By the next morning, I convinced myself that I was fine.
Or at least fine enough to pretend.
The sunlight spilling through the dorm window looked softer than usual, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. I hadn't really slept, not properly, but I still pulled on my uniform and told Yura, "Let's go."
She blinked like she didn't expect me to actually say it. "Really? You're coming to class?"
"Yeah," I said, adjusting my bag. "I can't skip forever."
Her grin was small but relieved. "Good. I was starting to worry I'd have to drag you there."
I smiled faintly. "You already tried."
We walked across the courtyard together, the morning air crisp and full of chatter. It felt strange being back among people again — like I'd stepped out of a dream that everyone else had kept living.
---
The lecture hall smelled faintly of coffee and marker ink. I took a seat near the window, half-hoping, half-dreading that Soo-min would be there.
She wasn't.
Instead, her desk sat empty until the professor started taking attendance. Then, just before my name was called, the door opened and she slipped in — breathless, apologizing softly, that familiar charm in her tone.
She looked the same: short brown hair slightly tousled, white shirt crisp against her skin. But when our eyes almost met, she hesitated. Her gaze flicked away just a heartbeat too fast.
And that tiny pause stung more than I wanted to admit.
---
By lunch, Yura, Hye-jin, and Mirae were waiting at our usual table outside the cafe. Yura was waving at me like a lighthouse.
"Eun-ji! Over here!"
Her voice made a few heads turn, but I was too tired to care. I smiled, walking toward them — until something stopped me mid-step.
Two students were standing near the vending machines, talking in low voices that carried just enough to reach me.
"Did you hear about Soo-min from the design department?" one said. "Apparently she's been hanging out a lot with the student council girl, Chae-young."
"Yeah, I heard. People say they're really close. Like, too close," the other whispered, leaning in.
I froze.
The first girl laughed. "And wasn't there that rumor about her and that art student — what was her name? Eun-ji? The quiet one?"
"Right! Some people said they were dating, but now it looks like Soo-min's moved on. Typical."
My heart dropped. The sound of my name in their mouths felt wrong — like something fragile being handled carelessly.
"She's probably just helping Chae-young with council stuff," the other said, but her tone was more curious than certain. "Still, it's weird, right? She and that art girl were always together. Guess that didn't last long."
Their laughter tangled with the cafeteria noise, but it was the only thing I could hear.
---
I turned sharply, heading the other way before they noticed me. My footsteps echoed too loudly in the corridor.
It shouldn't have mattered. People always talked.
But this — this felt personal.
Because somewhere deep down, I'd started to wonder the same thing they said out loud.
By the time I reached the staircase, my hands were trembling. I gripped the railing and took a slow breath, trying to keep my face blank.
I wasn't angry. Not really. Just… tired.
Tired of not knowing what was true anymore.
---
"Eun-ji!"
Yura's voice called from behind. She jogged up, her tray of food still in hand. "Hey, where are you going? We're waiting—"
Her expression shifted the second she saw my face. "What happened?"
"Nothing," I said quickly.
"Doesn't look like nothing."
I shook my head, forcing a smile. "I just remembered I have to drop something off at the art room."
Yura frowned, obviously unconvinced. "You've barely eaten all week. You need lunch, not more painting."
"I'll eat later, I promise."
She sighed, lowering her tray. "You don't have to keep pretending you're okay, you know."
"I'm not pretending," I lied.
Before she could push more, I walked away.
---
The art room was empty, quiet except for the hum of the ventilation. I set my bag down, staring at the blank canvas propped against the wall.
It was supposed to be a new project — something bright, something inspired by the festival.
But every time I tried to pick up the brush, all I could think about was that afternoon — the way Soo-min had smiled at Chae-young, the casual warmth in her tone.
Now, hearing others talk about it, it felt like confirmation of something I hadn't wanted to believe.
I sat down, gripping the edge of the table. The paint-stained surface felt rough under my fingers.
It was stupid to care this much.
We weren't dating. She didn't owe me anything.
And yet, every laugh she shared with someone else, every word she didn't say to me anymore — they all felt like tiny cuts.
---
A knock on the door startled me.
"Eun-ji?"
It was Mirae, peeking in, her expression soft. "Yura said you came here."
"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Just… needed quiet."
She stepped inside and sat across from me. "You heard something, didn't you?"
I blinked. "What?"
"There were girls whispering near the cafe earlier. About Soo-min and that student council girl." Her voice was calm but gentle. "I saw your face when you walked away."
I exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging. "They were just saying what everyone's probably thinking."
Mirae tilted her head. "And what are you thinking?"
I stared down at my hands. "That maybe they're right."
She frowned. "You really believe that?"
"I saw them hugging, Mirae. And she didn't even look for me once after that." My voice cracked before I could stop it. "If it was just work, why wouldn't she tell me?"
Mirae leaned forward slightly. "Maybe because she didn't know how. Maybe she's scared you'd misunderstand."
I let out a humorless laugh. "Too late for that."
She reached out, her hand resting gently over mine. "Eun-ji, sometimes what we see isn't the whole story."
I wanted to believe that.
I really did.
But the ache in my chest made it hard.
---
After she left, I sat there until the sky outside turned from blue to orange. The campus buzzed faintly in the distance — laughter, footsteps, the muffled rhythm of ordinary life.
For everyone else, it was just another day.
For me, it felt like something was slowly slipping out of reach.
I packed my bag and walked out, heading toward the dorm. The hallway lights flickered, casting soft shadows along the walls. When I turned the corner near the student council office, voices drifted out again — one low, familiar.
Soo-min?
My breath caught, and before I could stop myself, I slowed down.
Her voice was calm, polite. "I'll bring the reports tomorrow, Chae-young."
"Thanks," Chae-young said. "And… sorry about all the rumors. I didn't mean to cause trouble."
I froze.
Rumors?
Before I could hear more, footsteps approached. I ducked around the corner, heart pounding.
Soo-min walked out a moment later, rubbing her neck, sighing softly like she was exhausted. She glanced down the hall — and for half a second, her eyes flicked in my direction.
I held my breath, praying she wouldn't see me.
She didn't.
She just kept walking, disappearing around the bend.
And I realized then — it wasn't just that we weren't talking.
It was that I didn't know how to anymore.
---
That night, Yura found me sitting at my desk, half-finished sketch in front of me.
"You didn't eat again," she said quietly.
"I'm not hungry."
"You keep saying that."
Her tone wasn't angry, just tired. The kind of tired that comes from worrying too long.
I turned the pencil in my fingers. "Yura, do you think… some people just stop caring?"
She hesitated.
"I think some people care so much they don't know how to show it."
Her words stuck in my chest long after she fell asleep.
Outside, the campus lights flickered like distant stars. I looked at the photo booth picture still tucked between the pages of my sketchbook — the one Yura had printed weeks ago.
Our shoulders brushed in that frozen moment. Soo-min's smirk was small, teasing, familiar.
I traced the corner of the photo with my thumb, whispering into the quiet,
"Tell me I didn't imagine it."