The rain wouldn't stop that night.
It fell relentlessly, as if the sky had chosen her side.
She left the classroom without a word.
No one noticed — or maybe no one cared.
She didn't bring an umbrella.
She didn't want one.
If she was soaked enough, maybe no one would notice the tears.
Maybe no one would see how devastated she felt.
All this time, I hated the rain… she thought.
But tonight, it feels like exactly what I needed.
Her steps were uneven, breath trembling, heart louder than the thunder above.
Then he came running.
Han Tae-hyun.
He grabbed her wrist before she could take another step.
Not hard enough to hurt.
Not loose enough to let go.
"Are you insane, Ha-eun?" he snapped, his voice cutting through the rain.
She froze, refusing to look at him.
"Let me go," she whispered.
He should have.
He should have let her walk away.
But the thought of her disappearing into the rain —
of not knowing where she was,
of not being the one standing beside her —
it twisted something unfamiliar inside his chest.
"Are you crazy?" he snapped again, turning her to face him.
"Why would you step out into this rain like that?"
"Let go of my hand."
"What do you think you're doing right now?" he demanded, his voice lower now, almost losing its usual carelessness.
She finally looked up at him, rain clinging to her lashes.
"Since when," she asked quietly, "do you have the right to stop me?"
The question struck harder than the thunder.
Right.
He didn't have that right.
Then why was he acting like this?
What was it that made him react this way?
Responsibility?
Possessiveness?
Irritation?
Sympathy?
The thoughts spun in his head, but he couldn't find an answer.
And then he let go.
She walked away into the heavy rain.
He didn't try to stop her again.
He didn't try to explain.
Frustration burned quietly inside him.
Ha-eun sat at the bus station, staring blankly at the road.
Tears kept falling from her eyes.
She sniffed softly and pulled her phone from her pocket — only to realize it was out of charge.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand and took a slow breath.
She had to move on.
She shouldn't have fallen for him in the first place.
And then the memory surfaced.
Six months ago.
My name is Lee Ha-eun. I'm a third-year student at Seoul National University, majoring in Information Studies.
On paper, my life looks ordinary. Good grades. A part-time job. A quiet routine.
But there are things about me that don't show up in transcripts.
It was raining that day too — when I first met him.
The sky had looked harmless at first — just grey clouds hanging low above the university buildings. I remember thinking it might only drizzle, nothing more.
Classes ended late that afternoon. I left campus quietly and headed to my part-time job.
By the time my shift was over, the air felt heavier, charged with something restless. On my way home, I stopped at a small convenience store to buy a few drinks.
That was when the rain began.
Soft at first. Almost gentle.
I stood near the glass door, watching the droplets gather and slide down the window. I could have waited. I should have waited.
But I didn't want to.
It's fine, I told myself. I can make it home from here. The bus station was only a few minutes away.
So I stepped outside.
The rain grew stronger within minutes. By the time I reached the road near the bus station, it was pouring. Cars rushed past, headlights blurred by the downpour. Water splashed against the pavement. The sound of rain hitting metal, asphalt, glass—
It was too loud.
My breathing changed.
Something cold crept up my spine.
I slowed down.
Then I stopped.
My feet wouldn't move.
The world around me began to blur — not just because of the rain. The sound of engines mixed with something else in my head. A memory I didn't want. A voice. A door shutting. Rain against a window from another night.
My hands trembled.
Move.
I told myself to move.
But my legs wouldn't listen.
A car was coming toward me, its headlights cutting through the rain. I could see it. I knew I should step aside.
I couldn't.
My chest tightened. The world narrowed. I closed my eyes.
And then—
"To be continued"