgi remaining still with the cup in her hands a moment too long, hesitating before lowering it again.
Pretending.
“Seulgi-yah, we can adjust things,” Hyejoo said, her tone soft. “Meals, timing…if it gets worse, we can talk to the clinic too.”
Seulgi nodded.
Her focus dropped back to the tea, following the thin pieces of chamomile that circled the edge of the mug, drifting slowly with the heat.
Hyejoo continued after a moment, her voice deliberate.
“I know I’ve said this before… but whatever you decide…”
She paused, choosing her words carefully.
“About the pregnancy… it’s all your choice. Completely. We can talk about the options they provided, but there’s no expectation.”
Seulgi’s fingers tightened slightly around the mug.
She leaned forward just enough for the steam to brush against her lips, letting the warmth settle there, soothing the dryness that had seemed to develop that morning.
“I know…thank you.”
Her voice was faint.
Then, after a brief pause…
“I just don’t want to… make things harder.”
“For who?” Hyejoo asked.
The question came without pressure, but it held. Seulgi didn’t answer right away.
Her gaze remained fixed on the surface of the tea, something to avoid looking away from.
When she finally spoke, her voice sank lower.
“Anyone.”
Hyejoo didn’t respond immediately.
She let the silence remain, letting it settle between them without trying to soften it too quickly.
Later, when the nausea had finally loosened its hold enough for her to move without thinking about it, Seulgi stepped outside.
The spring air met her differently than it had the day before, carrying a gentle breeze that settled more easily against her skin. The street was nearly empty, the usual movement was more distant as she made her way down the block, her steps unhurried at first.
She glanced back once.
The house sat partially hidden behind a line of trees, the branches thick enough to obscure most of it from view. Still, through a small gap in the foliage, she could make out the corner of the guest room window.
She smiled, just slightly.
For now, it was still a place she could return to.
She turned forward again.
The walk itself held no purpose beyond movement. She let her attention drift instead, catching on small, ordinary things. The varied entrances to each home, some framed by narrow steps, others set back behind small gates. The slow sway of tree branches overhead, shifting gently with the breeze.
She let it ground her, pulling her attention outward and away from herself.
The sunlight filtered through in soft patches, brushing lightly against her face as she moved. She felt it there, faint and warm, and lifted her hand briefly, her fingers grazing her cheek without thinking. The bruising had faded, softened into edges that were easier to conceal beneath the small amount of concealer Hyejoo had left behind for her.
It felt less visible.
Halfway down the block, her hand instinctively slipped into her pocket again with expectation. Her fingers pressed deeper, searching though she already knew.
Still nothing.
This time, the realization didn’t pass as easily. It began to settle, a bit heavier.
She slowed, then stopped entirely at the corner, her gaze unfocused as she tried to trace it back, where she had last held it or where she might have set it down without thinking.
The kitchen, the sink, her room, the car…she ran through each place in quick succession, her chest tightening as she did. She swallowed, her throat catching as a sharp, unwelcome sting rose behind her eyes.
The intensity of it caught her off guard, surging forward before she could contain it.
It’s just chapstick.
She knew that. She told herself again, more firmly this time, as if repetition might make it easier to accept. But the feeling didn’t ease, not fully. It stuck, larger than it should have been, making the absence feel harder to dismiss.
Then she became aware of where she was, all too far from the house, too far from anything that felt steady.
The street shifted around her. People passed by, their glances brief but enough to register. The low hum of a car approaching from behind made her shoulders tense, her head turning sharply before she could stop herself.
Another car followed. Then voices in the distance.
It all closed in at once.
Too much, too fast.
Seulgi turned forward again, her steps picking up without conscious decision, her breathing tightening as she moved, each footfall quicker than the last.
She didn’t look back again.
—
Jaeyi noticed it the moment she stepped inside.
A subtle change in the atmosphere of the house, altered in a way she couldn’t fully place.
Seulgi moved through it differently.
Quieter than before, though that had already been the case. Now it was more contained. She stayed close to the edges of rooms, her steps measured while her gaze flicked briefly toward surfaces before passing them, as though she were trying to avoid disturbing anything that might break.
Jaeyi watched it without commenting.
Guilt, she decided.
It was the simplest explanation.
She didn’t linger, she retreated upstairs instead.
The walls of her room closed in around her as she shut the door and slipped her headphones on. The noise helped, dulling the edges of everything else as she sat at her desk and forced her attention back toward her work.
The material began to feel unreliable.
She had an assignment to finish for another class, something that should have been manageable, but the thought of it just wouldn’t resolve properly. Her focus kept circling back to the same point.
Three o’clock.
That’s when the grades would be released.
Her gaze shifted to the corner of her screen.
2:18
She stared at it for a moment before reaching for her phone, setting a timer without hesitation.
Forty-two minutes.
Enough time to get something done and enough time to stay in control.
The timer began.
She clicked her pen once, the sound sharp in the quiet, and opened her workbook, her posture straightening as she forced herself back into the flow of it.
—
A few doors down, Seulgi sat on the edge of the bed, her hands moving slowly against each other, palms pressing together, then parting again. She watched the motion for a moment before lifting them slightly, bringing her fingers closer to her face.
She inhaled and waited. Nothing. The scent she had been searching for wasn’t there anymore, not even faintly.
She gently brought her fingers to her lips next, feeling the dryness shift to a lingering burn.
Her hands lowered again, coming to rest in her lap.
—
The email arrived exactly at three.
Jaeyi didn’t hesitate, she opened it the moment the notification appeared, her movements quick, as though speed might dull whatever waited on the other side.
She told herself she wasn’t nervous. She had already worked through it, accounted for the possibilities, calculated the outcomes, even prepared herself for something lower than she would have accepted under any other circumstance. She had already adjusted. At least, that’s what she told herself.
The number appeared as the page loaded.
Yoo Jaeyi — 83%.
The reaction came before the thought, a contained impact settling in her chest before she could fully process it.
She stared at the screen longer than necessary, as if those extra seconds might change the result into something closer to what it should have been.
Eighty-three. It wasn’t catastrophic, objectively, it wasn’t even bad. Most people would have felt relieved.
But Jaeyi understood exactly what it meant: the quiet downward movement in the rankings that most people wouldn’t notice, yet one she wouldn’t be able to ignore now that she felt it.
She closed the page and leaned back in her chair, her tongue pressing flat against the roof of her mouth as she exhaled through her nose.
A moment later, she pushed herself up, the motion abrupt enough to break the stillness around her. She didn’t want to sit there anymore, didn’t want to look at the desk, the notes, the work that now felt misaligned with everything else.
Without thinking, she moved toward the door, left the room, and headed downstairs.
Down the hall, Seulgi still sat at the edge of her bed, weighing whether it was worth asking. She hadn’t meant to return to the thought, but it came back on its own, faint at first, then persistent enough that it refused to fade.
She let it sit before giving in, tracing the previous day more carefully this time, moving through each moment in sequence.
Nothing stood out.
The idea of asking made her face warm, the question feeling embarrassing, as though it shouldn’t require anyone else’s attention. It was the kind of thing you were supposed to let go of quietly, without making it known.
She remained where she was, waiting, as if time alone might allow it to fade.
Ten minutes passed.
Then she stood anyway. The question hadn’t gone anywhere.
Hyejoo stood in the kitchen, sorting through a small stack of mail, the soft shuffle of paper filling the space. In the living room, Jaeyi sat on the couch, the tv casting shifting light across her face, her posture slightly angled away from the rest of the room.
Seulgi paused in the kitchen doorway.
Briefly, she considered turning back, but she stepped forward just enough to be seen.
“Have you… um—”
Her voice faltered almost immediately.
She stopped, then tried again, softer this time.
“Have either of you seen my chapstick?”
The words came out quickly, the weight of them hanging in the air before she could pull them back down. She felt the flush rise to her face almost at once, heat spreading across her cheeks as the regret followed close behind.
From the couch, Jaeyi’s gaze remained on the tv.
Hyejoo looked up, her expression attentive.
“I don’t think so, dear,” she said gently. “What does it look like?”
“Just… small,” Seulgi replied, already wishing she hadn’t said anything. “Light blue. The label’s peeling off… red cap.”
Hyejoo shook her head slightly.
“I’m sorry… Jaeyi-yah?” she called, glancing toward the living room. “Have you seen it?”
“I have no idea what she’s talking about.”
Jaeyi’s tone was flat with uninterest, her attention remaining on the screen.
The words landed harder than they needed to.
Seulgi nodded quickly, her posture tightening as she pulled back into herself.
“It’s alright,” she said, her voice smaller now. “I probably just misplaced it.”
“Just get a new one.”
Jaeyi didn’t look at her as she spoke, the conversation ended there.
Seulgi didn’t respond.
She turned before anything else could be said and made her way back upstairs, her steps quiet with defeat, the distance between herself and the moment closing quickly behind her.
A gentle knock came a few minutes later.
Followed by a muffled voice through the door.
“Can I come in?”
Seulgi hesitated only briefly before crossing the room and unlocking it.
Hyejoo stepped inside, carrying a small bowl in her hands. The warm scent of fried rice followed her in as she set it down on the nightstand without making a point of it.
Seulgi glanced at it, then back at her.
Hyejoo didn’t comment on what had just happened downstairs.
Instead, she spoke as if continuing something from earlier.
“You mentioned the other day that you had some money put away?”
Seulgi nodded.
“I didn’t have time to get everything when I left,” she said, her voice quieter now, though steadier. “But I was able to move some of it to a locker nearby before the rain.”
She paused, then added, more carefully,
“I was hoping… maybe I could retrieve it. With you?”
Hyejoo didn’t hesitate.
“Of course.”
The answer came easily, without condition.
“We can go together sometime tomorrow.”
Seulgi let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly.
“Thank you.”
The words settled softly between them.
—
That evening, Jaeyi peeled herself off the couch.
Hours had passed in front of the tv, the repetitive voices and shifting scenes filling the room without ever fully holding her attention. It wasn’t something she usually did, sitting there, letting time move without purpose or structure.
The unfamiliarity of it sat uneasily with her, though she hadn’t done anything to stop it.
She had needed something to fix her mind on.
Even if it didn’t work.
She stood, stretching slightly as the room settled back into quiet around her, the absence of sound almost louder now that the tv had gone dark.
For a moment, she remained there, her attention unfocused, the lingering sense of restlessness refusing to dissipate.
She was beginning to fall out of her own orbit.
The thought came without resistance.
Seulgi had gone upstairs a while ago with Hyejoo following shortly after.
Jaeyi had noticed both.
She had turned the volume up the moment she heard their voices, muffled and indistinct, but present enough to draw her attention. The noise from the tv had filled the space quickly, pushing everything else out before it had the chance to settle.
Now, with it gone, the quiet returned.
She exhaled softly, the sound barely audible.
“Jaeyi-yah?”
Hyejoo’s voice carried from the top of the stairs, her tone light, though slightly distracted. Jaeyi glanced up, her attention shifting immediately.
“Yes?”
She stepped away from the couch, her movements automatic as she turned toward the stairs.
Hyejoo stood there, her phone pressed to her ear, one hand resting lightly against the railing.
“Could you run out to the car and check if I left a bag of lemons in the passenger seat?” she asked. “They’re from Mrs. Kim.”
Jaeyi nodded once.
“Okay.”
She turned without another word, reaching for the keys on the counter before heading toward the door, the motion quick.
Outside, the air had cooled.
The quiet of the street settled around her as she stepped onto the path, the faint glow of streetlights stretching across the pavement in soft intervals. She unlocked the car with a small click, the sound echoing faintly in the stillness, and opened the passenger door.
Leaning in, she spotted it immediately.
A small bag, slightly crumpled, resting near the floor.
She reached for it, lifting it easily before noticing a few lemons had rolled loose, shifting out of place and settling beneath the seat. She crouched slightly, gathering them one by one, dropping them back into the bag without much thought.
And then, something else.
Her hand paused.
A small object caught just beneath the edge of the seat, partially hidden in shadow.
Light blue. Red cap.
Jaeyi reached for it.
The chapstick.
She held it between her fingers, turning it slightly, the worn label catching faintly in the light. Up close, it looked even more used than she expected, the edges softened, the adhesive barely holding on where it had begun to peel away.
She knew exactly who it belonged to.
The recognition came easily, too easily.
Something about it unsettled her.
Not the object itself, but the weight it seemed to carry, disproportionate to what it was.
Her jaw tightened.
She straightened, the bag of lemons tucked under her arm as she stepped back from the car and closed the door behind her.
The chapstick remained in her hand for a moment longer.
Then she lowered it.
She didn’t bring it inside.