Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Jaeyi? Yoo Jaeyi?”

Her chin lifted slowly from her palm, the faint imprint of pressure still lingering against her skin. Her wrist had gone numb at some point, though she hadn’t noticed when.

“Hm?”

Her gaze drifted upward, unfocused at first, before settling on a classmate standing beside her table. The recognition didn’t come right away.

“You’re in my chemistry lab, right?”

Jaeyi blinked once, then glanced past the girl, past the table, to the laptop screen in front of her. A screensaver bounced lazily across the display.

11:46 AM.

The number felt distant.

Her eyes moved again, tracing the edges of the café as if she were reorienting herself inside it. The same window. The same booth. The same cup of tea sitting untouched beside her.

The sticker on the lid had begun to peel.

Medium Hot Earl Grey - 10:42 AM.

She let out a quiet breath between a sigh and a small, private laugh.

Right.

“Yeah… sorry,” she said, pushing herself upright, rolling her shoulder once to shake off the stiffness. “I think I fell asleep.”

The girl shifted her weight slightly, still hovering.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said. “I just recognized you from lab. I thought I’d ask if you understood the report…I’m having trouble with it.”

Jaeyi reached for her laptop, tapping the touchpad to wake it.

Her phone buzzed faintly against the table.

“It’s fine,” she said, glancing back up. “Honestly, I haven’t even looked at it yet. I’ve been trying to study for an exam this week.”

The answer seemed to land well enough. The girl nodded, though the uncertainty hung just a second too long before she stepped back.

“Okay. I just thought I’d check.”

Jaeyi offered a polite smile, already turning back toward her screen.

“Thanks.”

The moment passed as quickly as it arrived.

Across the café, the girl returned to her seat as conversations resumed elsewhere. Across the space, cups shifted and chairs scraped softly against the floor. Everything continued on as usual.

Her phone buzzed again.

Jaeyi didn’t reach for it right away. She leaned back slightly instead, her focus drifting outward toward the window. Outside, the street moved with its usual motion. Students weaving through traffic, office workers slipping in and out of doorways, the steady flow of a day already halfway spent.

It always looked like this. Like nothing ever really changed.

The phone vibrated a third time. She exhaled, finally reaching for it.

Mother. 

Followed by three missed calls.

Jaeyi dragged her thumb across the screen and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Mom?” Her voice was still soft with sleep. “Sorry…I think I knocked out the second I sat down.”

A pause.

“Jaeyi-yah, that’s alright. How’s studying going?”

She let her head fall back against the booth.

“Define studying,” she said, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “I’ve been here for over an hour and haven’t read a single page.”

A quiet laugh came through the line. Jaeyi shifted, tucking one leg beneath her as she looked back toward the window.

“Why are you calling now?” she asked, lightly. “Don’t you usually work through lunch?”

“I had a client reschedule,” Yoo Hyejoo said. “I’m out for a walk. I thought I’d stop by if you’re still at the café.”

Jaeyi straightened a little.

“That actually sounds perfect,” she said, glancing at her untouched drink. “This tea has been sitting here doing nothing for me.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

Jaeyi smiled, turning her gaze toward the street just beyond the glass.

“I’d love that…I’m by the window,” she said. “You’ll see me when you pass by.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

The call ended. Jaeyi set her phone down, the screen dimming almost immediately. She reached for her notebook. At first, she just looked at it. She picked at the slightly worn edge before slowly opening it.

–

Yoo Hyejoo stepped into the café as the first traces of rain began to fall.

It wasn’t heavy yet, more-so a fine mist settling over the street, enough to send a few people drifting inside to seek shelter.  The line had grown longer than usual with voices overlapping beneath the sounds of the machines behind the counter. She paused near the entrance, letting her eyes adjust, then moved forward to join the line.

Through the window, she had already seen her daughter.

Jaeyi sat tucked into the booth exactly where she said she would be, head lowered with her pen moving steadily across the page. Completely still and absorbed in her work.

Hyejoo remained where she was, letting herself watch for a moment instead. There was something quietly remarkable about it, the way Jaeyi could disappear into whatever she set her mind to, as if the rest of the world lost its weight. It had always been like that for her. Even as a child.

A brief, private sense of pride settled in her chest before she looked away, stepping forward as the line shifted.

Her attention lifted to the detailed menu overhead.

Too many options.

She leaned back slightly on her heels, scanning through the list once, then again, as if the answer might become clearer the second time. Though it didn’t.

“Is it really that hard to just serve regular coffee?” she murmured sarcastically under her breath.

Her gaze drifted forward.

That’s when she noticed it.

The girl standing ahead of her in line, close enough now that the details came into focus. A faded red shirt, worn thin with time. The fabric stretched slightly across the back where the lettering had begun to fade.

Still, it was barely legible.

Yulhae.

The word settled into her almost instantly.

Her breath caught.

It had been years. Long enough that the town’s name had begun to feel distant, softened by time rather than something that had once been real. And yet, there it was. Right in front of her.

Hyejoo hesitated.

It would be easy to say nothing. To let the moment pass the way most things did. But something about it lingered.

Before she could reconsider, she reached out, her hand light against the girl’s shoulder. 

The reaction was immediate.

The girl stiffened with a sharp, instinctive movement, her entire body reacting before the turn even followed. It wasn’t a subtle flinch, it was a decisive motion, something in her had already calculated the contact as a threat before her mind had the chance to process it.

Then she slowly turned.

Hyejoo caught it right away.

The look in her eyes.

It didn’t settle on her at first. It moved past her, over her shoulder, to the door, to the people behind her, searching. 

Only then did it return, and even then, it didn’t quite land.

Her pupils held too wide, settling into Hyejoo’s chest almost instantly.

It was fear.

“I—” Hyejoo pulled her hand back immediately, the space between them reopening just as quickly as it had closed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The girl took a small step back, forcing the movement to appear smaller than what her body had initially demanded. Her gaze wavered again, past Hyejoo, mapping the room in quick, quiet passes before returning.

Hyejoo softened her voice before continuing.

“I just noticed your shirt,” she said gently. “It says Yulhae. Are you from there?”

The girl didn’t answer right away. She glanced down at herself, fingers brushing lightly over the worn fabric as if she were seeing it for the first time.

Hyejoo waited.

“It’s my hometown,” she added after, offering a small, reassuring smile. “I only ask because it is so far out in the middle of nowhere. I’ve never met anyone else in Seoul that’s heard of it.”

Hyejoo searched her expression carefully until she finally spoke.

“No,” the girl said quietly. “I’m not…from there.”

Her voice was overly measured as if she had just revealed too much.

“I just… needed a shirt.”

The words landed with heavy weight. Hyejoo could feel it, the shift.

“Oh,” she said softly, nodding once. “I see.”

She didn’t press her any further.

“I’m sorry,” she added. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

The girl turned back toward the counter, shoulders still tense, like the interaction hadn’t quite dissolved yet. Hyejoo remained where she was, but her attention didn’t move on as easily. There were small things she noticed about the person in front of her.

Details that didn’t align. The shirt, clearly secondhand. The jeans, worn at the seams. Even the shoes, dulled from too much use. And that look in her eyes when she first turned around. The one she couldn’t quite place at first. Not anymore.

She knew it now.

The barista’s voice cut through the moment.

“Next.”

The line shifted forward again, pulling Hyejoo out of her thoughts.

The girl stepped up to the counter. Hyejoo briefly glanced across the café. Jaeyi was still working, completely unaware, making steady progress with her studies.

By the time her focus returned, the sharp sound of coins scattering across the floor broke through the still noise of the space.

Metal quickly rebounded against tile, loud enough to turn heads from all directions.

“I’m so sorry-” The girl dropped immediately, hands scrambling to gather what she could.

Hyejoo moved without thinking, lowering herself beside her.

“It’s alright, things happen,” she said, reaching for a coin before it rolled out of reach. “Take your time.”

The girl held out her hands once everything had been collected, accepting the coins back with a series of small, hurried bows. She turned to the counter again, placing the money down.

There was a brief pause.

“You’re still two dollars short, Miss.”

The cashier's tone was flat with impatience.

The girl froze. Her hands moved quickly, checking her pockets again, though it was clear she already knew the outcome. A crumpled up receipt and a small tube of chapstick were the only things she pulled out from her pocket. Her shoulders lowered slightly, weighed down with humiliation as she looked back at the cashier.

“I’m…sorry,” she said, voice quieter now. “You can just cancel the order.”

Hyejoo stepped forward.

“No, that’s alright,” she said, placing her card down before the moment could stretch any further. “I’ll cover it. And…” she glanced toward the menu once more, deciding quickly this time, “...a small latte and a hot Earl Grey tea as well.”

The cashier nodded, already moving to process the order.

“May I have a name for the order?”

“The latte and tea will be under Hyejoo,” she said, then turned slightly toward the girl beside her. “And what’s your name, dear?”

The brief wave of hesitation returned.

“...Seulgi.”

Hyejoo smiled.

“That’s a beautiful name.”

She repeated it to the cashier, then stepped aside as the next customer was called forward. They stood together near the pickup counter, joining the other awaiting customers, though the space between them remained careful.

“Thank you,” Seulgi said after a moment, her gaze fixed somewhere just past Hyejoo’s shoulder. “I didn’t realize I didn’t have enough.”

“It’s nothing,” Hyejoo replied gently. “Really.”

The words were simple, but the meaning held enough. Seulgi stood frozen, unable to form much more of a conversation with the woman next to her.

“Order forty-three, for Seulgi.”

Seulgi stepped forward, collecting her drink and a small sandwich from the counter. When she returned, she paused, bowing again, this time slower and more deliberate.

“Thank you, again,” she said.

Hyejoo extended her hand out warmly. For a second, she thought it might be refused. But Seulgi reached out, carefully, like she was still deciding even as she did it, and took it. The contact was brief.

“You’re welcome,” Hyejoo said. “Take care of yourself, Seulgi,”

Seulgi nodded once, ignoring the small ache in her chest. 

She turned away, weaving through the crowded café with her drink in one hand and her food in the other, before she disappeared back out into the street.

Just like that. Gone.

As Hyejoo reached the booth, Jaeyi had already pushed her notebook aside just enough to make space. She didn’t look up at her mother immediately.

“Who was that?” Jaeyi asked, her fingers still resting over the keyboard, eyes fixed on the screen.

Hyejoo set the drinks down gently, one in front of Jaeyi and one beside her own seat. She exhaled before sliding into the booth across from her.

“Just someone in line,” she said. “But…I noticed she was wearing a shirt from Yulhae.”

That was enough to pull Jaeyi’s attention away.

“Yulhae?” She glanced up. “What is that?”

Hyejoo wrapped her hands loosely around her cup, letting the warmth settle into her fingers.

“It’s where I grew up,” she said. “The first orphanage I was… placed in.”

She kept her tone even, not wanting to shift the mood too far. Jaeyi studied her for a second, raising her brow.

“That’s the town with the deer, right?” she asked. “The ones that used to wander onto the playground?”

A small smile spread across Hyejoo’s face.

“Yes,” she said. “That’s the one.”

She didn’t go further. Instead, she shifted slightly, letting the moment pass without pressing into it.

“Did you see her?” she asked instead. “The girl I was talking to?”

Jaeyi hummed softly, reaching for her tea. The steam curled faintly against her skin as she lifted the cup.

“Yeah,” she said after a second. “When she dropped the coins.”

She paused, as if deciding how to phrase it.

“She looked… tired,” she settled on. “Not physically.”

Hyejoo nodded.

“Yeah…I thought so too,” she said. “Do you recognize her from campus?”

Jaeyi took a sip of her tea, her focus already drifting back toward her work.

“No, I don’t think so,” she added. “She didn’t look like a university student at all.”

“Hm…that’s what I was wondering,” Hyejoo said quietly.

The conversation thinned after that, settling into a softer subject.

“So,” Hyejoo said, tilting her head slightly, “how’s studying going now that you’ve recovered from your nap?”

Jaeyi let out a small breath through her nose.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Someone reminded me I have a lab report due.”

“I’m surprised you needed a reminder.”

“Yeah,” Jaeyi admitted, already flipping open another workbook. “I completely forgot about it.”

Hyejoo watched her for a moment.

“That’s not like you.”

“I know,” Jaeyi said, almost absently. “So…maybe our paths were supposed to cross today.”

She glanced up briefly.

“If she hadn’t said anything, I probably wouldn’t have remembered at all.”

Hyejoo followed her gaze for a second, toward the door, toward the space Seulgi had disappeared through earlier.

“Maybe that girl in the Yulhae shirt crossed your path in the same way,” Jaeyi added, the thought settling between them.

Hyejoo didn’t answer right away. Her eyes drifted back to the window, the glass still faintly marked by the earlier rain, and lifted her latte.

“Maybe,” she said quietly.

—

8:19 PM

The house had already settled into its usual stillness, quietly suspended in place. Hyejoo sank back into her armchair, the cushions shaping around her as she exhaled, her body finally giving in to the quiet after a long day. 

The room remained dim, lit only by the slow, shifting glow of the tv and the steady blue wash from the aquarium across the room. 

Light moved lazily along the walls, colors blending and dissolving into shadows, while the fish drifted through the water, unchanged by the passing of years. Jaeyi had insisted on keeping them when she was younger, and even now, long after she’d outgrown that phase, Hyejoo had never found it in herself to let them go.

Tuesday nights had settled into something predictable over time, a glass of wine, the tv murmuring in the background for company, and a stretch of hours that carried no urgency. 

Jaeyi would still be on campus. Her last lecture ended at six, but that never marked an ending, only a transition into more work: assignments, lab reports, revisions, the steady accumulation of things that demanded her focus until the night blurred late enough to feel like morning again. 

It wasn’t easy, but she never resisted it. Hyejoo admired that about her, even if she worried quietly, in ways she never said out loud.

She lifted her glass and took a slow sip, her attention drifting as she flipped through the channels. Nothing caught her interest. Advertisements cycled endlessly, fleeting images that passed without leaving anything behind. 

A jingle about medication, a voiceover promising distant travel, a polished clip announcing something new opening somewhere she’d likely never go. 

She paused for a moment, then moved on, then paused again.

Until something caught in the next infomercial.

A word.

Window.

Her hand stilled around the glass as the thought suddenly surfaced.

The studio window. 

She straightened slightly, the stillness of the room shifting with her as she tried to retrace the moment she had left earlier that day. She could picture everything clearly, her work station, with the clipped bindings holding fragile pages in place, the faint scent of adhesive lingering in the air…but the window…

Her stomach tightened as she remembered the humidity setting.

The one variable she couldn’t afford to ignore.

If the humidity shifted overnight, it could undo hours of careful work. She glanced back at the clock. 

8:32 PM

It wouldn’t be far. A five minute drive, maybe less. She considered calling Jaeyi, asking her to stop by on her way home from campus, but the thought didn’t settle. 

The wind pressed faintly against the glass near the fireplace causing a low sound just enough to make the decision for her. Rain would be coming soon.

She set the glass down.

“I’ll just go,” she murmured, more to herself than anything else.

The tv clicked off as the room fell into a deeper quiet as she reached for her keys.

—

She pulled up to her studio just as the street had taken on that strange, almost painted quality that came before heavy rain fully set in. The pavement gleamed beneath the streetlights, coated in a thin layer of moisture that reflected everything back in fractured streaks. It felt almost unnaturally still.

Hyejoo stepped out of the car, pulling her jacket closer around her as she glanced upward. There it was, a soft glow from the studio window, and just enough of a gap to confirm what she had already suspected.

Still open.

She exhaled once and quickened her pace.

As she reached the door, the rain had begun to fall harder, the sound building against the pavement and metal rooftops as she unlocked the entrance and moved quickly up the stairs. 

The studio greeted her with warmth the moment she stepped inside, the controlled environment immediately familiar. She crossed the room without hesitation, closing the window carefully and securing the latch with accuracy. 

The air shifted almost instantly, settling back into balance.

Her gaze moved briefly across the studio. The book she had left earlier remained exactly as it should, its bindings secured, allowing the adhesive to set undisturbed. 

Everything intact. Good.

She didn’t linger.  She locked up behind her before making her way back down the stairs, already reaching into her pocket for her keys when her phone vibrated instead.

It was Jaeyi.

She answered as she slipped into the driver’s seat, closing the door against the rising storm.

“Jaeyi-yah?”

“Mom, I just wanted to let you know I’ll be home late again,” Jaeyi said. “There’s an issue with the printer here, and I want to finish everything before tomorrow.”

“That’s fine,” Hyejoo replied, settling back slightly. “Have you eaten yet?”

A pause, followed by muffled movement.

“No,” Jaeyi admitted. “But I will. Eventually.”

A faint smile touched Hyejoo’s lips.

“I’ll prepare some jjigae for you,” she said. “It’s raining, so make sure you stay warm and dry.”

“I will…are you outside?” Jaeyi asked. “It sounds loud.”

“I had to stop by the studio,” she said. “I’m heading home now.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.”

“Finish strong,” Hyejoo said softly. “And be careful.”

The call ended shortly after.

She rested her hands lightly on the steering wheel, watching as the rain gathered across the windshield in uneven streams, blurring everything beyond it into shifting lights and shadows. 

It came down heavier now, unrelenting, but she didn’t move to start the car just yet. 

The sound alone was enough to hold her there in place, as if the world outside had faded into something distant.

Time seemed to stretch on.

The clock across the dashboard ticked forward.

8:57 PM

Jaeyi wouldn’t be home for hours, there was no need to rush.

Hyejoo leaned back slightly, her gaze unfocused as she watched the water gather and slip down the windshield in random paths, each streak bending the world beyond into something unrecognizable.

and then, just barely, movement.

Subtle at first, distinct from the distortion of rain, but enough to pull her attention forward. A shape forming at the far end of the street. Someone walking.

“In this weather?” she murmured under her breath.

She leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing as she tried to see past the shifting blur. The figure moved slowly, unsteady against the wind, their steps deliberate but uneven, requiring more effort than the last. 

As they drew closer, the details began to take shape. It was a young woman, completely soaked through, no umbrella, no jacket, her clothes clinging to her slim frame as she pushed forward with a stubborn persistence that didn’t quite make sense.

The headlights caught her fully as she stepped into the beam. Recognition came all at once.

The same faded red shirt from earlier.

Yulhae.

Hyejoo’s breath caught.

“Seulgi…?”

The name slipped out before she could stop it, instinctive and immediate. And just as quickly, something else followed, a deep, sharp feeling she thought she’d forgotten, settling low in her chest before she could make sense of it. Something was wrong.

It was in the way Seulgi moved. The way she kept going without looking up or stopping. Like she couldn’t afford to.

Hyejoo felt it then, as a sensation, old and unwelcome pressing at the edges of her awareness. A memory she didn’t need to fully recall to understand. The feeling of being watched. Followed. The quiet certainty that stopping meant something worse would catch up in the shadows.

Her hand was already on the door before she realized she had moved.

She pushed it open and stepped out into the rain.

“Seulgi!”

Her voice cut through the storm, sharper than she intended, but enough to reach her.

The figure stopped, just enough to hesitate.

Hyejoo turned briefly, reaching back into the car to dim the headlights, softening the glare that cut across the street. When she stepped forward again, the rain immediately hit harder against her jacket.

“It’s me,” she called, steadier now. “Miss Yoo…from earlier… from the café.”

Seulgi didn’t move at first.

She just stood there, shoulders slightly hunched as the rain battered against her. She didn’t feel it anymore.

And something about that, about the stillness, tightened deeply in Hyejoo’s chest. She knew that kind of stillness. It came when there was nowhere left to go.

Then, slowly and overly cautiously, Seulgi began to step forward.

Each of her steps felt uncertain, testing the ground beneath her with every movement. They were careful in a way that came from pure exhaustion. 

Whatever had been driving her forward had finally begun to wear thin.

She stopped a few steps short of the car.

Up close, the damage was unmistakable. The fabric of her shirt clung heavily to her frame, torn unevenly at the hem, her skin marked with faint streaks of red that the rain hadn’t fully washed away. Her hair hung in damp strands against her face, and her hands, Hyejoo noticed now, trembled, just slightly. The cold had settled in deep.

But it wasn’t just that, it was the way her eyes moved. They looked right past Hyejoo, searching for something that might be hidden in the rain.

Hyejoo felt something twist sharply inside her. That same instinct. The quiet, constant need to make sure nothing was coming up behind her. Her chest tightened before she could stop it.

“Seulgi… are you alright?” she asked, softer now, though she already knew the answer.

Seulgi tried to speak. Her lips parted, but the words took a moment to follow, pushing through something heavier first.

“I’m just…” she swallowed, her voice unsteady, “trying to get out…of the rain.”

It sounded thin, something she had already said too many times.

“There’s nothing open around here,” Hyejoo said gently. “Where are you coming from?”

Seulgi didn’t answer. Her gaze drifted again, past Hyejoo, down the length of the street, scanning the emptiness like it didn’t feel empty to her at all.

Hyejoo followed the motion instinctively.

There was no one there.

And still, the feeling didn’t leave.

“Seulgi,” she said, lowering her voice, taking another small step closer. “Come sit in the car. You need to get out of the rain.”

Seulgi looked at her then. Really looked.

Her eyes were rimmed red, unfocused at the edges. She hadn’t fully settled into the moment yet. 

Then her gaze shifted, to the car, to the open door and then to the space between them.

And back to Hyejoo again.

“Is it… safe?” she asked quietly, the words barely holding together.

The question felt heavily familiar.

For a split second, Hyejoo wasn’t standing in the rain anymore. The sound of it dulled, replaced by an older memory she thought she had buried. Nights that felt too long in places that never felt secure, the quiet, constant calculation of whether any space could be trusted.

She blinked once, finding herself in the present.

“Yes,” she said, certain. “It is safe. I promise.”

She held her eyes, not moving any closer this time, giving her space to decide if she believed it. The rain filled the silence between them.

Seulgi didn’t move right away. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, then loosened again, trying to hold onto something that had already slipped away.  Her eyes shifted once more, a final glance down the empty street behind her…and whatever she was looking for…

…wasn’t there.

Or maybe, it was far enough.

Her shoulders lowered slightly.

Finally, she nodded, the movement was barely there, but enough.

Hyejoo stepped back first, reaching for the car door and pulling it open wider without breaking eye contact, giving her a clear path forward.

Seulgi hesitated at the edge of it before stepping in, she didn’t fully trust it, but she didn’t have anything left that could keep her standing out there.

Chapter Text

Seulgi finally pulled the door shut behind her, the storm outside eased into distance, its violence reduced to a light drumming against the glass. 

The sudden quiet was immediate, practically disorienting. The world shrank down to the small interior of Hyejoo’s car. 

Warm air began to move through the vents, slowly brushing across Seulgi’s skin in uneven waves, trying to reach beneath the cold that had already settled too deep.

She was soaked through. Every layer clung to her, water still slipping from the ends of her hair, gathering in thick drops that fell into her lap and onto the floor below.

“Here,” Hyejoo said gently, already moving.

She didn’t wait for hesitation to set in, giving Seulgi no chance to refuse out of instinctual fear. The jacket was off her shoulders in one swift motion, still warm from her body as she draped it carefully over Seulgi’s frame, adjusting it with quiet precision so it would remain in place.

Seulgi stiffened at first, her body unsure how to receive something so simple, yet she didn’t pull away.

Hyejoo had already turned, reaching toward the backseat, her movements purposeful but unhurried as she searched by feel. The familiar texture of the blanket met her hand, and she drew it forward, unfolding it before placing it gently across Seulgi’s lap. The fabric settled there, soft and dry, a stark contrast to everything else.

Only then did Hyejoo return to her seat fully, closing that small distance between them once more.

She took a long exhale, allowing her hands to rest lightly against the steering wheel as she searched for the right words to begin. It wasn’t the kind of conversation you could rush into, not without risking something fragile shattering under the pressure.

“…Seulgi?”

She let the name sit between them, giving it space to breathe.

There was a pause, just long enough to feel it.

“Hm?”

Her response was faint, barely more than breath, Seulgi’s gaze shifting at last from the floor to the blurred street ahead of them. She watched where rain still traced slowly, creating uneven paths down the windshield.

Hyejoo chose her next words with care.

“Seulgi, can you tell me what’s going on?”

The softness in her voice was deliberate, shaped by waves of recognition. For she had seen this before, she had experienced the feeling of it all. 

The fear that settled into a person until it became the only thing they knew how to carry.

Beside her, Seulgi’s fingers curled tighter into the edge of the blanket, twisting the fabric slowly in order to hold herself in the motion. 

The air shifted between them, thickening until even breathing seemed to require effort. She didn’t answer right away.

Hyejoo didn’t push either.

She adjusted instead, lowering her voice further.

“…Do you have somewhere safe to go?”

Seulgi’s lips parted, but the words didn’t come so easily.

“…No.”

It slipped from her in a fragile whisper. Speaking it aloud made it more real than she was prepared to face.

Hyejoo blinked slowly as she absorbed the word. Her thoughts moved quickly beneath the calm she maintained on the surface, each question carefully weighed.

“…Are you running away from someone?”

The reaction was immediate.

Seulgi flinched, her shoulders drew inward and her breath caught just slightly too sharp. Unguarded fear moved across her face before she could try to hide it.

Still, she nodded.

“…Yes.”

The word carried everything it needed to.

Hyejoo exhaled, a quiet understanding breath. She didn’t press further. Not yet anyway.  There would be time for that later, if Seulgi allowed it.

She gently shifted again.

“Do you have anyone you can call?”

Seulgi’s gaze dropped, settling on the dark floor of the car where water had begun to gather in a shallow puddle at her feet. She watched it absently.

Her lips pressed together, tight with restraint.

Then, slowly, she shook her head.

“I… don’t have a phone anymore.”

Hyejoo inhaled through that, steadying herself.

“Okay… okay,” she murmured, more to ease the strain of the moment than to fill it. “We’ll figure something out. It’s okay.”

But even as she said it, her mind pulled back to earlier that day, when Seulgi had fumbled with coins, to the quiet embarrassment of not having enough for something so small. 

It painted a clearer picture now, one that made the situation feel more inevitable.

Her phone vibrated suddenly against the console, cutting through the fragility they had built.

Hyejoo reached for it instinctively, glancing down just long enough to see the name on the screen.

Jaeyi.

Before she could decide what to do, movement beside her caught her attention.

Seulgi had gone rigid.

“Please…don’t call the police.”

The words came out too quickly for it to be considered anything else but fear.

Hyejoo stilled, her brows pulling together slightly as she turned toward her.

“It’s okay,” she said gently, her tone shifting immediately to reassurance. “It’s just my daughter.”

She declined the call without hesitation, placing the phone back down onto the console as if it held no importance at all compared to the girl beside her.

Seulgi’s shoulders slightly eased.

“…The police won’t help,” she added quietly, her voice falling distant. “I’ve tried.”

Hyejoo didn’t question it, for she understood.

In the feeling beneath Seulgi’s words, she knew about the systems that were supposed to protect vulnerable people. That they failed and turned cold or indifferent at the worst possible moment. 

That kind of knowledge didn’t need explanation.

A shared silence gradually returned between them. Hyejoo let it settle before speaking again, her voice softer now with openness..

“I’ve asked you a lot of questions,” she said, a faint, almost self-conscious breath leaving her. “It’s only fair that you get to do the same… if you’d like.”

The gentle offer lingered between them.

Seulgi didn’t respond right away. Her eyes stayed lowered, tracing the subtle pattern woven into Hyejoo’s blanket as if memorizing it.

Then, quietly…

“Could you… maybe…tell me about yourself?”

Hyejoo eased at that.

A small smile found its way into her expression, carrying more in her eyes than anywhere else. It followed by a soft exhale that almost resembled relief.

“Of course,” she said.

She took her time, letting the words come naturally rather than reciting them like facts.

“My name is Yoo Hyejoo. I’m forty years old. I have a daughter…she’s twenty. She’s a pre-med student at Hanseong University.”

She paused briefly, allowing the pieces to settle.

“I restore books for a living. I own the small studio right there actually,” she said, nodding in the direction of the building they were parked in front of. “...And a few evenings a week, I work as a caretaker for an elderly woman in my neighborhood.”

Seulgi listened, quietly absorbing each detail of the woman beside her.

Hyejoo continued, her voice softening slightly.

“I used to live in the town that’s written on your shirt… Yulhae.” A faint breath followed, something distant touching her expression. “I actually grew up in an orphanage there.”

That was enough to cause a shift. Seulgi looked up quickly, her eyes meeting Hyejoo’s with startled clarity.

“You’re…an orphan?”

Hyejoo inclined her head, her expression remained calm, though there was something deeper beneath it.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “It’s not a childhood I would wish for anyone.”

Seulgi repositioned herself in her seat, processing the words as they passed through her.

“…I’m an orphan too.”

Her voice was soft, threaded with an understanding that didn’t need elaboration.

A wave of familiarity moved through Hyejoo’s chest, close to recognition.

She let it pass before speaking again.

“Seulgi… would you mind telling me about yourself? Even just a little.”

There was no pressure in her request, just an opening.

Seulgi hesitated, her eyes drifting, not to Hyejoo, but to the details around her. The clean lines of the car. The careful stitching of her handbag. The way everything seemed in place, as if it belonged to a life that made so much sense.

Then, slowly, she nodded.

“My name is Woo Seulgi. I’m twenty-one,” she began, her voice quietly present. “I… used to work at a convenience store across Seoul.”

A small pause.

“I don’t have much.”

Another.

“I don’t have a family…anymore.”

The words faded there, complete in what they carried.

Hyejoo didn’t rush to fill the silence that followed. She reached out carefully, her hand coming to rest gently against Seulgi’s knee with light reassurance. A gesture that could be pulled away from if it needed to be.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said softly. “It’s nice to meet you, Woo Seulgi.”

A small smile touched her lips.

Seulgi watched it, something tentative forming in response. Her own lips barely curved, the motion itself felt strange.

For a moment, it almost felt…normal.

But it didn’t last.

Seulgi’s expression shifted again as the present caught up to her.

Her lips began to part like something had been waiting there, pressing forward until being asked to be let out. 

The hesitation was visible as her breath caught and her fingers tightened against the blanket once more.

Hyejoo noticed. 

She waited.

“I’m… I’m also terrified that I might be pregnant.”

The words landed heavily between them, sinking into the space with a weight that couldn’t be lightened.

“…that I am pregnant.”

Hyejoo felt it before she could think.

An internal shift, the memory slipping loose beneath her feet. For a moment, the present blurred, replaced by something that never fully went away. All the fear. 

The suffocating uncertainty. 

The sense of being cornered by a future that arrived too quickly.

Her mouth went dry.

She had to remind herself to breathe.

Slowly, she pulled herself back, anchoring herself in the here and now, in the quiet hum of the engine, in the girl sitting beside her who was very real, very fragile, and very much in need of steadiness.

Hyejoo inhaled, then exhaled.

“…Okay,” she said gently. “Seulgi… do you have anywhere to stay tonight?”

She already knew the answer. Still, she asked.

“…No.”

It came out softer this time, worn down by everything that had already been said.

Hyejoo nodded faintly, her thoughts aligning before becoming more concrete, even as hesitation lingered all around. This wasn’t a small decision and it wasn’t something to take lightly.

But neither was leaving her out there in the storm.

“Would you …feel comfortable staying at my house tonight?” she asked, her voice careful. “Just for tonight. You can dry off, get some rest… and we can figure something out tomorrow.”

A small pause.

“My daughter will be home later,” she added gently. “But we’ll make sure you’re settled before then.”

Even as Hyejoo said it, a part of her questioned the situation. What it might mean and what it might bring.

Whatever Seulgi was running from… would it follow?

She looked at Seulgi again, exhaustion carved into her face. She held herself together by a fragile thread that felt perilously close to breaking.

It didn’t feel like a choice anymore.

Seulgi didn’t answer right away, as everything slowly weighed within her.

Then, slowly, she nodded.

It was enough.

Hyejoo let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“…Okay,” she said, a hint of resolve settling into her tone. “Then…off we go.”

She shifted the car into drive, the engine responding with a low murmur as they eased back onto the rain-slicked street, the world outside still reflecting beneath the fading storm.

—

Seulgi stood a few steps outside the iron gate of Hyejoo’s house. 

Her home was located on a slight curve in the road, surrounded by a cascade of overgrown gingko trees. It was nestled further back past the fence, concealed among the other houses.

It felt out of sight, blending into its natural surroundings.

Hyejoo opened the gate and motioned for Seulgi to follow her inside. 

Once they approached the front door, Seulgi turned to look back to the street, she could barely make it out through all of the foliage that created a natural canopy over the yard. 

She felt a wave of secureness wash over her for now.

The inside of Hyejoo’s home carried a gentle kind of warmth that settled in gradually. It felt lived in, with every surface and corner holding the weight of time and care. 

For someone seeking shelter from the storm, it would have been enough to ease them into stillness. Seulgi didn’t know how to receive it.

She stepped inside carefully with a tentative presence. She felt as though the space might reject her if she moved too freely too soon.  Her posture remained tight, shoulders drawn in as her eyes moved across the room. 

She took in details she couldn’t quite place within herself.

Hyejoo moved first, finding something practical to do. She crouched near the door, setting Seulgi’s wet shoes neatly to the side before gesturing toward her feet.

“You can take your socks off too.”

“I’m sorry,” Seulgi said quickly, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “I’m sorry for getting everything wet.”

“It’s alright,” Hyejoo replied without hesitation, her tone unaffected. “Just wait here a second, I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared down the hallway, her figure briefly swallowed by the dim light beyond, leaving Seulgi alone with the quiet.

When she returned, she carried two fresh towels, still neatly folded with the faint scent of detergent clinging to them. 

She placed them into Seulgi’s hands before motioning toward the couch beside her armchair.

“Here, go ahead and sit.”

Seulgi nodded as she moved carefully. She folded one towel over the cushion before lowering herself onto it, trying to minimize the trace she left behind. The other towel she brought to her hair, pressing it gently against her face and neck, absorbing what the rain had left behind. When she finished, she held it loosely in her hands, unsure where it should go.

“Would you like something warm to drink?” Hyejoo asked, already turning slightly toward the kitchen. “Coffee? Tea?”

Seulgi hesitated, her expression shifting as she tried to find the right answer.

“…Am I supposed to have caffeine…because of…?” she asked quietly, uncertain of the question itself.

Hyejoo paused, then let out a small breath, a faint smile touching her expression.

“Right…yes… I’ll make you something simple. Lemon and honey tea, that should help.”

Seulgi nodded, this time with a genuine lift at the corner of her mouth.

“Thank you.”

From there, she watched.

She watched Hyejoo move through her kitchen with a natural flow, reaching for glass jars, selecting small pouches of herbs and setting mugs out with careful precision. 

There was an attentiveness to it all, a steadiness that made even the smallest actions feel intentionally delicate.

Seulgi’s eyes drifted, catching Hyejoo’s reflection in the aquarium glass. The low sounds of water, the faint clink of ceramic, and the controlled pour of hot water, all of it layering together into a calmness Seulgi couldn’t recognize.

It made her feel even more out of place.

Hyejoo returned with two mugs, placing the lemon tea in front of Seulgi on the coffee table, her own settling quietly beside her armchair. The untouched wine glass from earlier remained where it was, forgotten.

She adjusted the angle of her chair slightly, turning toward Seulgi and giving her her full attention without crowding her.

“Thank you,” Seulgi said softly, wrapping her hands around the mug, easing into its warmth.

Hyejoo glanced at the clock.

9:43 PM.

For a moment, she said nothing. The questions waiting to be asked hung just beneath the surface. She waited a second before gently speaking.

“May I ask, do you know who the father is?”

Seulgi exhaled slowly, nodding once, her movements distantly controlled.

“Is it someone you know? A boyfriend?” Hyejoo added.

Her fingers traced the curve of the mug’s handle, her gaze fixed on the generous slice of lemon drifting in the tea.

“…His name is…Jungdae,” she said, correcting herself mid-thought. “He… was at one point..my boyfriend.”

Hyejoo didn’t interrupt. She waited.

“Did something happen between you?”

“…We…broke up. A few days ago.”

The room seemed to grow smaller as the quiet pressed inward. Seulgi’s voice remained steady, but the words carried substance.

“He’s violent…and abusive.”

They landed abruptly, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Hyejoo leaned forward, her focus narrowing.

“You ran away from him?”

Seulgi nodded before continuing.

“He can’t…know about the baby,” she said, her voice low and fragile. “He just… can’t...”

Hyejoo’s gaze shifted briefly, catching the faint marks along Seulgi’s cheek, red and undeniable.

“…Did he do that to you?”

Seulgi nodded again.

Tears gathered quickly, blurring her vision.

Hyejoo turned without thinking, reaching for the tissue box on the windowsill and placing it within reach. Seulgi took one, pressing it gently to the corners of her eyes.

“Can I ask why you won’t go to the police? Or why you think they won’t help?” Hyejoo asked, her tone careful, just enough to open up the space.

Seulgi let out a quiet breath.

“He has connections,” she said. “The kind that… make people disappear. Slowly, or all at once…He reminded me of that every day.”

Hyejoo stayed still, listening.

“…Did you see him again today?” she asked.

Seulgi nodded.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

The question lingered longer this time.

Seulgi lifted the mug, taking a slow sip. She let the warmth linger against her palms as she tasted the sourness of the lemon. She held the mug close to her body before she spoke.

“I went to get my things from a storage locker,” she began. “Just cash and my ID. He already took my phone a few days ago when I tried to leave.”

A pause.

“He was there…waiting.”

Her fingers tightened slightly.

“He cornered me. Pushed me into a storage closet… blocked the door. Threatened me…hit me.”

Her voice remained level, barely above breaking. 

“It’s blurry after that.”

Hyejoo’s hand lifted slightly toward her mouth, the reaction contained but present.

“He left after a while,” Seulgi continued. “I stayed on the floor until I heard people outside. Then I just…got up and wandered.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor.

“I hid…took trains…went wherever I could with what I had left.”

A breath passed.

“It wasn’t part of the plan to come back here… but it started to get dark.”

Her voice softened further.

“And then it started raining.”

She stopped there. The silence that followed felt like the natural end of something that had taken everything to say. And Hyejoo believed her. Completely.

“I’m sorry you had to carry all of that alone,” she said quietly. “Thank you for trusting me with it.”

Seulgi looked down again.

“I don’t know what…to do,” she admitted. “I don’t have anything. I don’t have anyone.”

Hyejoo reached out, her hand resting open between them.

Seulgi hesitated, then placed her hand in hers.

“Seulgi, I understand,” Hyejoo said, her voice low.

Seulgi looked up as confusion flickered through her expression.

“…How?”

Hyejoo held her gaze for a moment.

“I haven’t talked about it in a long time,” she admitted. “But… I’ve been in situations like yours.”

She drew her hands back, holding them close to herself now.

“I grew up without any protection. I spent years around people who made me feel like I was always being watched… always one step from being cornered.”

A breath.

“No one helped me when I needed it.” 

The words settled between them.

“That’s why I stopped you today,” she continued softly. “That's why I brought you here.”

Seulgi saw it then, the same fear, resurfacing in Hyejoo’s eyes, echoing her own. They sat with an understanding that unfolded around them as time slowed down.

Seulgi shifted slightly, adjusting the towel around her shoulders.

“…Can we…maybe talk about something else?” she asked quietly. “Even just for a moment.”

Hyejoo let out a small, relieved breath.

“Of course.”

Seulgi thought for a second.

“…Your work. You said you restore books?”

Hyejoo smiled faintly.

“I do. I repair old books, I fix bindings, mend pages, rebuild covers. The goal is to preserve them without erasing their history.”

Seulgi listened closely.

“Oh…” she paused. “Do you think…people can be restored like that too?”

The question slipped out, almost lost to the space between them.

Hyejoo glanced up.

“Hm? What was that?”

“…Nothing,” Seulgi said quickly, retreating from it. “It sounds peaceful.”

“It is,” Hyejoo replied.

Seulgi’s eyes drifted around the room again.

“…Do you make good money doing it?”

Hyejoo chuckled slightly.

“Not really.”

Seulgi looked back at her, almost confused.

“Then how do you…afford all of this?” she continued. “I mean, you have a nice home...you said your daughter is studying pre-med…”

Hyejoo considered her answer.

“Ah yes…I was in an accident a few years ago. A train derailment caused by negligence. I was injured… badly enough that I had to stop working for a while.”

She extended her arm slightly, the faint scars visible in the soft light.

“The settlement allowed me and my daughter to live comfortably. After I recovered, I started restoring books again.”

Seulgi studied the marks carefully.

“I also take care of one of our elderly neighbors,” she said again. “Her son works overnight at the hospital, and she needs a lot of care. It keeps me busy.”

Seulgi nodded.

“…That makes sense,” she murmured.

“Now,” Hyejoo said gently, rising from her chair, “let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”

She led Seulgi to the upstairs bathroom before laying out toiletries and a clean set of dry clothes. A pair of soft sweatpants and a Hanseong University crewneck were folded neatly and placed next to the sink.

“Take your time,” she said. “There’s shampoo and body wash in the shower.”

Seulgi stood there for a moment, taking it all in.

“Miss Yoo…?”

Hyejoo turned.

“Hm?”

“…Thank you…for everything,” she said, bowing politely.

Hyejoo nodded softly before stepping away.

“Of course, dear.”

—

Later, seated at the kitchen table, Seulgi held a second mug of tea between her hands, her hair wrapped tightly in a towel, warmth finally settling into her bones and remaining for the night.

Hyejoo moved swiftly at the stove, reheating a golden colored broth and adding a small touch of green onions and mushrooms.

She placed the bowl in front of Seulgi.

“Here you go, eat up,” Hyejoo said. “There’s more if you’re still hungry after.”

Seulgi hunched over the bowl and felt the warm steam rise up, gently touching her face.

“Thank you for the food.”

Hyejoo smiled as she took a sip from her mug and sat down across from her. 

They ate together in a comfortable silence that no longer felt suffocating, filled with the faint clink of utensils and the low sounds of the house settling into the night.

Hyejoo glanced briefly at the clock above the stove.

11:57 PM.

The late hour seemed to settle over her all at once. She steadied her spoon within the bowl, letting it rest there a while before speaking.

“Seulgi,” she said softly, her tone careful not to break the calm too abruptly, “have you seen my phone?” 

Seulgi shook her head.

“I might’ve left it upstairs…I’ll be right back.”

Hyejoo pushed her chair back and headed toward the stairs, her footsteps fading against the wood until the distance swallowed the sound completely.

The house fell still again, quiet in a way that felt larger without Hyejoo’s presence.

Seulgi remained at the table for a moment, her hands loosely holding the bowl of broth in place, as if deciding what to do with the space that had been left behind.

Slowly, she stood, the chair barely making a sound as she pushed it back into place, and drifted toward the living room.

The aquarium greeted her first, casting its soft blue glow onto the walls as the water inside shifted behind the glass. The faint hum of the filter filled the silence.

Her eyes drifted, catching on a small framed photograph resting along the shelf.

She stepped a little closer without thinking.

A girl stood at the center of it, dressed in a graduation gown, cap slightly tilted as if it had been adjusted moments before the picture was taken. There was a brightness to her expression, caught in an unguarded smile.

Seulgi studied her for a second longer than she meant to.

Her eyes lingered just briefly before she pulled her attention away, the hushed stillness of the room settling back around her.

Seulgi paused near the couch but didn’t sit yet.

She shifted her attention instinctively toward the front door instead.

It stood there unchanged.

But to her, it felt like more than that. The only thing separating her from everything she had run from… and everything she didn’t yet understand about where she had ended up.

She exhaled slowly, the breath leaving her as she curled her hands deeper into the sleeves of the borrowed crewneck, the fabric bunching around her fingers.

For a moment, nothing moved.

Then,

A sequence of precise muted beeps broke through the quiet, followed by a soft electronic chime.

The faint mechanical click came immediately after.

The door handle shifted as Seulgi froze where she stood.

Her breath caught, suspended between her chest and her throat, her eyes fixed on the front door as it slowly began to open.

Chapter Text

Seulgi remained exactly where she was, her body held in place as the moment closed in around her.

The sound of the front door was not loud enough to justify the way it echoed through her chest. A sequence of quiet tones as the faint shift of the lock released, the door opening just enough to let the outside slip in before it was shut away again. 

It all happened so naturally, that for a brief second, she wondered if she had imagined it entirely.

Until she heard movement.

The soft scrape of shoes being nudged off near the entrance, followed by a pause that stretched on long enough to feel deliberate. Then, a quiet exhale followed, belonging to someone stepping back into their own space after a long and demanding day.

The door clicked shut behind it, the lock settling back into place with a bright, final chime.

It sealed the house.

Seulgi’s breath caught, her thoughts scattering as reality rushed back in all at once.

“Mom?”

The voice reached her from the front of the house, low and edged with exhaustion, but unmistakably clear.

Seulgi’s heart began to pound.

She wished the wooden floor beneath her would simply give way, swallow her whole and erase the fact that she was standing there at all. Her body refused to move, rooted near the edge of the couch, one hand still tucked deep into the cuff of the borrowed crewneck as though she could hide inside it.

The aquarium cast its soft blue glow across the room, the shifting light bending against the walls and stretching her shadow across the floor at an awkward angle.

Her eyes dropped to it.

She stared at the outline of herself as if seeing it for the first time, struck by how present it looked, how undeniable. It felt wrong, occupying space somewhere that had never been meant for her, leaving a mark in a home that wasn’t hers to touch.

The footsteps moved further inside.

They were unhurried, crossing the entryway with ease before slowing, then stopping altogether.

A pause followed.

“…Mom?”

The voice came again, softer this time, threaded with the beginning of confusion.

Seulgi swallowed, her throat suddenly dry despite the tea she had just finished, the faint trace of lemon lingering bitterly at the back of her tongue.

She turned, but only slightly, just enough to face the opening that connected the living room to the front hallway, her movement restrained as though anything more might draw too much attention to her presence.

Then,

Jaeyi stepped into view.

The moment stretched.

She halted mid-stride, her body catching on the threshold between spaces, one shoulder slightly lowered beneath the weight of her backpack, her phone still loosely held in her hand.

Her gaze found Seulgi immediately.

And stayed there.

Her eyes moved slowly with assessment, tracing the unfamiliar figure standing near her couch, taking in the way she held herself. She was much too guarded, like someone who had nowhere else to go and no certainty that she was allowed to be where she was.

Seulgi felt it, that gaze. The weight of it settled over her in a way that made her stomach twist.

She didn’t know how to speak.

The air between them held, suspended with uncertainty that neither of them broke with movement yet.

Seulgi felt it before she fully understood what had changed.

Jaeyi’s eyes had lowered, drawn not to her face, but to the oversized fabric draped around her frame instead. The Hanseong National University lettering stretched faintly across her chest, softened by wear, unmistakable even in the dim, blue-washed light of the room.

The realization struck a little too late, that it wasn’t just borrowed.

It was hers.

The warmth that had settled into the crewneck moments ago turned suffocating, clinging too closely now, no longer offering comfort but exposing her instead. 

Seulgi resisted the instinct to pull at it, her fingers tightening further into the sleeves as though she could disappear into the fabric if she tried hard enough.

Across from her, Jaeyi’s expression adjusted.

It was subtle, but immediate. Her features sharpened as her attention narrowed, taking in all the details with precision.

“Oh…”

The flat word left her without emphasis, landing between them with a lingering weight.

Seulgi reacted before she could think.

Her upper body dipped forward in a quick, reflexive bow, the movement sudden and unsteady.

“Uh…I’m sorry,” she said, the words slipping out too quickly, her voice catching as she tried to steady it. “I didn’t know anyone would be coming home yet.”

The apology hung there, fragile in the space.

Jaeyi didn’t respond.

Her gaze lifted again, returning to Seulgi’s face with quiet efficiency, piecing together something incomplete. She took in the details without hesitation, the damp strands of hair still escaping from beneath the cream-colored towel wrapped around her head, the familiar texture of it another thing that didn’t belong to her. 

The faint, uneven discoloration along her cheek and jaw, untouched by anything that might conceal it. The way her hands were tucked deep into the sleeves, fingers curled tightly inward, for absence perhaps.

Trying to make herself smaller inside the room.

Jaeyi remained where she was, her posture deliberately held with quiet assertiveness in the way she occupied the space, something that didn’t yield even as she stood still.

“So,” she said at last, her voice even, though no longer softened by exhaustion alone. “Where is my mother?”

The shift was unmistakable now.

Seulgi felt her breath catch, her chest tightening around it.

“She…uh…” she faltered, forcing the words forward despite the dryness in her throat. “She went upstairs… to look for her phone.”

The answer felt insufficient the moment it left her.

Silence followed after, stretching longer this time. It settled heavily between them, unbroken and unrelieved.

Seulgi could feel it in her palms, the faint, rising warmth of nervousness growing harder to contain. Her grip tightened further within the sleeves, the fabric twisting under the pressure.

Jaeyi gave a small, final nod, acknowledging the situation without conclusion. 

She moved then in an unhurried motion, entirely familiar. 

She slipped the strap of her backpack from her shoulder, the weight shifting as she brought it forward before hanging it neatly over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. The gesture was effortless with a routine that required no prior thought.

And somehow, that normalcy made everything feel worse.

Seulgi stood where she was, painfully aware of how out of place she must have looked within it, loudly misplaced in a room that had already been arranged long before she entered it.

Jaeyi turned back toward her.

This time, she didn’t hesitate.

“So… who are you?” she asked, her voice stripped of anything that might have softened it. “And what are you doing here?”

There was no hostility in her words, but the absence of warmth didn’t help.

Seulgi swallowed, the motion barely visible, as she tried to find enough steadiness to answer.

“Seulgi…” she said, her voice quiet, the name almost catching as it left her. “My name is Woo Seulgi.”

Jaeyi gave a slight nod in response, a minimal acknowledgment that didn’t interrupt the tension so much as sit within it.

And then, the sound of approaching footsteps from upstairs broke through the silence. They were faint at first, but distinct enough to cut through everything else. 

Neither of them moved as the tension remained, held in place, waiting for something to shift.

The footsteps grew clearer as they descended, steady against the wooden stairs, until Hyejoo’s voice followed close behind.

“Oh… Jaeyi-yah, you’re home.”

She appeared a moment later, emerging into view with her phone still in hand, the screen lit with a string of missed notifications that hadn’t yet been cleared. 

A gentle relief softened her expression, the simple reassurance of seeing her daughter safe and back where she belonged settling into place.

Then she remembered.

Her gaze darted between them, taking in the space as it stood now, no longer quiet or contained.

“Seulgi,” she said gently, stepping forward into the living room, positioning herself just slightly between them without fully breaking their line of sight, “this is my daughter, Yoo Jaeyi.”

The introduction settled into the room with a light tone, unable to ease what had already formed.

She turned toward Jaeyi again, her voice a little warmer now.

“You’re back earlier than I thought.”

“Yeah… well…” Jaeyi adjusted her grip on her phone slightly, her shoulders easing just enough to suggest fatigue, though her gaze never once left Seulgi. “The printer finally started working again.”

The explanation was directed at her mother, but her attention remained fixed elsewhere.

Seulgi felt it.

The heaviness settled around her, making it difficult to stand the way she was. She felt as though existing in that space had become too much to bear.

She lowered her eyes slightly, her fingers curling tighter into the sleeves.

Hyejoo noticed the imbalance.

The living room had grown too tight for comfort. Her eyes moved between the girls again, measuring the unspoken words, before settling back onto Jaeyi.

Jaeyi swallowed once, small but visible, before she turned away and redirected herself toward the kitchen.

“Well…is there food out?” she asked, her voice carrying more plainly now, stripped down to a practical tone as she moved further into the space. She glanced toward the counter, then toward the stove, searching. “I’m starving… did you make the jjigae?”

The question landed, and Hyejoo paused.

Realization followed almost immediately.

“Ah… Jaeyi-yah,” she said, her voice softening with apology, “I’m sorry… something, uh… something came up.”

She faltered slightly at the end, the words not quite holding together the way she intended.

Jaeyi turned back. Her attention shifted, not to her mother at first, but to the table.

At the dishes.

Empty, but not untouched.

Placed there with care, but not meant for her.

“Oh… I see.”

Though her tone stayed gentle and free of any open confrontation, an undercurrent ran through it, a weariness that was threaded with a softer edge, leaning closer to disappointment rather than anger.

Seulgi felt it from where she stood.

She didn’t need to look up to understand it.

The realization settled heavily in her chest as she became acutely aware of herself again, of the space she occupied and of the small ways she had already disrupted what had existed long before she showed up.

She wished, more than anything, that she could disappear.

Hyejoo moved quickly then, the change in her posture immediate as she stepped away from Seulgi, crossing the room with quiet urgency toward the kitchen.

“Jaeyi,” she said softly, lowering her voice as she reached her, keeping her body angled just enough to keep the conversation contained between them, “I can whip something up for you fast, just give me ten minutes and—”

“Why is there a random girl standing in our living room wearing my clothes?”

Jaeyi’s voice cut through her before she could finish. Her words were firm and direct, carrying forward with sharp clarity. Nothing about them could be misunderstood.

Seulgi heard every part of it.

She felt it lodge into her, heavier than anything else that had been said so far, threading through her chest and pulling tight.

Her shoulders drawing in on herself, just a fraction more.

She parted her lips, words rising almost on instinct, an apology, an explanation, anything that might soften the weight her presence had brought into the room.

But the words didn’t come.

Hyejoo spoke first.

“Jaeyi… this is Seulgi,” she said, her voice steady as she gestured gently back toward the living room, toward where Seulgi stood, small against the quiet glow of the aquarium. “She will be staying with us for the night.”

Jaeyi’s brow lifted slightly.

“For the night?”

The words carried neither challenge nor acceptance, suspended somewhere in between.

Hyejoo nodded.

“Yes. Just temporarily.”

Jaeyi’s gaze shifted past her, moving around her mother’s shoulder to find Seulgi again.

Seulgi felt it before she looked up.

When she did, it was only briefly, her eyes meeting Jaeyi’s for the smallest fraction of a second before dropping again.

Jaeyi looked back to Hyejoo.

“Why?”

The direct question lingered, far heavier than it sounded.

Seulgi caught it, the subtle but present hesitation that immediately followed. It moved through Hyejoo in a way that didn’t go unnoticed, not by her.

She lowered her head fully now, focusing on her hands, the faint sheen of sweat visible along her skin, catching against the old, barely healed marks that ran across her fingers.

She could feel the uncertainty seeping into the space where she didn’t quite belong.

Hyejoo inhaled.

“She needed a place to stay for the night,” she said finally, her voice gentler now, but firm in its intent. “She had nowhere else to go.”

Jaeyi’s jaw tightened, small but unmistakable.

“So have her call the police.”

The words came too easily for Jaeyi. Cold and detached from the heaviness of what they implied.

“Jaeyi-yah, it’s not that simple,” Hyejoo replied, her voice softening again, though there was a quiet insistence beneath it now.

Jaeyi exhaled, the sound edged with fatigue as she leaned slightly back against the counter.

“It usually is.”

Silence settled over the house in the wake of Jaeyi’s words, stretching outward until it seemed to fill every corner of the room.

No one moved.

Seulgi stood where she was, even though the stillness no longer felt contained. It tightened around her in a way that made everything more noticeable than it should have been. Her gaze dropped again, as there was nowhere else for it to go.

Her shadow lay across the floor at an angle she couldn’t ignore. Overly present.

She didn’t like it.

She didn’t like how it marked her place there, within a house that had already begun to register her existence. She didn’t like the bowl left on the table, the faint ring forming along its edge where the broth had cooled, meant for someone else that had been used by her instead. 

She didn’t like the way the fabric of the crewneck rested against her skin anymore, the warmth of it only reminding her of where it came from.

Even her shoes.

Still damp, left neatly by the front door, as if they belonged there.

They didn’t.

The feeling in her chest rose too quickly to contain anymore.

“I can leave.”

The words came out before she could stop them, cutting through the silence.

“I didn’t mean to cause any problems,” she continued, her voice faltering, the apology unraveling as it left her. “I really didn’t… I can go—”

“No.”

Hyejoo’s voice came firmly this time, sharper than anything she had used before.

It stopped Seulgi from forming any more words.

Hyejoo had already turned fully toward her, the shift in her posture immediate and protective, leaving no room for argument.

“You’re not going back out there in the rain tonight.”

The certainty in her tone settled into the air just as strongly as Seulgi’s panic had moments before.

Across the room, Jaeyi’s gaze moved between them, the change in her expression subtle, but undeniable.

Confusion settled there, followed closely with a frustration she hadn’t yet decided how to hold.

“Mom.”

Her voice was tight.

“Can I talk to you… now?”

The request didn’t sound like one. Hyejoo hesitated, her eyes shifting briefly back toward Seulgi before returning to her daughter.

Then she nodded.

“…Seulgi, please have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

The words were gentle again, but carried a quiet reassurance beneath them.

Seulgi didn’t argue. She moved as she had been told, lowering herself onto the couch with care, her body folding inward slightly as she sank into the cushion, the same spot she had occupied earlier. 

Her hands settled in her lap, though they didn’t stay still, her fingers curling into the fabric beneath her without her noticing.

Hyejoo and Jaeyi moved away together.

This time, not toward the kitchen, but upstairs.

Their footsteps softened as they ascended, gradually fading as distance grew between them until they disappeared from sight entirely.

Seulgi stared at the floor, unfocused, trying to hold onto the stillness without letting it overwhelm her. 

She hadn’t meant to hear anything at all, but the quiet carried sound differently throughout the stillness, letting it travel further than it should have.

Fragments reached her anyway.

“…you didn’t tell me anything.”

Jaeyi’s voice.

“...I didn’t have time to, Jaeyi-yah!” Hyejoo replied, her tone lower, coaxing, though threaded with urgency. “It all unraveled so fast.”

“That’s not an answer.”

A pause followed, long enough to settle.

“Jaeyi-yah… she’s hurt.”

Seulgi’s fingers curled tighter against the cushion beneath her, the fabric twisting under the pressure. She didn’t notice the strain until the ache began to set into her knuckles.

“This house doesn’t need any more broken people.”

Jaeyi’s voice again.

Brittle now. The words landed harder than anything else.

“That’s not fair.”

“Oh, but it is,” Jaeyi countered, the restraint in her tone thinning. “You don’t think, you just… react.”

Seulgi’s chest tightened further, the air in her lungs suddenly feeling thinner than before. She shifted slightly, searching for anything else to hold onto.

Anything.

The aquarium, the faint hum of the filter. She wished it were louder. The refrigerator's low buzz, barely noticeable unless she strained for it.

She wished it came more often.

Her eyes landed on the cable box beneath the tv, the small blinking light pulsing in uneven intervals.

She began to count. 

One.

Pause.

Two.

Pause.

Anything to steady herself.

“She’s not dangerous!”

Hyejoo’s voice surfaced again, pressure starting to build.

Seulgi caught the faint mention of the café, the earlier encounter slipping briefly into the conversation before it passed.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Another silence stretched on longer this time.

“How long?”

Jaeyi’s voice sharply cut through it.

Hyejoo didn’t answer right away.

Seulgi could hear it instead.

The sound of a breath drawn in too tightly, held behind something else.

“Just a few days,” Hyejoo said at last. “Until we can figure something out.”

“You said just tonight.”

“I know.”

“But now you’re saying a few days?”

“Jaeyi, she has nowhere else.”

Hyejoo spoke again after that, but whatever followed didn’t carry clearly. The words softened too much as they dissipated around the walls.

Jaeyi offered no further response, only the faint sounds of movement filled the space, followed by a door closing with quiet, deliberate intent.

The house settled again.

Seulgi’s posture straightened almost immediately as footsteps returned, descending back into the space she occupied. She pulled her hands from the cushion, smoothing them over her sleeves as if that might erase the tension she had been holding.

Hyejoo stepped back into view.

Her expression had changed, only slightly, but enough to show the weight of what had just passed.

“You can stay, Seulgi,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm in a way that didn’t leave room for doubt. “There’s a guest bedroom upstairs I’ll make up for you. You and Jaeyi will have to share the second-floor bathroom, though. My room is the only one on the third floor, so if you need anything, just let me know.”

Seulgi nodded, though it took her a second to fully process what had been said, each detail settling into place one at a time.

Hyejoo gestured toward the stairs.

“Come,” she said softly. “I’ll show you the guest room.”

Seulgi stood, following her without hesitation.

The second floor was quieter than the one below, the air holding a different kind of private stillness. Hyejoo led her down the hallway before stopping at a door partway down.

The guest room was simple and orderly, a neatly made bed, a small nightstand, and a dresser with an uncluttered surface. Nothing seemed excessive or out of place.

Across the hall, the bathroom sat between the rooms, its door slightly ajar, the light inside already turned off. At the far end of the hallway, another door remained closed.

Jaeyi’s.

Seulgi’s gaze lingered there for only a moment before she looked away again.

Hyejoo offered her a small, reassuring smile, the kind that carried quiet intention. She began to turn back toward the hallway.

Seulgi hesitated only for a second.

“Wait… Miss Yoo?”

Hyejoo paused mid-step, turning back toward her.

“Yes?”

Seulgi shifted slightly in the doorway, her footing uncertain. 

“My clothes from earlier…” she began, her voice careful. “Where are they? I think I left my chapstick in the pocket.”

Hyejoo simply looked at her, then nodded in understanding.

“Ah, I tossed them in a laundry basket in the bathroom,” she said. “You can throw anything in there, and I’ll wash it tomorrow.”

Seulgi nodded quickly.

“Okay. Thank you again,” she added, the words catching slightly as they gathered at the edge of her breath. “For everything tonight.”

She bowed, the motion deep with sincerity.

Hyejoo smiled again before giving a small nod in return.

“Get some rest, dear,” she said.

Then she turned, her footsteps gradually fading as she descended the stairs, leaving Seulgi alone in the dimly lit hall.

The guest room remained as it was, safe in a way that didn’t feel real yet.

Seulgi stood in the doorway, nearly waiting for the night to rearrange itself into something she recognized.

Slowly, she stepped back out into the hallway. She crossed to the bathroom, her steps careful, almost soundless, and pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.

The laundry basket sat tucked near the corner, her damp clothes folded into it without much thought, indistinguishable from anything else that might have been placed there.

She crouched beside it, reaching in, her fingers searching until they found the familiar texture of denim.

The chapstick slipped free from the pocket easily.

She turned it over in her hand, her thumb brushing over the label where it had begun to peel, the adhesive beneath it giving way after too much time and use. The corner lifted slightly, and she pressed it back down with care, smoothing it as though that might hold it together a little longer.

It didn’t fully stick, but she still tried.

She twisted the cap free and brought it closer, breathing it in. The faint scent of cherry mixed with a sharp burst of menthol beneath it sank into her.

It steadied her unlike anything else.

Because it was the only thing that still remained hers.

She closed it again, holding it for a second longer before slipping it into the pocket of the borrowed sweatpants, keeping it close.

She returned to the guest room, clicking the door softly behind her, careful not to disturb anything beyond it.

—

By the time Jaeyi sat at her desk, the house had settled deeper into the night.

The hour had stretched past one, the quiet now uninterrupted, making even the smallest movements feel amplified against it. 

Her textbooks were arranged neatly in front of her, pages marked, notes organized with precision, everything exactly where it should be, like it always was. There was nothing missing.

She opened her laptop and stared at the screen.

The words were predictable, informative sections of text she had read before, but as her eyes moved across the same sentence again, nothing seemed to hold. The meaning slipped past her, leaving no trace behind, and when she tried again, it didn’t settle any differently.

Her foot began to bounce against the leg of the chair, steady at first, then growing uneven in a quiet attempt to pull herself back into a controlled focus.

Somewhere down the hall, there was a muffled sound.

Barely there but enough for her attention to immediately catch it, the thought forming without effort.

Seulgi.

The presence lingered there, threading through everything else with a persistence that made it difficult to ignore. A stranger moving inside her home. 

Jaeyi exhaled slowly and brought her gaze back to the screen, forcing herself to refocus.

It was nothing. A minor disruption, only temporary. She would adjust…she always did.

Her hand reached for her pen, the motion automatic, but her fingers didn’t close around it properly, and it slipped, striking the floor with a hollow sound that seemed louder than it should have been in the quiet.

She stared at where it had landed, her expression unreadable as a change moved quietly underneath.

The feeling remained unsettled, and for the first time in a long while, she could feel it clearly, the disorienting slip of control leaving her grasp.

Chapter Text

Jaeyi woke before her alarm, taking her a moment to realize why.

Sleep had come to her in waves, shallow and uneven, never settling long enough to carry her fully through the night. Even now, as she lay still beneath the covers, there was no sense of rest to return from, only a low awareness that she had been awake more often than not. 

The presence that had entered the house the night before hid somewhere beneath her thoughts. Persistent enough to keep her from slipping fully away.

It unsettled her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

A subtle tension had begun to take root in her body, the sensation undeniable, threading through her shoulders and settling low in her chest.  It carried a trace of recognition, faded with time.

Something she had once known, then gradually left behind, no longer part of the pattern she moved through each day.

She didn’t like it. The realization that her home was continuing on beyond her awareness, changing in immeasurable ways while she had been confined to her room, unable to observe properly. The thought hung around longer than it should have, narrowing her focus.

She stayed in bed a little longer than usual, listening.

The house carried its usual early morning calm, an undisturbed sense that had always belonged to her. It was the part of the day she trusted most, when everything remained in its place and nothing had yet begun to unravel.

She sat up just before her alarm could sound, silencing it before it had the chance to interrupt. She slowly slipped out of bed and crossed the room, her steps light against the wood as she made her way toward the door. 

The hallway beyond greeted her with a softer light than she expected, a thin line of early morning sun stretching across the floor from the opened guest room further down.

She paused.

The light spilled through the narrow opening, cutting a quiet path into the hallway that hadn’t been there before.

Jaeyi stilled, her eyes settling on it, the feeling that settled within her couldn’t be dismissed entirely. 

She didn’t linger.

Turning away from the door, she continued down the hall toward the stairs with controlled steps, though her attention remained heightened. At the top, she stopped again, listening.

First, it was the sound of a cabinet opening, then closing softer than it should have been, followed by a brief pause. 

A faint clink of glass came next, then the sink turning on, water rushing to fill the space beneath it. Each movement seemed to stretch on for far too long, careful in a way that felt out of place. 

It wasn’t her mother, Hyejoo never moved like that in her own kitchen.

Jaeyi exhaled lightly through her nose, something close to irritation settling in below the surface. Though she kept it contained.

She descended the stairs before slowing at the bottom.

From where she stood, she could see into the kitchen.

Seulgi.

She leaned awkwardly against the counter with a posture that was too straight and overly aware of itself. She looked as though she were unsure whether she was allowed to occupy the space at all. 

She still wore the same crewneck from the night before, her hair falling loosely around her face. Her hands rested together in front of her, drawn tight with a subtle tension that made it seem like she was waiting, though for what remained unclear.

Jaeyi’s gaze shifted to a small stack of neatly folded clothes that sat on the table…the spot she usually occupied.

A bright yellow sticky note rested on top.

Seulgi,
here are a few clothing items you are welcome to wear.
—Miss Yoo

Jaeyi took it in without comment, her expression giving nothing away as she stepped fully into the kitchen.

The change in the room was all it took.

Seulgi noticed her immediately, her body reacting before her expression, a small, involuntary flinch that didn’t go unnoticed.

Neither of them spoke.

Jaeyi moved past her without hesitation, her actions unaffected, as if Seulgi were simply another object within the room rather than a disruption. She reached for a mug and set it down before turning on the kettle.

Behind her, Seulgi remained where she was.

She drew herself more upright, her gaze lifting only a little.

The space between them held again.

Unresolved.

Seulgi cleared her throat, breaking the stillness.

“Good morning…”

The words felt uncertain as they left her, her mind not fully decided on them before speaking.

“I’m sorry if I woke you…”

Her voice trailed just slightly at the end as hesitation caught up.

Jaeyi didn’t respond right away.

She remained where she was, her attention fixed on the kettle as it began to hum more steadily, a thin ribbon of steam rising from its spout. Her eyes stayed there, convincing herself that the task demanded more attention than it did. She let out a measured breath before speaking.

“You’re up rather early.”

The comment settled into the room as plainly as everything else she had said so far.

Seulgi blinked, the response catching her slightly off guard.

For a fleeting second, she wished Hyejoo had come downstairs first that morning, that this moment might have been buffered by someone who knew how to hold it. 

Instead, she found herself answering alone.

She nodded quickly.

“I didn’t want to sleep too late.”

The explanation came out with a more apologetic tone than she intended. Jaeyi didn’t acknowledge it.

She moved past her instead, crossing the space toward the table where her bag rested with unhurried steps. She slipped the strap from the back of the chair and opened it, the motion practiced, as she exchanged a few of the books inside with ones already laid out.

A notebook followed. She drew it out and took her seat, the chair sliding softly against the floor as she settled in. Her fingers flipped through the pages, scanning the notes with automatic precision as the quiet between them settled once more.

A few minutes passed stretching thin in the silence, held together by the soft hum of the kettle and the faint sounds of Jaeyi’s pen jotting down a few notes. Seulgi stood around the edge of the kitchen. She began to tap her fingers lightly against her glass of water, each subtle movement carrying a slight hesitation that hadn’t been there before.

The sound of footsteps rose from the stairs.

Hyejoo appeared a moment later, already dressed for work, her bright presence filling the space immediately. She paused when she saw them both in the kitchen, her eyes moving between them with mild surprise before softening into a smile.

“You’re both up before me,” Hyejoo said, stepping fully into the room.

Seulgi felt the relief move through her shoulders.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, her voice almost apologetic.

From the table, Jaeyi let out the faintest scoff, barely audible, her eyes never lifting from her notebook as she turned another page.

Hyejoo didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she moved into the kitchen and slipped into motion with ease. It felt as though the room had been waiting for her to restore its balance. 

She reached for a pan and cracked an egg, then set last night’s rice into a smaller pot to warm. A glass container came next, opened and placed on the table as she arranged the pickled vegetables with habitual care.

“Seulgi, take a seat please,” she said gently, already reaching for the kettle. “I’ll make you another cup of lemon tea.”

Seulgi hesitated only a moment before moving, pulling out the chair across from Jaeyi with careful hands, the sound of it soft against the floor. She eased into the chair, her posture drawn a touch too upright.

“Thank you for the clothes,” she said, turning slightly toward Hyejoo.

Hyejoo smiled in response, pouring hot water into three mugs, the steam rising steadily between them.

They ate in relative silence, the stillness broken only by the soft tap of utensils against glass, the faint clink of chopsticks, and the occasional sip from a mug. It might have passed for routine, although, it didn’t feel that way.

Jaeyi’s attention remained fixed on her notes, but her awareness lingered elsewhere, pulling at her focus. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the way Seulgi ate, with such small, measured bites, each one taken with a kind of forced effort.

It unsettled her.

There was a strain of overcare in it, too deliberate to ignore, as though even eating demanded restraint. Jaeyi let out a quiet breath through her nose, her pen digging a little harder into the page as she tried to busy herself in her work.

Halfway through the meal, the rhythm broke.

Seulgi went still.

The change was abrupt, her hand pausing mid-motion before she set her chopsticks down with precision.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her hand lifting to cover her mouth as she pushed her chair back, the movement clumsy despite her attempt to keep it quiet. “I’ll be right back—”

She stood too fast.

The chair scraped softly against the floor as she moved, already turning toward the stairs, her steps hurried as she rushed out of the room.The harsh sound of the bathroom door upstairs followed shortly after. It echoed through the house and made the silence afterward feel heavier.

Jaeyi’s gaze lifted, settling on the empty space Seulgi had left behind.

“Oh dear,” Hyejoo murmured, her attention shifting upward as she listened.

The sounds that followed were not subtle. Even from downstairs, they carried clearly enough, the muffled strain of it reaching through the quiet in a way that couldn’t be ignored.

Jaeyi turned her head slightly, her expression tightening as she glanced toward her mother.

“Wait… is she—?”

Another sound from upstairs cut her off.

Hyejoo nodded once, already understanding.

“Mhm… yes.”

The realization settled quickly, reshaping the space between them.

For a moment, silence held between them until the footsteps eventually returned.

Seulgi reappeared at the top of the stairs, moving slower now, her hand brushing lightly against the wall as she steadied herself on the way down. There was more color in her face than before, though it didn’t quite settle evenly.

She returned to her seat, lowering herself carefully, trying to place everything back where it had been.

“I’m okay,” she said, too quickly.

Hyejoo nodded, her voice gentle.

“You’re alright… take your time.”

Jaeyi pushed her chair back a second later.

The movement came fast, sharp in contrast to everything else that had been held so carefully. 

She gathered her things without looking up, slipping her notebook back into her bag. She then carried her dishes to the sink and set them down with a little more force than needed.

The restlessness had begun to surface beneath her composure.

She slung her backpack over her shoulder, already turning toward the door when her mother’s voice stopped her, not directed at her though, but enough to hold her in place.

“Seulgi…?”

Hyejoo’s tone shifted again, gentler now.

“Have you had the chance to think about what you might want to do…?”

Seulgi went still. The question remained in the air as Hyejoo continued.

“About… everything. There’s no rush, and whatever you decide, it’s your choice.”

Seulgi didn’t respond right away, she wasn’t used to words with such soft weight.

She nodded faintly, lowering her gaze to the surface of her tea, settling on the steam rising and dissipating in uneven patterns.

“I understand.”

Jaeyi didn’t stay to hear anything more.

She stepped out of the house, the door closing behind her with a firm, final click of the lock, shifting into place cutting cleanly through the quietness of the morning.

—

The air felt heavier than it should have, settling low in Jaeyi’s lungs with each breath, sharp enough to sting slightly while she quickened her pace. Her backpack knocked lightly against her hip as she moved through her neighborhood, weaving past familiar streets without needing to think about the direction she was going. 

Everything outside remained unchanged, as it always did, neighbors stepping out for work, buses winding up the steep roads before hissing to a stop at the corners, doors opening and closing in quiet succession.

Nothing was different.

She hated how much it bothered her.

By the time she reached campus, the irritation had settled tighter, more defined into something she could hold onto. It was easier that way, channeling the feeling into a more useful purpose rather than let it remain loose. Anger, at least, could be organized. 

It could be directed, giving her something to work with instead. She let herself lean into it.

The study lounge near the laboratory wing was already half full when she arrived, busy with a low murmur of hushed conversations and the occasional turn of pages filling the space without disrupting it.

Jaeyi moved through it without hesitation, heading straight for her usual seat by the window. Through the glass, she could see glimpses of the early signs of spring, muted greens and soft movement.

She sat down and began to unpack.

Laptop first, placed parallel to the edge of the table with exact alignment. Then her notebook, followed by her workbooks, pen, and highlighter, each item set down with care, adjusted once, then again, until everything sat exactly where it needed to be.

She drew a steady breath.

She opened her workbook and began checking her data tables, cross-referencing each entry with her notes, her attention narrowing into the task with ease. 

The material itself posed no real challenge to Jaeyi, everything aligned cleanly, each calculation arriving at the expected result and unfolding without gaps or inconsistencies.

She moved on without pause, opening her laptop and scrolling through her documents, shifting her focus toward the upcoming exam. It was important, yes, but not something she typically worried about. The concepts had already settled into place for her long before this, forming a clear structure that rarely required revisiting.

Up until now.

She reread the same paragraph, her lips moving faintly as she traced the logic through her head, following it from start to finish.

When she reached the end, she frowned, before returning to the beginning.

The information felt off for her, loose in a way she couldn’t immediately correct.

She flipped the page, her gaze settling on a diagram she had meticulously drawn the day before. It should have registered immediately, grasped at first glance, but the familiarity refused to take hold.

Her eyes moved between the diagram and the equation beneath it, waiting for the connection to surface, for that quiet sense of recognition to fall into place the way it always had. Nothing came.

Her jaw tightened.

She reached for her pen and began again from the start, rewriting the equation step by step, formula first, then each number and symbol placed with careful intent, her handwriting steady and exact. The repetition offered a brief sense of control and for a moment, it steadied her.

The miscalculation only became clear at the final step.

Small.

A single misplaced sign.

Something she would have caught immediately any other day.

Her body stilled.

She erased it at once, pressing harder than necessary, the paper thinning slightly beneath the friction. The sound of it felt louder than it should have. 

She forced herself to slow down, allowing a few stable breaths. She rewrote the line again, checking each symbol twice, then a third time.

Correct.

She leaned back slightly in her chair, the tension in her shoulders tightening for a brief second before she pushed it down, annoyed with herself for reacting at all.

It was nothing.

Just a simple mistake.

She moved on, completing another problem. Then another.

But the slight disruption began to grow under the surface. It was enough to unsettle the foundation beneath her, like the ground had barely moved by a fraction of an inch, enough to throw off her balance if she wasn’t careful.

Across the room, a chair scraped softly against the floor.

The sound cut through her focus immediately.

Jaeyi’s posture stiffened as her attention snapped toward it before she could stop herself. The noise itself was insignificant, no different from any other morning, but it lingered longer than it should have, pushing into her awareness in a way that made it difficult to ignore.

The room felt different now, every sound closing in with sharpness.

She exhaled through her nose, gathering her things without hesitation and moved to another seat further away. She sat down again and reset her space, the same methodical process repeating itself in smaller motions.

Focus, Jaeyi.

The words settled into her mind, steadying her. She still had time, about another hour before her physics lecture, enough to regain control and hopefully, fix it.

—

Nothing about the distance on the way home had changed.

Jaeyi kept her pace steady at first, her steps falling into rhythm as the campus faded behind her, but the weight she carried with her from the morning hadn’t lifted in the way she expected by now.

Her phone vibrated once in her pocket.

The sensation was enough to pull her attention immediately, her hand already moving before she had fully registered the motion. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen, expecting a message from her mother to be there, some reassuring words to anchor the rest of the day into something more predictable.

But her screen only displayed a simple email. An assignment submission confirmation, nothing more. She stared at it before locking the screen and slipping the phone back into her pocket.

By the time she reached the gate outside her home, her pace had slowed without notice.

She slipped through the opening and followed the small stone path toward the front door, the setting offering no immediate sense of ease. Her hand moved to the lock, inputting the code before pushing the door open.

The house greeted her with a silence that had always been there.

And yet, she didn’t fully trust it this time.

The kitchen lights were on, casting a warm glow across the floor, and the scent of food lingered in the air, earthy and savory. Jaeyi recognized it immediately.

Her mother’s Jjigae.

Her gaze dropped briefly toward the entryway.

Seulgi’s sneakers remained where they had been left the night before, worn and slightly misshapen, resting in the same spot Jaeyi usually set her own shoes. The placement caught her attention.

She nudged her own shoes off beside them, the motion sharper than necessary, before stepping further inside.

The kitchen came into full view.

Seulgi stood at the stove, her shoulders drawn in slightly as she stirred a pot with care. The movement didn’t seem quite natural for her, as if she were learning on the spot.

She turned at the sound of Jaeyi’s steps.

“Oh,” she said, the tone almost uncertain. “You’re back already.”

There was a small pause before she added, quieter,

“Your mother said… you’d be home later.”

“My lecture ended early.”

Jaeyi set her backpack down near the table, her voice even, though her attention had already moved elsewhere.

“You didn’t need to prepare food,” she added.

Seulgi’s grip on the spoon tightened slightly.

“Sorry… I know,” she said, her voice lowering. “I just… thought it might help.”

The words lingered there, unfinished.

Jaeyi didn’t respond to that part.

Her eyes moved instead, settling on the pot as Seulgi stirred it, then shifting to the counter where two empty bowls had already been set out, placed side by side as if waiting to be filled.

Prepared for both of them.

Her gaze moved again, landing on the table.

The arrangement had attempted to be neat, not the way she would have done it. Something about that, as small as it was, began to twist against her patience.

A sense of irritation settled into place without fully surfacing.

Seulgi spoke again, softer now.

“Your mother… felt bad. About last night.”

A pause stretched between them.

“She started it before she left.”

Another.

“I just… kept it warm.”

Jaeyi nodded once, carrying little acknowledgment beyond the surface of it. She stepped past Seulgi, moving further into the kitchen, her presence brushing too close for comfort as she crossed the space.

A quiet scoff slipped under her breath before she could stop it.

“It’s fine. I’m not hungry.”

The words came out sharper than she intended, cutting through the room with a firmness that didn’t match the situation.

“And you don’t need to do anything like that,” she said, her tone final.

Seulgi flinched. The reaction was small, but immediate, her shoulders tightening as the words sank into her.

“Sorry.”

Jaeyi’s jaw tightened slightly.

The constant apologizing grated more than anything else.

Jaeyi retreated upstairs without another word, the quiet of the lower floor following her only part-way before it fell away. She stepped into her room and closed the door behind her, the soft click settling into place as she turned back toward her desk.

Everything remained exactly as she had left it that morning.

Her chair sat tucked neatly beneath the desk, her materials arranged with an exactness that hadn’t shifted in her absence, as if the morning had not fractured in the way it had. 

She sat before opening her notebook, trying to pick up where she had left off.

The numbers blurred together. They didn’t hold the way they were supposed to, the structure beneath them slipping just enough to make everything feel unstable. She blinked once, then again, forcing her focus to sharpen..

From downstairs, the faint sounds of ceramic against metal were heard.

Seulgi.

Eating alone.

Jaeyi remained fixed on the page, though her awareness stretched beyond, catching on every small sound that carried upward through the house. It threaded into her concentration, making it impossible to separate from what she was trying to do.

The house felt crowded.

She closed her notebook. Her palms pressed flat against the surface of the desk, fingers splayed as she leaned forward slightly, drawing in a slow breath until the edge of irritation dulled just enough to be contained again.

This was temporary.

She repeated it to herself, once, then again, holding onto the thought.

Still, she opened her notebook again.

She hadn’t planned to keep studying, but the decision formed anyway, rising from the same place everything else had been coming from since the night before, a quiet, insistent need to regain control over something.

Anything.

She turned to a fresh page and began again, rewriting the problem from memory, working through each step with care, forcing her attention to remain fixed on the process.

Halfway through, she stopped.

Her pen hovered above the page as she retraced the steps in her head, searching for the point where it had gone wrong.

There.

Another miscalculation.

Her stomach tightened.

She stared at the page for a moment longer before her gaze drifted toward the window, her breath leaving her through her nose in a controlled exhale.

“Get it together,” she murmured under her breath.

Her phone vibrated against the desk, once, then again, then a third time in quick succession. She reached for it without thinking, her thumb brushing across the screen to check the notifications.

Three messages from her mother.

Mom: Jaeyi-yah, can you ask Seulgi if she would like something from the store?
Mom:  Is she doing alright?
Mom: Did she eat?

Jaeyi stared at them. Her expression didn’t change, but the irritation returned.

Unbelievable.

Her eyes lingered on the last message, settling on a single word.

She.

The priority.

She let out a short, humorless breath, almost like a laugh slipping through before she could stop it, and turned the phone face down against the desk.

It didn’t help. She picked up her pen again and flipped to the next page in her workbook, the motion quicker this time with less control. The corner of the page caught against her hand and tore slightly as she turned it.

“Shit.” 

The word slipped out under her breath, low and immediate. She stilled, took another breath, and turned the page. A new problem waited for her, one she already knew. 

She didn’t need to work it out, but she did anyway.

Her pen moved automatically, each step following the last without hesitation, her mind already moving ahead, anticipating the outcome before she reached it.

She finished.

Stopped.

The answer was wrong.

Jaeyi stared at it, her gaze unmoving as she went back through the process, checking each step again, slower this time. The logic held. The numbers aligned.

And yet, the result remained. Incorrect again.

Her chest tightened.

She started over on a new sheet, rewriting the same problem, the same steps, forcing herself through it again with greater care, greater attention.

The result didn’t change.

Her breath hitched.

“No...no… no.”

The words slipped out with unsteadiness.

Her vision narrowed, her pulse picking up as she scanned the page again, searching for what should have been obvious but refused to appear. The problem itself no longer mattered, something else was slipping, something much deeper. 

A memory surfaced without warning.

Yoo Jena, over a decade ago, sat across from her, sleeves pulled down over her hands, the fabric swallowing her fingers as she leaned over her own work. The room had been quiet then too, with a silence that seemed to close in around them.

Jena had always studied like that.

Carefully, trying not to disturb the space around her.

Her eyes lifted, meeting Jaeyi’s, catching the tension there before anything had been said.

“Jaeyi-yah?”

Her voice had been delicately soft and heavy with caution.

“Did you make a mistake?”

She hesitated only briefly before adding, almost instinctively—

“Just… hurry and fix it before dad sees it.”

The memory faded as quickly as it had come, the present pressing back in around her.

Jaeyi swallowed.

She had always hated that.

The way her sister folded inward, even when the mistake hadn’t been hers. The way she tried to smooth everything over before anything could escalate, before anyone else had the chance to react.

“Don’t,” Jaeyi muttered to herself under her breath.

She pushed the thought aside and forced her attention back to the page, but her hand had begun to tremble, the movement slight at first, then harder to ignore.

She set the pen down, pressed her fingers flat against the desk again and held them there until the shaking eased, until she could convince herself it had never started.

From down the hall, a faint but distinct sound of a door opening could be heard before closing again. Soft footsteps followed, hesitant in their movement as they settled behind the walls.

Seulgi.

Jaeyi’s jaw clenched as the house seemed to stir around her, no longer still but quietly active, each movement brushing against her awareness. She gathered the scattered papers on her desk, stacking them with careful precision, aligning each edge until they sat perfectly in place. 

The order should have steadied her. Instead, it felt precarious, as though it might unravel the moment her focus slipped again.

She leaned back, her gaze settling on the blank page in front of her. For once, the thought came without resistance, without the reflex to push it aside.

How long would it take…before she no longer recognized herself?

She closed the notebook.

Chapter Text

Seulgi hadn’t meant to fall asleep so early.

The day before had worn her down in ways she hadn’t expected, the quiet of the house stretching longer than she knew how to fill. She had sat by the window for what seemed like hours, the borrowed room dim around her, turning the chapstick slowly between her fingers as she watched the street below blur into distant motions. At some point, without deciding to, she had laid down.

After that, she didn’t remember.

The chapstick was still in her hand when she woke the next morning.

Her fingers had loosened around it in her sleep, the small plastic tube resting against her palm as she blinked slowly into the muted light of the sun. For a moment, she didn’t move, her body caught between rest and awareness as she listened.

Nothing.

The silence felt complete in a way that was almost disorienting, especially when she realized she had slept later than she had the morning before.

Seulgi sat up carefully, shifting her weight with slow precision, mindful of the bed beneath her, of the way even the smallest sound might carry in a place that didn’t belong to her. The mattress gave only slightly, the frame remaining still as she steadied herself at the edge.

The room looked different in the full daylight.

Softer, but no more familiar.

The bright light filtering through the window flattened everything, leaving the space feeling staged rather than lived in. Even now, standing within it, she felt as though she were stepping into something temporary.

The realization set in. 

This was still only temporary. Nothing more.

She glanced down at the blanket, smoothing it once before folding it back into place, aligning it carefully with the edge of the bed the way she had found it. The motion left no trace behind.

Only then did she move toward the door.

The hallway greeted her with the same emptiness.

She stepped out, her feet light against the floor as she paused near the top of the stairs, the space opening out before her. Before descending, she turned back, her gaze drifting down the length of the hall toward the closed door at the far end.

Jaeyi’s room.

She lingered there for only a second before looking away.

She must have left already.

The thought settled without resistance.

Seulgi turned and made her way down the stairs, each step careful in its placement. The house remained unchanged as she reached the bottom and stepped into the kitchen.

The absence of people was immediate.

Clean dishes sat in the drying rack, arranged neatly, a single mug placed among them, still faintly damp. Small signs of movement lingered in the space, subtle evidence that the morning had already passed through without her.

Seulgi stood there for a moment, taking it in, her presence settling into the quiet that had been left behind.

Not before long, the front door opened.

Seulgi glanced up instinctively, her posture straightening as Hyejoo stepped inside, already carrying the momentum of her day with her. 

She looked effortlessly put together, her clothes neat and her hair gathered loosely at the nape of her neck in a bun.

“Good morning, Seulgi,” she said gently, slipping out of her shoes as she moved toward the kitchen. “Did you sleep better this time?”

Seulgi nodded, her hands settling lightly against the edge of the table. “Yes… much better. Thank you.”

Hyejoo hummed in quiet acknowledgment, already crossing the room, checking something briefly in the kitchen before pausing to glance down at her watch. The movement felt habitual, part of a routine she carried with her without needing to think about it.

“Jaeyi left early,” she added, almost in passing, as if filling in a space before it could be questioned. “She has a lot going on with school. I think she has an exam today.”

Seulgi pressed her lips together for a moment before nodding, the information settling without much reaction as she slipped into one of the chairs at the table.

Hyejoo began to round the kitchen after gathering a few items together. A bowl was set out, followed by a ladle dipping into something warm, broth and rice were then placed gently in front of Seulgi without ceremony.

“I need to run out for a bit this morning before heading to the studio,” Hyejoo said, her tone light, though her movements remained purposeful. “Just an appointment. I thought you could come with me, if you’d like.”

Seulgi paused, considering it for only a moment before nodding.

“Yeah… I’ll come along.”

A small smile followed.

Hyejoo returned it, already reaching into her purse as if remembering something mid-motion. She pulled out a phone, holding it out toward Seulgi without much emphasis, the gesture almost casual.

“This is my old work phone,” she said. “I don’t really use it anymore. It’s nothing special, but I’d feel better if you had it. Just in case.”

Seulgi hesitated for a second too long, her eyes settling on it before she reached out, taking it carefully with both hands.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet but sincere. “I’ll be very careful with it.”

Hyejoo smiled, though her attention had already begun to shift again, her hand moving back into her bag, fingers brushing over a small index card where her schedule had been written out in quick, neat lines.

Seulgi lowered her gaze briefly, slipping the phone into her pocket, the weight of it noticeable in a way that made her more aware of herself than she had been a moment before. The phone clicked against her chapstick capsule as she adjusted in her seat.

Neither of them said much else.

When they stepped out of the house together, the door closing behind them with a soft, final sound, the space they left behind remained exactly as it had been.

Unchanged and already different.

–

The clinic sat tucked between a row of older storefronts, its exterior unremarkable, the glass door giving way with a soft chime as they stepped inside. 

The air shifted immediately, clean, but not entirely sterile. A faint layer of disinfectant lingered beneath something artificially floral, the combination sharp enough to catch in the back of Seulgi’s throat, stirring a brief wave of unease low in her stomach before settling.

She followed Hyejoo in without speaking.

The waiting room was quiet, lined with plastic-covered chairs that reflected the overhead light in dull, uneven patches. 

Seulgi chose one near the wall and sat carefully, folding her hands into her lap, pressing her knees together as though keeping still might make her less visible within the space.

Across the room, Hyejoo stood at the check-in counter, already filling out paperwork with a relaxed posture. She remained focused as her pen moved steadily across the documents.

Seulgi’s gaze drifted.

It moved without intention, catching on the small details that made up the room, the edge of a magazine left slightly bent on a side table, the low sounds of a machine somewhere out of sight, and then the water dispenser against the wall. A slow leak had formed beneath it over time, the repeated drips leaving behind a faint discoloration in the linoleum, darker at the center where the water had settled again and again.

She watched it for a moment longer than necessary.

“Seulgi.”

Hyejoo’s voice pulled her back.

She looked up to find her gesturing gently from the counter, a small, reassuring motion that invited rather than called. Seulgi rose quickly and crossed the room, her steps quiet as she came to stand beside her.

“This is Seulgi,” Hyejoo said, her tone warm as she introduced her to the woman at the front desk.

The receptionist offered a polite nod, her expression neutral but not unfriendly.

“Family name and date of birth?” she asked, her voice even.

Seulgi answered, her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest from the procedural exchange. A clipboard was passed to her, then back again, the process unfolding without pause before she was directed back to the waiting area.

They sat together this time.

Hyejoo leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice just enough to keep the conversation contained between them.

“They’ll just do a basic checkup today,” she said gently. “Nothing invasive. Just to make sure you’re alright. And if at any point you’re uncomfortable, you can say so.”

Seulgi nodded, her hands tightening slightly in her lap before relaxing again.

Hyejoo’s phone vibrated softly in her pocket. She reached for it without thinking, glancing down briefly at the screen, Jaeyi’s name lighting up, before shifting her attention back.

“And about everything else,” she continued after a moment, her voice steady, though more deliberate now, “you don’t need to decide anything right now. Whatever you choose…”

She paused, her eyes searching Seulgi’s face, making sure the words landed where they needed to.

“…it’s your choice. I want you to know that.”

Seulgi swallowed, her throat tightening slightly.

“Okay.”

It was all she could manage.

The room fell quiet again, the time between called names stretching longer than expected.

“Woo Seulgi?”

The nurse’s voice cut through it cleanly. Seulgi stood almost immediately, her body responding before her thoughts could catch up, and followed her down the hallway without looking back.

—

The exam passed in pieces rather than moments.

A blood pressure cuff tightened around her arm, squeezing just enough before releasing with a soft hiss. She stepped onto a scale, the numbers flickering briefly beneath her gaze before she looked away, the exposure of it settling uncomfortably in her chest. 

A set of routine questions followed, about the date of her last period, about nausea, about pain, each one delivered in a tone that carried expectation with no traces of judgement.

A small vial of blood was drawn before a final set of forms were handed to her, then taken back.

At one point, a pamphlet was placed in front of her, the word options printed near the top in a small, neutral font. She didn’t open it.

The nurse spoke gently, explaining next steps, mentioning timelines, referring to things that felt too far ahead to fully process.

Seulgi nodded when it seemed appropriate and answered when she could. She let the rest pass over her.

When it was over, she stepped back into the hallway, the bright clinic settling around her again.

She felt a dull, steady exhaustion, settling into her limbs as though the weight of everything had finally found a place to rest.

—

They stepped out of the clinic together, the air outside cooler than before, the brightness of the day already fading into something more subdued. The sky had shifted toward a pale blue, the light flattening across the street as they made their way toward Hyejoo’s car.

Seulgi kept her gaze lowered as she walked, her steps measured, the quiet from inside the clinic lingering faintly in her chest. Beside her, Hyejoo moved swiftly, though something in her posture had loosened.

She paused at the driver’s side door.

“Seulgi?”

Seulgi looked up, her attention pulling away from the ground as she met her gaze.

“Hm?”

Hyejoo hesitated just slightly before speaking again, her tone thoughtful.

“Would you like to come see the book studio?” she asked. “It’s nearby.”

Seulgi blinked, the suggestion catching her off guard.

“Is it not busy today?”

“Not today,” Hyejoo replied, a faint smile settling into place. “I don’t have any clients this afternoon. Just a few books that need to be rebound after the glue cured overnight.” She paused, then added, almost as an aside, “I don’t usually bring people there, but… it’s a calm space. You can take a look.”

Seulgi nodded, a small warmth settling quietly into her chest at the invitation.

“I’d like that.”

—

The studio was tucked above a neighboring office, its entrance easy to miss unless you knew where to look. A narrow set of stairs led upward, the steps worn slightly from repeated use, each one carrying a faint echo as they climbed.

At the top, Hyejoo stopped at the door, before entering a passcode. The lock clicked softly.

Seulgi stepped inside first as Hyejoo gestured for her to go ahead.

The light came on just after, a soft glow filling the room, though it was the natural light that drew her attention immediately. It poured in through the windows, stretching across the wooden floorboards in long, warm beams that gave the entire space a golden depth.

Rattan furnishings were arranged with care, tucked between work tables that bore the marks of use over time. The tones throughout the studio leaned warm, honeyed wood, soft neutrals and the subtle variation of materials layered without disruption. Large plants rose from ceramic pots, their leaves catching the light as they shifted faintly in the still air.

Books were stacked in careful piles, some wrapped in cloth, others bound in leather, their surfaces worn just enough to show time without neglect.

The scent settled in next. A combination of aged paper and glue. A faint trace of something chemical beneath it, softened by polished wood and leather.

It was inviting in a way that didn’t ask for attention. No wonder Hyejoo took such pride in it, Seulgi thought to herself.

“This is what I do on slow days,” Hyejoo said, setting her purse down near one of the tables. “Rebinding and restoration.”

She moved easily through her space, familiarity with it evident in the way her hands reached for things without searching. She gestured toward a row of books held together with strong clasps, left out to set, then guided Seulgi closer.

“Here,” she said gently, opening one of the books just enough to reveal the spine. “You press here, lightly. Just enough to fully flatten it.”

Seulgi leaned in, watching closely as Hyejoo demonstrated, her movements precise with control. 

The glue was applied sparingly, spread with care, each step measured so nothing excess remained. When she shifted to cleaning residue from another spine, her touch remained steady and deliberate.

Seulgi noticed it then.

A slight difference in her left hand.

Just barely there.

A faint tremor lingered, subtle enough not to interrupt the work, noticeable only if you knew where to look. It never slowed her or broke the rhythm she’d built, but instead, moved alongside it.

Here, Hyejoo seemed different.

There was a light ease to her movements, touched with a quiet confidence that settled into the work space  as she worked, as though this room allowed her to exist without anything weighing on her.

Seulgi watched everything.

Absorbing each instruction as if it mattered beyond the moment, like she might be expected to remember it later.

Time slipped without either of them noticing.

The light shifted gradually, the gold deepening into a richer hue, until it began to stretch longer across the floor, brushing against the edges of the tables and climbing partway up the walls. 

The city beyond the windows glowed, the outlines of buildings darkening as the sun dipped lower.

Seulgi reached into her pocket and pulled out the phone, the screen lighting up as she checked the time.

It was much later than she thought.

She glanced up, her eyes settling on Hyejoo, who remained focused on her work, her attention fully absorbed.

Seulgi opened her mouth to speak, then paused.

She pressed her lips together shortly after. 

Hyejoo continued, explaining the differences between paper weight and material, how certain repairs were meant to last, while others were only meant to hold something together for a while longer. Seulgi asked small questions when she could, her voice overall attentive, and Hyejoo answered each one with the same steady patience.

By the time they gathered their things, the sky outside had shifted completely.

The warmth of the late afternoon had given way to a deeper lavender, the last of the light fading behind the buildings.

They stepped back out into the evening air together, the door locking behind them with a soft click as they made their way down the stairs.

Hyejoo reached for her phone as they walked, her expression changing slightly as she glanced at the screen.

“Oh no…I had meant to drop something off for Jaeyi,” she said, more to herself than to Seulgi, her voice edged faintly with realization. “Her study guide. She asked this morning.”

Seulgi felt something in her stomach dip, small but noticeable.

“I completely forgot,” Hyejoo added quietly.

She slowed for a moment, her fingers already moving across the screen as she typed out a message, the motion automatic.

They continued walking.

The message was sent, although no reply came back.

—

By the time they returned to the house, the sky had darkened fully, leaving traces of clouds among the approaching night

Inside, the lights remained off.

Hyejoo stepped in first, reaching instinctively for the switch near the entryway. She moved into the kitchen and set her purse down on the counter with a quiet exhale, carrying a faint trace of fatigue. 

Behind her, Seulgi slipped out of her shoes, nudging them neatly aside before following at a distance of a few steps.

“She’ll be home later,” Hyejoo said, her voice light, though distracted, already shifting her attention elsewhere. “You should eat. There’s food in the fridge.”

Seulgi nodded.

“Okay.”

Hyejoo reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a water bottle, unscrewing the cap as she glanced down at her phone, her fingers already moving across the screen in uneven, hurried taps. The light from it briefly illuminated her face showing her focus split between the message she was typing and whatever else lingered in her thoughts.

“Seulgi,” she added after a moment, still looking down, “I have to run some notes up to Jaeyi on campus, and then I’ll be at the neighbor’s house tonight. Her son got called into work, so he asked if I could stay with her until he gets back.”

Her gaze lifted just slightly as she looked around the counter, scanning for something before spotting a thin folder tucked near the edge.

“Ah, there it is.”

She picked it up, flipping it open briefly to confirm its contents before slipping it into her bag. Under her breath, almost absentmindedly, she murmured,

“It’s so unlike Jaeyi to forget something like this.”

Seulgi stood from the table, nodding in acknowledgment.

Hyejoo was already moving toward the door.

“Please don’t hesitate to text if you need anything,” she said as she slipped her shoes back on, her tone warm despite the haste in her actions.

Seulgi nodded again before the door opened.

And just like that, the house fell silent again.

The quiet returned quickly, seeping back into the space. The house was now uninterrupted by nothing other than her own presence. 

Seulgi stood there for a moment, listening to it, as if expecting something to follow.

She moved eventually, pulling a container from the fridge and reheating the leftovers with slow, deliberate motions. When she sat down to eat, the stillness stretched across the table, broken only by the faint sound of utensils. She chewed slowly, more out of habit than hunger, letting the time pass without keeping track of it.

When she finished, she washed her dishes carefully.

Then again, the repetition had no purpose beyond filling the time.

She placed them in the drying rack with the same care as everything else before stepping away.

Time moved quietly after that as the house revealed itself slowly with reluctance.

Seulgi wandered into the hallway, her steps light as her attention drifted along the walls. Photographs lined the space in careful arrangement, framed moments captured and preserved without interruption. School portraits of Jaeyi appeared at regular intervals, each one marking a different year, a different version of her, her expression shifting subtly as time moved forward.

Between them, other images filled the gaps.

Hyejoo and Jaeyi together, landscapes, paintings, photos of Hyejoo in her studio.

Seulgi paused.

One photograph held her attention longer than the others.

Jaeyi stood in it, younger, age seven maybe, her posture straighter, her expression composed even then as she held up a certificate. The paper was crisp, the bold lettering clear.

Yoo Jaeyi.

First place.

Beside her stood another girl, close in age, her head tilted slightly, her smile brighter in a way that felt almost forced, as if she were trying to match something that didn’t quite come naturally.

She held a certificate too.

Second place.

Yoo Jena.

Seulgi took a small step back.

The name settled quietly, yet something about it stayed with her longer than it should have.

Her focus shifted to the surrounding photos, searching without fully realizing it, but the pattern didn’t repeat. 

The images that followed were of Jaeyi alone, year after year, uninterrupted.

Seulgi looked away.

The quiet deepened.

She turned back toward the living room, her gaze drifting to the couch, familiar now in a way it hadn’t been before. 

She paused there with uncertainty as her attention moved slowly through the room before settling on the coffee table.

The remote sat exactly where it had been left.

She reached for it.

The tv flickered on at the press of a button, light spilling across the room in shifting colors and indistinct noise. Seulgi stood there as she clicked through the channels, though nothing on the screen fully registered. The movement felt disconnected from where she stood.

She didn’t attempt to understand what was playing. Then after a while, she turned it off completely.

The room returned to quiet.

She placed the remote back exactly where she had found it, aligning it without thinking, before stepping away.

The stairs creaked softly beneath her as she made her way back up, the house settling around her once more.

Seulgi returned to the guest bedroom without turning on the light.

The room had already begun to darken, the last traces of evening fading away. She closed the door behind her and sat at the edge of the bed, her hands resting loosely at her sides as she stared at the wall. The shadows there shifted slowly, blurring at the edges as the light outside gave way.

She didn’t move for a while.

Eventually, her hand slipped into her pocket, her fingers finding the familiar capsule without searching. She pulled the chapstick free, turning it over once in her hand, the corner of the label still slightly peeled where it refused to stay in place.

She twisted the cap off carefully.

She didn’t apply it, instead, she held it just beneath her nose, her breath shallow as the faint scent settled into her. She closed her eyes, letting it remain there, a small, grounding presence to hold onto in the stillness.

After a moment, she replaced the cap and set it on the nightstand beside her.

Her gaze drifted toward the window.

She wondered, briefly, which house Hyejoo had gone to, trying to place it among the others she had seen from outside, though none of them stood out in any meaningful way. 

The thought passed without resolution as she lowered herself back onto the bed, lying over the covers without disturbing them, her hands folding over her stomach.

The window was cracked open just enough.

Sound carried through it in waves, the distant honk of a car, followed by the uneven rev of motorbikes weaving through the nearby hills, their engines rising and falling as they passed.

Seulgi listened, allowing the sounds to fill the space.

Jaeyi still wasn’t home.

The realization settled quietly.

She turned onto her side, careful in her movement, the sheets beneath her barely shifting as she adjusted. The phone Hyejoo had given her rested nearby. When she reached for it, the screen lit briefly, the brightness sharp for the dim room.

7:26.

Too early to feel this late.

She let the screen dim again.

Her thoughts drifted, touching briefly on Hyejoo, on the way she moved through the day, offering help without hesitation, as though it came naturally to her. Then, without intention, they shifted again.

To Jaeyi.

Still on campus, somewhere beyond the reach of the quiet she now occupied.

Seulgi wondered what she might be doing. What she might be thinking. How all of this looked from her side, if it felt as disruptive to her as it did from here.

Her hand moved slightly, settling lower against her stomach, the gesture absent, almost unconscious.

She stared into the dark until her eyes adjusted to it fully, the room flattening into soft shapes around her.

Light sleep came eventually. The kind that never fully settles.

—

Jaeyi stared at the clock mounted at the front of the classroom.

7:26.

The numbers didn’t surprise her. Nothing about it did.

She had known, long before the final minutes passed, long before she set her pen down, that it hadn’t gone the way it should have. The exam had unraveled gradually, not in one clear mistake, but in smaller parts where something should have come back to her and didn’t, steps that slipped just out of reach no matter how many times she tried to reconstruct them.

When time was called, she didn’t hesitate.

She set her pen down with care.

Then closed the exam booklet.

The room began to empty around her almost immediately, chairs shifting, voices rising as students gathered their things and moved toward the door. Jaeyi remained seated a moment longer, letting the noise pass, waiting until it dulled into distance before she stood and slung her bag over her shoulder.

Outside, the conversations picked up again.

Students lingered in small clusters, comparing answers and retracing steps. Their voices edged with confidence.

Jaeyi didn’t stop.

She stepped past them, her attention already elsewhere as she pulled her phone from her pocket and turned it back on. The screen lit up with a series of notifications that had gathered while it had been off, each one appearing in succession.

She scrolled past most of them.

Then paused.

One message held her attention longer than the rest.

Mom: I have the study guide. I’m sorry it took me this long.

5:58 PM

Jaeyi stared at it. The timestamp settled in.

Too late.

She remembered the note she had written the day before, the time clearly marked, the reminders she had sent throughout the morning, and then the afternoon, each one more direct than the last.

Ignored.

Until it no longer mattered.

She stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, the campus stretching out behind her as she looked down at the screen, her thumb hovering for a moment before she locked it again without replying.

The irritation sharpened as she moved.

It replayed itself without invitation, all the notes left behind, the expectation that they would be there when she needed them, the narrow margin she had relied on without realizing how fragile it was.

By the time she was halfway home, her focus had constricted completely, the rest of the walk passing in a blur she didn’t fully register.

Something else had slipped. She could feel it.

—

She pushed the front door open and stepped inside, letting it close behind her with more force than necessary as she dropped her backpack near the entryway.

Her shoes came off quickly as she stepped further inside, her gaze moving toward the kitchen.

It looked the same.

Exactly as she had left it that morning.

Except, the folder with the study guide was gone.

The space it had occupied on the counter sat empty now, the absence more noticeable than the object itself had been.

She didn’t need to think about where it was. She could picture it clearly.

Still inside her mother’s bag. Still with her, after she arrived on campus far too late. Useless now.

Jaeyi turned away.

The stairs creaked beneath her steps as she moved upward, her attention shifting briefly as she passed the guest room. No light spilled from beneath the door.

Inside her own room, she dropped into her chair, the motion heavy as she leaned forward, pressing her fingers into her temples.

The frustration had settled fully now.

She was angry. Angry at her mother, for forgetting. At herself, for assuming she wouldn’t. At the exam, for not giving her enough time to recover once things began to slip. And beneath it all, something quieter, less defined.

At the presence down the hall.

Jaeyi leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting toward the window. The sky had darkened completely, the street below lit only by scattered lights and the distant movement of passing cars. She could hear them faintly through the neighborhood.

Her mother would be at Mrs. Kim’s by now.

If she wasn’t already home.

The thought lingered longer than it should have.

She wondered, briefly, what was being said there. Whether her name had come up or whether today had already been folded into conversation, reshaped into something else.

A distant sound cut through it as Jaeyi’s gaze shifted. A plane passed high above, its presence felt more than heard now.

She slowly stared at the walls around her room.

It landed on the banner above her bed.

Hanseong National University.

The same colors and lettering that stretched across the crewneck Seulgi had been wearing.

Her crewneck.

In her house.

A flicker of irritation crossed Jaeyi’s face, her jaw setting as she held it in.

Time passed without her noticing, until she heard the sound of the front door being opened.

She could make out the sounds of her mother the moment the front door closed.

Even through the barrier of her bedroom door, the movements carried, shoes set aside, the shift of fabric, motion through the kitchen followed by the sound of keys landing on the counter. 

It didn’t take long before those sounds changed direction, footsteps moving across the floor, then onto the stairs, steady as they climbed.

Jaeyi didn’t move.

She remained where she was, her posture fixed until the steps reached the top and slowed.

A light knock followed.

She rolled her eyes, the motion small but immediate.

“Jaeyi-yah, can I come in?”

Hyejoo’s voice came through the door, softened by the wood between them.

Jaeyi said nothing.

The silence stretched just long enough to feel intentional before the door opened anyway, slowly.

She stood there for a moment before coming in fully, her coat still on, her hair slightly looser than it had been earlier in the day. There was a tiredness to her now, not just physical, but something else, something that had settled deeper after hours spent tending to someone else.

“I’m sorry about the study guide,” she said again, her voice gentle. “I should’ve—”

“I needed them earlier.”

Jaeyi’s voice cut in before she could finish. It carried more weight that way.

“I left a reminder,” she continued, her gaze steady now, fixed on her mother. “I sent multiple messages.”

Hyejoo nodded.

“I know.”

“You said you’d bring them,” Jaeyi added, her tone unchanged. “And my exam schedule has been posted on the fridge for the last three weeks.”

Her voice stayed level, as it didn’t need to rise.

“I was helping Mrs. Kim,” Hyejoo replied, her voice softening, though she didn’t move any closer. “And earlier, I was—”

She stopped herself.

Exhaled.

“I should have managed my time better, Jaeyi-yah.”

Jaeyi looked up at her then, her expression unreadable, though the tension in it remained, held just beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry.”

She didn’t respond.

The silence that followed settled heavily between them, stretching longer than either of them seemed prepared for. Hyejoo stood where she was, her hands still, her posture uncertain in a way that didn’t come easily to her.

She didn’t know what else to say.

—

Down the hall, Seulgi stirred.

The voices had reached her slowly, tight enough to pull her out of the shallow sleep she had drifted into. She lay still, her eyes half-open as she listened to the sounds carried faintly through the wall.

Only pieces.

“…earlier…”

“…needed…”

“…I’m sorry…”

The rest slipped away, too quiet to catch, dissolving before she could make sense of it.

Her stomach sank.

Seulgi pushed herself upright slowly, careful not to disturb the bed beneath her as she reached for the throw blanket at the edge, pulling it tightly around her shoulders. The fabric settled there, offering a small, contained sense of warmth against the unease that had begun to rise.

She didn’t move toward the door..

Whatever this was, it wasn’t meant for her.

—

It wasn’t particularly late for the house.

Late nights were familiar, part of a rhythm that rarely disrupted anything, but the tension that had settled earlier seemed to have drawn everything inward, each room closing in on itself sooner than usual, leaving the rest of the house to hold the quiet alone.

Seulgi lay still for a while, her eyes open in the dark, listening.

Then her stomach growled.

A low, hollow reminder.

She turned her head slightly toward the nightstand, reaching for the phone Hyejoo had given her. The screen lit up too brightly in the dark.

10:16.

It felt late, late enough that the thought of moving through the kitchen, of preparing anything, felt like too much. But water, just water, felt small enough.

She pushed herself up slowly and slipped out of the room, the door closing softly behind her. The hallway remained dark, the house settled deep into itself as she made her way to the stairs, her steps careful, each one placed with quiet intention.

Downstairs, the kitchen greeted her the same way it always did.

She crossed to the sink and filled a small glass, bracing a hand against the counter as she brought it to her lips. She took a slow sip, letting the coolness settle.

The house held until a faint sound came from upstairs.

A door softly opened.

Seulgi’s body reacted before her thoughts did, a subtle tension moving through her as she set the glass down on the counter. Her hand slipped into her pocket without thinking, fingers closing around the chapstick before she pulled it free.

She twisted the cap open and brought it closer, not applying it again, just holding it there, breathing in.

At the top of the stairs, Jaeyi stood.

She hadn’t meant to stop there, but her attention had caught on the movement below, and now she lingered just long enough to take it in. 

Seulgi leaned against the counter, her posture drawn in with her attention fixed on something in her hands. Jaeyi watched as her thumb moved absently over the peeling label, scratching at the residue before she slipped it back into her pocket and lifted the glass again.

Jaeyi rolled her eyes, the motion contained.

She hesitated only briefly before turning away, the moment dismissed as quickly as it had formed as she returned to her room.

Downstairs, unaware, Seulgi finished her water and moved toward the table, pulling out a chair with a soft scrape before sitting. The phone in her hand unlocked with a small swipe of her thumb, the screen lighting up as she scrolled through it slowly, searching without urgency. 

There was nothing in particular she was looking for, just something to fill the time and soften the quiet.

A game, maybe. Anything.

The sound of footsteps came again. This time, closer.

Seulgi looked up.

Hyejoo descended the stairs, her appearance more comfortable than earlier with her work clothes exchanged for a loose sweatshirt and leggings. She offered a small smile as she reached for her coat, her movements unhurried as she searched for her keys.

“Seulgi,” she said gently, slipping her arms into the sleeves, “I have to run to the convenience store and pick up some cough relief for Mrs. Kim. Would you like to come?”

Seulgi nodded without hesitation, already rising from her seat.

“Okay.”

She followed her out the door, the tension of the house closing in behind them.

—

The roads were nearly empty at that hour.

Streetlights stretched across the pavement in long intervals, the glow soft and steady as the car moved through familiar turns and empty intersections. Hyejoo drove without speaking, her focus on the road, her presence calm in a way that didn’t push for conversation.

Seulgi sat in the passenger seat, her gaze turned toward the window as she watched the neighborhood pass in fragments of light. It felt different from earlier, the same streets softened by the absence of movement, almost comforting this time.

She didn’t mind the silence.

Hyejoo didn’t interrupt it.

When they arrived, Hyejoo parked and stepped out quickly, offering a brief glance toward Seulgi before heading inside, the door of the convenience store chiming faintly as it closed behind her.

Seulgi remained in the car.

Her foot had fallen asleep during the drive, the dull tingling settling in as she shifted, uncrossing her legs and adjusting her weight against the window. Outside, a delivery driver on a motorbike weaved through the sparse traffic, the movement quick enough to draw her attention as she watched without thinking.

The chapstick slipped from her pocket when she moved.

It fell quietly, landing somewhere out of sight.

She didn’t notice.

By the time Hyejoo returned, the moment had passed.

—

The house welcomed them back with a little less tension than when they had left.

Jaeyi’s door remained closed, no light spilling from beneath it anymore, the space beyond it undisturbed. Hyejoo set her things down and turned to Seulgi with a small, tired smile.

“Go get some rest, dear” she said softly.

Seulgi nodded.

“Goodnight.”

She moved back toward the guest room, slipping inside and closing the door behind her before crossing the space and lowering herself onto the bed. The exhaustion came quickly this time, settling over her without warning and pulling her under before she could fully register it.

Outside, Hyejoo’s car sat still in the dark.

Beneath the passenger seat, the small tube of cherry-menthol chapstick remained where it had fallen.

Unseen.

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.

Chapter Text

Jaeyi didn’t hesitate.

She stood beside Hyejoo’s car along the street, dimly lit by scattered lamps that cast uneven pools of light across the pavement. The house behind her sat in darkness with its windows reflecting nothing back.

The chapstick felt smaller than it had a moment ago, the worn plastic barely registering against her grip.

She looked ahead.

Across the street, the neighboring yards stretched out in shadows, broken only by thin strips of light and the foliage shifting in the night breeze. That was enough.

Her arm moved before she could think about it further, the motion swift as she threw it, the small capsule cutting briefly through the air before disappearing into the dark. It landed somewhere beyond the light’s boundaries. There was a quick, muted rustle, swallowed completely by the brush.

The sound didn’t carry after that.

Jaeyi remained where she was, her body facing forward as if waiting for something else to follow, but the night held unchanged around her.

Eventually, she turned. The house was waiting behind her.

She walked back without looking again.

—

Seulgi woke before dawn with a heavy gasp for air, her body jolting upward before she fully understood why.

For a moment, she stayed there until the disorientation began to wear off, her chest rising too quickly as she tried to steady it. Her throat felt dry, her stomach unsettled, and her mind became too aware of it all.

She shifted back against the bed, her clothes clinging to her skin before loosening, the realization coming slowly. She was drenched.

Seulgi pushed herself upright as her gaze dropped to the sheets beneath her. Darkened, damp, and pressed flat where her body had been. Her hand moved to the back of her neck, her fingers catching slightly against her skin.

Sticky.

The room remained dark as the window offered no light yet, only the anticipation of early morning.

She turned toward the nightstand, reaching for the phone.

4:32 AM.

It was too early to feel like this.

Heat still clung to her heavily. She pulled at the hem of her shirt, peeling it away from her skin with an uncomfortable motion before tossing it aside. The fabric hit the floor without sound.

She began to consider the bathroom.

She would shower first, but the house was still sound asleep, and the thought of breaking that quiet felt like too much. Instead, she reached for a clean shirt and pulled it on, the fabric settling more loosely against her now.

Water. 

That would be enough.

She opened the door carefully and stepped into the hallway, her steps muffled as she made her way downstairs.

The house held its silence. Only the faint blue glow of the aquarium cut through the dark, casting soft light across the living room floor. It guided her into the kitchen, where she poured herself a glass of water.

She took a few small sips, quick gulps at first until she slowed down and let it settle.

Then, without fully deciding to, she drifted toward the living room.

She didn’t want to sit right away. She paused then lowered herself in front of the aquarium, crouching there as her eyes followed the slow movement inside. The fish drifted through the water, their colorful bodies softening as they passed between plants and glass with an unhurried motion.

Seulgi watched them and let her breathing follow their flow.

Eventually, she stood again and moved to the couch, easing herself down into the corner. She drew her knees up toward her chest, her arms wrapping loosely around them as she continued to watch the quiet rhythm of the tank.

The low trickle of filter water filled the space.

It slowed her breathing without her noticing, then, at some point, her eyes closed.

—

When she woke again, the room had changed.

Light had gathered at the edges of the curtains, gradually stretching further into the room. The darkness had lifted enough to reveal the outlines of the furniture around her.

Seulgi didn’t move right away. She stayed curled where she was as her awareness grew. From the upstairs hallway came the sound of footsteps, easily recognizable by now. She pressed her eyelids together and shifted as the steps came closer.

Jaeyi descended the stairs a moment later, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her attention already landing ahead, moving through her day before it had fully begun.

She stopped when she saw her there.

For a second or maybe two, she didn’t move.

Jaeyi watched Seulgi from where she stood, asleep on the couch, small and folded into herself. The sight held her attention longer than she expected.

Seulgi shifted slightly, one hand lifting near her mouth as she adjusted in her sleep.

Jaeyi looked away.

She crossed into the kitchen without a word, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge and unscrewing the cap as she leaned against the counter. The stillness felt different now, less empty, though no more comfortable.

She set her things down at the table, pulling out her laptop and notes, as she ran through what she needed to review before meeting her study group.

The work was the only thing she had to look forward to.

Light continued to build slowly behind her as the kitchen glowed with the sunrise.

From upstairs, Hyejoo’s footsteps followed soon after, less muffled now as she moved toward the stairs, the house beginning to wake fully.

By the time breakfast came around, Seulgi was awake again.

The realization drew her out of the deeper sleep she had fallen into on the couch. First the voices, then the movement of someone preparing breakfast. It meant she could get up without hesitation, without worrying about disturbing anything.

The shower ran shortly after.

Steam curled against the bathroom mirror as she stood beneath the water, letting it run over her shoulders and down her back, rinsing away the residue of the night in a way that felt necessary.

She came back downstairs, her hair still slightly damp, and took her place at the table with the others.

She tried at least.

A small piece of toast sat untouched in front of her before she set it aside. The smell was too much for her. Instead, she reached for a small portion of rice, hoping it would be easier against her senses.

Even then, she ate slowly.

Her lips had begun to dry again, the feeling persistent enough that she kept pressing them together, trying to smooth it out. After a moment, her teeth caught against a loose edge of skin and pulled at it without thinking.

Across from her, Jaeyi looked up from her lab book, catching the movement and the persistent habit before lowering her gaze again almost immediately.

Her expression unchanged as if she hadn’t noticed anything at all.

Hyejoo set a mug down beside Seulgi, the ceramic making a soft sound against the table.

“I’ve got lip balm somewhere,” she said casually, already turning back toward the counter as she resumed what she had been doing.

Seulgi shook her head almost immediately.

“It’s okay.”

Hyejoo glanced back at her, pausing just slightly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Seulgi said, quieter this time, her hands folding together in her lap as if to keep them from reaching for her lips again.

Hyejoo accepted her response and the conversation settled there.

They ate in silence.

Jaeyi worked through her notes as she ate, her pen moving steadily across the page between bites, her attention split, yet controlled. Hyejoo remained occupied by her phone, responding to clients she’d see next week.

Seulgi sat still between them.

Her bowl remained mostly untouched, her attention drifting as she picked at it slowly, lifting individual grains of rice one at a time, more so out of habit than hunger. 

When the meal ended, Hyejoo began clearing the table, the soft clink of dishes filling the quiet as she moved between the sink and the counter.

Seulgi didn’t leave.

She lingered instead, hovering just slightly to the side of the kitchen, as if unsure where to place herself.

Jaeyi noticed. She watched from her seat, her focus lifting briefly from her notebook, tracking the way Seulgi remained at the edges of the space, present but without any sort of purpose.

She held her gaze on Seulgi longer than she’d meant to.

Then,

“Do you think I could…” Seulgi began, her voice tentative enough to draw both of their attention. She hesitated, then finished, softer, “look in your car? Just once.”

Hyejoo understood immediately. She nodded without question, reaching for the keys and holding them out.

“Of course.”

Seulgi took them carefully, her fingers brushing lightly against Hyejoo’s as she did, a small nod of gratitude following before she turned and stepped toward the door.

Outside, the air hit her dry lips as she walked along the path to the street.

She moved straight to the passenger side of the car, unlocking the door and opening it with urgency. Crouching down, she leaned inside, her eyes scanning every visible surface before her hand moved in, checking beneath the seat, along the perimeter, the narrow spaces where something small might have slipped out of reach.

She reached further, her arm sliding beneath the seat, feeling blindly for anything that didn’t belong.

Nothing.

She shifted before trying again.

Her hand came back empty.

She remained there longer than necessary, as if staying might change the outcome.

Eventually, she sighed and pulled back. She caught her reflection in the tinted window, her eyes hollow. 

She closed the door and returned inside.

Hyejoo looked up as she entered, catching the expression before Seulgi could fully settle it away.

“Couldn’t find it?” she asked gently.

Seulgi shook her head.

“It’s fine. I must’ve dropped it somewhere.”

Hyejoo studied her, her gaze observant, searching just slightly deeper than the words offered.

“We can look again later, if you’d like.”

From the table, Jaeyi watched the exchange unfold.

She noticed how her mother stopped everything she had been doing, turning her full attention to Seulgi over something so miniscule.

A tube of chapstick.

Seulgi shook her head again.

“No. It’s okay.”

And this time, she meant it. The words were spoken with the kind of finality that comes from deciding not to ask again. 

Hyejoo didn’t push, letting it rest where it was.

The rest of the morning fell into its usual structure.

Jaeyi cleaned her space at the table before gathering her things and heading out for her study group. The door closed behind her, marking the shift in the house.

Hyejoo remained at the table, her attention returning to a set of papers spread neatly in front of her, the steady scratch of her pen filling the space as she worked through the last of what needed to be done before a client visit the following day.

Seulgi stayed nearby.

A basket of towels sat beside her, still warm from the dryer, the aroma of clean linen rising as she folded them one by one with quiet care. The tv murmured the local weather forecast softly in the background though no one was actively watching. 

“Seulgi-yah?”

Hyejoo’s voice broke through gently, her eyes remaining on the paper.

“Hm?” Seulgi replied, her hands pausing briefly over a folded towel before resting it onto the pile.

“Once I’m done with this last section, we can go to your storage locker. Okay?”

She tapped the edge of her jaw lightly with the end of her pen, then leaned forward to sign her name at the bottom of the page.

“Okay,” Seulgi said. “That sounds good.”

—

They left about half an hour later.

The storage lockers sat below one of the nearby metro stations, tucked behind a row of closed storefronts that blended into one another. Seulgi recognized the general area immediately, remembering how close she was to the café where she had met Hyejoo. Although this time, Seulgi didn’t carry the same weight of fear she had earlier that week with the same woman a pace behind.

Hyejoo followed, letting Seulgi lead without interruption.

The rows of lockers stretched down the narrow corridor, each one identical and plainly numbered. Seulgi slowed as she moved along them, her eyes tracking the sequence until she stopped.

Forty-seven.

She entered the code with steady fingers.

A sharp click echoed in the air as the lock released.

The door swung open to reveal very little inside, only a worn jacket folded roughly, a small plastic bag with her ID, and a pair of socks.

Seulgi paused, her hand resting briefly against the jacket as she patted it once, then again, as if confirming it was still there before lifting it out. She gathered the rest of her things carefully, stacking them together without rushing.

Behind her, Hyejoo turned slightly away, giving her the space without making it obvious.

When the locker door closed again, the sound was quiet.

“All set?” Hyejoo asked.

Seulgi nodded.

“This is everything.”

They stepped back out into the open air.

—

Hyejoo’s car smoothly pulled away from the curb and merged back into the street with ease.

Seulgi unfolded the jacket in her lap, her fingers moving with more intention now as she reached into the inner pocket and pulled out a small woven pouch. The zipper caught lightly before giving way.

Hyejoo glanced over briefly.

She opened it and removed a wadded up stack of folded bills. She began to count them carefully, her attention fixed as she moved through the stack one by one. Once finished, she returned the money to the pouch, tucking her ID card in alongside it before zipping it shut again.

“It’s not a lot for long-term,” she said quietly, her gaze still lowered. “But it should help with some things. I can pay you for the phone… and the clinic visit.”

Hyejoo let out a small scoff, though there was no sharpness in it.

“Nonsense, Seulgi,” she said, her tone warm as she shifted lanes. “The clinic was free, and the phone doesn’t cost me anything extra. You don’t owe me.”

She nodded once toward the pouch.

“That’s your money. Keep it safe.”

Seulgi held it a little tighter after that.

“It’s about three thousand dollars,” she added softly. “That’s all I have.”

“When we get back,” Hyejoo said, “you should keep a small amount with you and put the rest somewhere more secure. The nightstand would be fine.”

Seulgi nodded.

“Okay.”

She hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

“Miss Yoo?”

“Hm?”

“Could you… maybe pull over at a rest stop?”

Hyejoo glanced at her briefly.

“Of course. Are you feeling sick?”

Seulgi shook her head slightly.

“I just want to throw something away.”

She separated the jacket from the rest of her things, holding it in her hands.

“It’s his.”

Hyejoo didn’t ask anything else.

She flicked her blinker on and simply turned into the nearest rest stop, slowing the car to a stop along the edge of the lot. Seulgi stepped out, walking the short distance to the outdoor bin, and dropped the jacket in without hesitation.

She didn’t look back.

When she returned, Hyejoo pulled the car back onto the road.

—

The drive home was quiet with a small sense of relief washing over Seulgi.

The weather had softened and the traffic thinned enough that the road stretched ahead without interruption. 

Seulgi leaned back slightly in her seat with the pouch resting in her lap, her thoughts moving slower now with less noise.

Her lips pressed together subconsciously as the dryness returned. She lifted a finger toward her mouth, then paused, the absence registering again before she lowered her hand.

Hyejoo noticed. “You seem a bit tired today,” she said gently, her eyes still on the road.

“I didn’t sleep very well,” Seulgi replied.

Hyejoo nodded and accepted it without question, offering no further push. She always did that, and only now was Seulgi beginning to understand how much it mattered.

“Jaeyi mentioned you fell asleep on the couch this morning,” Hyejoo added, her tone neutral.

Seulgi’s gaze dropped instinctively.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey, Seulgi-yah, it’s fine,” Hyejoo said lightly. “I figured you needed a change of scenery and just dozed off. Don’t worry about it.”

A soft chuckle followed.

“I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to do that.”

Seulgi looked up again, a small smile forming despite herself as the car turned onto the familiar street.

The recognizable house came back into view.

And for now, it was still hers to return to.

—

Seulgi returned upstairs without stopping, the pouch still held carefully in her hands. Inside her room, she moved straight to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer and placing the money inside. She then adjusted it, making sure it sat properly among the otherwise empty space before closing the drawer halfway.

The socks followed, dropped in beside it without much thought.

Only then did she sit.

The bed dipped slightly beneath her weight as she settled at the edge, her shoulders rounding forward just enough for her hands to come together in her lap. After a moment, her fingers lifted to her lips, picking absently at the dry edge of skin.

Her phone lit up in her other hand.

She opened a random news article, something she hadn’t meant to read, but did so anyway to pass the time, her eyes moved across the screen while her mind remained elsewhere.

Downstairs, Hyejoo worked through the remaining laundry. She let her attention drift in small increments as she folded each piece and set it aside. 

—

Jaeyi began her usual late afternoon walk home.

The streets blurred slightly as she moved through them, her thoughts looping back to the same point despite her efforts to redirect them.

It didn’t matter.

That’s what she told herself.

It was just chapstick.

She didn’t understand why Seulgi had become so attached to it, or why its absence seemed to have shifted the entire household so noticeably. People misplace things all the time. They replace them. They move on.

You don’t let something that small unravel anything.

She repeated it again as she reached the gate, her hand pushing it open without breaking her stride.

It didn’t matter. Her thought was final. It shouldn’t.

Inside, she called out a brief greeting to her mother before heading upstairs, already moving through the motions of what came next. Her bag slipped from her shoulder as she made her way down the hall, her focus set on changing,  resetting and then returning back to her studies.

The bathroom door opened just as Jaeyi passed, and Seulgi stepped out, the two nearly crossing without stopping. But something caught Jaeyi’s eye, a thin line of red along the center of Seulgi’s bottom lip, subtle but visible against her pale skin. She paused, just for a second.

Seulgi noticed immediately, her hand lifting to wipe at her mouth in a reflexive motion, embarrassment settling into her posture almost as quickly as the movement itself.

Jaeyi looked away. It wasn’t her problem. Seulgi was capable, she would figure it out.

She continued down the hall without another word before stepping into her room and closing the door behind.

She sprawled out over her bed immediately, the ceiling didn’t hold her attention.

The window did.

She turned her head slightly, her gaze settling there longer than it needed to as the light outside began to soften.

And then it came back to her, that unmistakable sound from the night before, the dull rustle of leaves shifting in the dark. 

Her hand tightened slightly against the fabric beneath her as the image followed without effort: the yard, the space just beyond the street. She tried to place it, to figure out whose yard it was, where it might have landed.

The thought stayed with her longer than she wanted.

Chapter Text

Jaeyi waited for the commotion of the house to subside.

It happened gradually, the silence stretching through each room of the house, the small movements tapering off one by one until nothing remained but the low, steady presence of early evening. Seulgi had already retreated upstairs, the soft close of her door marking the end of her presence for a while. Whether she had gone to sleep early or simply wanted to remain withdrawn, it didn’t matter.

The space she left behind was noticeable either way.

The unanswered question had been sitting with Jaeyi for days.

It followed her as she stood from her desk and moved toward the stairs, her steps quieter than usual, though there was no real reason for it. The house didn’t require silence, she did.

Downstairs, the kitchen light cast a warm glow across the counters as Hyejoo stood at the stove. She stirred a pot slowly, the scent of soup rising in soft waves that stayed suspended throughout the kitchen.

Jaeyi stepped in. There was no hesitation this time.

She pulled out a chair and sat, the sound of it against the floor enough to draw her mother’s attention, though Hyejoo didn’t turn right away.

“Mom…”

Hyejoo paused, just slightly. Jaeyi didn’t want to wait.

“How long is she staying?”

The question lodged itself into the space between them, heavier than its phrasing suggested.

Hyejoo didn’t answer immediately.

Her hand stilled at the stove, the ladle resting just beneath the surface before she lifted it out and lowered the heat with a small, deliberate motion. The sound of the burner shifting down filled the silence briefly before fading again.

She set the ladle aside and reached for a cloth. She then dried her hands, allowing the extra seconds to give her enough time to choose the right way to respond.

Then she turned toward her daughter.

“I don’t know.”

Jaeyi leaned back slightly in her chair, her arms crossing without thought, her head tilting just enough to show the edge of her frustration.

“That’s not really an answer.”

Hyejoo held her gaze steady without defensiveness.

Jaeyi continued, the words coming easier now that she had started.

“I mean… does she have a plan?” she asked. “You told me this was temporary, and now you’re driving her around, feeding her, clothing her like—”

She stopped herself for a fraction of a second before finishing.

“—like a stray pet.”

Hyejoo straightened immediately.

“Jaeyi.”

Her tone sharpened just enough to cut through the room.

“That’s enough.”

But Jaeyi didn’t stop.

“Mom, this isn’t fair,” she said, her voice rising slightly despite herself. “And this isn’t normal.”

Hyejoo watched her for a moment, a subtler change passing beneath her expression as she considered how to respond.

“It’s… a situation,” she said finally, her voice measured again. “Situations don’t always come with timelines.”

Jaeyi let out a short breath through her nose, the frustration still sitting barely beneath the surface.

“Well, I think it’s time she starts figuring something else out,” she replied. “Somewhere else.”

“Jaeyi, please—”

“Please what?” she cut in, the words sharper now, though not loud. “Is she going to start paying rent?”

The moment the sentence left her, it landed wrong. Jaeyi felt it immediately, but didn’t take it back. 

Hyejoo didn’t react the way she expected her to either. There was no raised voice, no immediate pushback. Instead, she simply moved, slowly.

She stepped away from the stove and pulled out the chair across from Jaeyi, sitting down across from her with a deliberate motion. 

Her hands folded together on the table as her posture composed itself in a way that shifted the atmosphere entirely.

The room felt different now, much more contained than it had a moment ago. It felt more serious. 

Hyejoo let the silence settle, her eyes resting on her daughter with careful attention, weighing something she had long avoided saying. 

Then she spoke.

“When I was younger… about seventeen,” she said, her voice quieter than before, “I had already lived in five different places.”

Jaeyi blinked, the words not quite settling into place yet. 

Hyejoo continued anyway.

“I stayed in places that were supposed to keep children safe,” she said. “And I’ve slept in places where I thought…” She paused, her breath catching just slightly before she went on. “If I didn’t listen…if I didn’t comply… I wouldn’t make it through the night.”

The room held still around them.

“I stayed with people I barely knew. People I thought I could trust. And…people I was too afraid to even look at the wrong way.”

Jaeyi shifted in her seat, her arms loosening slightly where they had been crossed.

“…Why?”

The question came out more fragile than she intended.

Hyejoo tilted her head faintly, caught off guard by the simplicity of it.

“Because I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” she said. “There wasn’t a place for me. I didn’t belong anywhere. Or to anyone.”

The walls of the kitchen seemed to have closed in.

“I couldn’t carry much with me,” Hyejoo went on. “I learned early not to. You move faster that way. You don’t get attached.” Her hands shifted slightly where they rested together. “It makes it easier to leave when you have to.”

Jaeyi tried to picture it.

A younger version of her mother, riddled with uncertainty. She pictured her carrying what little she had in something worn and temporary, moving from place to place without anything solid to hold onto.

The image resisted her, for it didn’t sit right.

“There was…a man,” Hyejoo said after a long pause.

The words changed something.

“He let me stay for a while. I didn’t have many options left at that point.” Her voice lowered further, the edges of it beginning to thin. “It was winter. I remember that clearly.”

Jaeyi swallowed, her throat tightening without warning.

“I needed food…I was so hungry,” Hyejoo continued. “Somewhere warm.” She let out a breath, uneven this time. “There were days when that was all I could think about…I had to block the rest out.”

Hyejoo’s eyes began to brim with tears.

“I learned how to make myself small,” she said. “Quiet and easy to keep around.”

Jaeyi’s hands shifted in her lap, her fingers curling slightly against each other as unfamiliarity moved through her chest.

“I left when I could,” Hyejoo added. “I waited until I thought I wouldn’t be noticed. I just… went.”

She paused.

“I kept thinking he might come after me.”

The silence that followed stretched on, filling the room in a way that made it difficult to move through. Jaeyi felt it then, not all at once, but enough.

Pieces falling into place where she hadn’t known there were gaps before.

She thought of her mother in the spaces between words, lingering in doorways, asking for permission without asking. Moving carefully without ever being able to let her guard down.

And then, she thought of Seulgi.

The same hesitation, the same soft apologies, the same tendency to shrink into whatever space she occupied as though trying to take up less of it. All of it clicked into place without needing to be further explained.

Jaeyi’s gaze dropped.

Her mind flickered through the smaller things too, the moments she hadn’t questioned. The way Seulgi had asked about the chapstick once, her voice tentative, almost embarrassed.

And then never again.

“I… didn’t know,” Jaeyi said finally.

Her voice came out thinner than she expected, catching slightly at the end.

“I really didn’t know.”

Hyejoo’s expression softened, though her posture remained steady.

“You weren’t supposed to, Jaeyi-yah,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to revisit those parts of me for years.”

Hyejoo’s eyes drifted slightly, her focus shifting somewhere just past Jaeyi as she continued.

“The night I saw her,” she said quietly, “out in the rain…”

She paused, the memory settling in before she spoke again.

“I knew.”

Not all at once or with complete clarity, but enough.

“I could feel it,” she added.

That was all.

Jaeyi’s chest tightened, giving way in a place she hadn’t realized had been holding so rigidly before. She lowered her head slightly, her shoulders easing just enough to show it.

Then she nodded once, and the conversation came to a close. There was nothing left for them to say, anything further would have pushed too far into something that had only just begun to unravel.

—

Jaeyi remained at the table long after Hyejoo returned to the stove.

The kitchen had resumed its normal state, though not in the same way as before. The quiet felt thinner now, stretched across what had already dissipated. 

Nothing else moved.

Jaeyi didn’t follow her mother’s return to routine. She stayed where she was, her hands resting loosely against the surface of the table, as her gaze unfocused.

She hadn’t expected answers to do that, to rearrange something in her so completely. She had thought understanding would come cleanly, easier to process, categorize and finally move on.

Instead, it sat heavy in her chest, lodged in there and refusing to budge no matter how evenly she tried to breathe.

Eventually, she stood.

The movement felt disconnected, as if her body had decided for her before her mind. 

She made her way upstairs without speaking, the faint sounds of the hallway growing clearer as she reached her room and closed the door behind her.

The light had changed.

While they had been talking, the early evening had slipped forward, the sun lowering just enough to cast her desk in partial shadow. The edge of her notebook caught the light.

She sat on her bed, her posture folding slightly inward as her eyes dropped to the floor. Her grade surfaced again, uninvited. The number eighty-three, the shift in rank, the way her stomach had tightened when she saw it, followed immediately by the calculation of what it meant and what it would change. 

She had told herself she could recover, that one test didn’t define anything and that it was temporary. The reasoning felt less convincing now, like something she had repeated because she needed something steady to hold onto.

Her thoughts drifted again, not back to the exam but to Seulgi. 

The image came too easily to her. 

The angry red marks on her face the night she arrived. Her shoes, soaked and worn through, left by the door as if they didn’t belong. The way she waited, for permission, for direction, for space to exist without overstepping.

Jaeyi thought of the times she had walked past her without acknowledgment, choosing not to see her because it was easier that way.

She thought of her mother, of what she had just said and what it meant, and of the quiet overlap between them. 

The same hesitation, careful presence, the same instinct to make themselves smaller. 

The realization sank deeper than she wanted it to.

Then her thoughts shifted to the chapstick, so small, insignificant on its own. 

But she remembered the way Seulgi had held it, and how she had asked about it once so tentatively, already bracing for the answer she didn’t want.

Like she had expected it to be gone.

And had hoped, briefly, to be wrong.

Jaeyi’s hand tightened. Her thumb pressed into her palm until the sting forced her to focus.

She hadn’t thrown it away because it didn’t matter, she understood that now. She had thrown it away because it did, because it stood for something she hadn’t wanted to face, that Seulgi was real, that she was staying. That she was taking up space in a way that couldn’t be neatly contained or timed or managed. 

It was proof this wasn’t temporary, not in a controlled way Jaeyi had convinced herself it would be.

Down the hall, a door opened softly, then closed again. Footsteps followed. Jaeyi stayed where she was for a moment, listening, before standing and crossing the room to open her door just enough to see through the narrow gap.

Seulgi stood in the bathroom doorway, one hand braced lightly against the frame. A tissue was pressed to her lips, small spots of red bleeding through the thin paper. Her movements were careful as she tried to keep everything contained.

She caught the motion of Jaeyi’s door and froze. Her hand lowered too quickly, the tissue crumpling slightly as she stepped back.

“I’ll hurry up,” she said, her voice soft, uneven. “I’m sorry.”

Jaeyi shook her head, the motion small.

“No…it’s okay.”

Her tone was different this time.

Seulgi hesitated for a moment, as if unsure what to do with that, before nodding faintly and retreating into her room. The door closed behind her with a careful click.

Jaeyi stayed where she was for a second longer.

Then leaned forward, her forehead resting lightly against the edge of her doorframe as she exhaled.

Her mind drifted back to the street outfront, to the yards and to the sound. She found herself wondering where it might have landed, how far it could have gone or whether it was still there. 

She didn’t move, not yet, but the thought didn’t leave her this time, settling alongside everything else she was trying to keep in place. 

And for the first time since Seulgi had stepped into her life, Jaeyi wondered what it would cost to fix something she had broken, and whether she was willing to pay it.

—

Jaeyi waited until the house seemed fully at ease.

It didn’t take long.

The evening folded in the way it always did, slowly and without resistance. Cabinets opened and closed. Water ran briefly, then stopped. Dishes were stacked with care. The small, ordinary sounds of a house moving through its routine.

It was proof that nothing had changed. At least, not in any way that could be seen.

Jaeyi moved.

She slipped her shoes on near the door, the motion quick, not allowing herself any time to possibly reconsider. Her hand rested on the doorknob for a moment, her body stiff as she listened.

There were no footsteps behind her, no voices calling out and no questions waiting. Maybe it was better that way. 

She stepped outside.

The air had cooled, settling against her skin. The same streetlights flickered faintly as always. The large ginkgo tree near the front gate shifted softly in the breeze, its leaves whispering against one another in a low, restless sound.

Jaeyi crossed the street.

She stayed within the shadow as she moved, her steps quietly controlled, though her heartbeat didn’t match the pace. It thudded harder than it should have.

She stopped near the back of her mother’s car, the same place with the same angle, and looked ahead. Her gaze narrowed as she tried to reconstruct it, mapping the motion back into place. 

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, considering the first place she would check. She exhaled before moving.

The bushes along the first yard sat low to the ground, clusters of pine spread unevenly along the perimeter. Jaeyi crouched, her phone already in her hand as she switched on the flashlight. The beam cut through the dark in a narrow line as she pushed aside the coarse needles, her fingers parting the branches with careful urgency.

The ground beneath was uneven.

Loose dirt shifted under her touch, slipping beneath her nails almost immediately. Small twigs snapped as she moved them aside, the sound sharp in the otherwise quiet street.

She searched with a kind of restraint that held her back at the same time.

Like she wasn’t entirely sure she was meant to find it. She came up with nothing.

Her breath caught slightly.

Her throat tightened as she pulled her hands back, the backs of them marked with faint scratches where the branches had dragged against her skin.

Jaeyi stood before brushing her palms lightly against her jeans, though it did little to remove the dirt.

She headed into the second yard.

Her steps quickened along the fence as she leaned over the low barrier, angling the flashlight into the darker space beyond. The beam shifted across uneven ground again, catching on scattered leaves, patches of grass, and the faint outline of roots pushing through the soil.

She adjusted her position, leaning further, her arm stretching to widen the reach of the light.

The leaves here were thicker. Denser. They could have carried the sound. Maybe even hidden it deeper than she expected.

Jaeyi scanned the ground slowly, her focus narrowing as the light moved from one shadow to the next, searching for something brightly colored.

Something she had already lost once and didn’t want to lose again.

A porch light flicked on behind her.

Jaeyi straightened so quickly she nearly lost her balance, the beam from her phone wavering across the ground before she lowered it.

“Hello? May I help you?”

The voice was curious.

An elderly man stood in the doorway, one hand resting against the railing as he leaned forward slightly, squinting through the light.

Jaeyi swallowed.

“Um… sorry,” she said, her words catching on each other. “I think I…uh…I threw something over here earlier. By accident.”

He stepped down from the porch, slow but steady.

“What kind of something?”

Jaeyi hesitated.

“A… a ball,” she said finally. The lie landed stiff. “It bounced weird. I just wanted to check.”

The man studied her for a moment longer than she liked.

Then he shrugged.

“Go ahead,” he waved.

“Thank you,” Jaeyi said quickly, bowing once awkwardly before stepping further into the yard.

This time, she searched more deliberately.

The weight of being watched pressed against her skin, heat rising up her neck as she crouched again, pushing aside branches, checking the spaces she might have missed. She looked higher this time, tracing along the parts where something could have caught before falling.

Every movement felt exposed. Every leaf she lifted felt like an admission.

She imagined how it must look, kneeling there, digging through someone else’s yard for something she had thrown away herself, under the pretense of a lie she barely believed.

Nothing. Again.

She stood, brushing her hands together without purpose.

“Sorry,” she said, forcing a small, polite smile. “It must’ve gone farther than I thought.”

“No problem,” the man replied, already turning back toward his door. The light clicked off a moment later, leaving her in the shadows again.

The third yard stretched longer.

The bushes there were overgrown, spilling toward the street in uneven clusters. The kind that held onto whatever fell into them and didn’t give things back easily.

Jaeyi’s chest tightened as she approached.

She slowed near the gate, the unease settling low in her stomach, heavier now.

Still, she stepped forward and knocked.

A moment passed before the door opened, revealing a woman, middle-aged, her hair wrapped loosely in a towel.

“Yes?”

“I’m really sorry,” Jaeyi said, forcing herself to hold her gaze this time. “I think I might’ve thrown something into your bushes earlier. By mistake. Would it be alright if I checked?”

The woman glanced past her, then back again.

A small pause. Then a nod.

“Sure. Just be careful. There are thorns.”

“Thank you,” Jaeyi said, the relief immediately sharp.

Thorns. Of course.

She crouched low, pushing into the dense growth, the branches thicker here, less forgiving. The moment her hands slipped past the outer layer, she felt it, the sharp resistance and the fine pricks dragging across her skin as she moved deeper.

“Great,” she muttered under her breath.

She didn’t stop.

Not this time.

She used her leg to brace a cluster of branches back, forcing a narrow opening as she reached in, her hands moving faster now, less cautious. The thorns caught against her sleeves, her skin, leaving small, stinging marks as she searched along the base, then further in.

Her knees pressed into the dirt as the ground gave slightly beneath her weight.

A drop of rain hit her cheek. Then another.

She barely noticed.

The foliage was too dense, the flashlight doing more harm than good, casting shadows that obscured more than they revealed. She switched it off, letting her hands take over instead.

She searched more slowly this time, making one last pass. Her fingers traced along the soil, brushing over leaves and twigs before she stilled at the feel of something small and solid. 

Her breath caught as her fingers closed around it, and she pulled her hand back slowly, the branches resisting before giving way as the object came free into the open.

Light blue. Red cap. Dirt pressed into the seams.

It was Seulgi’s chapstick.

Her throat tightened.

“Did you find it?” the woman called gently from the doorway.

“Yes,” Jaeyi answered, her voice quieter now, steadier in a different way. “Thank you!”

The rain picked up, soft at first, then more insistent.

She stood, brushing dirt from her clothes, though it smeared more than it came off cleanly. Thin lines of red marked her arms and legs where the thorns had caught her, faint but noticeable.

Jaeyi didn’t dwell on them. She lifted the chapstick, letting a few drops of rain fall over it before wiping it clean against the edge of her shirt. The cap came off with a small click as she checked it, her eyes scanning the surface.

It was untouched.

She exhaled, sliding the cap back into place.

Jaeyi stepped back onto the street, the rain settling into a consistent rhythm around her now as she made her way home, the glow of the streetlights stretching across the wet pavement.

She looked down at it once more. It was small, lighter than she remembered, easy to lose and easy to dismiss. 

Her fingers curled tightly around it anyway.

When she stepped back inside, she didn’t go to her room. 

Instead, she moved down the hallway and stopped just outside Seulgi’s door, her hand hovering there, uncertain. 

For once, she didn’t try to explain it to herself or build an argument or soften what she had done.

She just stood there, with dirt still beneath her nails and small cuts stinging faintly across her skin. The chapstick was safe in her palm, knowing exactly what it had taken to get it back.

And understanding, finally, that the effort had been the point.

She lifted her hand.

And softly knocked.

Chapter Text

Seulgi didn’t open the door right away.

Jaeyi stood in the hallway. The chapstick sat in her right hand, fingers curled tightly around it. It was proof that she had actually done this, that it hadn’t stayed as just a thought she could ignore.

She shifted her weight once.

Then again.

The dirt beneath her nails had dried, barely pulling against her skin. Now that she was still, the scratches along her arms and calves began to register more clearly as thin lines of irritation started to sting. 

She let herself feel them.

She didn’t reach to ease the pain either, and for a moment, she nearly turned away.

Then, the door opened.

Seulgi stood there, framed by the slight glow of her room. The oversized sweater hung loosely from her shoulders, the sleeves pulled down past her hands as if she hadn’t noticed. Her dark hair fell around her face in soft, uneven strands, slightly tangled, like she had been lying down and gotten up again without fully returning to herself.

Up close, Jaeyi could see the details of her face more clearly.

Her lips were worse than she had realized. They were dry and split in a few places. The skin pulled tight, exposing faintly raw flesh beneath. The bruising along her jaw and collarbone had softened in color, yellowed at the edges, but still there if you looked closely enough.

And her expression, it was always so…

quiet.

Carrying something that didn’t fade easily and resided somewhere in her permanently. 

And yet, even with all of it, there was a softness to her that hadn’t hardened. Under the light, she appeared so unguarded. Enough to make you instinctively want to handle her with care.

“Oh.”

Seulgi’s voice was touched with a soft surprise.

“Hi.”

Jaeyi swallowed.

“I…” she started, then stopped, the words catching before they could form. She tried again, slower this time. “I found it.”

She lifted her hand slightly.

Seulgi didn’t move.

Her eyes dropped to the object in Jaeyi’s palm, then lifted back to her face, searching quietly, making sure  this wasn’t something she had misunderstood.

“You… did?” she asked.

Jaeyi nodded once.

“Yeah. It was…uh…” She shook her head faintly, the explanation slipping away. “It was outside.”

Seulgi stepped forward slowly, just enough to reach for it.

Her fingers closed around the chapstick with care, as if it would disappear if she moved too quickly. 

Her hand brushed lightly against Jaeyi’s knuckles in the process.

Jaeyi felt it. A small tightening in her chest.

“Oh,” Seulgi said again, softer now. Her eyes lingered on the fresh scratches on Jaeyi’s skin.

She turned the little capsule over in her hands, her thumb tracing along the scuffed cap to the faint smear of dirt along the label. Her shoulders eased with a subtle release.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice quietly sincere.

Jaeyi opened her mouth before closing it again, unable to find the right words.

“I didn’t mean to…” she started, then stopped, frustration creeping in as the words refused to come out cleanly. “I mean, I shouldn’t have…”

She exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking her head.

“I’m not good at this.”

Seulgi watched her, unsure of what she meant, but she stayed patient.

Jaeyi rubbed the back of her scratched hand against her sleeve, letting out a small, awkward breath of a laugh.

“I just…” She paused, then settled on the only thing that felt true enough to say. “Yeah. I wanted to give it back.”

It wasn’t a total apology…but it wasn’t nothing either.

Seulgi nodded, as if she understood where the words had come from.

“Well… thank you,” she said again, a little softer. “Really, thank you.”

They remained there for a moment longer, the silence between them stretching without full resolution.

Then Seulgi stepped back, adjusting her hold on the chapstick.

“H–have a good night.”

“Uh…you too… Seulgi,” Jaeyi replied.

The door closed gently.

Jaeyi stayed where she was, her gaze lingering on the wood grain for a second longer than necessary, confirming the moment had actually ended.

She then turned, and walked back to her room.

Inside, she shut the door and leaned against it, her body settling into the stillness as she finally let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding all along.

The tension left her body quickly.

All that remained was the aftermath.

Jaeyi’s skin felt more sensitive now, the sting of the scratches sharper as the adrenaline faded. She moved slowly, changing into long sleeves and pants before pulling the fabric over her arms and legs with care. Generous dabs of lotion followed. She worked them gently into her skin, though she winced when it caught against the deeper cuts.

Within the bathroom, she rinsed the dirt from beneath her nails, watching it lift and disappear down the drain.

When she finished, she paused. The weight from that night was still there, but the shift was evident.

The situation felt less overwhelming now that it felt more contained. She could hold it without it pushing her under. 

She lay back on her bed, her eyes drifting to the ceiling as her mother’s words surfaced again in quiet fragments.

 “...I learned how to make myself small…quiet and easy to keep around.”

 They stayed with her, sinking in deep, until eventually her eyes closed and sleep took her.

—

The next morning, Hyejoo noticed the shoes first.

They sat by the door, still damp with mud along the soles dried into uneven lines that hadn’t been there the night before. She paused for a moment, observing them long enough to register what they could have suggested, before continuing into the kitchen without comment.

Nothing needed to be said yet.

Jaeyi sat across from her around breakfast time, her hair slightly disheveled, her sleeves pulled down over her wrists. She reached for her mug, fingers curling loosely around the ceramic.

Hyejoo’s eyes flicked to the scratches on her hands. They were faint, but noticeable. The slight redness where the skin had broken and begun to settle again.

Hyejoo looked up.

“So…did you find what you were looking for last night?” she asked.

The question landed quietly, though it still caught Jaeyi off guard.

Jaeyi met her gaze, a brief flicker of confusion crossing her expression as she tried to trace back how her mother had come to that conclusion.

“…Yeah,” she said after a second. “I did.”

Hyejoo didn’t press further.

Her expression softened, suggesting she already understood more than what had been said aloud. She nodded once and returned her attention to her coffee as the moment had passed.

The Sunday morning continued on, fog settling low outside the windows. The light filtering through the glass was softer than usual, with less definition.

Jaeyi rested her elbow lightly against the table as her fingers absentmindedly traced along the spiral edge of her notebook.

There was nothing she needed to review that morning. All the concepts had already been reinforced, the notes were revisited, and the gaps that usually remained at the end of the week seemed to be filled.

The absence of urgency felt unfamiliar, almost strange for her.

She was used to filling every open space with academic substance, whether it be material, structure, or repetition. It had always been easier that way, to keep moving forward without pause.

But today, there was nothing pressing her to do so.

And for once, she didn’t try to create something to replace it.

Her thoughts didn’t return to the exam, nor did they circle back to the number or what it might change. Instead, she let the morning unfold as it was.

Hyejoo moved through the kitchen at an easy pace, rinsing her mug, and then clearing the dishes. The kitchen radio played softly in the background, a low thread of jazz weaving through the room without overwhelming them.

Jaeyi pressed her lips together lightly, her gaze shifting toward her mother.

“How did you know I was looking for something?” she asked.

The question came without hesitation.

Hyejoo set the last handful of silverware into the drying rack, aligning them before answering.

“Mrs. Jung told me this morning,” she said, her tone conversationally light. “We were taking out the trash at the same time. She mentioned you had to rummage through her thorn bushes last night.”

Jaeyi let out a small breath through her nose, her hand moving to rub the back of her wrist.

“Aha… yeah. That makes sense.”

Hyejoo smiled faintly and left it there.

She turned back to the counter, slipped on her cardigan with an easy motion and dabbed a small amount of lotion into her hands.

“I’m going to be with Mrs. Kim for a while today,” she said, working the lotion into her skin. “Maybe take her to the park if the fog lifts.”

She glanced toward the window briefly, gauging the light.

“She called earlier…she sounded more energetic than usual.”

Jaeyi looked up.

“Do you need anything done while you’re out?”

Hyejoo shook her head, her expression softening.

“No, but thank you, love.”

She reached out, resting her hand lightly on Jaeyi’s shoulder for a moment, before pulling away to grab her keys.

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

She moved toward the door, slipping on her shoes, but paused just before stepping out. Her attention shifted toward the staircase, then returned to Jaeyi.

“Check in on her if you have the chance, okay?” she said.

Jaeyi nodded once.

“I will.”

Hyejoo gave an approving nod of her own before stepping outside, the door closing behind her.

The house seemed to loosen, as though what had quietly held everything in place had stepped away, leaving the space behind with a kind of trust that hadn’t been there before.

Jaeyi lingered in the kitchen, her phone held loosely in her hand as she scrolled without much thought.

It gave her something to do, or at least, something that looked like it. In reality, she had no idea what to do with herself.

The lack of routine left a hollow feeling inside her.

Upstairs, a door opened and closed again, followed by footsteps that moved softly across the floor with an almost curious pace. 

Jaeyi glanced up slightly.

Seulgi appeared at the top of the stairs, pausing just briefly as she adjusted to the light before making her way down. Her movements were slow, like she hadn’t expected anyone to be there.

She glanced toward the clock above the stove as she stepped into the kitchen, a small flicker of surprise crossing her face at the time.

Then she stopped mid-step, hovering just inside the space.

“Oh… good morning,” Seulgi said, her voice quiet. “Is your mother here?”

Jaeyi looked up, offering a small, restrained smile.

“Hi. No…uh…she went to Mrs. Kim’s for the day. She’ll be back later.”

Seulgi nodded once, the answer was enough.

She drifted toward the counter, reaching for a glass before hesitating mid-motion, her hand hovering for a second before pulling back, as if reconsidering without fully knowing why.

Jaeyi’s thumb slowed against her phone screen. Then stopped entirely.

She let out a small breath and set the device down as her fingers shifted to the edge of the placemat instead, picking at it lightly as she thought.

There was no script for how to move forward.

“Uh…”

The word came out before she had fully decided on it. Seulgi’s attention shifted toward her with a subtle tentativeness. She wasn’t expecting anything more to follow.

Jaeyi paused before committing.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asked, motioning vaguely toward the metal pot on the counter.

Seulgi blinked, caught off guard by the offer. She shook her head gently.

“Thank you, but I can’t have coffee.”

Jaeyi’s expression shifted almost immediately as the realization set in.

“Oh…right. Yeah.” She let out a short breath, half a laugh. “My bad.”

She paused again, her mind moving a little faster this time.

“There’s… um…my mom got fresh orange juice this morning,” she added, glancing toward the fridge. “I can pour you a glass, if you want.”

Seulgi’s expression changed in a way that was noticeable.

A small flicker of surprise.

“Yeah,” she said, the hint of enthusiasm catching even her off guard. “That would be nice.”

Jaeyi nodded, she stood before crossing the kitchen and pulling open the fridge. She reached for the glass bottle, the color of the juice bright against the muted tones of everything else. 

Behind her, Seulgi quietly handed over a clean glass without needing to be asked. Jaeyi took it, pouring slowly.

The vivid liquid filled the glass in a steady stream. She set it down at the table, in the same spot Seulgi usually chose.

An unspoken invitation.

“Thank you,” Seulgi said, taking the seat carefully before lifting the glass.

She took a small sip, then paused. Her eyes closed briefly, anchoring herself to the taste.

“I forgot how much I missed this.”

Jaeyi found herself watching her without meaning to, her eyes following the way Seulgi’s shoulders loosened, and the subtle change in her expression. She looked away again, reaching for her phone, then her notebook, anything to make it seem like she wasn’t paying attention.

They remained like that for a while, Seulgi sipping slowly while Jaeyi kept herself occupied, the air between them easing into a more natural atmosphere, simply present.

When Seulgi finished, she stood and carried her glass to the sink, rinsing it carefully before reaching for the dish towel. The drying rack sat empty, but she dried it anyway, polishing the surface until it was clear.

She reached up to put it away, rising onto the balls of her feet with a slight stretch that lifted the hem of her shirt for only a moment, but long enough for Jaeyi to catch sight of it. 

Two letters in simple black ink were marked onto the left side of her lower abdomen.

 JD.

Jaeyi didn’t stare nor react, she took it in as the detail settled quietly into place alongside everything else she had begun to notice.

Seulgi lowered her arm, unaware, closing the cabinet with the same care she gave everything else.

“I think I’m going to sit for a bit,” she said, nodding lightly toward the living room.

“Okay,” Jaeyi replied.

Her thoughts began to linger, not on the juice or the stillness, but on the ink on her skin. 

And what it might mean.

—

Jaeyi had remained in the kitchen longer than needed.

The living room sat just beyond her, open and unobstructed, the space between them uninterrupted by walls. From where she stood, she could see Seulgi clearly, while remaining just out of view herself.

The tv and aquarium cast soft, merging colors across the room as a documentary on coral reefs played.

Seulgi must’ve selected it herself. Slow, drifting shots of deep water and color filled the screen as a narrator’s calm voice explained everything with a patience that suggested nothing in the world required urgency.

Seulgi sat curled into the corner of the couch with a blanket pulled over her legs. Her feet were tucked beneath her, knees drawn in close, her posture relaxed in a way Jaeyi hadn’t seen before.

She looked…so unguarded, as if she belonged exactly where she was.

Jaeyi leaned back against the counter, her arms folding loosely across her chest as she watched.

Seulgi reached for the chapstick within her pocket.

Her fingers turned it over once, then again, with a careful absentmindedness. She twisted the cap open, pausing there for a second before lifting it toward her face.

She took a deep inhale before applying a tiny amount to her chapped lips. Her expression didn’t change in any obvious way.

Her body had eased. 

Jaeyi didn’t fully understand it, but she found she didn’t need to. Seulgi set it back down beside her, her shoulders lowering as she let out a slow breath of gentle relief.

It was the kind that comes when a body finally recognizes it can rest.

Jaeyi felt a wave of soft guilt seep into her, a realization settling into place without asking permission, rearranging something deep beneath the surface.

Seulgi didn’t look like someone passing through anymore. She looked like someone holding onto a fragile moment carefully, doing whatever she could to prevent it from slipping out of reach.

Jaeyi found herself thinking of the smaller things Seulgi did, her small frame hovering in doorways, the quiet apologies for things no one had questioned, how she held onto small comforts simply because they belonged to her. 

She hadn’t noticed before, or perhaps she had and chosen to look past it.

On the tv, the narrator continued, describing ecosystems and the quiet complexity of worlds that existed beneath the surface, unseen unless you knew where to look.

Jaeyi stayed where she was, keeping her presence quiet from the edge of the kitchen.

This time, she was aware. Seulgi wasn’t just someone occupying space in their home, she was someone learning how to stay. 

And Jaeyi, standing there in the softened light, realized she was learning how to see her.

The house remained still around them, and for once, that stillness didn’t feel temporary.

She hesitated. 

Then she moved.

She crossed the threshold between the kitchen and the living room, the quiet narration of the tv filling the space between her steps. The sound followed her unhurriedly, carrying her there.

Seulgi remained on the couch, her attention fixed on the screen.

The reef drifted past in slow, vivid color, fish moving in loose constellations through the water as their paths crossed and separated without disruption.

Jaeyi lowered herself into the armchair beside the couch, close enough to share the space but still keeping a quiet distance. 

Seulgi noticed immediately, her hand moving toward the remote out of habit. “I can change it to something else,” she said, but Jaeyi shook her head, lifting a hand slightly to stop her.

“No, no…leave it on. It’s fine.”

Seulgi paused, then nodded, setting the remote back in place as the documentary continued uninterrupted.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Until Jaeyi leaned back into the chair. 

“I don’t really watch stuff like this,” she admitted. “Or anything, really. I just… don’t have the time.” 

She unlocked her phone, her thumb moving out of habit rather than intention as a few unimportant notifications lit the screen. After a second, her attention drifted back to the television.

Light fractured through the water in shifting patterns, coral blooming in colors that felt almost unreal. She didn’t notice she had stopped scrolling.

She spoke again. “What made you pick this?”

Seulgi took a moment before answering. 

“It’s peaceful,” she said quietly. “I like the colors. The way everything moves…” Her gaze followed the slow glide of a whale shark across the screen, immense and steady. “…the way things interact,” she added, softer now. “It’s slow.” 

She hesitated, then continued, almost shyly. “I think it’d be nice to go scuba diving one day.”

Jaeyi nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Yeah,” she said. “I get that.”

A small pause settled between them before she added, “It’s… calming.”

Her phone vibrated in her hand, the sudden interruption pulling her attention away. She glanced down at the screen, the low battery warning flashing insistently.

Her eyes shifted toward the outlet near the unoccupied side of the couch, the charging cable already plugged in.

She hesitated.

“Is it…okay if I sit over there?” she asked, motioning toward the empty space beside Seulgi. “My phone’s about to die.”

Seulgi reacted immediately, the blanket shifting as she started to move.

“I can take the chair—”

“No,” Jaeyi said quickly, the word coming out before Seulgi could stand. “You don’t have to do that.”

She stood, crossing the short distance again.

“I’ll just sit on the other side.”

Seulgi stilled.

She nodded and settled back as Jaeyi lowered herself onto the opposite end of the couch. The space between them shifted, drawn closer enough that it no longer felt like two separate sides. 

The warmth of the couch seemed to carry between them, subtly shared rather than held apart.

Seulgi stayed where she was.

The blanket remained gathered loosely over her legs with her posture unchanged. The small shift between them only adjusted, it didn’t feel unsettled at all anymore.

They watched in silence for a while longer.

The reef continued its slow, drifting rhythm of colors folding into one another as fish moved in loose clusters across the screen.

Then, quietly, 

“Your exam… from the other day…”

Seulgi’s voice was careful, as if she wasn’t entirely sure she should ask.

“How did it go?”

Jaeyi exhaled softly, her gaze still on the tv.

“Not so great,” she said after a moment. “I didn’t do as well as I wanted.”

“Oh.”

Seulgi’s voice dipped, almost instinctively.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Jaeyi replied, the words coming more easily than they had before. She paused, considering them as she spoke. “I’m trying to… let go of certain things. Just try again the next time I get the chance.”

A faint smile touched her expression as she turned toward Seulgi.

“I’m not very good at that yet.”

Seulgi looked at her then, thoughtfulness settling into her gaze.

“You seem very disciplined,” she said. “About your studies.”

Jaeyi glanced back at the screen, her hand drifting absently to her forearm, her fingers tracing small circles over the faint, irritated marks left by the thorns.

“Yeah…I have to be.”

Seulgi nodded, a small, quiet acknowledgment as her eyes lowered again.

The reef began to fade slowly to black. For a second, the screen held in silence.

Then the next episode began. 

Green replaced blue this time, dense, layered rainforest filling the frame. Scenes showcasing the leaves shifting, insects humming and water threading through thick undergrowth.

Neither of them reached for the remote.

“I think I’m too comfortable to change it,” Jaeyi said.

A small, unmistakable smile formed across Seulgi’s face.

Jaeyi’s phone buzzed again in her hand. She glanced down at the screen, reading the message quickly before tilting it away.

“My mom won’t be home for dinner,” she said, her tone casual. “Would you want to order something?”

Seulgi didn’t answer right away, though her stomach did. The low growl filled the space between them for a split second longer than either of them expected.

Jaeyi let out a soft laugh.

Seulgi did too, a little breath of amusement slipping through as she nodded.

“Yeah,” she said.

—

Jaeyi unlocked her phone again and turned the screen toward Seulgi, shifting slightly closer on the couch, closing the space between them without drawing attention to it.

“Here,” she said, angling the display so they could both see. “We can scroll through what’s nearby.”

The glow of the screen reflected faintly against the darkened tv, the sounds of the rainforest continuing in the background.

Seulgi leaned in, careful at first. Then a little closer.

“I was kind of craving tteokbokki,” Jaeyi admitted, her thumb scrolling through options. “But…” she paused, glancing sideways, “is there anything you’re craving? Since you’re… you know.”

She gestured vaguely at Seulgi’s stomach, the rest of the sentence trailing off.

Seulgi smiled at the consideration.

“Tteokbokki sounds really good, actually.”

Her eyes moved across the screen, taking in the menus with a kind of curiosity that felt almost new to her.

“Oh…” she said softly, leaning a fraction closer. “They have pizza too… American style.”

Jaeyi hummed in acknowledgment, her shoulder brushing lightly against the back cushion as she adjusted her posture.

“I’ve always wanted to try something like that,” Seulgi added, her tone thoughtful. “Like the actual American kind… with the greasy mozzarella, and the sauce, and pepperoni…”

Jaeyi’s stomach responded before she could. A low, quiet sound that made her pause. Seulgi glanced at her, a small smile forming again.

“But I could never really justify getting it,” she finished.

Jaeyi didn’t hesitate.

“Then we don’t need to,” she said simply. “We can just get both.”

Seulgi blinked, turning to her.

“Both?”

“Yeah.” Jaeyi shrugged lightly, like it was the most obvious solution. “Why not?”

There was a pause before Seulgi eventually nodded.

“Okay.”

They added strawberry ice cream to the order without much discussion, the decision slipping in naturally.

Jaeyi tapped through the final steps, placing the order before setting her phone down on the cushion beside her. She leaned back, her head resting lightly against the couch as she let out a slow breath.

“I can’t remember the last time I had food like this,” she admitted.

Seulgi let out a soft laugh, the sound easy.

“Me either.”

She shifted slightly beneath the blanket, her shoulders relaxing further into the couch.

“We could go for a walk after,” she added. “Try to burn some of it off.”

Jaeyi smiled, turning her head just slightly in her direction.

“Deal.”

The rainforest continued to hum quietly in the background, filling the shared space between them. 

—

Their food arrived quicker than either of them expected.

They ate on the couch, containers and boxes spread across the coffee table, the documentary long forgotten but still playing in the background. 

Jaeyi tore pieces of pizza apart with her hands, laughing when the cheese stretched too far before snapping. Seulgi ate more slowly, savoring each bite, her earlier hesitation easing into something with more certainty.

Neither of them rushed.

When they finished, they cleared just enough space to stand, slipping on their jackets before stepping outside. The evening air met them cool and steady, brushing against their skin, leaving them feeling refreshed after hours indoors.

Jaeyi glanced, almost without thinking, toward Mrs. Jung’s yard.

The bushes were barely visible in the low light, dense and indistinct, but she knew exactly where they were and where she had been the night before, reaching into their thorns.

She held the glance for a second, smiling faintly. 

Then, she turned in the opposite direction.

The neighborhood had settled into its usual calm, porch lights glowing softly paired with the distant hum of traffic threading through the quiet. It hadn’t felt like hours had passed inside the house, but something about the air made it clear that time had moved on without them.

They walked side by side, close enough to feel the presence of the other.

They passed Mrs. Kim’s house on the corner, the window casting a warm, steady light onto the sidewalk.

“That’s where my mom is tonight,” Jaeyi said, nodding toward it. “Mrs. Kim’s. She helps her out sometimes. Keeps her company.”

Seulgi glanced toward the house, her expression soft.

“Mm. That’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Jaeyi said. “They kind of balance each other out. It keeps them from getting too… isolated.”

They walked a little farther before turning back, their conversation thinning naturally into a comfortable silence.

When they returned home, the living room looked much different. Much more lived in.

The coffee table was still scattered with empty containers, the blanket draped unevenly across the couch, a quiet trace of the day left behind in small, unstructured ways. 

It felt unfamiliar in a way that didn’t bother her this time.

Neither of them moved to clean it in that moment.

Instead, Seulgi picked up the remote and held it out.

“Your turn.”

Jaeyi smiled, taking it as she sank back into the couch. She scrolled for a moment, her thumb moving more slowly this time before settling on something.

She tilted her head toward the screen, landing on a crime documentary. She glanced over to Seulgi.

“Is this okay? It’s supposed to be really good.”

Seulgi nodded, returning to her spot.

“Sure, I heard that it's interesting.”

Jaeyi started the documentary. They started to watch it together. Or, at least, they let it play.

The voices on the screen blurred gradually, blending into the soft hum of the room as the weight of the day settled over them. Jaeyi shifted slightly, stretching her arms before letting them fall back against her sides.

She yawned.

“I really need to get back to studying tomorrow,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I can’t keep wasting time like this.”

She paused.

Then added, softer still.

“But today was… good. I think I really…needed it.”

Seulgi nodded, her gaze still loosely on the screen.

“Me too.”

At some point, the documentary ended, though neither of them noticed. 

The room had dimmed, the tv casting a soft, fading glow across the space as the couch held onto the warmth they had left behind, the stillness settling around them with ease. 

Jaeyi’s head had tipped back slightly, while Seulgi shifted just enough to settle more comfortably beneath the blanket.

They fell asleep like that, close, but not touching. The gap between them reduced to something barely there.

Much later, the front door opened softly as Hyejoo stepped inside.

She stood in the entryway, setting her purse down with care, her movements instinctively gentle as she slipped off her shoes. She paused when she saw them on the couch, their breathing slow and even, the faint light from the tv and the aquarium flowing across their faces. 

She stood there for a moment, watching, before a warm smile found its way onto her face.

Chapter Text

Morning arrived quickly, in contrast to the slow, unhurried Sunday that came before.

Jaeyi was already awake and dressed by the time she heard movement downstairs. The faint sounds of her mother preparing for the day carried through the house, soft but steady, threading through the quiet that still clung to the walls. 

The warmth from yesterday hadn’t fully lifted yet. 

She made her way down.

Hyejoo stood at the counter, packing a small lunch into a neat container. She was dressed for the day with her hair pulled back, everything about her settled into professionalism. She looked up as Jaeyi entered.

“You’re up early today.”

Jaeyi reached for a glass, pulling the orange juice from the fridge.

“Early morning lab discussion,” she said, pouring. “You look nice. New client?”

She paused midway, glancing at the level in the glass before tipping some of it back into the bottle, leaving just enough behind.

Hyejoo nodded, taking a bite of toast as she leaned lightly against the counter.

“I saw that you girls had quite the Sunday.”

Jaeyi smiled to herself, the memory settling easily.

“Yeah,” she said. “It was fun. I ate too much.”

A quiet laugh slipped out as her eyes drifted briefly toward the living room. Everything had been reset, returned to its usual state. No trace of the scattered containers or the blankets left behind.

“…but somehow I feel much lighter.”

Hyejoo’s expression softened, something quiet passing through it.

“I’m glad.”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Seulgi appeared in the doorway a moment later, her hair slightly tousled, her movements slower than usual. One hand rested briefly against her stomach, as if checking in with it before letting it fall back to her side.

“Good morning,” she said, offering a small smile.

“Morning,” Jaeyi replied.

Seulgi moved toward the fridge, opening it with a soft pull.

“My stomach was not in agreement with our dinner last night…”

Hyejoo let out a laugh under her breath.

Seulgi scanned the contents briefly before her eyes landed on the orange juice. The amount in the bottle was just right.

She turned back toward the table, glass in hand.

“But I have no regrets.”

Jaeyi watched as she poured it, a faint change stirring in her chest, subtle, but unmistakable. A quiet recognition barely enough to register.

“Me either,” she said.

They moved around the kitchen with a growing ease, their motions no longer colliding or hesitating around one another.

Jaeyi reached for her bag, slipping her notebook inside with efficiency. Hyejoo checked the time on her watch, already half-focused on the day ahead. 

Seulgi stood at the counter, assembling a small plate for herself, no longer unsure.

Hyejoo turned her attention toward her.

“Seulgi-yah, I’m heading to the studio,” she said. “You’re more than welcome to come, if you’d like.”

Seulgi paused, considering it. The offer hung for a second longer than it might have a few days ago. Then she shook her head gently.

“I think I’ll stay here,” she said. “I can do the laundry… if that’s okay.”

Hyejoo’s expression softened immediately.

“That would help a lot,” she said. “Thank you.”

They parted not long after.

Jaeyi moved first, backpack slung over her shoulder as she stepped into her shoes and offered brief goodbyes. The door opened, then closed behind her with a final click.

Hyejoo followed soon after, gathering her things and offering Seulgi one last smile before stepping out into the morning.

The house settled.

Seulgi remained where she was, the silence returning around her. She lifted her glass and took a slow sip, finishing off the orange juice.

—

The lab classroom was too bright.

Jaeyi felt it before she could fully understand what it was, a faint shimmer at the edges of her vision, like heat lifting off pavement on a summer afternoon. It wavered there, subtle at first, almost easy to ignore.

She blinked, too hard. The edges of her vision bending slightly.

She shifted in her seat, straightening her posture as if that alone might correct it. It would pass. It always passed.

The clock on the wall read 8:07 AM.

Two more hours.

She reached for her water bottle, unscrewing the cap with steady hands that didn’t feel entirely her own. The coolness helped for a moment, but the relief was shallow.

She swallowed, setting the bottle down carefully, aligning it with the edge of her desk without thinking.

Thin, jagged lines from the overhead light cut through her vision, pulsing faintly in rhythm with the growing ache behind her eyes. The professor’s voice continued somewhere at the front of the room, no longer holding anything she could follow. 

His words seemed to stretch and warp before dissolving.

Jaeyi tried to take in the information anyway. She focused on his mouth. On the movement, though nothing connected as her temples began to throb irregularly.

Focus. She had to focus.

Her pen hovered over her notebook while the page seemed to blur. The lines refused to stay straight.

She became aware of her heartbeat. In her throat at first, then in her temples. All before gradually shifting to her teeth.

She lifted her hand, pressing her fingers lightly against her brow. Then harder.

The pressure helped, but only barely, like pressing against something that refused to be pushed back. She closed her eyes for a second, inhaling slowly, counting without meaning to.

One.

Two.

Three.

The room shifted with what seemed like a subtle tilt without warning.

She stilled.

Her other hand came up, covering her eyes completely now, blocking out the light. The darkness behind her lids wasn’t stable either. Erratic patterns flickered there, trying to form and failing.

Then, the nausea started rolling in.

It crept in quietly at first, a low, unsettled feeling in her stomach that didn’t belong there. She swallowed against it, shifting slightly in her seat, but it only grew.

Jaeyi opened her eyes again, immediately regretting it as the light splintered across her vision, sharp enough to make her flinch.

She pressed her lips together, willing her body to steady.

—

By the time she stepped outside, the pain had already taken hold.

It bloomed behind her eyes, spreading outward in slow, relentless waves, threading down the back of her neck until it settled there, unyielding. The daylight felt too exposed. She squinted instinctively, one hand lifting to shield her eyes as she tried to steady herself.

Her fingers fumbled against the zipper of her bag.

The motion alone felt off.

She finally pulled her phone free, the screen flaring to life with immediate brightness. She winced, turning it slightly away, blinking through the distortion as her vision struggled to catch up.

She barely remembered pressing the call button or what she’d said.

Only the sound of her own voice, seemingly distant. 

Then the waiting.

The ground beneath her didn’t feel entirely stable, and she didn’t trust what would happen if she took too many steps.

Hyejoo arrived faster than she expected.

The car quickly pulled up to the curb, engine still running as the passenger door unlocked and swung open for her. Jaeyi didn’t hesitate. She slid into the seat, the shift in position enough to send a wave of nausea through her stomach immediately.

She swallowed hard, closing her eyes as the door shut beside her.

“You’re okay,” Hyejoo said gently, reaching toward her daughter’s shoulder. “We’ll be home soon.”

Jaeyi gave a faint nod, or thought she did, as the drive blurred into pieces of traffic lights and the low sounds of tires against the pavement.

Each moment stretched just long enough to register before slipping away again. The pressure behind her eyes deepened with every minute, pulling inward against its limits.

She kept her eyes closed.

When they reached the house, the car barely had time to settle before the front door opened.

Seulgi stood there, a laundry basket abandoned near her feet, her expression already drawn tight with concern. She stepped forward without thinking, then stopped herself, unsure where to place her hands, or what to do.

Jaeyi didn’t fully register her as Hyejoo guided her up the stairs to her room.

Her curtains were immediately drawn in one smooth motion that softened everything at once. The darkness wasn’t complete, but it was enough. Enough to dull the sharpness and quiet the intrusion of light that had followed her home.

Hyejoo’s hand pressed gently against her forehead.

“Lie down, love,” she said softly.

Jaeyi did. Or rather, she let herself fall into it, the bed catching her weight as the ache pulsed through her in uneven waves. The pillow felt too firm at first, then not firm enough. She shifted before curling onto her side.

Her breathing eventually slowed.

Hyejoo stepped back, watching her for a moment longer before turning toward the door. She met Seulgi in the hallway, patiently waiting.

“Seulgi-yah,” Hyejoo said quietly. “I have to go back to work.”

Her voice stayed calm.

“It’s a migraine. She hasn’t had one in years.”

Seulgi nodded immediately, her expression tightening with understanding.

“I can keep you updated.”

Hyejoo exhaled softly, already turning toward the stairs before pausing again.

“I’ll text you what she might need,” she added. “But she usually just sleeps it off.”

She glanced back one last time, her eyes settling on Seulgi with quiet trust.

“Thank you, you’re always so helpful.”

Seulgi gave a small nod, the gesture steady despite the tension in her shoulders.

Then Hyejoo was gone.

Seulgi turned back toward Jaeyi’s bedroom door, her hand hovering near the frame before she stepped closer, careful not to make too much noise or seem intrusive.

Jaeyi’s bedroom was dark, barely lit by the faintest cracks of sunlight filtering through the sides of the drawn curtains, catching along the edges of the small details that felt carefully placed.

It was the first time Seulgi had seen Jaeyi’s room.

Everything was orderly with intention. Books stacked across the desk, notebooks left half-open as if paused mid-thought, pens aligned with a precision that didn’t feel obsessive. Even her chair sat tucked in at the right angle.

Seulgi’s eyes moved slowly through it, taking in each detail without stepping farther past the door.

Jaeyi lay on her side beneath the covers, facing the wall. One arm rested loosely near her chest, the other tucked beneath the pillow. Her breathing was deep, steady in a way that suggested she was pulled far into sleep.

She looked so unprotected like this.

The tension that usually sat along her jaw had softened, her brow no longer pulled tight in concentration. Even the faint crease between her eyebrows had disappeared, smoothed out by exhaustion.

For a moment, Seulgi just watched her, the parts of her she could barely make out in such low light, taking it all in piece by piece.

Then she pulled the door closed again, just as carefully as she had opened it, easing it into place until the latch caught. She stayed there for a second longer, listening to Jaeyi’s rhythmic breathing through the door. 

Only then did she step back.

Her mind had already moved ahead of her, landing on something practical she could do. She turned toward the stairs, reaching for her jacket as she went.

By the time she reached the front door, she already had a plan of action.

She stepped outside without hesitation. Outside, the ground was still damp from an earlier burst of rain. The air carried that distinct scent, wet pavement mixed with softened earth.

Seulgi pulled her jacket closer around herself as she walked.

Her thoughts moved quickly at first, piecing together what might help. Water, something with electrolytes, pain relief. 

She tried to remember what Hyejoo had said:

“...she usually just sleeps it off.”

But that didn’t feel like enough. Cold usually helped headaches, she was certain of it. Maybe an ice pack too wouldn’t be a bad idea. Her steps slowed slightly as the thought settled. 

Was that too much?

She glanced down at the pavement, watching her reflection blur faintly in a shallow puddle as she passed. It wasn’t her place to overstep. Jaeyi hadn’t asked for anything. Hyejoo hadn’t said she needed anything either.

The thoughts lingered, catching at her pace.

But then she remembered the way Jaeyi had looked as her mother guided her through the house, her eyes squeezed shut and her hand pressed to her face.

Seulgi exhaled quietly.

The convenience store came into view, its fluorescent lights buzzing faintly against the grey sky. She stepped inside, the warmth hitting her immediately, along with the artificial brightness that made her blink.

She moved through the aisles with quiet purpose, though her hands slowed every so often, hovering over shelves longer than necessary.

She picked up a cold bottle of water, then another, hesitating for a moment before deciding to keep both. 

A sports drink followed; she turned it over in her hands, scanning the label without really reading it before placing it in the basket. 

When she reached the pain relievers, she paused longer. Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the box as she set it down, then picked it up again. 

Just in case.

The freezer section hummed softly at the back of the store. She opened it, the cold air brushing against her face as she reached in for a small ice pack. It was stiff, unfamiliar in her hand, condensation already beginning to gather along the surface.

She added it to the basket last, before looking down at everything she had gathered.

Water, electrolytes, medicine, a cold pack, and it suddenly all felt like too much, like she was trying too hard. 

Her chest tightened at the thought. 

What if Jaeyi didn’t need any of it? What if it just made things awkward again?

Seulgi swallowed and adjusted her hand on the basket handle. It was already done. 

She walked to the register before she could change her mind.

The cashier barely looked up as she paid, the transaction quick. Seulgi pulled the cash from the small woven pouch she kept tucked safely on her, counting it carefully before handing it over. 

When she stepped back outside, the air felt cooler than before. She adjusted her hood and started on her way back, the bag rustling within her grip as she quickened her pace.

The distance seemed to stretch on longer than it should have.

Her shoes sank slightly into the damp ground near the edge of the street before she reached the sidewalk, the soft mud clinging to the soles. She fixed her grasp on the bag, switching hands when her fingers began to ache.

Halfway back, she slowed again, the thought creeping in that maybe she should’ve just waited. She stopped herself before it could go further. 

It wasn’t a big deal, just something she could do while Hyejoo was at work.

By the time she reached the house, the soles of her shoes were streaked dark, the hems of her pants damp where they’d brushed too close to the ground.

Seulgi paused with her hand on the door. She glanced down at the bag’s contents. Her fingers tightened around the handles, and for a moment, she couldn’t quite place why.

Whether it was because Jaeyi had looked like she needed something, or because Seulgi needed to be the kind of person who noticed. 

The thought settled uneasily. 

She shifted her weight, glancing back toward the street as if the answer might be waiting there instead.

Maybe this was what people did for each other. Friends. 

The word didn’t sit quite right yet. 

Not fully. Or maybe it wasn’t that at all, maybe it came from somewhere older, something she had learned long before this house. To be useful, be easy to keep around.

Her throat tightened. She let out a small, controlled breath, trying to let the thought pass without holding onto it. It didn’t need to be figured out right now. It was just something she could do.

She turned the handle and stepped inside.

—

Everything went on the counter first, lined up with precision.

Seulgi unpacked the bag slowly, placing each item down one by one. Bottles upright with their labels facing forward. The small box of medicine set beside them. The ice pack last, its surface already damp, the cold beginning to soften at the edges.

She stood there for a second, looking at it all.

Then turned, reaching into the cabinet for a tray.

She arranged everything again, more carefully this time. The bottles grouped together. The pills placed within easy reach. The ice pack wrapped gently in a soft cloth before being set on the tray. She hesitated, glancing toward the sink before adding a glass, setting it neatly beside the rest.

It looked well prepared.

Her fingers hovered briefly over the tray, making small adjustments before she deemed it ready.

Then she picked it up.

The stairs creaked faintly beneath her steps, though she tried to move quietly. By the time she reached the top, her grip had tightened enough to steady the slight tremor in her hands.

She stopped outside Jaeyi’s door again, the tray suddenly feeling heavier now. 

She knocked, a little firmer this time, then waited. 

Nothing. 

Seulgi exhaled slowly before nudging the door open. The room was dimmer than before, the light lessened as the afternoon shifted with heavier clouds, the air still and undisturbed. She stepped inside, carefully.

She set the tray down on the desk first, then moved toward the bed, lowering herself onto the edge with a quiet awareness of every movement she made.

“Jaeyi?” she whispered.

Nothing changed at first, until she repeated her name.

“...Jaeyi.”

Then, a faint shift under the covers.

Jaeyi’s brows pulled together slightly, her breathing hitching just enough to show she’d surfaced. She let out the faintest hum of acknowledgment.

Seulgi reached for the glass, holding it out gently.

“Here, just have a little water,” she murmured. “And these.”

Jaeyi squinted, her eyes barely opening against the dim light. She didn’t question it at all. Her hand found the glass, movements slow but familiar, like she’d done this before.

She swallowed the pills easily before laying back down, the effort already too much.

Seulgi picked up the ice pack, testing its temperature briefly against her wrist before pressing it lightly to Jaeyi’s forehead. She adjusted it once, then again, until it sat just right.

Jaeyi let out a quiet breath, her expression loosening as her body followed. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, the words barely formed before they slipped back into sleep.

Seulgi didn’t respond. She remained where she was, watching the tension ease from Jaeyi’s face, listening as her breathing deepened and settled into a steadier pattern. 

When she was sure it would hold, she stood and moved to the desk, lifting the tray and carrying it to the nightstand instead. She arranged everything within reach for when she’d wake. The glass closer, the bottles aligned and the cloth tucked neatly beneath the ice pack. 

After adjusting it once more, she stepped back with quiet satisfaction.

Seulgi then turned toward the door, her steps quieter now. She slipped out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her with care, easing it into place until it latched without a sound.

The rest of the day passed slowly.

Seulgi brought a basket of laundry into her room. She folded the clothes while mindlessly scrolling on her phone after downloading a few apps. After the last shirt was folded, she sent a brief update to Hyejoo.

Seulgi: She’s sleeping now after taking some pain relief and water.

Hyejoo replied a moment later with a heart.

Chapter Text

By the time Jaeyi woke, it was already dark, the night fully settled as the day passed without her. 

She stayed still at first, eyes half-open, waiting for the pain to return, but it didn’t. What remained was a faint heaviness behind her eyes, distant now. Her body moved more slowly, still catching up to itself, but the sharp edge had faded enough.

The energy that had dwindled away earlier had finally recharged. She shifted slightly, noticing the tray set beside her on the nightstand.

Everything was arranged with such intention, the bottles lined up, the small box of medicine placed within reach, the empty glass pushed just close enough to suggest it had been used without needing to be moved again. 

The cloth beneath the ice pack had been adjusted, tucked neatly where it wouldn’t slip.

Jaeyi stared at it as a subtle tension formed in her chest, she couldn’t name it right away. 

She didn’t need to ask where it had come from; the details made it obvious. 

She let the moment linger before pushing herself upright, reaching for one of the sports drinks she hadn’t tried before. With a swift motion, she twisted off the cap and brought the bottle to her lips, replenishing what had been lost. 

Her feet found the floor slowly as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve, her balance steady this time.

She stepped into the dim hallway, lit only by the light coming from beneath a door farther down, a thin, steady glow stretching across the floor. 

Seulgi’s room.

Jaeyi hesitated just long enough to register it, then crossed the distance and knocked.

There was a soft rustle of sheets before an answer.

“Yes?” Seulgi’s muffled reply came through the door.

Jaeyi cleared her throat. 

“Hey, uh…it’s me.”

“You can come in,” Seulgi replied.

Jaeyi opened the door slowly and stepped inside. It was the first time she’d been in the guest room in years, yet it didn’t feel unfamiliar, not in the way she had expected.

Seulgi’s small assortment of things were spread throughout the space, nothing feeling out of place. Everything was arranged with the same quiet care that Jaeyi had seen displayed on her nightstand moments ago. 

It felt… lived in.

“Hey,” Jaeyi said softly.

Seulgi shifted in bed, rolling onto her side to face her. She was already tucked in, her phone resting loosely in her hand with the screen casting a faint glow across her face.

“Hey,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Jaeyi replied. “A lot better.”

She paused, her gaze drifting briefly before returning.

“I wanted to say…thank you.”

Seulgi’s smile was small with a hint of shyness.

“Oh…yeah, of course.”

There was a short silence.

“I didn’t realize…how long I slept,” Jaeyi added, her voice quieter now, still adjusting to being fully awake again.

Seulgi gave an understanding nod.

“Your body probably needed it.”

Jaeyi nodded once in return.

“Yeah.”

She lingered there for a second longer, before shifting back toward the door.

“Uh…have a goodnight, Seulgi,” Jaeyi’s voice remained quiet.

“You too…goodnight, Jaeyi.”

Jaeyi closed the door gently behind her, before staying in place for a moment. 

Not quite ready to move on. She rocked on the pads of her feet a few times until she turned and made her way up to the third floor.

Hyejoo’s room was warmly lit with the door barely open. Jaeyi leaned in just enough to see her, already preparing for bed, moving through familiar motions with ease.

“Mom?” she kept her voice low.

Hyejoo turned as she adjusted her robe.

“Hey, you’re finally awake,” she smiled. “Are you feeling better?”

Jaeyi smiled softly as her eyes landed on the floor ahead of her.

“Yeah, I feel much better.”

“Good, it’s been a while since you’ve had a migraine like that,” she said. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you’ve worked up an appetite.”

“Okay, thank you,” Jaeyi said, noticing the soft rumble in her stomach. “I just wanted to come up and say goodnight.”

“Goodnight, love,” Hyejoo replied, her voice warm.

That was enough. Jaeyi stepped back and returned downstairs, the living room lit only by the aquarium’s blue glow and a few small lamps. The house had fully eased into the night, each space contained in its own stillness. 

She moved toward the front door and checked the lock out of habit, and that’s when she noticed them.

Seulgi’s shoes still by the door, this time, with mud streaked along the soles and dried in uneven patches from earlier.

Jaeyi paused, then crouched and reached for a cloth from the nearby drawer. She dampened it at the sink, wrung it out, and returned before kneeling down again. 

With careful, deliberate movements, she worked along the edges first, loosening the dried dirt before wiping it away in slow, steady strokes.

When she finished, she set the shoes neatly beside her own, aligned with intention. She hovered there for a moment, studying their details, before standing. 

The lights went off one by one as she moved through the house, first the kitchen, then the living room, then the hallway, until the final switch clicked off.

—

By Tuesday morning, it had been almost a full week since Seulgi had come into their lives.

The thought came to Jaeyi somewhere between brushing her teeth and pulling on her jacket, arriving without warning. It didn’t seem long enough to explain the way Seulgi’s presence had gradually settled into their home, but it felt so natural.

Jaeyi paused, her fingers resting against the zipper of her jacket. Then she moved on.

She didn’t have time to sit with it that morning.

Missing the rest of her classes on Monday had consequences that were waiting for her now. Dense lecture slides, a backlog of notes, and an anatomy test that loomed just close enough to demand her full attention. Structures she needed to memorize until they came to her instinctively.

She packed her bag with more care than usual. She placed her flashcards in first, then her notebooks, with pens neatly along the inside pocket. She checked everything once, then again, before stepping out of her room into a house that was already awake.

Hyejoo sat at the table with a cup of tea. Across from her, Seulgi spread jam across a piece of toast with careful attention, deliberate in its own soft way.

Jaeyi registered it, the normalcy of the scene in front of her, as she moved through the kitchen.

“I’ll be late,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

She reached for an apple on her way out, grabbing it without breaking stride.

“Good luck,” Seulgi said, the words coming easily now.

Jaeyi glanced back.

“Thanks,” she said. A small smile followed. “I’ll see you guys later.”

—

The day moved by quickly and not quickly enough.

Between classes, study sessions, and a stretch in the library that felt too long, Jaeyi barely lifted her head from her notes. Pages turned, diagrams repeated and terms were rewritten until they morphed into one another.

Her phone buzzed once while she was tracing nerve pathways.

She ignored it at first, until curiosity got to her. She exhaled through her nose, already reaching for it with mild irritation, expecting something unimportant. 

Her eyes dropped to the screen and paused.

The contact read: Mom’s work phone

But she knew immediately, tapping the message to open it.

A photo was attached, a sheet of paper, slightly angled and taken from above.

Mom’s work phone: Did you need this paper? It was on the counter.

Jaeyi smiled at the consideration.

She tapped into the image, zooming in, scanning it out of habit. It wasn't anything important. Old material if that. Still, she stared at the words.

Then, without thinking too hard about it, she edited the contact to its rightful name.

Seulgi.

Jaeyi hummed quietly under her breath, then typed back.

Jaeyi: Nope, that’s from last week. But thank you!

She set the phone down, waiting for a response. 

Nothing came right away. Her attention eventually shifted back to her notes, pen moving automatically, until the screen lit up again.

Seulgi: Okay, just wanted to check.

Jaeyi tilted her head slightly, reading it over once more before another message followed.

Seulgi: How’s class?

She let out a small, intrigued breath, her eyes flicking up briefly around the room, scanning the rows of students and listening to the shuffle of pages turning, the quiet pressure of everyone trying to keep up.

She appreciated the question more than she expected to.

Jaeyi: It’s fine, I’m just drowning a little.

Her thumb hovered for a second, before she added more.

Jaeyi: How’s your morning?

The reply came quicker this time.

Seulgi: It’s quiet, but nice.

Jaeyi stared at it as the professor’s voice in the background had faded.

Eventually, she locked her phone and turned back to her notes, the faintest trace of something lighter taking hold beneath the pressure of the day.

—

Not too far away, Seulgi sat on the edge of her bed, her phone held between both hands. The conversation remained open on her screen.

Her thumb drifted upward, tapping into her contacts.

There were only two names listed. Two.

She stared at them.

Yoo Hyejoo and Yoo Jaeyi.

A few days ago, the sight of it might have unsettled her. Proof of something small, almost pathetic. The reality that this was just temporary, and that it could disappear just as quickly as it had formed.

Only now, it felt different. The names didn’t look like absence anymore. They made her feel almost…full. A warmth settled in her chest, spreading slowly without asking permission.

She let it sit there for a moment before locking her phone and standing to pull on her socks, grounding herself back in the room. 

There were a few small errands Hyejoo had mentioned in passing that morning, things she could take care of. It felt good to help out in any way she could.

—

The afternoon passed by.

Seulgi decided a short walk to the stationery shop would come first, the soft chime of the door greeting her as she stepped inside. She stood in front of a selection of envelopes, checking sizes carefully before settling on the right ones Hyejoo needed. 

She checked out, then continued on.

The walk to Hyejoo's studio came next. Seulgi steadied her pace as the sun came out from behind the clouds. Her phone buzzed softly in her pocket as a message from Hyejoo lit up the screen.

Seulgi read the previous messages from that morning.

Yoo Hyejoo: Could you drop those off for me?

Then, more recent,

Yoo Hyejoo: Thank you Seulgi-yah, I’ll leave the studio door unlocked for you. 

Seulgi slipped up the studio entrance's staircase quietly. She rounded the corner and snuck in through the door, propped slightly open for her arrival. 

The soft murmur of conversation guided her attention toward the far wall, where Hyejoo was seated with a client. She paused just inside the doorway, suddenly aware of herself causing an interruption, before crossing the room and setting the envelopes down on the edge of the workspace. 

Hyejoo noticed her almost immediately and rose, meeting her halfway with an apologetic glance toward the client. 

She reached out, giving Seulgi’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, her voice whispering, “You’re the best.” 

Seulgi dipped her head in acknowledgment, offering a smile before stepping back out as quietly as she’d entered, letting the door close behind her and continuing her way home.

Time moved on gently with the absence of pressure. Somewhere between those small errands, her phone buzzed again. She paused mid-step, pulling it from her pocket.

A new message, from Jaeyi.

Jaeyi: I know it might be late, but… would you maybe want to help me with flashcards when I get home? I’m swamped with anatomy terms I need to have memorized before tomorrow.

Seulgi didn’t think, her reply came instantly.

Seulgi: Sure, I’d be happy to.

—

The evening had unraveled.

The aquarium’s smooth trickling sounds filled the room as Hyejoo settled into her armchair with the tv murmuring low. Seulgi eased onto the couch adjacent to her, phone resting loosely in her lap, her eyes drifting down to the screen every few minutes before lifting again.

Hyejoo noticed.

“Waiting for Jaeyi?” she asked softly, her eyes remaining on the screen.

Seulgi nodded, a small, almost embarrassed motion. “She’s working on a lab report right now.”

Hyejoo let out a soft, knowing chuckle without adding anything else.

Time slipped forward quietly.

The tv changed programs numerous times without either of them noticing, voices giving way to new ones, colors shifting across the screen as the evening stretched into night. 

Hyejoo had dozed off at some point. Her breathing evening out as the room dimmed further around her. Seulgi remained on the couch, shifting occasionally under the throw blanket, checking her phone, then setting it back down again.

The minutes turned into hours that way, though the waiting didn’t feel heavy tonight.

It was late when Jaeyi finally returned home, just past eleven.

Her shoulders carried the day with them, tight with exhaustion, her mind still half caught in the structure of everything she’d been forcing herself to memorize.

She stepped inside quietly.

Hyejoo was asleep in her armchair, her head tilted slightly to the side, reading glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. The tv played some late-night program she had long since stopped following while a faint snore broke through every now and then.

Jaeyi smiled despite herself.

She barely had time to set her bag down before movement caught her eye. Seulgi was already at the kitchen table, clearing space with purpose.

“Oh, Seulgi, you don’t have to—” Jaeyi started.

“It’s fine,” Seulgi said, a little too quickly, eagerness slipping through. “I was waiting anyway.”

That stopped her, Jaeyi stood there for a second, watching as Seulgi pulled out a chair, arranging the flashcards Jaeyi had just set down as if she’d already imagined this moment hours ago.

“Alright,” Jaeyi said, letting out a small breath of a laugh. “Well, thank you.”

They sat across from each other, the table filling quickly with notebooks and cards. The overhead light cast a soft glow between them, separating the rest of the house into calm shadows.

Seulgi picked up the first stack.

“Okay, here we go. Origin and insertion,” she said. “Biceps brachii.”

Jaeyi answered without thinking. “Scapula and radius.”

Seulgi nodded. “Function?”

“Flexion of the elbow,” Jaeyi replied, then hesitated. “And… supination.”

“Yeah,” Seulgi said, flipping the card and nodding once. “Good.”

They moved quickly at first, momentum carrying them through familiar content, until their routine became more established.

Muscles, tendons, ligaments, and skeletal landmarks.

Seulgi’s voice stayed clear with consistency, occasionally adjusting the wording when Jaeyi stumbled, guiding her without sharp correction.

“Wait,” Seulgi said at one point, tapping the edge of a card lightly. “That one connects bone to bone. Tendons connect muscle to bone.”

Jaeyi blinked, then let out a soft laugh. She rested her chin against her palm, “Right. I knew that.”

“I know,” Seulgi said easily. “You’re just tired.”

Jaeyi watched her closely.

Seulgi moved through the material without hesitation, her understanding sitting beneath the surface of every answer she gave, as if she was following it just as carefully.

“You’re… really smart,” Jaeyi said before she could stop herself.

Seulgi paused, just slightly.

“Mm,” she said after a moment, shrugging it off lightly. “I think I’m just good at remembering things.”

Her tone dismissive.

“No, really,” Jaeyi said, more certain this time. “You are.”

They kept going. But Jaeyi started to notice other things.

Seulgi’s blinks seemed to stretch on a bit too long. Then the subtle shift of her shoulders, rolling them back like she was trying to stay upright. 

The steadiness in her voice didn’t match the quiet weight settling into her posture.

“Okay,” Jaeyi said finally, stacking the cards and setting them aside. “I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Seulgi frowned faintly. “We can do a few more.”

“No,” Jaeyi said, softer now. “You’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” Seulgi insisted, then yawned.

Jaeyi smiled. “Exactly.”

They cleaned up the table quietly, sliding papers and a stack of notebooks back into Jaeyi’s backpack, careful not to make too much noise. The house remained silent around them with Hyejoo undisturbed in her sleep.

Upstairs, the floor creaked softly beneath their light steps. When they reached the hallway, they paused, the moment coming into an unspoken end. 

“Thank you,” Jaeyi said again. “Really.”

Seulgi nodded. “Anytime.”

They turned toward their separate rooms, the doors closing behind them, and a few minutes later, Jaeyi’s phone buzzed.

Seulgi: You did really well tonight, you’ll do great on the exam. Goodnight.

Jaeyi smiled into the side of her pillow as she typed back.

Jaeyi: I couldn’t have done it without you. Sleep well.

Across the hall, Seulgi read the message once. 

Then again.

Her phone dimmed slowly in her hands as she set it down, exhaustion finally settling in fully, pulling her under without resistance.

Chapter Text

Jaeyi woke before her alarm, feeling fully rested.

Fragments of the night before drifted in and out of her thoughts, flashcards flipping, the low glow of the kitchen light, Seulgi’s voice clear as it moved through terms and definitions effortlessly. The consistency of it stayed with her, looping softly as she surfaced.

Her eyes opened slowly.

The room wasn’t fully dark. A faint wash of color pressed against the sides of her curtains, softer than daylight but too present to brush off.

She pushed herself up on one elbow and rubbed at her eyes, the last traces of sleep clinging stubbornly. At first, she just sat there, listening to her own breathing and the absence of anything urgent.

Then she reached for the curtains, just enough to part them.

A streak of pink bled across the sky, thin at first, then deepening toward the horizon where the sun hadn’t fully risen yet. It stretched wide, brushing against the edges of the rooftops, soft and vivid at the same time.

Jaeyi stared at it, taking in all the details of the colorful lighting spread across her neighborhood. It began to shift even as she watched, fading into the familiar bright orange it usually was by this time.

She let the curtain fall back into place.

Today mattered, the thought came cleanly this time. Her anatomy exam was all that loomed ahead.

She repeated it in her head as she stood, moving through the room with more intention now. She pulled on a cardigan, wrapping it around her body to keep the warmth intact.

By the time she made her way downstairs, Seulgi was already there, seated under soft lighting.

Seulgi’s usual mug was clasped between both hands, her shoulders relaxed in a way that still seemed to catch Jaeyi off guard. There was no tension in the way she held herself this morning, just peace.

She looked up when she heard Jaeyi enter, her expression lifting.

“Morning,” Seulgi said.

“Good morning,” Jaeyi replied, moving toward the counter, reaching for the kettle. “Did you see the sunrise?”

Seulgi tilted her head slightly. “Hm?”

Then shook it.

Jaeyi glanced toward the window again, as if it might still be there.

“It was really pink,” she said. “I think I caught it before it shifted.”

Seulgi followed her gaze, though there was nothing left to see now but the pale start of morning.

“It was so beautiful,” Jaeyi added, almost to herself.

Seulgi smiled, then lowered her eyes back to the mug in her hands.

Jaeyi refilled the kettle as the sound of water broke softly through the quiet.

“So…did you sleep okay?” she asked, not looking over.

Seulgi nodded. “Yeah. Better than I expected.”

Jaeyi moved toward the table with a small bowl in her hand. “No nausea or anything this morning?”

“Nope, I feel pretty good so far.”

They ate without much more conversation. The quiet sat comfortably between them, sculpted more by presence than lack of. Chopsticks tapped lightly against ceramic as they ate together.

Halfway through, Seulgi hesitated. Jaeyi caught it in the way the movement of her hands slowed just enough to stand out.

“I was thinking…” Seulgi started, then paused, her fingers tightening slightly around the mug. “About going for a walk this morning. Since it’s early.”

Jaeyi nodded, chewing thoughtfully as she lifted another bite of egg. It made sense to her, something Seulgi would do that would help her feel safe.

She swallowed, then considered it for a moment longer than needed.

“Would you…” Jaeyi began, then stopped, adjusting the thought as it formed. “Maybe…want to walk with me to campus?”

She glanced up, just briefly.

“Part of the way, I mean…if you want?”

Seulgi blinked, caught slightly off guard. Her offer didn’t land immediately.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I don’t want to slow you down.”

Jaeyi shook her head without hesitation.

“You won’t,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

Seulgi paused, glancing over toward the window.

“Okay,” she said, softer now. “Sure. That sounds nice.”

Jaeyi nodded once, finishing the last of her breakfast with a smile.

—

The air outside felt cool against their faces, waking them a bit more as they stepped onto the street. Their pace settled naturally, neither rushing nor dragging along. Their steps falling into an easy rhythm that didn’t need to be adjusted.

Jaeyi started talking without meaning to.

She started out with pieces of definitions, connecting them with the terms they drilled out last night. The structures of diagrams she’d been repeatedly staring at for days. Muscle attachments and their functions came next, thinking of pathways she could trace without looking anymore. 

The words came faster as she went, threading together into what almost sounded like conversation, even though she wasn’t expecting an answer.

Seulgi didn’t interrupt her at all.

She walked beside her, eyes drifting from one detail to the next, to the slope of the street, and the different architectural styles of the houses. She followed the way the morning light caught in the leaves overhead. Every now and then, her attention flicked back to Jaeyi, following along just enough to understand where she was.

“I think you’ve got it all down,” Seulgi said after a while, her voice gentle with certainty, watching the thoughts form before Jaeyi could even say them.

Jaeyi glanced at her and believed her. Seulgi’s words felt accurate where they settled. 

About ten minutes in, the street began to change, filling with more people and movement.

Students gathered in loose clusters, backpacks slung over one shoulder with conversations overlapping in bursts of laughter and half-finished thoughts. The atmosphere had changed, faster now and less predictable.

Seulgi slowed her steps. It was subtle at first, only a slight hesitation as her attention pulled outward, tracking movement and noticing too much at once.

Jaeyi noticed it but remained quiet, simply adjusting her pace to match.

They reached the corner where the street opened up near campus, the space framed by a concrete wall softened under a canopy of cherry blossoms. Petals drifted down in slow spirals, catching briefly in the air before settling along the pavement.

Seulgi stopped there.

Her eyes lifted, following the branches to the light filtering through them.

“This is probably…” she started, then let out a small breath. “Good for me.”

Jaeyi nodded, understanding without needing more.

“Okay.”

Seulgi shifted her weight, glancing back toward the flow of students, then back to Jaeyi.

“I can meet you back here,” she said. “Later. If that’s alright.”

Jaeyi smiled with ease. “I should be out around ten, maybe earlier.”

“Okay,” Seulgi said. “I’ll be here.”

They parted with a quiet wave.

Seulgi stayed where she was, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet as she watched Jaeyi move forward, her figure folding gradually into the crowd before becoming part of something larger, something Seulgi wasn’t ready to step into just yet.

She remained there, under the canopy, before glancing down at her shoes. Her gaze stopped there, taking in the cleanness of the white fabric that had been caked with mud the day before. 

The detail registered without effort within her.

She turned back the way they had come, her steps slower now without the need to maintain a steady pace. The street felt different coming back down in this direction. 

Seulgi stopped near the neighborhood convenience store, the same one she had stepped into yesterday, its glass front reflecting the steady movement of the morning.

The sidewalk widened there, enough to make standing still feel a little less noticeable.

So she stayed.

Her hands slipped into the sleeves of her jacket, fingers tucked out of sight as she watched people pass. Most of them were students.

It was easy to tell. They filled the space without thinking about it, lost in conversations about classes and grades. Some walked in groups, voices overlapping, laughter breaking through in uneven bursts. 

Others moved in pairs, shoulders brushing lightly, their conversations quieter, more contained. A few walked alone, earbuds in, eyes fixed ahead, already somewhere else in their minds.

Seulgi tried not to stare. Her focus drifted along anyway.

She found herself watching longer than she meant to, following their movements and the naturalness of how they seemed to walk together so easily.

She wondered, faintly, where she would stand among them. Which version she might look like, from the outside, if she had belonged to a group of friends.

The thought didn’t settle anywhere comfortable.

After a while, she checked her phone. It was still rather early, the time hadn’t moved enough to matter, so she slipped it back into her pocket.

Her eyes landed on a bench next to a vending machine, a few feet away, half in the sun, half in shadow. She considered it for a moment, her steps almost shifting in that direction, but stopped herself before she moved.

Standing felt… safer. So she stayed where she was.

Minutes passed, or maybe even longer. The flow of people changed slightly, thinning, then building again, but never fully stopping. 

The light shifted with it, stretching a little farther across the pavement as the morning settled in.

Seulgi shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then back again. Her reflection caught in the glass beside her. She hadn’t meant to look, but once she noticed it, she couldn’t quite look away. 

The jacket she wore wasn’t hers. The sweater beneath it wasn’t either. The fabric sat right on her shoulders, clean and warm, and for that, she was grateful for whether she had the words for it or not.

But still,  standing there, surrounded by people who seemed to belong to themselves so easily, the difference felt more visible. It was baggage she carried with her even when no one else was looking.

Her eyes dropped, then lifted again as the street continued to move around her. 

Time stretched. She checked her phone once more, but not much had changed, she let out a quiet breath taken away by the breeze. 

For a moment, she considered leaving, going back to the house instead.

She would let the morning fold into something she could understand better. She could say she got tired, or that she changed her mind. That it didn’t matter.

She began to pace in front of the store, moving more toward the street that would take her back home. It would be the easier option. 

The thought stayed nearby, weighing on her.

Then it shifted.

She pictured Jaeyi walking back later, her steps slower this time with her attention drifting as she scanned the street, expecting Seulgi to be where she said she would be.

Seulgi pressed her lips together. She stopped, planting her feet firmly on the ground as she turned back toward the direction of the campus.

She stayed there.

The hour didn’t pass all at once, it was marked by footsteps and the repetitiveness of distant traffic. When she checked the time again, it had finally moved enough to matter. She exhaled, slow and steady, lifting her head and moving up the street. 

Only this time, she didn’t stop until she was back under the cherry blossoms.

—

Jaeyi stood as soon as the proctor called time.

The chair legs scraped softly against the floor, the sound lost among the others doing the same. She gathered her things without rushing, the exam booklet still open in her mind with questions replaying in sequences.

Each answer came back to her with ease, quicker than it had the night before. She didn’t make a single guess. 

She glanced at the clock, relieved that it was just before ten. 

Earlier than she expected.

As she walked to the front of the room, the tension she’d carried all morning began to release. By the time she handed in her exam, an unmistakable relief held inside her.

She stepped outside the science building, the air cooler than the crowded room she’d left behind. The noise followed her out, groups of students already discussing the exam.

Jaeyi didn’t stop as she moved past them and down the steps, letting the noise fade behind her while she headed toward the street. Her mind kept replaying the test anyway, but this time it flowed without catching, one answer leading into the next. 

She found herself thinking of Seulgi after.

About how she’d read the cards, pausing long enough for Jaeyi to catch herself, texting her you’ll do great on the exam in a way that didn’t feel like comfort.

Jaeyi believed it now.

As she turned onto the main street, the thought lifted, and she found herself wondering what Seulgi was doing, whether she had actually stayed, or said she would and left once the wait dragged on. 

It would have made sense, Seulgi seemed to tire easily.

Jaeyi reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. She could text something simple, like a brief I’m done or even on my way. 

But she didn’t. Part of her wanted to know without asking, to see for herself. She slipped the phone back into her pocket.

A group of students walked just ahead of her, their voices overlapping as they broke down the exam.

“That question about the rotator cuff…”
“No, I said supraspinatus!”
“It’s infraspinatus, I’m telling you.”

Jaeyi let out a quiet breath. They were both wrong, that she was sure of.  She didn’t say anything, just kept moving forward.

The last street came into view, the one that curved toward the corner where they had parted earlier. Her steps slowed without meaning as her attention narrowed, scanning ahead before she fully reached it.

She told herself not to expect anything. Still, she looked.

And then she saw her.

Seulgi stood exactly where they had left each other, beneath the cascading cherry blossoms, the last of the petals drifting lazily around her. From a distance, she looked so small against the open space with her posture contained, her hands tucked into her sleeves like she always did.

Her eyes lifted the moment Jaeyi came into view.

She straightened, rocking forward onto her feet, then stepped out from the corner with a quickening pace as she crossed the distance between them.

“How was it?” Seulgi asked, the question coming out before she fully reached her.

Jaeyi slowed to meet her, a soft pull settling in her chest.

“You waited,” she said with a gentle smile.

Seulgi blinked, like the statement hadn’t occurred to her as anything worth noticing. Jaeyi let out a breath before continuing.

“I think…” she started, then shook her head, the smile widening. “I think I did perfect, actually.”

Seulgi’s expression eased immediately.

“That’s great,” she said, and she meant it.

Jaeyi hesitated for a second, then gestured lightly down the street.

“Yeah…can I buy you lunch?” she asked. “I’m starving.”

Seulgi looked at her, the light catching softly in her eyes, the petals behind her blurring into a distant pink.

“Sure,” she said, her eyes bright.

—

The café sat tucked between a narrow flower shop and an old laundromat, its front windows fogged slightly from the warmth inside. A small bell chimed as the door opened, the sound folding into the low overlaps of conversation.

Voices layered over one another, consisting of students comparing assignments, debating rankings, and recapping lectures with the kind of urgency that faded the moment they stepped outside. 

Rounded tables were scattered throughout the space, each one occupied with notebooks and laptops spread between lattes and French pastries.

Jaeyi held the door open, letting Seulgi step in first.

The interior felt almost out of place against the street outside. It was decorated with soft lighting, pale wood, and numerous framed prints lining the walls.

Seulgi paused just inside, slowly taking in its charm.

Jaeyi watched her look around.

They found a table along the brick wall, tucked slightly out of the way. It gave them just enough distance from the rest of the room without isolating them completely.

Seulgi slid into her seat, her gaze still moving along the walls.

Behind them, a bulletin board stretched across part of the brick, cluttered with overlapping layers of paper. Mostly handouts with club announcements, tutoring offers, and small polaroids fading at the edges where sunlight had worn them down.

Seulgi’s attention caught on one flyer in particular.

It stood out, brighter than the rest, an upcoming festival, illustrated with looping lines of carnival rides, fireworks, and clusters of people drawn in loose, lively strokes. Nostalgic graphics scattered across the top, the date printed boldly near the bottom.

Her eyes traced the flyer, taking in each detail as Jaeyi noticed from the other side of the table. Seulgi felt it, slightly, and lowered her gaze, her hands settling in her lap. 

“I’ve never been to something like that,” she said after a moment, her voice soft, almost like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Jaeyi leaned back just enough to read the details, scanning the date, the location and the time, before looking back at her. 

“Then we’ll go,” she said, without any hesitation. “Together.”

Seulgi blinked, the words landing slower than they were said. Her fingers shifted slightly against the fabric of her sleeves, holding onto the feeling before it slipped away.

“Okay,” she said.

They stayed at the table longer than they needed to.

Jaeyi had insisted on ordering, brushing past Seulgi’s hesitation with a quiet certainty that left little room to argue. Now the small table between them was filled with an assortment of light plates and a glass of pomegranate lemonade catching the soft glow of the window, the faint sweetness of it hanging in the air.

Seulgi lifted the glass carefully, taking a slow sip.

Jaeyi tore a hazelnut crème croissant in half, the layers flaking delicately beneath her fingers. She placed one half onto the saucer in front of Seulgi without making a point of it.

Seulgi noticed anyway, she always did.

Jaeyi leaned back slightly in her chair, her eyes drifting toward the window. Outside, the street moved at a steady pace with people passing in and out of view. Some faces she recognized, students from lectures she had attended for months without ever really engaging.

She folded her arms loosely across her chest and let out a quiet breath.

“You know…” she started, not looking away from the glass. “I used to think I’d just meet people naturally here.”

Her voice softened without her trying.

“Friends, classmates…anyone inside or outside of school.”

She paused, her eyes following someone as they passed, then losing them entirely.

“But somewhere along the way, it just… stopped happening.”

Seulgi didn’t interrupt her.

“It’s easy to ignore it when you’re busy,” Jaeyi continued. “When everything looks like it’s working.” A subtle shift of her shoulders. “I filled my time with studying. Nonstop schedules, expectations most people wouldn’t even try to keep up with.”

Her gaze drifted back inside, scanning the café without really seeing it.

“It kept me moving,” she said. “Kept me from noticing how…lonely everything else had gotten.”

A small pause settled between her words.

“There wasn’t anyone to tell things to. Or just… sit with.”

She exhaled, quieter this time, and finally looked across the table. Her eyes met Seulgi’s.

“So,” she added, a hint of vulnerability beneath the surface, “I’m glad I have someone around now. To talk with.”

Seulgi didn’t answer right away, her words didn’t feel like something that needed to be matched. She just looked at Jaeyi, her eyes reflecting back a genuine trust, steady and quiet. 

She smiled at her, feeling a light blush creep into her cheeks.

Jaeyi’s attention dropped to the table again. She brushed the crumbs from the croissant into her palm, gathering them carefully before folding them into her napkin with an automatic motion. She stacked the dishes lightly to the side, clearing the space without thinking about it.

Across from her, Seulgi’s gaze drifted.

A group of girls nearby began laughing, leaning into each other, their clothes new and their shoes pristine, everything about them easy in a way that didn’t need to be questioned..

Her eyes lowered, landing on her own worn out shoes. Then they moved up, noticing the frayed edges where the denim brushed against them over time. She shifted slightly, the fabric of her jeans catching against the tops, like it might hide them just enough.

She looked back at Jaeyi, who always seemed composed and put together without effort. Jaeyi caught it this time, the glances of quiet comparison.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Seulgi looked up at her.

“Would you want to…go shopping after this?”

The question landed without pressure. Seulgi blinked, a little surprised, before her face gently softened.

“Yes,” she said. This time she didn’t hesitate.

Chapter Text

They left the café together, stepping back out into the late afternoon.

The sunlight stretched low between buildings and slipped through the awnings overhead. It caught along the outlines of glass storefronts and their metal railings, turning the walk into a more defined journey.

Jaeyi moved ahead with quiet confidence, hands tucked into the pockets of her cardigan as her pace steadied. She didn’t need to think about where she was going, as the route lived within her already, carried out of habit.

Every so often, she glanced back, making sure Seulgi was keeping up.

She always seemed to be a half-step behind, her attention drifting outward and catching on small details as they passed. Jaeyi didn’t mind it, she was happy to take Seulgi to new places by now, even if they didn’t seem all that interesting to her. 

She admired how Seulgi never grew bored of taking it all in.

The shopping center came into view gradually, unfolding in a cluster of familiar storefronts arranged around a modest indoor courtyard. It was a place people passed through, returned to, and forgot about as soon as they left.

Jaeyi stepped into it like she belonged there, like she always had.

She looked the way she did when she left the house with purpose, always so put together in a way that didn’t ask for attention but held it anyway. 

Her skirt fell cleanly just above her knees, the line of it precise against the smooth dark of her stockings. A soft white blouse was tucked neatly at her waist underneath her knitted cardigan, the fabric sitting just right, effortless in its structure.

Seulgi noticed.

She noticed many things about Jaeyi, quietly, without trying to name them. Her eyes landed on her, tracing the lines of her outfit, taking in the balance and simple style. How it all seemed to fall into place for her. She looked at Jaeyi without a sense of comparison.

She didn’t realize that Jaeyi had stopped walking, not until she almost walked into her. Seulgi caught herself just in time, her steps stuttering slightly as she looked up.

Jaeyi was already watching her, her expression hinted with soft curiosity, like she’d been waiting to be seen back.

They slowed as they passed a storefront window displaying mannequins arranged in stiff poses behind the glass, dressed in sharply cut jackets and fitted silhouettes.

Jaeyi’s eyes flicked over them briefly before returning back to Seulgi.

“I like the way you dress, Seulgi,” she said, the words coming out without warning. “It’s… specific. It feels like you.”

Seulgi blinked, caught in the middle of surprise and disbelief.

“...Really?”

“Yeah,” Jaeyi said, nodding lightly. “The loose jeans, the layers… it’s so simple, but it suits you very well.”

Seulgi let out a small breath of a laugh, rubbing her thumb along the edge of her sleeve.

“Thanks,” she said. “My style inspiration is called ‘orphanage donation box.’”

Jaeyi turned toward her immediately, brows pulling together.

“That’s not what I—”

“I know,” Seulgi said quickly, a light smirk still lingering. “I’m joking.”

A beat passed.

“Well…kinda.”

Her fingers tightened slightly in the fabric at her wrists, the habit noticeable.

“I just… like things that are bigger,” she added, quieter now. “Baggy and oversized.”

She glanced down at herself, then back up.

“They make me feel… smaller,” she said, searching for the word. “More hidden.”

Jaeyi held her eyes on Seulgi’s for a moment without interrupting or correcting her, without telling her she didn’t need to hide anymore either. 

The first store Jaeyi led her into felt right almost immediately.

There weren’t overly styled displays competing for attention inside this one. Only rows of clean, simple pieces. Cotton shirts in muted tones, soft fabrics folded neatly, mostly just clothes that looked like they were meant to be worn over and over again without losing themselves in time.

Seulgi felt it as soon as they stepped inside.

The tension easing out of her shoulders as she moved toward the shelves. Jaeyi paced along the racks with a quiet patience, no rush visible in her movements.

Their pace slowed naturally, hands drifting across fabric and lifting pieces long enough to consider them before returning them to their place. 

Most things went back carefully, exactly as they had been found.

Jaeyi reached for a pair of black jeans after a while, wide-legged and well structured. She held them up briefly, measuring them against Seulgi’s waist with a soft glance before extending them toward her.

“Try these.”

Seulgi took them, her fingers tracing the seam as if she could understand them better that way.

“They’re nice,” she said, more to herself than anything.

She disappeared behind the fitting room curtain, the soft rustle of fabric following her in.

When she stepped out a minute later, there was no hesitation in the way she moved. The jeans fit like they belonged to her.

Jaeyi smiled, her hand lifting absently to rest beneath her chin as she looked at her from a nearby bench.

“Yeah,” she said, giving a small nod. “Those are yours.”

Seulgi glanced at herself again, her weight shifting from one foot to the other, testing the way the fabric moved with her.

A light grey hoodie came next, one that would only get better with time, one that could be paired with anything. A few layering pieces followed, enough to build multiple lasting outfit combinations.

At the mirror, Seulgi paused. She didn’t adjust herself the way most people did, there was no turning side to side or searching for angles. 

She stood there, taking in what was already there rather than picturing anything different. 

Jaeyi noticed and said nothing. She didn’t need to.

Seulgi reached back, pulling the elastic from her low ponytail. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, slightly uneven from where it had been tied back. She ran her fingers through it slowly, smoothing it down, then lifting the shorter pieces at the front, letting them fall where they wanted.

It wasn’t precise, and it didn’t need to be. She looked at herself again, and this time she smiled with a little more confidence than before.

They paid without much discussion, the exchange quick and easy, the folded clothes slipping into a brightly colored plastic bag.

Back outside, Seulgi adjusted her grip on the handles, her gaze drifting across the courtyard, scanning their options. Jaeyi looked too, before settling on the storefront across the way, a shoe store. 

She looked back at Seulgi and paused.

Jaeyi’s attention lingered a moment longer, her eyes dropping briefly to Seulgi’s shoes before lifting again.

“Hey,” she said, more gently this time. “Do you need sneakers?”

Seulgi slowed, her steps losing their rhythm as she came to a stop. She glanced down without meaning to, the worn edges of her shoes catching against the pavement.

“I have some,” she said.

Jaeyi followed her gaze. “Yeah,” she replied, her tone careful, “but they’re a little worn out.”

“They still work.” There wasn’t any defensiveness in her tone.

Jaeyi turned fully toward her, closing the space between them just enough to hold her attention.

“I want to get you a new pair.”

Seulgi shifted the bag in her hand, the plastic crinkling softly as her grip tightened.

“I have money,” she said after a moment. “I just don’t know how long it has to last.”

The honest words settled between them.

Jaeyi felt a clear understanding of where Seulgi stood, with how she moved through decisions like this.

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I want to.”

She didn’t push it any further than that. She let the offer sit as it was.

Seulgi looked up, her expression searching for intention that wouldn’t disappear if she leaned into it.

Jaeyi remained steady before her.

After a moment, Seulgi nodded.

“Alright.”

They turned toward the store together. This time, Seulgi didn’t hesitate at the entrance. Whatever uncertainty had followed her earlier had thinned, worn down by small, firm decisions. She moved along the shelves with more purpose, scanning without drifting too far.

It didn’t take long for her attention to settle. She stood in front of a pair of white sneakers. Simple, bright and clean, all she wanted.

“These.”

Jaeyi glanced over, then nodded almost immediately.

“Yeah,” she said. “I agree, Seulgi-yah.”

Seulgi crouched to try them on, fingers working carefully through the laces, tightening them just enough before she stood. She shifted her balance in place.

First a few steps forward, then a few back.

“They’re so comfortable,” she said, a hint of surprise slipping through.

“They look good,” Jaeyi replied with a smile. “Very you.”

Seulgi glanced down again, like she was still getting used to the idea. Jaeyi lingered near the racks, her attention drifting now.

“Can you…help me pick something,” she said, practically offhand.

Seulgi looked up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jaeyi said, turning slightly toward her. “What would actually go with what I wear?”

Seulgi stepped closer, her focus shifting with quiet intensity. She moved along the display more slowly this time, studying the options, comparing designs and colors without rushing.

Jaeyi watched her, the seriousness of it pulling a small grin from her without thinking.

After a moment, Seulgi pointed.

“Those,” she said, indicating a darker pair of simple sneakers, a style that would hold together everything around it. “It would go with everything you wear.”

Jaeyi didn’t question it for a second. She nodded and picked up a box in her size.

“Okay.”

They checked out together, the exchange brief, boxes tucked under their arms as they stepped back into the open walkway.

The air felt lighter when they came outside, or maybe it was just Seulgi.

“One more stop,” Jaeyi said, shifting the bag slightly in her hand. “Some base layers.”

Seulgi followed her without question.

The last store felt simpler the moment they stepped inside. The lighting was softer, the layout was clean with rows of T-shirts lining the walls in muted tones, stacks folded with uniformity. 

None of the items stood out, and that seemed to be the point.

Seulgi moved toward the racks, her fingers brushing over the cotton as she sorted through them one by one. She lifted a shirt, held it up briefly, then set it back. Another. Then another.

“These are good for layering,” Jaeyi said, hovering just behind her. “You can throw a hoodie or a flannel over them and it won’t look bulky.”

Seulgi nodded in agreement, already starting to understand her thought process.

She picked out a few shirts with colors that would disappear into everything else, then made her way toward the fitting rooms.

Jaeyi slowly followed behind, giving her time to try on the shirts.

The curtain shifted slightly, and Seulgi’s head peeked out, her voice lowered just enough to stay between them.

“Uh… the tag’s stuck, can you help me?”

Jaeyi stepped over without thinking, slipping inside carefully, mindful of the small space.

“Hold on,” she said, reaching toward the back of the shirt.

Her fingers worked gently at the plastic fastener, careful not to pull too hard or catch the fabric.

It took a second, then she saw it.

Not all at once, just a glimpse at first, something out of place against the smooth line of skin. A mark sat just below Seulgi’s collarbone, round and darker than it should have been. 

Jaeyi’s hand stilled for half a beat, the tag still caught between her fingers. As her eyes adjusted, more came into view, faint scars scattered nearby, thinner and older, but not something that belonged there either. 

She didn’t react, or pull away.

She finished loosening the tag with the same careful motion, letting it fall free into her hand.

“I got it,” she said quietly. Her voice remained calm.

Although beneath the surface, the marks stayed with her. 

Jaeyi’s hand stilled, hovering just above the fabric near Seulgi’s collarbone.

Seulgi felt it immediately.

Her gaze followed the line of Jaeyi’s attention, dipping briefly before lifting again. There was no rush to cover it.

She exhaled. Then slowly lowered herself to the floor, her back resting lightly against the mirror.

Jaeyi followed without thinking, folding down beside her, knees drawn in, their shoulders close enough to feel, but not quite touching.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Seulgi’s hand lifted, settling lightly over the scar.

“I was…an easy target,” she said.

Her voice didn’t waver.

“I was always the poor, quiet orphan girl.”

A small pause.

“People can get creative when they think…that no one’s watching.”

She didn’t look at Jaeyi when she said it. Jaeyi stayed still beside her.

“I figured out early on that school was the one thing no one could take from me,” Seulgi continued, her fingers pressing lightly against the fabric at her collarbone. “If I was good enough… maybe they’d leave me alone… and maybe… I could leave.”

Her hand lowered slightly, resting in her lap.

“So I focused,” she let out a breath. “A lot.” 

Jaeyi let the silence sit for a moment longer before speaking again.

“Can I ask… what was your rank?”

Seulgi didn’t hesitate. She gave a small shrug, like the answer didn’t carry much significance anymore.

“I was the top student in my entire school.”

Jaeyi blinked, caught off guard by how easily it was said.

“Really?”

Seulgi nodded once, her gaze fixed on the curtain in front of them.

Jaeyi let the thought form in her mind. A different version of things.

The two of them in the same classroom, desks a few rows apart, both quiet, both watching more than they spoke. Competing without saying it out loud. Passing each other in hallways, maybe even passing notes back and forth, aware in a way no one else would notice. 

She smiled slightly at it all.

“I wonder…” she said, her voice softer now, “if we ended up at the same high school… would we have turned it into some kind of friendly rivalry?”

Seulgi glanced at her, the idea settling in as she pictured it too.

“Maybe,” she said, a hint of amusement slipping through.

Jaeyi nudged her lightly with her shoulder.

They let the quiet return after that, resting easily between them.

After a minute, Jaeyi pushed herself up to her feet and held out her hand.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go home.”

Seulgi looked at it for only a second before taking it, letting herself be pulled up.

She turned back briefly, grabbing the same shirt in two other colors without overthinking it, then followed Jaeyi out toward the register.

That was enough for today.

By the time they stepped back outside, the light had begun to shift again, the afternoon easing toward evening. They walked home without any urgency.

Seulgi slipped her hand into her pocket absently, her fingers brushing against the chapstick tube. She paused just enough to pull it out.

The small tube rested easily in her palm, the light blue plastic with the red cap, worn along the edges. She turned it once between her fingers before she tucked it back into her pocket and continued forward.

She didn’t need it at that moment.

—

They returned home just before dinner.

The house met them with warmth the moment the door opened. Bursts of garlic blooming in oil, sesame threading through the air blending with a deeper aroma simmering steadily on the stove, waiting just for them.

Hyejoo stood at the counter with her sleeves rolled up and her hair pulled back loosely. She glanced over at the sound of the door and smiled without missing a beat.

“You’re back.”

“We went shopping,” Jaeyi said, slipping out of her shoes near the entryway.

Seulgi lifted the bags slightly in her hands with confirmation.

Hyejoo let out a soft laugh. “I can see that.”

The rest came together easily. Bowls found their places without instruction. Rice was fluffed and portioned out. Plates were passed from one set of hands to another without pause. 

They sat down together, just as they were.

Jaeyi spoke about her test and how it had gone better than she’d expected, the confidence settling in only after she’d stepped out of the room. Hyejoo listened, asking small questions here and there, her approval present but never overwhelming.

Seulgi mentioned the café next, bringing up the flyer pinned to the board advertising the festival she hadn’t known existed until now. 

Hyejoo nodded, humming softly, recalling something similar from years ago, the way those festivals tended to come alive all at once.

“Jaeyi-yah, you should take Seulgi to the festival, it’s this upcoming Sunday,” she said.

Jaeyi glanced at Seulgi, who was stuffing her face with rice across the table. 

“I will,” she spoke with a faint laugh sneaking through.

The conversation didn’t hold in one place for long, it drifted lightly to various topics from the day. 

They ate like that, with relaxed shoulders and the sound of utensils meeting porcelain. Seulgi suddenly laughed once, the sound unguarded, as if the sound surprised her as much as anyone else.

Jaeyi caught it, before smiling without saying anything.

When the meal ended, Seulgi gathered her things quietly, excusing herself with a small nod before slipping upstairs.

Her room greeted her as she set her bags down carefully and began to unpack.

The jeans came first. Folded once, then again, edges aligned before being placed neatly into the drawer. The hoodie followed, heavier in her hands. Then the shirts, each one smoothed flat before being stacked.

Each piece found its place like it belonged there.

She set the shoebox on top of the dresser, adjusting it slightly until it sat flush with the edge of the wood.

Only then did she pause, taking it in. The things around her no longer felt temporary. 

They felt intentionally chosen now, the feeling sinking into her.

From the hallway, Jaeyi stood just out of view. She hadn’t meant to stop there, but she did. 

She watched without stepping in, her attention settling on Seulgi’s careful movements.

And something became clear. Jaeyi didn’t see fragility in her anymore. She saw someone who had been interrupted, pulled away from a future that had been building quietly and steadily on its own. 

She saw someone who had been capable of more, long before anyone had given her the space to show it.

Chapter Text

Jaeyi sat on the living room floor with her notes spread out around her, papers overlapping in loose piles as the night moved along. 

She kept running her eyes over them, stacks of chemical diagrams, highlighted terms and arrows sketched in the margins where she’d meant to return and make sense of something later. 

Her legs were folded beneath her, allowing her posture to slouch slightly now, the pen in her hand hovering more than it moved.

Across the room, Seulgi sat on the corner of the couch, one knee drawn close with her phone resting lightly in her palm. Her gaze drifted between the room, her phone and the tv, never settling anywhere for long.

Hyejoo occupied the armchair, absentmindedly clicking through the channels as she wrote in her planner.

It was an ordinary picture, effortlessly peaceful.

Hyejoo stopped mid-sentence, tapping the end of her pen once against the page.

“Seulgi-yah,” she said, her voice soft.

Seulgi shifted slightly, her attention lifting.

“We should return to the clinic tomorrow morning,” Hyejoo continued. “They’ll probably want to do some early blood work, check your hormone levels. Just to make sure everything’s progressing the way it should.”

Seulgi’s shoulders tightened for a brief second before easing again.

“Do I have to go?”

“You don’t have to,” Hyejoo replied gently. “But it might be good to get a baseline. Around seven or eight weeks is usually when they like to check.”

Seulgi thought about it, her eyes lowering to the edge of the couch, fingers brushing along the fabric.

She nodded.

“Okay. I’ll go.”

Hyejoo gave a small, approving hum, already turning back to her planner.

“We’ll keep it quick,” she said. “Then we’ll get you breakfast.”

Seulgi smiled faintly at that.

“Okay.”

On the floor, Jaeyi listened without looking up, the pen rolling slowly between her fingers, back and forth, back and forth. She hadn’t written anything in a while. Her eyes stayed on the page, but her attention had shifted, caught between the words she was supposed to be memorizing and the conversation that had just passed.

After a moment, Seulgi spoke, her voice gentle enough that it barely disturbed the stillness.

“I think I… uh… want to go out and get some air.”

Jaeyi looked up immediately. “Hm? Are you alright? Do you feel nauseous?”

Hyejoo’s pen paused mid-line. She lifted her eyes off of the planner, looking between them.

Seulgi shook her head quickly. “Oh—no, I feel fine. I just… want to feel the breeze for a moment.”

Hyejoo studied her for a second, then nodded.

“Don’t stay out too long, dear,” she said. “It’s getting chilly.”

“I won’t,” Seulgi replied softly.

She slipped her phone into the pocket of her sweatshirt and stood, moving carefully around the scattered papers on the floor. Her steps were light, careful not to disturb anything she didn’t need to.

Jaeyi watched her cross the room, pause to slip on her shoes, then open the door and close it again behind her. The space she left behind felt immediately empty, and Jaeyi’s attention stayed there, her pen resting loosely between her fingers.

When she finally looked down, the notes in front of her no longer held her attention. After a second, she gathered them into a loose stack, not bothering to align the edges the way she usually would.

“I’ll join her,” she said.

Hyejoo glanced at the uneven pile, then back at her daughter, but didn’t comment. She watched as Jaeyi stood and moved toward the door.

Outside, the night had softened everything.

Seulgi sat on the low concrete edge of the front yard, tucked beneath the gingko tree. Its branches stirred gently above her, leaves shifting with the breeze in restless patterns.

The air was cool against her skin.

Somewhere off in the distance, a dog barked, before the sound dissolved into the rest of the night.

The door opened behind her.

Jaeyi stepped out, pulling her cardigan a little tighter around herself as the cool air met her. She paused when she saw Seulgi already seated, her silhouette still against the dim wash of streetlight.

She crossed the short path toward her.

Up close, she noticed the way Seulgi held herself, with her feet drawn in, hands resting loosely in her lap, her posture kept small. Her hair lifted slightly in the breeze, then fell again.

Jaeyi took in the details without intending to, her eyes tracing the line of Seulgi’s profile, seeming both present and somewhere else at once. It caught her off guard, that softness. 

“Is it alright if I sit with you?” Jaeyi asked, her eyes bright.

Seulgi turned toward her, giving a small nod.

“Mhm.”

Jaeyi lowered herself beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.

They didn’t speak after that.

The leaves above them brushed softly against one another with each small gust of wind, the sound low and constant. 

Seulgi’s hands rested in her lap, twirling something Jaeyi instantly recognized. It was always there, woven into Seulgi’s presence, never seeming to be separate from her.

The small tube caught a trace of light as she rolled it in her palm.

“You really do always have that with you,” Jaeyi said, her voice carrying a hint of laughter.

Seulgi glanced down, then back up, a shy smile forming.

“Yeah.”

Jaeyi leaned back slightly, her hands bracing behind her against the concrete.

“It smells nice,” she added after a moment. “Kind of… comforting.”

Seulgi rolled it once more between her fingers, her thumb pressing lightly along the worn edge of the label.

“It’s not really about the smell.”

Jaeyi didn’t interrupt. She just waited.

Seulgi’s gaze lowered again, landing near her feet as she watched the shadows flow along the ground. 

She exhaled.

“The orphanage got a call one night,” she began. “I remember because it was late. Later than usual.”

Her voice remained stable, soft enough that it blended with the movement of the leaves above them.

“Late enough that nothing good ever came from it.”

She paused briefly, her grip tightening just slightly around the chapstick.

“But then they told me someone was asking about me.”

A small breath followed.

“It was my grandmother.”

Jaeyi felt it before she could react. She turned more fully toward her as her attention sharpened.

Seulgi continued, her eyes still fixed downward.

“I didn’t even know she was alive…she didn’t really know about me either.”

Another pause.

“She’d been in a coma for years.”

Her fingers stilled.

“Since I was born.”

Jaeyi’s eyes fell to the shadows on the ground too, feeling a wave of emotions begin to run through.

“My parents died when I was about two,” Seulgi continued. “There wasn’t anyone else who could take me. My grandmother…was still recovering. It took her years to relearn things, like how to remember herself again.”

Her fingers traced along the edge of the chapstick.

“By the time she was well enough to start piecing her life back together, I’d already been forgotten.”

The words sank in.

“She found out who I was…when I was seventeen,” Seulgi said. “A year before I would’ve aged out. She reached out as soon as she could.”

Jaeyi swallowed, the weight of it settling somewhere low in her chest.

“What was she like?”

Seulgi’s expression loosened a little. She shifted her posture.

“Kind,” she said. “Curious about everything.”

A small pause.

“She used to scuba dive,” Seulgi added, a hint of disbelief still lingering in her voice. “Can you believe that? She said the ocean was full of entire worlds people never bothered to look for.”

Jaeyi’s mouth curved slightly at that.

The memory returned easily, the soft light from the tv showing the slow drift of coral, Seulgi watching like she was already somewhere inside it.

“She invited me to her house,” Seulgi went on. “I stayed there a few weekends. We talked about school, my grades, even about my goals.”

Her grip on the chapstick loosened, just a little.

“She thought I could go anywhere if I wanted to.”

Jaeyi glanced at her, her voice quiet but full of certainty.

“She was absolutely right.”

Jaeyi caught the tiniest flash of a smile on Seulgi’s face before she continued.

“One day, she noticed my lips were chapped,” she said. “She handed me this and said she liked the way it smelled.”

She lifted the chapstick between them, turning it once in the low light.

“I’d never seen the brand before,” she added. “Still haven’t.”

“So it became… more than chapstick,” Jaeyi said, her eyes shifting between it and Seulgi.

Seulgi nodded.

“It became proof,” she said. “That someone saw me, and that I was going to belong to someone.”

The words settled quietly between them. She drew in a slow breath, her shoulders rising just barely before easing again.

“We talked about her becoming my legal guardian,” she continued. “Everything could’ve been finalized in a week or two.”

A pause.

“I packed my bags.”

Her fingers tightened faintly around the tube.

“I was ready.”

For a second, her voice almost faltered.

“Then the call came.”

She didn’t look at Jaeyi when she said it this time.

“They said there was a fire.”

Another pause, longer this time.

“They didn’t know how it started.”

Her gaze lowered somewhere near her hands.

“She didn’t make it.”

The air shifted enough for Jaeyi to feel it. Heavy and contained deep in her chest with nowhere to go.

Seulgi exhaled.

“I unpacked everything,” she said with a small shrug. “What else was there to do?”

Her thumb pressed along the worn edge of the chapstick again, calming herself in the motion. She looked down at it, really looking this time.

“This is the only thing I have of her,” she said.

Her fingers curled around it.

“So I hold onto it.”

Jaeyi didn’t know what to say, nothing seemed to fit.

The night pressed in around them.

She shifted slightly, the movement so small it barely registered. Her hand rested between them on the concrete, close enough to feel the warmth from Seulgi’s without touching.

She hesitated.

Then, after a moment, she swallowed and let her fingers move. She curled them gently around Seulgi’s hand and gave a small, steady squeeze.

Seulgi inhaled sharply.

She let out a breath that eased through her slowly, releasing more than she had meant to hold. Her gaze stayed lowered, and she didn’t move away. 

Her fingers closed more securely around Jaeyi’s with subtle intention, careful in a way that suggested she didn’t want to disturb what was there.

Her eyes slipped closed, staying in the moment.

They sat like that beneath the gingko tree, the leaves shifting softly above them, brushing against one another in a hushed, constant motion.

Chapter Text

The night had settled around them without ceremony. Around the corner, a car door closed as a late night bus gently screeched to a stop, the world went quiet again among the shadows. 

“I’m sorry.” Seulgi said finally, her voice small, careful. “I didn’t mean to talk so much.”

Jaeyi turned towards her, fingers still wrapped around Seulgi’s hand. “Don’t,” she said. “Please don’t apologize for that…ever.”

Her voice was pure sincerity.

Seulgi nodded, looking down at their hands and the chapstick gently set down between them. 

Neither of them rushed to stand. 

—

When Hyejoo eventually called them back inside, the house felt heavier, fuller somehow. 

Hyejoo had already turned off the tv and retreated upstairs for the night, leaving behind a faint smell of tea leaves and the soft hum of the refrigerator.

The two of them paused in the upstairs hallway, the moment stretching just long enough to feel their growing understanding of one another settle. 

Jaeyi stood outside Seulgi’s door, thoughts lingering that she couldn’t name. 

Sleep didn’t come easy for her that night.

Jaeyi laid awake, watching the soft glow of the clock on her nightstand count the hours away. She stared at the ceiling, listening to the slight creaks the house always made, replaying fragments of Seulgi’s voice. The way she spoke about…everything. 

Leaving the story out in the open and letting it breathe.

—

Seulgi slept in late the next morning.

The light filtering through the curtains had already brightened by the time her eyes opened, soft but insistent. Her body felt heavy with a weight that came from rest that had finally settled in.

She almost didn’t recognize the room at first. Then it came back to her.

The house, the tree, the chapstick.

Their hands.

Everything unfolding.

She sat up slowly, one hand instinctively resting against her lower stomach. She breathed in, then out, steadying herself before pushing the covers aside.

The floor was cool beneath her feet.

She stood, stretching carefully, her limbs slow to follow, then moved through her routine without rushing.

Getting dressed took a little longer than usual, this time, she had a few more options to choose from.

The new jeans felt unfamiliar, the fabric still stiff in places against her skin, resisting the shape of her body. A faint scent of clean detergent clung to the soft hoodie. 

She paused in front of the mirror. Her hands adjusted the sleeves, tugging lightly at the hem before smoothing the sides of her jeans.

She reached for her phone, lifted it, and angled it slightly toward the mirror, just to see herself.

 For a moment, she studied her reflection, clean, put together, much closer to chosen than borrowed. She hesitated, then lowered the phone and slipped it back into her pocket. 

Her gaze drifted to the dresser instead, where the chapstick rested. She picked it up, turning it once between her fingers before setting it back down.

In the kitchen, Hyejoo was already awake, dressed and ready, a mug of tea held loosely between her hands. She glanced up as Seulgi entered, her expression softening slightly.

“Good morning, dear. We’ll stop by the clinic first,” she said. “Remember, it's just routine things. Bloodwork, maybe an ultrasound referral. They’ll probably send the results within a week.”

Seulgi nodded.

“Okay.”

Hyejoo took another sip of her tea before continuing.

“We can stop by a breakfast stand on the way home, if you’d like.”

A small smile pulled at Seulgi’s mouth.

“I’d like that.”

She adjusted the strings of her hoodie absentmindedly as she moved toward the door, following Hyejoo out into the morning.

—

Jaeyi was already gone by then.

She had been awake since early morning. Sleep didn’t come to her properly the night before. It remained overly light, causing her to toss and turn, but her body moved as if she was fully rested. There was a kind of energy to her that didn’t come from rest so much as something else.

She slipped into her new shoes without thinking about it.

The walk to campus felt shorter with her steady pace, her mind already ahead of her, circling back to the exam and replaying answers without needing to. She knew she did well.

Still, the anticipation sat there, waiting for her.

Her phone buzzed just as she stepped inside the building.

Seulgi: Let me know how you did on the exam.

Jaeyi paused before reading the message twice. Her fingers hovered over the screen before she typed back.

Jaeyi: I will (: I’ll see you back home

She lingered there with her thumb suspended, unformed words sitting just behind her next thought. 

The reply came quickly.

Seulgi: Photo attachment

Jaeyi tapped it open, revealing a picture of the new shoes Seulgi chose yesterday. Her feet angled slightly inward, resting against the floor of Hyejoo’s car, the fabric of the seat just visible at the edge of the frame.

She smiled before she could stop herself, her head tilting slightly as a quiet breath of amusement slipped out.

She stepped further into the building. A small cluster of students had already gathered near the lab bulletin board, voices overlapping, as their excitement rose and fell in uneven bursts.

The grades were already up, but Jaeyi didn’t move toward them, not yet anyway

She opened her camera instead, tilting it down before snapping a quick picture of her new shoes, set firmly against the polished floor. She added a text to it.

Jaeyi: Photo attachment. I’m wearing mine too, I love them!!

Her thumb drifted to the emoji bar and hovered. The pink heart sat there, waiting just underneath. She tapped it, paused, then deleted it, settling for something easier.

Jaeyi: (:

She sent it.

“Yoo Jaeyi! Come look!”

The voice sharply cut through her focus. She looked up to see a classmate waving her over, already half-turned back toward the board. 

Jaeyi slipped her phone into her pocket and stepped forward, her movements more measured now than they had been a moment ago. The crowd parted enough for her to stop a few steps back before lifting her gaze. 

Her name was easy to find.

Yoo Jaeyi — 120/120

Everything held briefly. The voices around her blurred into a more indistinct noise, rising and falling around her. 

But it all felt too distant. Her eyes stayed fixed on the number.

She tried to brush off the low tightening sensation in her stomach that had begun to creep in, quiet and a little too familiar. 

Her chest rose, then stalled halfway as another image pressed forward in her mind. A different number. A different ranking. 

A different morning years ago. 

She could almost hear it, her name, spoken with warmth and pride, followed by another, with an almost bitterness to it.

Jena.

The thought landed before she could stop it, soft at first then too sudden. Jaeyi’s jaw tightened. She blinked hard, the board snapping back into focus as the memory tried to lodge itself closer within her, but she didn’t let it. 

She turned away before it could form and become anything more than a glimpse of the past.

“Yeah,” she said to no one in particular, her voice empty. “I saw.”

She moved past the crowd of students and into the classroom, before the number could follow her any further.

—

Seulgi returned home first.

The clinic visit had gone smoothly. A nurse had explained things in a calm, practiced tone consisting of bloodwork and an ultrasound referral to follow in a few days.

On the way back, Hyejoo had stopped at a small stand, insisting on something sweet before heading to the studio. Seulgi had chosen a strawberry crepe, then hesitated before asking for another.

“For later,” she’d said.

Now it sat on the counter, untouched.

She moved around the kitchen without much direction. Folding a few towels, watering the plants by the window, and the routine motion of sitting down, only to stand again moments later.

The clock ticked forward as she checked her phone. Nothing new, but Jaeyi would be home soon.

The front door opened just as Seulgi was rinsing Hyejoo’s mug from earlier that morning. 

“Hey,” she said, turning toward the sound. Jaeyi stepped inside, slipping off her shoes without much thought. 

“Hey.”

Seulgi noticed immediately that something was off. Her voice sounded tired, almost numb, though not at all like the usual tiredness she would carry home after long days of studying. 

Her tone felt detached.

Seulgi shifted into motion instead of asking about it, she turned back to the counter and reached for the plate she’d set aside earlier. The crepe was still warm enough. She placed it carefully in front of Jaeyi’s place at the table, setting a fork beside it before pulling out her chair.

Jaeyi paused, watching the small sequence of movements as her expression momentarily returned back to a slight smile. 

“Thank you, Seulgi-yah.” She sat.

Seulgi took her seat across from her, attention already waiting. Jaeyi cut into the crepe, the fork pressing through the soft layers before lifting a bite.

“So…” Seulgi said, unable to hold it back any longer. “Did you get your exam grade?”

Jaeyi brought the fork to her mouth, chewing slowly. 

“Mhm.” A small pause. “I got a perfect score.”

She said it so evenly. The words fell flat, as though they hadn’t quite come from her. Seulgi blinked, unsure how to move the conversation along. 

“Really?” she said, a small smile forming. “That’s amazing, Jaeyi-yah.”

Jaeyi nodded once, her eyes dropping briefly to the plate. 

“Yeah.” 

She took another bite, quieter this time, the fork hovering in her hand a moment longer than it should have.

Seulgi watched her, as her tone didn’t match at all.

Jaeyi searched for anything to say, but nothing came to her.

She could feel it, how carefully Seulgi had set everything up, how she’d waited, how she was trying to make the afternoon softer than it actually was. 

The thought sat heavily in her chest, causing her to shift.

“How was the clinic?” she asked, her voice almost automatic.

Seulgi blinked, caught slightly off guard by the turn.

“Oh…um… it was fine,” she said, shrugging casually. “Just routine things. They said they’d send an ultrasound referral in a few days.”

Jaeyi nodded.

“That’s good.”

Seulgi added a little more, filling in small details to reduce the silence.

Jaeyi listened, though her responses stayed short and simple, just enough to keep the conversation moving without really holding onto it. 

“Yeah.” “Mhm.” “That makes sense.” 

The space between their words stretched a little wider each time, and Seulgi felt it. She let the conversation taper off on its own before standing and reaching for their plates. 

“I can take those,” she said softly. 

Jaeyi nodded. 

“Thanks.”

Jaeyi rose from her chair and drifted into the living room, her steps slow, barely aware of where she was going. Seulgi carried their dishes to the sink, turning on the water, her hands moving through the motions a little quicker than normal. 

She glanced over her shoulder once.

Jaeyi sat on the couch, leaning forward slightly with her elbows resting on her knees, her gaze fixed on the floor. 

Seulgi turned back to the sink, finishing the last plate before drying her hands and setting the towel aside. A moment later, she moved into the living room.

Jaeyi didn’t look up when she sat down on the couch near her. Neither of them turned on the tv or reached for their phones. They just sat there together. The space between them felt much wider than before, even though nothing had physically changed.

Jaeyi exhaled slowly, the breath catching slightly on the way out. 

Her hands rested loosely in her lap, her fingers pressing together once before stilling. 

She swallowed.

“I want to share… something with you…”

Jaeyi’s voice was low, stripped of its usual steadiness.

Seulgi felt something drop in her chest. She didn’t know what was coming next, only that it mattered. Jaeyi’s fingers pressed together in her lap.

“But… I’m not very good at talking about certain things,” she continued. “Especially this.”

Seulgi shifted, turning fully toward her.

“You don’t have to,” she said softly. “Not if you don’t want to… or if you’re not ready.”

The words came easily. She wasn’t sure if she was saying them for Jaeyi or for herself.

“I know,” Jaeyi said, pausing for a moment after.

“I just…” She exhaled, the breath uneven. “I want to tell you.”

She shifted her position on the couch, her eyes drifting past Seulgi, settling on the shelf that divided the living room from the hallway.

The shelf that held the family photos.

Seulgi followed her line of sight as something in her stilled.

“It’s something I refused to talk about for a long time,” Jaeyi said.

Her voice faltered.

“I wasn’t a good sister.”

Seulgi didn’t interrupt as the words landed quietly.

“I had an older sister,” Jaeyi continued. “Her name was Jena. She was two years older than me.”

Her fingers tightened further, the pressure turning her knuckles pale.

“Close enough that it was easy to compare us.”

She swallowed.

“Our father…he’s not in my life anymore…he cared a lot about achievement,” she said. “About results. He thought pressure made people better.”

A small, humorless laugh slipped out.

“More valuable.”

Her gaze remained on one photo in particular.

“He turned everything into a competition,” she continued. “School. Tests. Even things that didn’t need to be.”

Seulgi stayed still, her attention anchored completely on Jaeyi, waiting.

“He favored me,” Jaeyi said. “Because I was his… and Jena wasn’t.”

She swallowed. The room seemed to shrink inward.

“If one of us messed up…” Jaeyi’s voice lowered, thinning. “He wouldn’t hesitate to punish us. Sometimes, he forced us to punish each other.”

A pause.

“But we were too soft.”

Her breath caught.

“So he would do it himself.”

The words came quieter now.

“One time, after a test, he struck her across the back of the head. She didn’t even cry. She just…went to bed. I remember thinking she was overreacting.”

She kept going.

“There were marks on us that you couldn’t see unless you really looked. He made sure of it. Marks our mother didn’t know about.”

Seulgi’s fingers curled slightly against the cushion, but she stayed silent.

“Jena started messing up more,” Jaeyi continued. “At first, I didn’t understand. I thought she was just…not as smart.”

Her jaw trembled.

“He made me believe that. That she was less…and that I was better.”

A small, broken breath slipped out.

“I started to believe it too.”

Her voice wavered.

“And then I realized…”

She stopped. The words didn’t come easily now.

“Too late,” she finished, quieter. “I realized too late that she was doing it on purpose.”

Her hands clenched tighter.

“She was protecting me from him.”

The air between them thickened.

“She told my mom everything,” Jaeyi said. “One morning. A few days after she turned twelve.”

Her gaze dropped again, unfocused now.

“She said she knew it wasn’t normal anymore.”

A pause.

“She told her while he was away.”

Jaeyi’s eyes filled, but the tears didn’t fall.

“She died that same afternoon.”

The words barely held together.

“A sudden bus accident. On her way to school.”

Another breath.

“Just… gone.”

Seulgi inhaled sharply, her chest tightening before she steadied herself again. Jaeyi’s voice grew hollow.

“I didn’t tell my mom what I knew,” she said. “Not until much later.”

A faint shake of her head followed.

“Not until it didn’t matter anymore.”

Her shoulders folded inward, bracing against something that had already passed.

“I survived by becoming what hurt her,” she said quietly. “And I don’t know how to live with that.”

A pause.

“My mom… she can’t talk about it. She’s never been able to forgive herself for not knowing.”

Her voice dropped further.

“And I’ve never been able to forgive myself for knowing… and still letting it happen while she was here.”

Seulgi understood it then, not just the story itself, but the imprint it had left, and how it shaped Jaeyi in how she defined her own value. 

The unbroken silence between them deepened. Seulgi moved a little closer, near enough to be felt.

“Jaeyi-yah…” she said softly. “It wasn’t your fault. You were manipulated.”

She briefly paused.

“You were just a child.”

Jaeyi shook her head, her focus landed beyond the room.

“I know,” she said. “But… I chose who I listened to.”

Her voice tightened.

“I chose to see my own sister as less. Again and again.”

Seulgi didn’t argue. She stayed where she was.

She watched the girl beside her fold into herself, becoming smaller in a way she had never seen before. Seulgi hesitated, letting her breath steady, then turned toward Jaeyi. She slipped an arm around her with careful tenderness, unsure how it would be received.

Jaeyi collapsed into her almost at once.

Seulgi gathered her close, holding her tightly as the composure Jaeyi had clung to finally gave way. 

The sobs came unchecked, wracking her after so long spent keeping herself intact. Seulgi stayed there, unmoving, arms firm and patient, holding her for as long as she needed.

“I hear you, Jaeyi-yah.” Seulgi said. “I’m here.”

It took a while before Jaeyi was able to calm down. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like she was standing alone in the aftermath of something that couldn’t be undone.

Her breathing returned to a steady pace, as Seulgi traced small circles across her back.

“I’m right here.”

Chapter Text

The day didn’t end abruptly after the tears.

It softened around them as time slowly loosened its grip. It was almost without notice, as the shadows of the past had retreated and gave way to something more gentle.

Seulgi stayed where she was, holding Jaeyi long after the worst of it passed. Long enough for the tension in her shoulders to ease and for her sobs to thin into uneven breaths, warm against Seulgi’s shoulder.

The room had gone still.

The aquarium filtered softly in the background as cars passed somewhere far off outside the walls of their home, the sounds dulled by distance.

When Jaeyi finally pulled back, her face was drawn, eyes swollen and rimmed red with her lashes clinging together in damp strands.

Only now, the tightness that held her together before had eased.

And the day continued on.

Seulgi steadily moved through the kitchen, preparing a simple dish for them to share. Rice steamed gently on the stove, the lid rattling faintly as heat built beneath it. She began to warm the soup Hyejoo had left earlier, filling the space with a comforting scent. The kind of meal that didn’t ask for much.

Jaeyi sat at the table, shoulders still weighed down with fatigue, her movements slower than normal. She lifted the spoon, letting the steam rise against her face before taking a small sip.

Her notebook lay open beside her.

A pen rested loosely between her fingers, marking the margins now and then, more out of habit than focus.

The front door opened not long after.

A brief rush of cool air followed Hyejoo inside, carrying with it the scent of coffee and paper. She slipped off her shoes and moved into the kitchen, her presence filling the atmosphere without disrupting it.

She set her bag down on the table and opened it, searching carefully before pulling out a small container.

“Mrs. Kim sent these,” she said, lifting the lid. “She found a western recipe book and got a little ambitious.”

She placed the container in the center of the table. They were blueberry muffins, still warm. Seulgi glanced up, a smile forming as she stepped closer and took one, her attention drifting almost immediately to Jaeyi.

Jaeyi remained focused on her notebook, though her gaze didn’t seem to settle anywhere in particular. Her eyes were still puffy, carrying a tiredness to them. 

Seulgi paused, then, without saying anything, tore the muffin in half and set it on a small plate, placing it gently within Jaeyi’s reach.

Jaeyi looked up for a second and briefly smiled at the quiet gesture. She broke off small pieces, eating almost absentmindedly as she kept her place in the notebook. 

The tv played an old crime show softly in the background, something Jaeyi had turned on hours ago and never bothered to switch off.

After a while, Jaeyi closed her notebook with a soft, final sound, indicating the end to her day.

“I’m going to head to bed,” she said, her voice low.

Neither of them questioned it.

“Goodnight,” Seulgi and Hyejoo said simultaneously, their voices both gentle.

Jaeyi nodded once, pushing her chair back before standing. Her steps were slower as she made her way upstairs, the weight of the day settling back into her now that it had nothing left to hold onto.

Seulgi watched her go.

Then turned back to the table, the quiet returning just as easily as it had come.

—

Jaeyi lay awake longer than she expected.

She had thought sleep would come easily this time, that exhaustion would carry her under without resistance. Only this time, she found herself staring at the same familiar spot on the ceiling, the one she always returned to without thinking. Shadows shifted there with the headlights outside, stretching and receding as time slowly passed.

Her breathing stayed steady as her thoughts began to surface. They circled back, again and again, without asking.

Back to Seulgi.

She remembered how Seulgi’s hands had held her close, with such steady warmth. 

Jaeyi turned slightly onto her side, her eyes drifting away from the ceiling, though it didn’t settle anywhere else.

There had been no hesitation, no discomfort, no quiet pulling away. Seulgi hadn’t questioned her or looked at her any differently, she hadn’t tried to measure what she’d said or place it somewhere it didn’t belong. 

She had simply listened and held her.

Jaeyi exhaled slowly. She didn’t have the words for what that meant to her. Not yet at least.

Downstairs, Seulgi moved through the house with quiet intent.

She paused at the table first, noticing how Jaeyi had left things behind. Her notes were scattered loosely, a pen tipped onto the floor, a page left open mid-thought. In the living room, a textbook rested on the coffee table, its spine bent slightly from use.

Nothing was necessarily out of place, but none of it had been finished.

Seulgi gathered everything carefully, piece by piece. She smoothed the edges of the papers, stacked them neatly, and slipped them into Jaeyi’s backpack. The pen was placed back inside its pouch. The textbook followed last, aligned so it wouldn’t bend further.

She zipped the bag closed, then set it gently by the door, next to Jaeyi’s shoes, positioned the way she knew Jaeyi would reach for it in the morning without thinking.

For a moment, she stood there.

Then turned back toward the living room.

Hyejoo was still awake, seated in her armchair, the tv casting a soft glow across the room. The program had shifted into something easier to follow, the volume low enough that it blended into the background.

Seulgi sat down on the couch, not quite tired yet.

They spoke a little, mostly small comments that followed the show, words that didn’t need to lead anywhere or ask for much of anything in return. 

Eventually, the pauses grew longer, the tv continuing on without them as the lights went out one by one. 

The house settled, and sleep came with it.

—

Friday morning came early.

Jaeyi woke before her alarm. She lay there for a moment, listening to the quiet, then pushed herself up and moved through her routine without hesitation.

Downstairs, the kitchen was still.

She kept her movements soft out of habit, opening and closing cabinets with care, setting things down instead of letting them fall into place.

The kettle warmed first.

She poured hot water over thick slices of lemon and honey, letting it steep, the scent lifting almost immediately into a bright and bold aroma. She set the mug aside, already knowing it was Seulgi’s.

Rice simmered quietly on the stove next to an egg crisped at the edges in a shallow pan, the yolk left untouched, soft at the center.

Jaeyi moved between the stove and the counter without pause.

Hyejoo appeared in the doorway as Jaeyi began plating everything.

“You’re up early,” she said, her voice still carrying sleep.

Her eyes flicked to the table, scanning the precise details, then back to Jaeyi.

“That’s… thoughtful of you.”

Jaeyi shrugged, suddenly aware of the effort in it before replying.

“She helped me out a lot yesterday, I owe it to her.”

Hyejoo studied her for a second, then she smiled.

“Well I’m glad she was there for you.”

She didn’t say anything more. She gathered her things, moving through the kitchen with ease before slipping on her shoes. A moment later, the front door closed behind her, the sound soft but distinct.

The house settled again as Jaeyi stood by the table for a moment, looking at what she had made. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, and a proud smile touched her face before she turned and made her way upstairs. 

She stopped in front of Seulgi’s door and knocked gently.

“Seulgi-yah,” she called softly. “I made breakfast… if you’d like.”

There was a pause before the faint sound of movement, bedsheets shifting, footsteps soft against the floor.

The door opened.

Seulgi stood there, her hair slightly tangled, her eyes still heavy with sleep. The smell reached her first, warm and delicious in a way that instantly pulled her more awake.

She blinked a few times as the words settled in. Then she smiled.

“That’s… really nice of you,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but it held. “It smells amazing.”

She didn’t try to explain the feeling that followed and simply stepped into the hallway, joining Jaeyi, making their way downstairs. 

They ate together at the table, morning light filtering in soft and thin between them. Jaeyi talked about her day ahead. The classes, the long lab session and the work that required more patience than anything else.

Seulgi listened, nodding along, asking quiet questions that showed she was following every detail.

There was a small pause between them.

“Would you want to…walk together again?” Jaeyi asked, her tone carefully casual. “You could meet me halfway… after my class this afternoon.”

Seulgi hesitated.

Then nodded, a small “mhm” slipping out, her mouth stuffed full of warm rice.

Jaeyi smiled at the sight, breaking through her expression. The way Seulgi spoke with her cheeks plump, catching her off guard in the best way.

“Okay,” Jaeyi said, the word coming out lighter than she intended, a grin forming despite herself.

“I’ll text you around three,” she added. “That’s usually when I’m walking out.”

“I’ll see you then,” Seulgi replied, already reaching for the dishes. “And… thank you for breakfast. I’ll clean up.”

Jaeyi stood, pushing her chair in with a soft scrape.

“You’re welcome, Seulgi-yah.”

Her gaze drifted toward the entryway, settling on her backpack sat by the door.

She walked over, unzipping it out of habit, only to pause as she looked inside. Everything from the night before was already there, stacked, aligned, and placed exactly where it should be.

She didn’t move for a moment.

Then she glanced back toward the kitchen.

Seulgi stood at the counter, her back turned, one hand wrapped around her mug, the other resting lightly against the edge of the sink.

There was nothing deliberate about it, only gentle care.

Jaeyi’s expression softened as she zipped the bag closed and slipped it over her shoulder, the motion automatic now. 

Then she stepped outside, the morning air meeting her gently, cool against her skin as the door closed behind her.

—

Seulgi remained at the table long after Jaeyi left, her eyes settling on the small mess they’d left behind, though there was no rush to clean it.

Instead, she stood there for a moment, taking it in.

The sliced lemon sat off to the side, its edge drying slightly against the cutting board. The jar of honey remained half-open, a faint ring of gold clinging to the rim. The mug in her hands still carried the warmth of the tea, the same one she had been given her first night in this house, when everything had felt so uncertain for her.

Back then, she hadn’t known where to stand…or what to touch. Or how much space she was allowed to take up.

Now, the kitchen felt different.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the mug as the thought nestled itself within her.

She pictured Jaeyi moving through the same space an hour earlier, cracking eggs carefully, setting things down with precision, and arranging everything without rushing.

Seulgi let out a slow breath.

She set the mug down and began to move.

Dishes were gathered and rinsed. The counter wiped clean. The floor swept in slow, even strokes. The trash taken out, the bag tied neatly before being carried to the door.

She kept herself busy as one task folded into the next.

—

Eventually, Seulgi made her way upstairs.

She stepped into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run over her hands as she lingered there longer than necessary. 

Her gaze lifted to the mirror, and for a moment she only saw herself as she had been a few minutes earlier, hair fallen loosely, Jaeyi’s borrowed t-shirt resting easily against her frame, everything seemingly in place. 

Then her eyes shifted lower, to the left, settling on the fabric. Her chest began to tighten. 

She suddenly didn’t like the way the shirt sat against that part of her, the way it touched skin she had long since stopped thinking about unless she had to.

The thought came quietly, but it stayed.

That part of her.

She exhaled slowly, her fingers moving to the hem almost on instinct before lifting it just enough for the ink to come into view. 

JD.

Her breath caught. At first she stared at it through the mirror, distant and reversed, before her gaze dropped to it directly, just there, unmistakably present.

The change came immediately as a memory pushed forward: his voice, sharp and invasive, too close. 

It threaded through her thoughts until it crowded out everything else, leaving no room to think around it. The words followed with it, unwanted and impossible to shake, that she couldn’t escape him, that she never would.

Her grip tightened on the edge of the counter.

The floor beneath her felt unsteady, almost shifting without warning. She leaned forward, bracing herself with both hands, trying to ground herself in something solid.

Her pulse quickened, her breathing following just as fast. 

She reached for the hem of her shirt again and, this time, didn’t hesitate. The fabric came free in one motion, falling somewhere behind her before she faced the mirror again, bare and exposed.

Her eyes dropped immediately to the tattoo. It didn’t belong here. 

Not now.

Her hand moved before she could stop it, nails pressing too firmly at first, then harder, dragging across the ink, the sensation immediately sharp, a burning she could feel, something she could control.

She barely registered the force, only the need to undo it, to erase it. Her breath broke into uneven pulls as her hand moved again, faster this time, the skin beneath her nails growing warmer and more sensitive as it broke open.

 It wasn’t enough. It never was.

A sudden gasp cut through the haze, and her hand stilled. The bathroom returned all at once: the sound of the water still running, the echo of her breathing against the tile. 

She stared at the marks rising across her skin, uneven and raw, and her stomach turned. 

Pulling her hands away quickly, as if the contact itself had been a mistake, she reached for the cold water without thinking, letting it run over her fingers and palms, the chill sharp enough to pull her fully back.

Her grip tightened against the edge of the sink as the shaking gradually eased, her breathing still uneven but slowing. 

Then she slid down. 

Carefully at first, then all at once, until her back met the cabinet and her knees pulled close to her chest.

She stayed there, letting the feeling anchor her, letting it draw her out of the spiral inch by inch. Her thoughts shifted naturally, redirecting themselves elsewhere. 

Jaeyi’s steady voice surfaced first.

“Seulgi-yah, I made breakfast.”

The memory arrived with the warmth of the kitchen, the steam rising from the tea, the way Jaeyi had said it as though it were the simplest thing in the world, as though Seulgi mattered without needing to ask.

Seulgi closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed. Not perfect, but enough.

—

Seulgi spent the rest of the afternoon in her room.

She lay on her bed, turned slightly toward the window, watching the neighborhood slowly move below. The mailman made his rounds, stopping at each house with the same steady rhythm. Birds gathered along the telephone wires, their chatter rising and falling in little bursts. 

Nothing demanded urgency as time slipped past without asking to be noticed.

At some point, she lost track of it entirely. Her thoughts drifted in and out, never settling long enough to hold onto anything.

Until they caught on one thing: the plan, meeting Jaeyi.

Seulgi’s chest tightened slightly as it settled in. The route back to that corner, the open space, the people, the feeling of standing there waiting, aware of herself in a way she couldn’t ignore. 

She didn’t want to walk there alone. The idea pressed in, persistent. 

But the idea of not going…of leaving Jaeyi waiting…weighed more heavily.

Seulgi pushed herself up.

She got dressed without overthinking it, pulling on her shoes and stepping outside before she could reconsider.

The air had shifted, carrying the low hum of the afternoon. She stayed near the front yard, pacing, her foot nudging a small stone forward along the concrete before following it and kicking it again when it stopped, back and forth without direction, just enough to keep her moving. 

Her mind began to circle. 

Then her phone buzzed, causing her to pause, before pulling it from her pocket.

Jaeyi: I’ll be back soon, I don’t have an exact time yet, you don’t need to wait.

Seulgi let out a breath of relief.

She lowered herself onto the concrete slab beneath the ginkgo tree. Her fingers hovered over the screen before she typed.

Seulgi: Okay, I’ll see you soon.

She sent it, then waited. Time moved differently out there. 

The leaves above her shifted in the breeze, casting uneven shadows across the ground, and she watched them drift, her attention slipping in and out as her body gradually settled into stillness.

By the time the gate creaked open, she almost didn’t notice at first. Then she looked up. 

Jaeyi stepped through, one hand still on the iron frame as it swung closed behind her. She looked tired, but not in the same way she did the day before, as there was an ease to it now. 

Seulgi stood, brushing her hands lightly against her jeans.

“Hey,” Jaeyi said, her voice soft.

“Hi,” Seulgi replied.

There wasn’t much more to it than that.

They turned toward the house together, Seulgi leading without thinking, Jaeyi falling into step just behind her.

Halfway to the door, Jaeyi reached into her bag and pulled something out.

A small flyer.

She held it out slightly.

“Do you remember this?” she asked.

Seulgi glanced at it.

The same one from the café, bright colors depicting music and lights printed across the page.

She nodded. “Mhm.”

“Well… it’s on Sunday,” Jaeyi said. “And I was thinking…”

She hesitated briefly.

“I want to take you. If you want.”

Her foot nudged forward unconsciously, tapping at the same small stone Seulgi had been kicking earlier.

Seulgi blinked. “Together?”

A small smirk crossed Jaeyi’s face.

“No, Seulgi-yah,” she said dryly. “Myself, Mrs. Kim… and perhaps you.”

Seulgi rolled her eyes, a quiet laugh slipping out.

Jaeyi shook her head, the smile softening.

“Yes. Just you and I.”

Seulgi nodded.

“Okay.”

She stepped forward, pushing the door open, holding it as Jaeyi passed inside.

And followed right after.

Jaeyi set her backpack down in the kitchen, the weight slipping from her shoulder with a slight thud. She rolled her shoulders back, exhaling as the tension of the day eased out of her in small increments.

When she turned, Seulgi was still near the doorway.

The early evening light poured in through the window behind her, catching along the edges of her hair, softening everything it touched. For a second, Jaeyi paused, the image settling somewhere she didn’t quite examine.

“How about we go for a walk?” she said, her voice light, easy. “It’ll get you out of the house… hm?”

Seulgi nodded without hesitation.

They stepped back outside together.

The sun hung over the neighborhood, suspended in that quiet moment before it fully turned to evening. The distant hum of traffic had begun to build around them, steady and constant, threading through the streets without ever fully breaking the calm.

Jaeyi led this time.

She guided them in the opposite direction of campus, down a muffled stretch of road that gradually gave way to something more open.

They didn’t talk much.

Seulgi took in the shift around them, the houses thinning out, the sidewalks widening and the air changing as they moved farther from the center of everything familiar.

Eventually, the sound reached them first. A low continuous current of water.

The river came into view beneath a tall bridge, its concrete structure stretching high above them, carrying lanes of traffic toward the business district beyond. Cars passed overhead in a steady cycle, their presence muted by distance.

Sunlight fractured across the surface of the water, breaking into scattered pieces that drifted and reformed with the current. Along the edges, it lapped gently against the rocks.

They made their way down to the river’s edge and settled onto a cluster of large rocks, worn smooth from time and water.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Seulgi reached for a flat rock, turning it in her hand before leaning forward and flicking it across the surface. It skipped once, twice…five times before disappearing into the current.

Jaeyi watched without meaning to.

The way Seulgi carefully chose each rock, the slight tilt of her body as she leaned forward. The quiet focus in her expression framed by the loose strands of hair that caught in the breeze. 

Jaeyi caught the feeling that settled deeply within her.

“Seulgi-yah…” she said after a moment, her voice softer now. “I’m really glad you found us.”

Seulgi paused, her fingers closing loosely around another stone as the words landed.

She turned back toward her.

“Me too.”

There was something bright in her eyes when she said it.

Jaeyi held her gaze a second too long before looking away, the moment stretching just enough to feel it.

Then…she leaned forward and flicked a small splash of water in Seulgi’s direction.

It caught her off guard. Seulgi let out a startled laugh, surprised, instinctively lifting the hem of her shirt to wipe the droplets from her face.

The fabric rose—and Jaeyi saw it.

The skin beneath was red, scratched raw, the marks fresh where she remembered it as smooth, untouched ink. 

Jaeyi’s gaze stilled. 

Seulgi noticed immediately, her smile faltering as the fabric dropped back into place.

Chapter Text

They walked home in silence after that, carrying a weight between them that neither of them tried to move. 

Their steps stayed in sync, close enough to feel each other’s presence, yet held at a slight distance, leaving everything unsaid where it was.

Jaeyi kept her gaze forward as Seulgi did the same. The sound of the river faded behind them, replaced by the sounds of the neighborhood and the distant rush of cars threading through the streets.

Jaeyi’s phone buzzed, then again, and again. 

She let out a quiet breath and pulled it from her pocket, her pace picking up slightly as her attention shifted to the screen. Messages stacked rapidly, short, insistent ones. 

Her lab group.

She typed as she walked, thumbs moving quickly, her replies clipped with irritation as she exhaled. She drifted a few steps ahead before slowing again, unconsciously adjusting until she fell back into step beside Seulgi.

The buzzing didn’t stop. By the time they reached the house, she was already halfway through another message, her expression drawn tighter than before.

She locked her phone with a small, frustrated breath.

“I’m sorry, Seulgi-yah,” she said as they stepped inside. “I have to run back to campus tonight. My lab group wants to meet about recalculating data.”

Her tone carried just enough annoyance to show she didn’t want to go.

Seulgi slipped off her jacket, hanging it neatly by the door.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice easy. “I understand.”

She moved into the living room, the familiarity of the space settling around her as she lowered herself onto the edge of the couch.

Then, almost as an afterthought…

“I can stay up for you,” she added, glancing back. “Maybe…we could watch something when you get back?”

The offer was simple, almost casual.

But Jaeyi felt it again, that same gentle pull from earlier that she couldn’t distinguish, but didn’t want to ignore.

“Seulgi-yah,” she said, softer now, “you don’t have to do that. I don’t know how late I’ll be.”

A small pause. Then, despite herself, a faint smile slipped through.

“But… thank you.”

And she meant it.

—

The lab room was louder than it needed to be at that hour.

Voices overlapped across the table, jumping in with repeated numbers and various corrections. Pens tapped against paper as Jaeyi’s group moved back and forth over the same set of data. 

Sheets were spread wide under the fluorescent lights showing columns of calculations marked up with quick adjustments where something didn’t quite align.

Jaeyi sat among them, pen in hand, eyes on the page. Listening. Or at least, she should have been.

“…No, if you carry the value here, it changes the entire second half—”

“That’s what I said earlier, you just didn’t—”

“Wait, hold on, let me see that again—”

The conversation looped.

Jaeyi followed along for a while, correcting where she needed to, pointing out a miscalculation without thinking, her voice steady and automatic.

It all began to slip.

Her gaze drifted toward the window.

The sky outside had already darkened, the last of the evening light gone, replaced by the dull glow of street lamps scattered across campus. Reflections blurred against the glass, turning the inside of the room back onto itself.

She stared at it a moment longer than she meant to, her pen stilled between her fingers as a quiet thought surfaced, uninvited.

Seulgi. 

Not anything specific right away, just the image of her, sitting on the couch, the soft, easy way she had said she would wait.

Jaeyi blinked and shifted slightly in her seat.

“…Jaeyi?”

She looked back down. “Yeah?” she said quickly, her voice slipping back into place. “Sorry…what were you saying?”

One of her group members turned the paper toward her, tapping at a line of numbers. “This part. Does this look right to you?”

Jaeyi leaned in, scanning it, her focus returning just as quickly as it had left. “That’s off,” she said, pointing. “You carried the wrong value here. It should be from the previous set.”

“Oh…wait, yeah, you’re right.”

The group shifted again with recalculation, the conversation picking back up where it had been. Jaeyi followed, answering when she needed to and adjusting when something didn’t make sense. 

But every now and then, without warning, her eyes flicked back to the window, just for a second—before returning to the page in front of her.

—

Seulgi stayed in the living room long after Jaeyi left.

Eventually, she moved into the kitchen with unhurried steps. She scanned the counter for the container Hyejoo brought home the day before.

She opened it and reached in for another muffin, still soft, the top slightly cracked where it had risen. She turned it once in her hand, then tossed it lightly into the air and caught it, repeating the motion absentmindedly as she walked toward the living room.

She slowed as she passed the shelf. The photographs drew her in without intention.

Jaeyi, Hyejoo, and another face. Jena.

Seulgi paused. She hadn’t meant to stop.

Her gaze lingered on the photograph, taking in the details she hadn’t allowed herself to study too closely before. The way Jena stood slightly angled toward Jaeyi, the faint ease in her expression. 

There was no heaviness in the image. No indication of what had been carried beyond it.

Seulgi’s grip around the muffin loosened slightly.

Briefly, an uncertain awareness crossed her face. Of what that picture really meant. Of what Jaeyi had shared the day before.

She lowered her gaze, then quietly dipped her head in a small bow without exaggeration. 

When she straightened, the moment didn’t carry forward. She simply let her eyes pass over it once more before moving on.

The living room welcomed her back without resistance.

The aquarium cast its usual blue light across the space, the water shifting slowly. She stepped closer, her attention catching on the movement of the fish, following them as they drifted from one side to the other.

Seulgi leaned slightly against the edge of the stand, taking another small bite of the muffin. 

For a while, she stayed there. Watching.

Letting her thoughts settle where they could.

She then moved to the couch, folding herself into her usual corner, the cushion giving easily beneath her weight. She reached for the remote, turning on the tv more out of habit than intention.

The screen flickered to life, instantly filling the room with a low enough noise to blend into the background.

Seulgi tucked her feet beneath her, the empty half of the muffin resting loosely in her hand.

Her focus drifted toward the door for just a moment. Then back to the screen. 

She didn’t realize how still she had become until time had already started to pass and a few yawns had come and gone.

—

The conversation around the lab table dragged on longer than it should have.

Numbers were circled back to where they had started. Someone leaned over the table to point something out as another voice cut in before the explanation could land.

Jaeyi followed and contributed when she needed to, but her attention didn’t stay in one place.

Her phone buzzed softly against the table.

She glanced down.

Seulgi: Don’t worry, the muffins from yesterday are even better on the second day.

A quiet laugh slipped out before she could stop it.

“Sorry, one second,” she murmured, already stepping back from the table, her phone in hand as she moved toward the edge of the room.

She leaned lightly against the counter near the window, the noise of her group dulling behind her as she typed.

Jaeyi: I’m going to be here much later than I thought :(

She watched the screen.

The typing bubbles appeared almost instantly.

Seulgi: That’s okay,

Seulgi: Hyejoo’s tv show will keep me up until then.

Jaeyi smiled, her thumb hovering for a second before she could respond.

“Jaeyi, can you check this?” someone called.

She looked up.

“Yeah, give me a second.”

She pushed off the counter and stepped back in, setting her phone down beside the papers as she leaned over the table again.

The conversation picked back up around her as a few minutes passed. When there was a break, she reached for her phone again, unlocking it quickly as she typed.

Jaeyi: Are you sure it’s not going to bore you to death?

She hit send, set the phone down, and didn’t see it light up again.

—

Seulgi couldn’t keep her word, no matter how hard she tried.

She had curled into the corner of the couch at some point, pulling a blanket over herself without fully registering it. One arm stayed tucked close to her chest, the other draped loosely at her side, her fingers still curled slightly as if they had been holding something moments before.

Her phone lay beside her. Still lit and unlocked. The screen hadn’t gone dark, their unfinished conversation left open.

She stayed like that for hours, long after Hyejoo had returned and gone upstairs, the faint creak of floorboards marking her absence.

The tv remained on, but the rest of the house had gone dark.

When Jaeyi finally returned, the night had settled fully.

She stepped inside carefully, easing the door closed behind her, the quiet pressing in almost immediately. Her shoulders ached faintly from hours spent leaning over a table, her mind still half-caught in numbers that refused to settle.

She slipped off her shoes by the door, slower than usual, and listened, but heard nothing. Then the soft glow of the tv caught her attention. 

She turned and saw her.

Seulgi lay exactly where she had left her earlier, only now completely still, her breathing slow and even. Her lashes rested lightly against her cheeks, strands of hair falling loosely across her face, shifting slightly with each quiet exhale.

Jaeyi didn’t move at first. She just stood there.

Taking it in.

The small details settled around her one by one. First, the half-eaten muffin on the coffee table, then the blanket pulled just high enough to cover Seulgi’s shoulder, and the faint glow of her phone beside her.

Jaeyi stepped closer as her eyes fell to the screen. The message thread was still open.

A reply, half-typed.

Seulgi: It won’t bore me, I’m not even slee—

The cursor blinked at the end of it. Waiting.

Jaeyi let out a soft laugh, as warmth pulled at her chest.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she murmured, barely above a whisper.

The words weren’t meant to reach her.

She moved closer, lowering herself carefully beside the couch, the floor cool beneath her knees. Up close, the softness of Seulgi’s expression felt even more pronounced, unguarded in a way she rarely allowed herself to be.

Jaeyi hesitated.

Then, slowly, she lifted her hand, brushing her fingers lightly against Seulgi’s cheek, just enough to move a strand of hair away from her face.

“Hey… Seulgi-yah,” she whispered. “Hey, you fell asleep.”

Seulgi stirred, her brows knitting faintly before her eyes fluttered open. For a second, her gaze remained unfocused, caught somewhere between sleep and waking, until it settled.

On Jaeyi.

“You’re home,” she said, her voice rough with sleep, but soft.

“Mhm,” Jaeyi replied quietly. “Yeah… I’m home. I’m sorry it was so late.”

Seulgi shook her head, slow and heavy, her movements still caught in the pull of sleep. 

She stretched her arms slightly before drawing the blanket closer around herself, leaning into the motion as she began to sit up. Jaeyi steadied her without thinking, a hand hovering at her arm, then settling just enough to help.

“It’s okay,” Seulgi murmured. “I wanted to make sure you got home.”

Jaeyi’s chest tightened. She didn’t respond right away.

Instead, she stood, offering her hand without hesitation this time. Seulgi took it, her grip light but trusting as she pushed herself to her feet.

“C’mon,” Jaeyi said gently. “Let’s get you to bed.”

They moved slowly toward the stairs, their steps quiet against the floor. The house had already settled for the night, every sound contained within.

The stairs creaked beneath them as they climbed, one step at a time, as their rhythm grew steady.

At the top of the hallway, they stopped.

Seulgi drifted toward her door, her shoulder brushing lightly against the frame as she leaned there, her eyes already beginning to close again.

Jaeyi lingered. Her hand hovered between them with uncertainty. 

Then, gently…she moved.

Her fingers brushed a loose strand of hair back from Seulgi’s face, tucking it behind her ear, the touch brief but deliberate.

“Get some rest,” Jaeyi said softly. “You didn’t have to wait for me… but I’m really glad you did.”

Seulgi smiled, small and drowsy, her eyes glanced up,  just long enough to meet Jaeyi’s.

“I know,” she said. “But I like knowing when you’re home.”

Jaeyi swallowed. Her hand fell back to her side.

A quiet, almost breathless laugh slipped out of her as she stepped back slightly, her words catching on their way out.

“I—uh… goodnight.”

Seulgi’s smile deepened just a fraction.

“Goodnight, Jaeyi-yah.”

Jaeyi stayed there a moment longer than she needed to, watching as Seulgi pushed the door open and disappeared inside, the soft click of it closing marking the end of the moment.

Only then did she turn.

The house fell quiet again, but something within Jaeyi ran deeper. It was subtle and steady, impossible to ignore. It lingered in her chest, patient in a way that felt certain it would surface when the time came.

Chapter Text

Jaeyi woke with the dull awareness of unfinished work pressing at the back of her mind.

It was there before anything else, before the room fully came into focus.

Her arm reached across the desk without thinking, fingers brushing against the edge of her laptop before she had even sat up. She pulled it toward her and flipped it open, the sudden brightness of the screen forcing her eyes to narrow.

Too bright. She blinked and turned the brightness down quickly before leaning in. 

The sun had barely risen. 

Her inbox loaded. She refreshed it once, then again, revealing a new notification from her professor. He had opened the submission sometime after midnight. A short comment sat beneath it.

The data checked out. Well done.

Jaeyi exhaled slowly.

The tension in her shoulders gave way all at once, releasing in a quiet drop that left her feeling momentarily weightless. Relief settled in fast, almost disorienting in its steadiness, though she didn’t dwell in it for long.

She swung her legs out of bed, already moving, gathering her laptop and charger in one motion before heading downstairs.

Hyejoo stood by the counter, her hair pulled back neatly as the kettle released a steady stream of steam into the air. The scent of bergamot filled the kitchen without overpowering it.

“Earl Grey this morning?” Jaeyi asked, her voice still rough as she covered a yawn with the back of her hand.

“Mhm,” Hyejoo replied easily, pulling out the tea bags. “I heard you come home late last night.”

“Way too late,” Jaeyi muttered, setting her laptop down on the table before flipping it open again. She reached for the mug Hyejoo set down in front of her, curling her fingers around the warmth.

Hyejoo glanced at her, her expression faintly amused.

“I saw Seulgi was waiting for you,” she said. “Did she manage to stay awake?”

Jaeyi paused for half a second, her eyes still on the screen.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she turned slightly away, just enough to hide the blush creeping in.

“Ah… she tried her best.”

A quiet, breathy sound left Hyejoo, close to a laugh.

“Do you need to go to campus today?” she asked, pouring her own tea. “On a Saturday?”

Jaeyi shook her head, already scanning through her report, eyes flicking between numbers and graphs.

“Not if I finish this,” she said. “I just need to clean up the stats and double-check the graphs.”

“Good,” Hyejoo said, setting her mug down and reaching for a third mug, placing it beside the kettle without comment. 

“For Seulgi?” Jaeyi noted without looking up.

Hyejoo hummed in quiet confirmation.

“Try to get her out of the house today if you can,” she added. “Even if it’s just for a walk around the block. I’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t been able to take her anywhere.”

Jaeyi’s fingers paused briefly over the trackpad as she smiled.

“Yeah,” she said. “I will.”

Jaeyi wrapped her hands around the warm mug her mother had set in front of her. The heat seeped into her palms as she took a small sip, her attention already drifting back to the screen. 

Hyejoo moved around the kitchen in the background as she spoke about her day—taking Mrs. Kim to the library, stopping by the studio for an inventory check, and fitting small errands wherever they could.

Jaeyi nodded when it felt right, listening but not fully there. The morning seemed normal until a sharp sound cut through everything around them. 

Seulgi.

The retching was muffled by the walls of the house, but all too unmistakable. Both of them stilled. Jaeyi’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, frozen mid-motion, while Hyejoo’s hand paused on the strap of her bag. 

Another sound followed, a quieter cough, then the rush of running water.

Jaeyi pushed back from her chair without thinking, half-standing before the words even formed.

“I’ll—”

“I’ve got it,” Hyejoo said gently, already turning toward the stairs.

But she didn’t make it far before slow footsteps sounded above them.

Seulgi appeared at the top of the staircase, one hand braced lightly against the railing as she steadied herself. Her hair was pulled back, strands slipping free around her face. She looked pale, but composed in that careful way people did when they were trying not to show how unsteady they felt.

“I’m alright,” she said before either of them could ask.

Her voice gave her away just slightly.

Jaeyi was already moving.

She crossed the kitchen in a few quick steps, pulling out a chair before Seulgi had fully reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Sit,” she said, softer now. “I’ll make you something.”

Seulgi hesitated before easing into the chair.

Hyejoo watched the exchange unfold before relief flickered through her expression.

“I should get going,” she said. “Text me if you girls need anything.”

“We will,” Jaeyi replied, already turning toward the counter.

The house settled behind Hyejoo as she left for the day, leaving the two of them in the quiet.

Jaeyi moved around the kitchen with efficiency, keeping everything simple. Toast, lightly browned. Plain rice. A small bowl of broth warmed gently on the stove, the heat kept low so it wouldn’t overwhelm.

She worked without rushing, keeping an eye on Seulgi out of the corner of her eye.

Her elbows were tucked close to her body, fingers tracing the rim of her water glass in slow, absent circles. Her eyes had cleared somewhat, the haze of earlier replaced with something more present. Slightly accompanied by a thin layer of tension held just beneath the surface.

Jaeyi noticed it but she didn’t say anything.

She set the bowls down carefully in front of her.

“Here,” she said. “Eat slowly.”

Seulgi looked up, a smile forming despite everything.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I will.”

They ate in near silence.

The soft clink of the spoon against the bowl carried between them. Jaeyi returned to her laptop, typing in short bursts with her attention split without appearing to be.

She noticed everything about her.

The way Seulgi tucked her hair back behind her ear, then did it again a few minutes later. The way her shoulders eased, slowly, as the warmth of the food settled. She even noticed the quiet breath she let out, almost surprised, like she hadn’t realized how much she needed it.

It all felt steady. 

Seulgi stood when she finished, carrying her bowl to the sink. 

She rinsed it, then dried it with a cloth before turning toward the drawer, nudging it open with her left hip. It shifted slightly off, and the contact was enough. A sharp wince crossed her face as a small breath slipped out before she could stop it.

Jaeyi looked up immediately. 

Seulgi’s hand moved on instinct, tugging her shirt down over her side. “I’m fine,” she said quickly.

Jaeyi’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, then stilled. She knew. The image from the river surfaced without warning, the red, uneven skin. 

She hesitated, unwilling to press further or back her into a corner, careful not to take more than Seulgi was ready to offer.

Her gaze dropped briefly to the screen before lifting again. 

She opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again, her voice softer now with faint uncertainty.

“Seulgi-yah…”

The word lingered for a moment. “Um…”

Seulgi paused, her hand still resting lightly against the counter.

“I just…” Jaeyi swallowed, pulling her hands back from the keyboard and grounding them against the table. “I noticed that you’re hurt… there.”

Her voice stayed gentle. “I just wanted to check in. That’s all.”

She gave her space.

Seulgi’s shoulders lifted with a quiet breath. 

“It’s nothing,” she said at first, the response automatic. 

Then she stopped. Her fingers curled slightly against the countertop, the tension in them visible now. She closed her eyes, inhaled, exhaled, and stayed there for a moment longer.

She opened her eyes, a trace of hesitation lingering in them, as though she were deciding what to hold back and what to let surface.

Her teeth caught lightly against her lower lip, holding it there for a second as she steadied herself.

“It’s…not nothing,” she said quietly, her eyes dropping to the tiled floor. “I just… don’t know how much I can talk about it.”

“Hey, that’s okay,” Jaeyi said immediately.

She stood, but didn’t step in too close, she stayed just enough to meet her at eye level, leaving space where it mattered.

“We don’t have to talk about it at all,” Jaeyi said.

Seulgi looked at her, searching for something, and whatever she found within her, so unintrusive, seemed to give her the strength she needed.

“No… I should,” she said after a moment. “I trust you… Jaeyi.” The words came out so small, but they held together between them. “And I don’t want to hide parts of myself from you.”

Jaeyi’s expression softened, letting the moment remain as it was.

Seulgi shifted slightly, her weight uneven. “Can we… sit in the living room?” she asked. “I feel a little…” The sentence trailed off, but Jaeyi understood.

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

They moved together without urgency. Seulgi lowered herself to the floor first, her back resting against the couch as her body folded inward, knees drawn close. Jaeyi followed, settling closely beside her, but not touching.

The morning light stretched across the floor, catching small particles of dust drifting slowly through the air. 

They watched them without meaning to, the motion holding them in place.

Seulgi wrapped her arms around her legs, holding them there. She let out a long breath, then spoke.

“JD stands for Jungdae,” she said, her voice low.

She didn’t look at Jaeyi.

“He was… older. A lot older.”

Jaeyi stayed still.

“He showed up right after my grandmother passed away,” Seulgi continued. Her voice wavered, then steadied again. “Everything kind of fell apart after that. School. Money… I didn’t have anyone. Or anything.”

Her fingers found a loose thread along the sleeve of her shirt. She picked at it without looking down.

“He came when I was desperate,” she said. “Offered to help. Said he’d take care of things for me.”

Jaeyi’s voice stayed careful.

“How so?”

Seulgi hesitated.

“He said he’d protect me…give me things…” she said, the words sounding thinner the longer they sat in the air. A hollow flicker crossed her face. “Things I thought I needed.”

Her fingers tightened.

“In the beginning… it didn’t feel dangerous,” she admitted. “I didn’t understand what I was being pulled into. And by the time I did, it already felt…” She exhaled softly. “…too late to leave.”

A pause. Her gaze dropped to her hands.

“He had already marked me.”

The image surfaced in Jaeyi’s mind without warning. The dark letters against her soft skin.

Seulgi swallowed.

“If I didn’t listen, he would—”

The sentence broke, followed by a silence that felt heavier than anything she could have said.

She drew in a breath, trying again.

“He made everything depend on him,” she said, her voice thinner now. “Even when I tried to have something small… or normal… it always came back to him. His control.”

Her hands curled tighter around the fabric of her sleeves.

“Before I came here… the weeks leading up to that night… he got worse,” she said. “I tried to end things. I tried to explain it, make it make sense…”

Her breath hitched.

“I couldn’t stop him. I just— I just had to…take it…” She shook her head faintly, the words slipping away from her. “Or else…I thought for sure he’d—”

She stopped, her breathing breaking into uneven pulls as her eyes lost focus, filling too quickly. Jaeyi felt the shift immediately, the sudden edge, and moved without thinking, turning toward her. “Seulgi—” her voice softened at once. “Seulgi-yah, look at me.”

Seulgi shook her head, her breath coming too fast now, her hands trembling where they rested against her knees.

Jaeyi faltered, caught for a moment without knowing how to reach her. She reached out, taking her wrists as gently as she could.

“You’re here,” she said, her voice firm but quiet. “You’re safe now. You don’t have to keep going.”

Seulgi squeezed her eyes shut, tears slipping free despite it.

“I can’t,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t talk about it anymore… I feel sick, Jaeyi-yah…”

Her shoulders folded inward.

“I’m so broken.”

“Seulgi-yah, no.”

Jaeyi’s voice broke with it.

Her eyes stayed wide as she pulled Seulgi in, holding her tightly, trying to keep her from slipping any further. 

She could feel it, how fast her breathing had become, how uneven it was against her shoulder, and how her body trembled in waves.

Jaeyi stayed there, holding her. One hand pressed gently at the back of her head, the other wrapped around her shoulders, steadying her as best as she could.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay…”

Jaeyi didn’t know if the words were right. She waited until the tension in Seulgi’s hands began to ease as the minutes passed. Her tight grip eventually loosening into something less rigid. Jaeyi shifted just enough to speak near her ear, her voice soft as it searched. 

“Seulgi-yah… where’s your chapstick? Will it help?”

Seulgi shook her head, her breath still uneven, catching against Jaeyi’s shoulder. Jaeyi nodded once, more to herself than anything. 

“Okay… okay,” she whispered. Her fingers moved slowly through Seulgi’s hair, giving her something to hold onto. She didn’t push further or ask anything else.

After a while, the tears slowed, then stopped, the shaking easing into smaller, quieter breaths. Jaeyi leaned back just enough to look at her, her hands moving to Seulgi’s arms, rubbing gently along the sides in a slow, repetitive motion.

Seulgi kept her gaze lowered, unable to meet her eyes.

“Seulgi-yah…” Jaeyi said carefully. “Can you look at me?”

There was no response, just a small shake of her head. 

Jaeyi hesitated, then shifted slightly, turning her body just enough to bring the room into Seulgi’s line of sight.

Her voice softened again. “Seulgi-yah… look at the aquarium.” A small pause. “And breathe.”

Seulgi hesitated. Then, slowly, she did.

Jaeyi’s voice stayed steady.

“There are eight fish in there,” she said. “One of them is missing a fin… can you try to spot which one?”

Seulgi glanced at her for a moment, like she wasn’t sure she had heard her right. Then, slowly, her gaze shifted to the aquarium.

The water moved in slow currents, the blue light bending around the glass as the fish drifted in loose, quiet patterns. Seulgi squinted slightly, her focus narrowing as she began to follow them one by one.

She watched carefully, letting her eyes settle before moving again. One fish passed, then another, and her breathing, uneven at first, began to slow without her noticing.

After a moment, her gaze caught on one near the bottom right corner, just above the gravel, moving more cautiously than the others, one side of its body dipping ever so slightly as it swam. 

Seulgi stilled. By the time she found it, her breathing had evened out fully, the tightness in her chest loosening as the light returned to her eyes, soft but present.

Jaeyi watched her, a quiet smile forming as she saw the moment it clicked. 

“Is it… that one right there?” Seulgi asked, her voice steadier now, pointing toward the corner. “The one near the bottom?”

Jaeyi nodded. “That’s the one.”

They stayed like that for a while, watching as the fish drifted slowly through the water, the soft glow from the tank spilling across the room and settling over everything. The house no longer felt as tight; the air had eased, finally letting go.

Jaeyi moved first. “Hey,” she said gently. “How are you feeling right now?”

Seulgi paused, checking in with herself in a way she hadn’t been able to moments before. Her shoulders had lowered, her hands no longer shaking. 

“I feel better,” she said, quieter now but certain.

Jaeyi smiled and stood, offering her hand without thinking. Seulgi took it, letting herself be pulled up until they stood facing each other again. Jaeyi didn’t let go right away; her hands shifted instead, settling lightly along Seulgi’s arms, moving slowly up and down in a steady, reassuring rhythm.

“You’re okay,” she said. The words were simple, but they held.

Jaeyi hesitated, then stepped back slightly. “Stay right here,” she added. “I’ll be right back.”

She moved quickly, her footsteps light as she headed upstairs. There was a brief shuffle from the bathroom, the sound of drawers opening, then something being moved, before she returned just as fast, a small tube of ointment in one hand and a bandage in the other.

She slowed as she approached, her confidence dipping just slightly. 

“Would it be alright if we put this on?” she asked, holding them out just enough for Seulgi to see. “Just to soothe it.”

Seulgi glanced between her and the ointment, then nodded.

Jaeyi crouched slightly, careful and deliberate as she reached for the hem of Seulgi’s shirt, lifting it just enough to expose the skin beneath. The marks were still there, raw and angry. Seulgi turned her head away.

Jaeyi didn’t comment. She squeezed a small amount of ointment onto her fingertip, hesitating for a second before touching it to the skin. 

Her first movement was a little unsure, the pressure slightly uneven before she adjusted, gentler this time, spreading it carefully across the broken lines.

Seulgi flinched at first, a small, sharp intake of breath, but the cooling sensation settled in soon after, softening the sting. 

Jaeyi worked slowly, making sure it covered everything before reaching for the bandage. She placed it over the area, pressing it down lightly, her palm resting there for just a moment longer than necessary.

Then she let the fabric fall back into place. 

And for now, it was concealed.

—

Jaeyi glanced toward the window.

The light had shifted while they remained there. It stretched farther across the floor now, warmer, catching along the edges of the room.

“C’mon, Seulgi-yah,” she said, extending her hand. “Let’s get some air. We don’t have to go far.”

Seulgi followed her gaze to the light and the open space beyond it. There was no insistence in Jaeyi’s voice, only an offering held between them. Seulgi nodded and took her hand, letting Jaeyi guide them toward the front door, her grip steady but loose, leaving room for Seulgi to set the pace as they stepped outside together.

The air met them gently, cooler than the house but touched with sunlight that spread across their skin. It felt different out here, much more open and uncontained. 

They walked without speaking, their steps moving in a slow loop around the block, falling into an easy pattern that didn’t ask for anything more than presence. Seulgi gradually fell a pace behind, her hands in her pockets as she scanned the details of the houses.

At the corner, Jaeyi turned slightly. “This way,” she said, nodding toward a narrow side street between two rows of houses. Seulgi followed without question.

The street felt tucked away, quieter than the rest, lined with low fences and uneven patches of grass where wildflowers grew in small, stubborn bunches. 

Jaeyi slowed, then stopped, crouching slightly as her fingers brushed over a cluster of blooms before selecting one carefully, a pale purple flower, delicate, its petals thin enough to catch the light. Then another, a long, purple one, its stem bending slightly as she added it to her hand.

Seulgi watched for a moment, then stepped closer and reached down herself, pulling a small grouping of white flowers from a patch near the sidewalk. She held them loosely, careful not to crush them.

They moved like that for a while, stopping, picking, walking a few steps further as the small collection in their hands grew slowly and unevenly, made up of whatever they found along the way. 

Jaeyi’s eyes landed on a thin, pale yellow flower. She tilted her head slightly as she studied it, then bent down and pulled it free with care, keeping the stem intact.

She turned it once between her fingers.

Then looked at Seulgi.

“Seulgi-yah,” she said softly.

Seulgi stilled at the sound of her name, turning toward her.

Jaeyi stepped closer, hesitating just briefly before lifting her hand. She reached up and tucked the flower behind Seulgi’s ear, her fingers brushing lightly against her hair.

The movement was quick, almost without thought.

Jaeyi let her hand fall back to her side, her gaze already shifting away as she straightened, like it hadn’t meant anything at all.

Seulgi blinked, her eyes wide.

“So… the festival tomorrow,” Jaeyi began, her voice lighter now, testing the shift. “It’s supposed to have a lot going on.”

Seulgi listened, her attention settling easily on her.

“Games,” Jaeyi continued. “Carnival food, those photo booths where you get the cute little strips…” She paused, thinking. “Rides, too. Oh! And fireworks at the end.”

She glanced over again, gauging her reaction. “I figured we could go in the late afternoon,” she added. “Stay long enough for the fireworks.”

Seulgi twisted one of the flowers between her fingers, studying the curve of the petals, the small imperfections along the edges. 

“Mhm,” she said softly. “It all sounds… really nice.”

She lifted her gaze slightly, a faint smile forming. “I’ve never done anything like that before,” she admitted.

There was no heaviness in the words, only honesty. She looked back down at the flowers in her hand, adjusting them gently so they sat together more neatly. 

“But...I think I’ll really like it,” she added, almost to herself.

They continued walking, slower now, the street opening back into the familiar one that led home, the houses growing more recognizable with each step. The flowers shifted softly in their hands, the stems brushing together with each movement.

The day had softened into something much easier to hold. 

When they returned, the afternoon light had softened into warmer, golden tones that stretched across the kitchen floor in long, quiet bands.

Jaeyi moved through the space with the flowers still in her hands, rinsing the stems beneath a thin stream of water, careful not to bend them. 

She worked slowly as her attention focused on the small details. First, trimming the ends, adjusting the lengths so they would sit just right. She then reached for a few small water glasses from the cabinet and filled them halfway before placing the flowers inside.

Seulgi lingered nearby, not fully aware she had stopped moving. Her gaze followed Jaeyi’s hands as they worked with precision, how she treated something delicate and ordinary as if it held more to it.

Jaeyi gathered the small glasses once they were done and carried them to the window, setting them along the sill one by one. 

The light caught through the glass, bending around the stems, the colors softening as they mixed together, purple, yellow, white, loosely bundled, indistinct from who had picked what.

Intertwined.

She stepped back slightly, looking at them longer than necessary. Then left them there.

—

The rest of the day passed by calmly.

Jaeyi returned to her work for a while, her laptop open at the table, the steady sounds of typing filling the kitchen before fading again. Seulgi drifted between rooms, folding laundry, straightening small things that didn’t need fixing, settling wherever the light felt softest.

They crossed paths often, exchanging a few words and glimpses here and there, enough to remind each other they were there.

By early evening, the sun had begun to dip lower.

The kitchen dimmed gradually, the glow from the window no longer reaching as far. At some point, Jaeyi closed her laptop without saying anything, while Seulgi sat nearby, her presence remaining steady.

The house gathered around them in a quiet suspense.

Beneath it, a faint awareness remained, unmistakably there, brushing along the edges of the day. 

It lingered, patiently, as evening settled in.

Chapter Text

Seulgi resisted the stillness that crept in with the night.

She didn’t follow Jaeyi upstairs when she slipped away to bed. She stayed where she was after Hyejoo turned off the tv and closed up the kitchen, sitting in the dim light of the living room long after everything had gone quiet.

Even when she finally retreated to her room, she left the covers untouched.

Sleep would not come easily. Not tonight.

A part of her had been unsettled earlier that day, one she hadn’t been ready to face, refusing to retreat back to where it had emerged from.

She tried to think about the festival instead.

Tomorrow.

She pictured it vaguely at first, then with more detail. The lights, the music, and the colorful carnival rides. Jaeyi beside her, explaining things as they went, pointing things out, her voice steady against the noise of it all.

The thought eased the tightness in her chest, and she held it close.

Her phone lit up her face as she scrolled without purpose, rereading the simple conversations between her and Jaeyi from the past week. Their short exchanges, never stretching on too long before they would reunite in person.

The simplicity of it all held her together.

Her eyes began to grow heavy, convincing her that sleep would come after all. The darkness in her room felt dense, layered with quiet noise consisting of the soft tick of cooling pipes, the distant hum of the refrigerator downstairs, and the faint whisper of fabric as she shifted against the mattress.

She turned onto her side and closed her eyes, trying to follow her breathing the way Jaeyi had shown her earlier that day. Slow, counted, and steady. 

In. Out. 

She thought of the small flowers they had picked earlier, growing through the cracks in the pavement. 

In. Out.

She imagined the living room as it had been that morning, hazy and distant, as though she were looking at it from somewhere above, the two of them sitting against the couch, the aquarium casting shifting blues and greens across their faces, Jaeyi’s soft voice, guiding her back into place.

The memory softened before eventually fading, easing her into sleep. She slept gently at first, drifting off until it started to shift into something else. 

The dream arrived in fragments at first, blurred at the edges, displaying shadows without shape and voices without faces. 

They suddenly grew closer.

“You’ll never be able to run from me!”

His words echoed with a loud distortion, reverberating through her body like something physical. A heavy weight pressed down on top of her. 

Her body refused to respond, preventing her from moving or speaking.

Her limbs felt disconnected, lagging behind the panic that surged through her chest. She tried to push herself up. Tried to scream, but her throat locked, the sound swallowed before it could form.

The air felt wrong, burning deeply within her, too thick and too thin all at once. A suffocating pressure closed in around her as an unseen force she couldn’t fight off loomed over her. 

Her thoughts raced far ahead of her body. 

Move. Move. Move. 

But nothing happened.

Then hands. First their shape coming into focus, then their force, tightening around her throat before squeezing.

Seulgi woke with a sharp, fractured gasp. 

The sound tore through the silence as she jerked upright, her chest heaving, her breath catching painfully as if she had been dragged up from deep water. 

Her heart slammed loudly against her ribs.

Her fingers curled into the sheets, gripping tightly as a tremor ran through her hands. Air—she couldn’t get enough of it. Her throat burned, still tight, as though the pressure hadn’t fully let go. 

Tears came immediately before she could stop them, spilling down her cheeks without restraint. She tried to breathe, but it broke apart, catching in her lungs instead.