Chapter Text
Minjeong stepped out of the cab, her legs stiff and her body heavy after the long, twelve-hour flight from Toronto. She looked up at the modest house in front of her—a two-story home in Kwangya, nestled quietly amidst rows of similar-looking houses. It was still light outside, with a faint breeze drifting through the late afternoon air, but to Minjeong, everything seemed muted, almost dreamlike. She had last seen her mother’s face in Canada three weeks ago, and the memory left her with a dull ache in her chest.
Tiffany and Suho, her godparents, hurried down the front steps to greet her. They were college friends of her parents, and when they heard about the accident, they’d insisted on taking her in until she turned eighteen. Minjeong tried to push away the guilt, the feeling of intruding, as they approached her with warm, welcoming smiles.
“Minjeong! We’re so happy you’re here,” Tiffany said, pulling her into a gentle hug.
“You must be exhausted from the flight,” Suho added pulling her luggage with him. “Let’s get you inside.”
They ushered her in, chattering kindly and offering words of comfort as they went. Tiffany told a light-hearted story about her parents in their college days, reminding her of a happier time. But the walls of the house seemed to close in as Minjeong’s thoughts turned to her mother. It had only been three weeks since the accident, and the weight of it hadn’t lessened.
The Yus guided her upstairs, pausing outside a room near the end of the hall. “This will be your room,” Tiffany said, opening the door to reveal two single beds, each on opposite ends, and two desks by the window. “I’m sorry, dear, but we’re renovating the guest room. So, for now, you’ll be sharing with Jimin, our daughter.”
“Of course, it’s fine,” Minjeong replied quickly, trying to sound as agreeable as possible. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
Tiffany placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not any trouble at all, Minjeong. You’re family to us. We’ll be here for you, every step of the way.”
Minjeong offered a small, grateful smile, but the truth was, she couldn’t shake the numbness that had settled into her bones. She only had a year and a half left of high school, and then she’d return to Canada for university. All she had to do was wait.
When the Yus finally left her to unpack, Minjeong let out a breath and surveyed her new space. The room was cozy, but clearly divided. On one side, her own bed and desk were pristine, almost empty. Across the room, Jimin’s side was full of life—sports trophies and medals cluttered the shelves, along with framed photos of her and her friends. In one, a boy in a soccer jersey kissed her on the cheek while she laughed, clearly unbothered. Minjeong’s gaze drifted to Jimin’s desk, where makeup and accessories lay scattered, as if tossed there in haste.
She wondered what Jimin was like. She knew they were nearly the same age, but that was all. Glancing at the state of her side, she hoped Jimin wasn’t messy—she could only imagine the state of the bathroom.
Minjeong began unpacking, pinning a few photos of her best friends, Yizhuo and Ryujin—who she had known since kindergarten—to the tack board above her desk. She stopped as her fingers brushed the small, gold star necklace that hung from her neck. Her mother had given it to her on her fifteenth birthday, and now it was all she had left. She closed her eyes, touching the pendant softly. The grief washed over her, a reminder of the loss she couldn’t yet grasp.
She took a deep breath, pulling herself back to the present, and decided to take a quick shower. As she dressed, pulling on a fresh t-shirt and pants, she heard Tiffany call from downstairs, “Minjeong! Dinner’s ready!”
With a deep breath, Minjeong descended the stairs, her gaze wandering the hallway as she walked toward the dining room. She stepped into the room and spotted Jimin, who was setting the table with swift, focused movements, her eyes trained on her task. Jimin was taller than Minjeong expected, with a composed, almost closed-off expression as she worked.
"Minjeong, this is Jimin, my daughter—the one you'll be sharing a room with," Tiffany said, as Jimin gave Minjeong a curt smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and a quick nod.
“Have a seat, Minjeong. Dinner’s almost ready,” said Tiffany, motioning her toward the table. Minjeong took a spot beside Jimin, while the Yus sat across from them.
“So, Jimin, how was your outing at the new sports complex?” Suho asked, glancing at his daughter with a warm smile.
“It was amazing, Dad. The facilities are brand new, and they even have a rock-climbing wall,” Jimin replied with enthusiasm, her face lighting up for the first time. “I think I’ll be spending a lot of time there with my friends.”
“Speaking of friends,” Suho said, shifting his gaze between Jimin and Minjeong, “why don’t you bring Minjeong along next time? It would be a good way for her to settle in.”
Jimin hesitated, her expression barely shifting. “Does she even want to come?” she replied, the question directed at her parents rather than Minjeong. Her tone was calm, almost detached, as though she was merely addressing a minor inconvenience rather than someone sitting right next to her.
Minjeong shifted uncomfortably, feeling the question land between them like a weight. She managed a polite smile. “It’s okay, Mr. Yu. I’m not really into sports anyway. I don’t mind staying at home until school starts.”
“Nonsense, Minjeong,” Mr. Yu replied with a wave of his hand. “Helping you settle in here is the least we can do for you. Plus, the kids in Kwangya are nice and friendly. You’ll feel right at home.”
Minjeong felt a pang of gratitude but also uncertainty. Could she really feel at home here? She shifted in her seat, trying to hide her unease. Mr. Yu’s insistence only made her feel more like a guest, rather than part of the family. She glanced at Jimin, hoping for a sign of welcome, but Jimin’s expression remained impassive.
Mr. Yu turned to his daughter with a firmer look. “Jimin, I will hear no more about this.”
Jimin didn’t argue. She shrugged; her tone flat. “Fine.” She didn’t look at Minjeong, nor did she show any sign of interest or irritation. It was as if the decision had no real bearing on her. She resumed eating, her attention returning to her plate as though the matter were already forgotten.
Tiffany, sensing the tension, quickly shifted the conversation, asking Minjeong about Canada and sharing memories of her parents. Minjeong responded with short, polite answers, grateful for Tiffany’s warmth, even as a feeling of awkwardness lingered. She found herself glancing at Jimin occasionally, wondering if she’d see any flicker of interest or kindness. But Jimin’s face remained unreadable, her gaze distant.
After dinner, as they cleared the table, Jimin brushed past her without a word, her expression unreadable. Minjeong sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of the day settle over her. It had been an exhausting arrival, and now she felt the pull of her bed, needing rest more than ever.
“I know Jimin can be a bit reserved,” Tiffany said quietly as she collected the dishes, “but give her some time. She’s not usually like this.”
Minjeong managed a small smile. “I understand. It’s a big adjustment for all of us.”
Tiffany placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’re glad you’re here, Minjeong. Don’t hesitate to let us know if there’s anything we can do to make you feel more comfortable.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Yu. I really appreciate it,” Minjeong replied, her voice soft.
Tiffany smiled and patted her shoulder before returning to the kitchen. Minjeong made her way back to her room, her steps slow and heavy. She glanced at Jimin’s side of the room, empty now as Jimin was currently in the bathroom. The trophies and photos stared back at her, silent reminders of the life she was now a part of yet so removed from.
She sat on the edge of her bed, clutching the gold star necklace. Closing her eyes, she let her thoughts drift to the memories of her mother, trying to remember the sound of her voice, the warmth of her smile. She knew it would be a while before she felt any semblance of home here, but for now, she could at least try to settle in and find a rhythm.
She lay down, pulling the blanket over herself, and stared at the ceiling. Her mind raced, thoughts of her parents, her friends back in Canada, and the daunting year ahead swirling in her head. In a strange way, the silence was comforting. It was something familiar, a quietness she could wrap herself in.
As she drifted off, Minjeong found herself wondering about Jimin, the girl on the other side of the room who seemed so closed off and distant. She didn’t understand why she was so cold, but something told her there was more beneath the surface. Maybe, just maybe, they could find common ground—if only for the short time they’d be living under the same roof.
///
The days passed in a quiet, detached rhythm. Sometimes, Minjeong grew so bored of the silence that she’d spam her chat group with Yizhuo and Ryujin, filling it with random updates and memes. Though they couldn’t reply immediately because of the time difference, just seeing their names and the familiar thread of conversation felt comforting.
Minjeong had mostly gotten used to Jimin’s near-constant absence. They shared only brief, transactional conversations—who would do the laundry, whether she could borrow a mug, if she knew when their godparents were coming back from their errands. It wasn’t hostile, exactly, but it wasn’t warm, either.
Whenever Jimin was home, she spent her time scrolling through her phone, barely glancing up when Minjeong was around. There was a practiced ease in the way she detached herself, like she had somewhere else she’d rather be. It left Minjeong with an odd, nagging feeling—an almost tangible distance that made the room feel bigger, emptier.
Once, Minjeong had tried starting a conversation. It was a rainy afternoon, and Jimin was sitting on her bed, typing something on her phone. Minjeong cleared her throat, bracing herself. “So, you play volleyball?”
Jimin looked up, surprised, as if she hadn’t expected to be spoken to. “Yeah,” she replied shortly, her fingers still hovering over her phone.
“That must be fun. I heard you were really good,” Minjeong offered, hoping to keep the conversation alive.
Jimin just shrugged. “It’s fine,” she said, her eyes already drifting back to her screen. And just like that, the moment passed.
When she wasn’t at home, Minjeong rarely saw her. Jimin’s days were split between volleyball practice and shifts at a sports department store nearby. Sometimes Minjeong caught glimpses of her through the window in the evenings, jogging off to meet her teammates, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Other times, she’d see Jimin leaving for work, dressed in the store’s branded hoodie, earbuds in, completely in her own world.
And with each day, Minjeong felt the silence in the house grow. She filled it with her music, the soft hum of the kettle, the rustling of pages as she read. She tried to settle into her new reality, reminding herself that she didn’t need anyone’s approval or attention to make this place her own. Still, it was hard not to feel a bit like a ghost, lingering on the edge of a life that didn’t quite belong to her.
The evenings came and went, punctuated by Jimin’s fleeting presence, her footsteps fading down the hallway, the click of her bedroom door. They lived like strangers sharing a space, each holding their own secrets, their own carefully guarded silence. And though Minjeong knew it wasn’t her place to bridge the gap, she couldn’t help but wonder if she ever would.
///
Minjeong leaned back on her bed, the soft glow of the laptop screen illuminating her face as she adjusted the camera for her video call. Yizhuo’s familiar grin filled the screen, making Minjeong’s heart ache a little with the reminder of home.
“So, how’s life with the ice queen?” Yizhuo teased, wiggling her eyebrows. Minjeong managed a smile, rolling her eyes.
“It’s... quiet. I’m settling in, though,” she replied. “I mean, it’s nothing like back home. I miss you guys so much.” Her voice softened, and she fiddled with the edge of her blanket.
Yizhuo’s playful expression grew tender. “We miss you too. Fridays just aren’t the same without you screeching like a banshee during our horror movie nights. Ryujin tried to pull it off last week, but she’s no match for your legendary screams.”
Minjeong laughed, the sound bubbling up from a place that had felt empty for days. “Guess you’ll have to suffer in peace for a while.”
“Nah,” Yizhuo replied, her tone earnest now. “Just hold on, okay? A year and a half, and you’ll be out of there. We’ll all be at the same college, just like we planned. Late-night study sessions, horror movie marathons, and coffee runs—everything we’ve been dreaming about. We’ll have the time of our lives, Minjeong.”
Minjeong forced a smile, her throat tightening as she swallowed back the retort that lingered there. It wasn’t as simple as just waiting, but she didn’t want to drag Yizhuo into the heaviness that had been weighing her down. “Thanks, Yizhuo. I needed that,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
There was a brief silence, and then Yizhuo’s face grew serious. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”
Minjeong’s breath caught in her throat, and she felt an icy chill seep into her bones. She looked away, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. “What do you mean?”
Yizhuo’s gaze was unwavering, even through the screen. “I mean... what happened with your mom. You didn’t know she was tired that night. You didn’t know she was going to—” She paused, a sadness clouding her eyes. “If you had known, you would’ve gone with her. But it’s not your fault, Minjeong.”
Minjeong’s chest tightened, the words tearing at the scab she’d so carefully formed over the wound. She could still see it so clearly—the way her mom had smiled that night, saying it was no trouble for her to drive home alone after work, even if she was a little tired. And Minjeong, wrapped up in the excitement of a sleepover with Yizhuo and Ryujin, had waved her off, her heart light with anticipation of the night ahead.
But then came the call. The sinking feeling. The crushing weight of guilt that had shadowed her ever since.
Minjeong blinked rapidly, forcing herself to stay composed. “Yeah... yeah, I know,” she whispered, though the words felt like lies on her tongue. She forced a small smile, trying to shield Yizhuo from the truth. “Thanks, Yizhuo. Really.”
Yizhuo’s gaze softened, and she nodded. “We’ll get through this. I’m here for you, always.”
Minjeong’s vision blurred, but she held herself together, her fingers gripping the blanket tightly. “I know. And I’m grateful for that. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Okay,” Yizhuo said, her tone brightening a little. “Next time we talk, I want to hear all about how you’ve terrified that roommate of yours with your terrible taste in bedroom decor.”
Minjeong laughed, but it felt hollow. She said her goodbyes and ended the call, the screen going dark as she stared at her reflection, haunted and worn. Her fingers brushed the edge of her phone as she scrolled through the gallery, landing on a picture of her and her mom, smiling in a moment that felt like another lifetime.
If only she had gone home that night. Maybe things would have been different. But she shook the thought away, burying it once more as she curled up, the silence swallowing her whole.
///
Minjeong had noticed the pattern almost immediately. On nights when Jimin was scheduled to close up the store, she’d come back late, slipping into the room when everyone else was fast asleep. They always kept the room in total darkness while they slept, so Minjeong could often hear Jimin shuffling around, muttering an “ouch” under her breath when she inevitably knocked her knee against the bedpost.
It had only happened a couple of times before Minjeong decided to leave the small desk lamp on those nights—just enough light for Jimin to navigate without stumbling, but dim enough that Minjeong could still fall asleep.
One night, as Minjeong lay in bed, half-asleep, Jimin came home late as usual, but she paused by the door, noticing the light.
The next morning, Jimin finally spoke up about it. “You don’t have to sleep with the lights on, you know. I can find my way in the dark,” she said, a slight frown on her face.
Minjeong raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t think you can. I hear you bumping into the bedpost every time.” She shrugged. “It’s okay, though. Just turn it off when you’re done. I don’t mind.”
Jimin seemed taken aback for a moment, but then she nodded, her expression softening. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Minjeong caught the faintest hint of appreciation there, and for a brief second, they shared a moment of understanding, however small it was.
///
“Ah, dammit!” muttered Jimin.
Minjeong, sitting at her desk with her earbuds in, heard Jimin’s frustration even through her music. She turned to see Jimin standing beside her bed, holding a volleyball jersey and looking both annoyed and flustered.
Unable to ignore it, Minjeong pulled out one earbud and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Jimin held up the jersey, revealing a tear down one side, about the length of Minjeong’s palm. “I accidentally ripped it doing the laundry. I have a game in an hour, and I need to be at the court to warm up. I can’t wear this!”
“Don’t you have a backup?” Minjeong asked.
Jimin shook her head. “No, all the spares are at school, and we’re heading straight to the sports complex. There’s no time to go back.”
Minjeong looked at the tear thoughtfully. “Why don’t you just sew it back? It won’t look perfect, but it’ll hold up for now.”
Jimin’s face flushed, and she looked away, clearly embarrassed. “I… don’t know how to sew,” she admitted. “I pricked my finger really badly once and swore off sewing forever.”
Minjeong bit back a smile, amused at how someone as athletic as Jimin could be so easily deterred by a needle. “Go get me a sewing kit. I’ll fix it for you.”
Jimin’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“Clock’s ticking,” Minjeong replied with a small grin.
Without another word, Jimin dashed out of the room, returning a moment later with a sewing kit. Minjeong took the jersey and set to work, her fingers moving swiftly and efficiently. In five minutes, she had the tear stitched up. Jimin slipped it on, inspecting the makeshift repair with a look of relief.
“Thank you, Minjeong,” she murmured, almost shyly, before rushing out of the room to make it to her game.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Minjeong found herself replaying the moment in her mind, wondering why hearing Jimin say her name made her feel a little warmer inside.
///
It was Jimin’s day off, and her friends were coming over. Minjeong had overheard her mentioning it to Tiffany and Suho at dinner, not directly to her, of course. Jimin barely acknowledged her presence at all, except in passing. Now, as Minjeong sat on her bed, trying to immerse herself in a book, she could hear bursts of laughter and shouting drifting up from downstairs. Jimin’s friends had arrived.
Minjeong sighed, feeling a sudden pang of envy as she thought about how she used to drop by Yizhuo and Ryujin’s houses anytime. She missed that freedom, the familiarity of friends who knew her well. Not wanting to listen to the noise, she slipped on her earbuds, turning the music up louder than usual.
After about an hour, her throat felt dry. She reached for her water bottle, only to realize she’d forgotten to refill it that morning. She hesitated, wondering if she should go downstairs and risk running into Jimin’s friends. Maybe they’d be engrossed in the movie, and she could slip down unnoticed, refill her bottle, and make it back up in no time.
Taking a deep breath, Minjeong tiptoed down the stairs, feeling almost like an intruder. As she reached the last step, she heard a guy’s voice, “Okay, movie break. I need to pee.”
“Ewww, you don’t have to say that out loud!” a girl replied.
“What’s wrong with the word pee?” he retorted.
Minjeong thought about heading back upstairs when a girl with bright eyes and wavy brown hair noticed her. “Oh, hello!” she exclaimed. “You must be Minjeong! We didn’t know you were here. Otherwise, we would’ve invited you to watch the movie with us. Jimin, why didn’t you tell us she was at home?”
Before Jimin could respond, Minjeong quickly said, “It’s okay. I wasn’t feeling well today anyway.” The lie came out easily, but she could feel Jimin’s curious gaze on her.
“Bummer,” the girl said, giving her a friendly smile. “Well, you’re welcome to hang out with us anytime. I’m Aeri, by the way.” She extended a hand toward Minjeong.
Minjeong shook Aeri’s hand, offering a small smile. Aeri introduced the others, “This is Yeji, Jaemin, and Jeno.”
Minjeong glanced at each of them, noting their faces. Yeji had straight dark brown hair and expressive eyes that sparkled with a hint of mischief. Jaemin, standing beside her, gave a warm smile that reached his eyes. And then there was Jeno, casually draping an arm around Jimin’s waist. She recognized him from one of the photo frames upstairs.
“You didn’t tell me she was cute, Jimin,” Yeji teased, moving closer to Minjeong and linking her arm through hers. “You could really be the talk of the school once it starts up again.”
Minjeong felt her cheeks flush as she looked down, momentarily flustered by Yeji’s attention. She caught a glimpse of Jimin watching, her expression unreadable but her gaze focused on Yeji’s arm still linked with hers.
“Are you looking for something, Minjeong?” Jimin asked, her voice cutting through the moment.
Minjeong blinked, suddenly remembering why she’d come downstairs in the first place. “Oh, yeah. I just came down to refill my water bottle.” She held it up, hoping they wouldn’t think too much of her unexpected appearance, then quickly made her way to the water dispenser.
“See you around!” she called out as she turned to go back upstairs, avoiding eye contact. She felt Jimin’s eyes on her as the others cheerfully responded, “Bye, Minjeong! Hang out with us next time when you’re feeling better!” Aeri added warmly.
“Yeah, sure,” Minjeong replied with a faint smile, hoping she sounded sincere. She headed back to her room, thinking that Jimin’s friends seemed nice enough. Yet, as she replayed the encounter, she couldn’t shake the sense that she’d intruded somehow, especially when she remembered the look on Jimin’s face. Why did she feel so out of place in a house that was supposed to be home?
///
Minjeong lay sprawled across her bed, laptop open beside her as music filled the room. The familiar lyrics of a soulful, unapologetic ballad echoed against the walls, one of her favourite songs by a queer artist she’d been listening to for years. She tapped her fingers lightly on the keyboard, halfway through typing a message to her best friend, so absorbed in the music and her thoughts that she didn’t hear the door creak open.
Jimin stood in the doorway, eyebrows knitted together in clear irritation. She waited a moment, arms crossed, before stepping in.
“Can you turn that off? Or at least change the music?” Jimin’s voice was sharp, breaking Minjeong’s concentration.
Minjeong startled, looking up in surprise. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were here,” she said, reaching toward her laptop to lower the volume, but she didn’t change the song.
Jimin let out a frustrated sigh. “Why are you even listening to that?”
Minjeong frowned, sitting up. “I’ve been a fan of hers since middle school. She makes really good music if you even care to listen.”
Jimin’s expression grew more guarded. “You know she’s a lesbian, right?”
A pause.
Minjeong’s face remained calm, but her tone took on a slightly defiant edge. “...And that’s a problem because?”
Jimin looked away, shifting uncomfortably. “I just don’t get it. You know... that whole scene.”
Minjeong frowned, her irritation clear as she closed her laptop with a sharper snap than intended, looking over at Jimin. “She’s just being herself. It’s not a ‘scene.’ It’s her life. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Jimin’s jaw tightened, and she crossed her arms even tighter, visibly annoyed. For a brief moment, she looked like she might say something more, but she just huffed and turned her back, unpacking her bag with tense, jerky movements.
Minjeong watched her, curiosity flickering in her eyes. There was something about Jimin’s reaction that felt defensive, like she was pushing something away—something Minjeong wasn’t quite able to name yet.
If only Jimin knew… The thought skittered across her mind, making her chest tighten. She forced it down, burying it just beneath the surface, knowing now wasn’t the time.
///
It’s not that Minjeong is ashamed of her sexuality. She’s comfortable with herself and who she is. She is just… very aware that not everyone in the world would be as open and accepting as her parents and friends were. She still remembered the day she came out to her parents three years ago, when her dad was still alive, strong and full of life, not yet overtaken by cancer. Her parents had been so open, so loving, that it almost felt surreal.
She chuckled quietly, recalling how her dad had tried to lighten the moment. After she had told them, he looked at her with a twinkle in his eye and said, “Hey, gay, I’m dad.” Her mom had gasped, horrified, and Minjeong had burst out laughing, feeling like she’d shed a huge weight from her shoulders. That was her dad—always finding a way to make her feel at ease, even in the most nerve-wracking situations. In those moments, she felt she could be fully herself, without fear or restraint.
She’d even introduced them to Jessie, her first girlfriend, who’d been a transfer student from Singapore. They’d had a sweet, short-lived romance that ended when Jessie had to move back home. They’d promised to try long distance, but at thirteen, the world seemed so big and staying in touch so complicated. Still, it was special to her. Jessie had been a big part of her life, even for just a little while, and her parents had accepted her with the same warmth and openness that they always showed.
But now, in Kwangya, things felt different. Here, she wasn’t surrounded by her parents’ unwavering acceptance. She had no idea what people thought of homosexuality, and she had no desire to find out. Maybe they’d be understanding, maybe they wouldn’t. Either way, she’d decided it wasn’t worth the risk. If staying closeted could make things simpler for the time being, then that’s what she’d do. She could wait it out; it was only one more year, after all.
She let out a small sigh, her fingers tracing the edge of her phone as she pulled up a photo of her friends and family. Just one more year. Then, she’d be back where she belonged, surrounded by people who accepted her, who had always accepted her, just as she was.
///
One night, Mr. Yu decided to take the family out for dinner. Mrs. Yu had been eager to try a new Korean restaurant that had just opened in Kwangya, and tonight they’d finally secured a reservation. The restaurant was buzzing with activity, and they found themselves waiting in a long line to be seated. As they queued up, Minjeong glanced around, taking in the warm glow of the lights and the comforting smell of sizzling food from the tables nearby.
As they stood in line, Minjeong's attention was drawn to a young couple in front of them—two men—standing close, hands intertwined as they chatted softly. Minjeong felt a smile creep onto her face, a fleeting sense of joy swelling in her chest. One leaned in and whispered something that made the other laugh, and Minjeong found herself smiling, too. There was something so genuine and sweet about their affection, so simple and open.
Curiously, Minjeong shifted her gaze to Mr. and Mrs. Yu, wondering what they thought of the couple. The warmth in her smile faded when she caught sight of Mr. Yu’s expression. He was frowning, his gaze fixed on the couple with a look of distaste. He exchanged a knowing glance with Mrs. Yu, whose raised eyebrows and tight-lipped response echoed his sentiments. It was a look she recognized all too well—the kind that communicated judgment without the need for words.
She looked away, staring at the floor as her mind raced. A sense of unease crept in, gnawing at her. Could the Yus be homophobic? She’d barely been here for a few weeks, yet she felt the tension between them, this invisible wall that suddenly seemed higher. Her own memories of coming out to her parents flooded back, the warmth and acceptance she’d felt from them so starkly contrasting with what she was seeing now.
The night suddenly felt colder, and as the line moved forward, Minjeong followed in silence, a knot forming in her chest. She wondered if she’d ever feel truly at ease here, or if there would always be parts of herself she’d need to hide.
///
Back at home, the events of the evening played on a loop in Minjeong's mind, replaying with an unsettling clarity. She could still see Mr. and Mrs. Yu's expressions of distaste, the way their faces twisted ever so slightly when they caught sight of the couple in the restaurant. In her mind, those faces shifted, no longer directed at strangers, but at her. The thought made her stomach churn, and she pushed her untouched food around on her plate, struggling to keep her own expression neutral, even as she felt Jimin’s gaze on her, curious and unreadable.
But it wasn’t just that moment with the Yus that gnawed at her. Something else about the night lingered in her thoughts, something she couldn’t shake. She recalled how Tiffany and Suho had run into an old family friend—a young couple and their thirteen-year-old daughter, who had once been their neighbours. To Minjeong's surprise, Jimin had lit up when she saw the girl. She’d watched Jimin’s face soften, her eyes crinkling with warmth as she asked the girl about her school, her new home, her life. Jimin’s usual reserve seemed to melt away as she laughed and spoke easily, her tone gentle and kind.
Minjeong had never seen Jimin like that before. This was a side of her she didn’t know existed—a warm, open side that seemed hidden when they were together. Mrs. Yu had mentioned that Jimin wasn’t usually so distant, that she was normally warm and friendly. Yet around Minjeong, she was almost always closed-off, guarded. Why was Jimin so different with her?
Could it be…? The thought struck her like lightning. If the older Yus were homophobic, how could she be sure that Jimin wasn’t too? But how would Jimin even know? She’d been careful, never revealing too much, sharing only glimpses through her choice of music—queer artists whose lyrics resonated with her. But listening to queer artists didn’t necessarily mean one was gay. Jimin had to understand that, right?
Minjeong felt a wave of paranoia wash over her, a tightness forming in her chest that developed into a dull headache.
She turned over, pulling the blanket tighter around herself, trying to find some comfort. Maybe it was best to push these thoughts away for tonight, to let sleep take her before her mind went any further down this path. Tomorrow, maybe she’d see things more clearly, maybe this feeling would pass. But for now, all she could do was lie in the dark, hoping that nothing bad would come of it.
///
The past couple of days had been a blur of restless walks. Minjeong had quickly realized that being holed up in her bedroom wasn’t helping her feel any better, so she’d taken to exploring the small, charming park nearby. It was just a short walk from her godparents' house, barely a kilometer away. Today, the weather was stunning, the kind of day that pulled her out of her thoughts and made everything feel a little lighter. The sky was a brilliant blue, with wisps of white clouds stretching across it like delicate brushstrokes. She paused, pulled out her phone, and snapped a picture of the open sky, adding a quick caption before posting it to her Instagram Stories.
When she got back home, she reheated some leftovers for lunch and ate in relative silence. Upstairs, she sat down at her desk and opened Instagram to pass the time. She hadn’t expected any of her friends back home to have seen her story yet, given the time difference, so she scrolled absentmindedly until she noticed a view from someone with the username katarinabluu.
“Hmmm… that’s weird. Who could this be?” she muttered, tapping on the unfamiliar name. The profile was almost entirely empty, just a single post with no bio, no indication of who this person was or how they’d found her account. Her curiosity piqued, Minjeong clicked on the lone photo—a chubby orange cat lying on its back on a sunlit pavement, legs splayed open as if begging for a belly rub. In the corner of the picture, she noticed a white sneaker, with a smudge of red sauce, probably from a slice of pizza.
She squinted, trying to remember if she’d ever come across this account before. It didn’t follow her, and the lack of any other posts or details made it feel almost eerie. She dismissed the strangeness of it. Maybe it was just some random viewer, someone passing through. But a small part of her couldn’t shake the oddness of it. Who posts a single photo of a cat like that, with no context?
Minjeong leaned back in her chair, glancing out the window. The skies were beginning to gray, the afternoon light softening. She shook her head, closing Instagram. It was probably nothing. Just a cat photo and an empty profile. But as she pulled her attention back to the rest of her day, the username lingered in her mind.
///
The next few days turned into a comforting routine of walks and photos. Minjeong would stroll through the neighbourhood, occasionally striking up conversations with the people she passed, nodding politely at the elderly man who always sat on his porch, or waving to the kids playing in their front yards. Ryujin and Yizhuo had urged her to share pictures from her walks, insisting it made them feel closer to her, as if the thousands of kilometers between them shrank with each photo she sent. So, she did just that, capturing moments of quiet beauty: a line of flowers blooming by a white picket fence, a sunbeam filtering through the park’s tall trees, or short videos of her laughing as stray cats playfully swatted at her hand.
She posted these photos and videos to her Instagram Stories consistently, almost as if she were crafting a visual journal of her days. It was simple, yet satisfying. But each time she uploaded a new post, within the hour, the same name appeared under her views: katarinabluu.
At first, Minjeong dismissed it as coincidence. But as the days passed, she grew more unsettled. The account never missed a single story, always showing up quickly, even when she posted at odd hours. There was something strange about it, especially since none of her friends or followers from back home would be awake at those times.
She’d tried to shake it off, telling herself it was probably just a local who stumbled upon her account. But then the creeping unease began. She’d catch herself glancing over her shoulder on her walks, eyes darting to the corners of the park, wondering if someone was lurking just out of sight. She couldn’t help but imagine some faceless figure shadowing her, hidden behind the trees, maybe even watching her with each snap she took.
Her thumb hovered over the username once more, staring at the profile’s one photo, the chubby orange cat sprawled on the pavement. It seemed harmless enough, and she wondered if she was just being paranoid. After all, the username did sound like a girl’s name. But who knew these days?
As she closed the app, a chill ran down her spine. It was probably best to be cautious, she thought, her fingers moving swiftly through her settings. She set her account to private, hoping it would put an end to the eerie feelings gnawing at her whenever she posted.
///
The Yus had planned a quick trip to the mall one afternoon, mainly to pick up school supplies for both Minjeong and Jimin. Mr. Yu was eager to get everything they needed in one go, while Mrs. Yu seemed excited about finding a few clothing items for Jimin to try on.
Since Jimin was still on her shift at the sports store, they arranged to pick her up first. When they arrived, she was already waiting out front, her arms crossed and her face showing a hint of impatience that softened as she saw her family approach.
Jimin slid into the back seat next to Minjeong, greeting her with a polite nod before turning to her father. "Dad, I’m only free for the next hour, so let’s keep this quick, yeah?”
“No problem, kiddo,” Mr. Yu replied with a smile as he started the engine. “Your mom just wanted you to try some clothes on too.”
“Great,” Jimin said, relaxing back into her seat with a sigh.
As they made their way to the mall, Mrs. Yu asked Jimin about her day, and the two of them chatted amiably. Minjeong leaned back, letting the conversation flow around her while she focused on the soft music playing from the radio. It was comforting, giving her a small moment of peace amid her still-unsettled thoughts.
Noticing her lips felt dry, Minjeong fished her lip balm out of her bag. She twisted the cap off and applied a quick layer to her lips. But as she went to tuck it back into her bag, it slipped from her fingers, tumbling down to the floor.
“Oops,” she muttered, leaning down to retrieve it.
As she reached toward the floor mat, something caught her eye. It was Jimin’s sneakers—simple, white, and unmistakably marked with a red stain on the side. Her breath caught in her throat. The red smudge looked like tomato sauce, the same as the one she’d seen in the Instagram profile picture of katarinabluu. An orange cat and those same sneakers had been in that photo, standing out against the pavement.
Minjeong’s mind began to race, piecing together fragments of the last few days. Could Jimin really be watching her Instagram stories under a fake profile? Her pulse quickened as the thought solidified, the eerie sensation settling over her like a thick fog.
Straightening up, she tucked the lip balm away, forcing herself to breathe slowly as she stole a glance at Jimin. But Jimin was staring out the window, her expression unreadable, oblivious to the turmoil brewing next to her.
“Are you okay, Minjeong?” Mrs. Yu asked, her voice breaking through Minjeong’s spiralling thoughts. She glanced back with a concerned smile. “You look a little flushed.”
“Yeah,” Minjeong replied, clearing her throat, trying to mask her unease. “I’m fine. Just, uh, lost in thought.”
Mrs. Yu smiled, accepting the answer, and turned back around to continue her conversation with Mr. Yu. Minjeong’s eyes drifted back to Jimin, who hadn’t looked her way once. She felt a strange mixture of fear and curiosity, tinged with a hint of frustration.
By the time they parked at the mall, Minjeong’s stomach was in knots. She slid out of the car, trailing a few steps behind the Yus. She wanted to say something—to ask if Jimin had been the one lurking on her stories, but what could she even ask? What if she was wrong? What if this was all just a coincidence?
Yet the thought wouldn’t leave her alone. She walked behind them, watching Jimin's easy, relaxed movements as she chatted with her parents. Minjeong realized she’d have to confront this sooner or later. She couldn’t keep tiptoeing around the unsettling feeling that had lodged itself firmly in her mind.
One way or another, she was going to get answers.
///
Minjeong stared at her phone, a chill creeping over her as she processed the possibility. Why would Jimin be stalking her Instagram? She didn’t recall ever sharing her username with her, though it was close enough to her real name that it wouldn’t have been hard to find. But still—why would Jimin take the trouble?
A shiver ran down her spine as she opened her Instagram profile, her fingers moving almost mechanically. Were there photos Jimin might have seen that would reveal everything? Minjeong had a sinking feeling she already knew the answer.
She scrolled back, past recent shots of blue skies and stray cats, and into last year. Her thumb hovered over a familiar photo, taken at a school pride event. There she was, arm slung around Ryujin's shoulders, both of them grinning under rainbow decorations, while Yizhuo held up a small pride flag. They’d been so happy, celebrating openly in a space that welcomed them. But here? She suddenly felt exposed, as though she’d let a stranger peer into a part of herself she wasn’t ready to share.
Minjeong scrolled further, heart pounding as she stopped on another series of photos, this time with Jessie. In one of them, they were cheek to cheek, smiling with the easy affection that once came so naturally. The caption beneath was marked with a single red heart.
Her stomach twisted. Had Jimin seen these photos? Was that why she’d been distant since Minjeong’s arrival? Minjeong thought back to Jimin’s expression when she’d noticed Minjeong’s music choices—a flash of something unreadable in her eyes, something that, in hindsight, could have been discomfort.
Minjeong huffed and closed the app, her chest tightening with a mixture of anger and hurt. If Jimin was judging her, that was on her, not Minjeong. But the realization that her own roommate might be silently judging her for simply being herself left a bitter taste.
With a sigh, Minjeong tossed her phone onto the bed, her heart pounding with a mixture of frustration and disappointment. For the first time, she questioned whether she could really live under the same roof with someone who might never accept her.
///
Minjeong stood awkwardly at the entrance of the new sports complex, trying to blend in with the crowd. She tugged at her bag strap, glancing over at Jimin, who seemed completely unfazed by the bustling energy around them. Apparently, Jimin’s friends had finally convinced her to bring Minjeong along for a group outing, and now here she was, trying not to show just how out of place she felt.
As they entered the main area, Minjeong’s eyes widened. The room was filled with towering rock walls, obstacle courses, and an array of fitness equipment. It was impressive, even overwhelming, with high ceilings and bright lights that made everything seem larger than life. She spotted Jimin’s friends gathered near one of the walls, chatting and laughing, looking right at home.
“There you are!” Aeri’s cheerful voice rang out as she approached, pulling Minjeong into their circle with a welcoming smile. Jeno came up beside Jimin, planting a casual kiss on her cheek and murmuring a soft, “Hey babe.” Minjeong noted the small smile that crossed Jimin’s face, though it vanished quickly as her attention turned back to the group.
“Have you guys done this before?” Minjeong asked, trying to sound nonchalant as she looked at the massive walls around them.
“Yeah! There was a rock climbing gym near my place, but it closed down last year. We were pretty excited when this one opened up,” Jaemin explained, a grin lighting up his face as he stepped forward. “Don’t worry, Minjeong. Some of us are certified for this. Jeno, Aeri, and I have our belay certifications, so we’re more than qualified to help you out.”
“Oh, okay,” Minjeong muttered, forcing a small smile. She wasn’t about to admit that heights made her nervous, especially not in front of everyone.
“Babe, wanna try the intermediate walls? You mentioned wanting to give them a shot last time,” Jeno said, already pulling Jimin toward one of the more challenging sections.
“Yeah, sure,” Jimin replied, letting herself be led away.
Jaemin turned to Minjeong with a look of encouragement. “How about you start with the beginner wall? I’ll show you the ropes—literally,” he added with a chuckle, gently guiding her toward a wall with smaller holds and a less intimidating height.
“You go ahead, Minjeong,” Aeri chimed in with a reassuring nod. “Jaemin’s a great teacher, and we’ll be right here watching.”
Jaemin expertly set up the harness and ropes, his movements swift and practiced. He carefully fastened the harness around Minjeong, making sure the straps were snug before tying a figure-eight knot with the rope and securing it with a carabiner. He glanced up, giving the setup one last check. “There we go! Now, let me give you a quick rundown.”
He explained the basics, pointing out the holds and demonstrating how to position her body to maintain balance. “Just take it slow, okay? The most important thing is to go at your own pace. Keep your hips close to the wall, use your legs for most of the work, and let your arms guide you.”
Minjeong nodded, doing her best to absorb the information. She felt a mix of excitement and nervousness, her stomach churning as she looked up at the wall. Jaemin must have sensed her hesitation because he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Remember, this is supposed to be fun. Just go easy on yourself, and don’t overthink it.”
She took a steadying breath and glanced over her shoulder, her gaze seeking out Jimin. She spotted her on the intermediate wall with Jeno, setting up the harness and the ropes with expertise just like how Jaemin was doing. But then, something strange happened. Jimin’s eyes were already on her, watching her intently from across the gym.
Their gazes met, and Minjeong felt a jolt of surprise run through her. There was something in Jimin’s eyes she couldn’t quite read, something that left her momentarily stunned. She quickly looked away, her cheeks warming as she turned back to Jaemin, who was now explaining the route on the wall.
With a final nod of determination, Minjeong tightened her grip on the first hold, blocking out everything but the wall in front of her. She could feel her nerves settling as she focused on Jaemin’s instructions, each step guiding her closer to the top.
As Minjeong made her way up the beginner wall, she felt herself falling into a steady rhythm, focusing on each hold and foothold. Jaemin’s voice came from below, guiding her up with gentle encouragement. She could tell he was watching her closely, making sure she felt safe and comfortable.
“Great job, Minjeong! Keep your balance—use your legs more, let your arms just guide you,” Jaemin called up. Minjeong gave a small nod, smiling down at him. She was starting to feel more confident, even managing to laugh a little as she found her footing and adjusted her grip.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Jimin glancing over, her expression unreadable. Minjeong waved down at her, but Jimin turned away, muttering something to Jeno as if she hadn’t seen her at all.
When Minjeong finally reached the top of the wall, she felt a surge of pride. She looked down to see Jaemin beaming up at her. “See? I told you you could do it!” he cheered, clapping his hands together.
Climbing back down, Minjeong felt Jaemin’s hand steady her as she reached the ground. “You’re a natural,” he said, grinning at her as he helped her remove the ropes and the harness.
She felt her cheeks flush. “Thanks… for everything,” she replied, still a bit breathless.
Just then, Jimin approached them, her expression cool and guarded. “You’re done already?” she asked, barely glancing at Minjeong. “Jaemin, do you mind showing Yeji how to use the ropes? She wanted to try the wall, too.”
Jaemin looked between the two of them, then shrugged. “Of course. Minjeong, I’ll be back in a bit.” He patted her shoulder and walked off to meet Yeji.
Minjeong turned to Jimin, her initial excitement dampened by the change in her friend’s demeanour. “Jimin, is something wrong?”
Jimin crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “No, why would anything be wrong?” Her tone was almost dismissive, making Minjeong’s stomach twist slightly.
Minjeong sighed. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder. If there’s a problem, just say it.”
“There’s no problem, Minjeong,” Jimin replied, but her eyes flickered with something else—an emotion that Minjeong couldn’t quite place. “But maybe you should stop throwing yourself at every single one of my friends. It’s kind of desperate, don’t you think?”
Minjeong’s eyes widened in shock. “Excuse me?”
Jimin’s words had come out sharper than she’d intended, but she didn’t back down. “You heard me. I mean, you’ve known Jaemin for what, all of fifteen minutes? And you’re acting like he’s your boyfriend.”
“What’s your problem?” Minjeong shot back, her voice rising. “Why do you care so much if I get along with Jaemin or Aeri? You’re the one who dragged me here!”
Jimin clenched her jaw, frustration and something else—something far more conflicted—flashing across her face. She opened her mouth, but the words seemed to catch in her throat, and she simply turned on her heel.
“Jimin!” Minjeong called after her, anger and confusion battling within her. “Why do you keep doing this? One moment you act like you can’t stand being around me and the next you’re mad at me. What did I ever do to you?”
Jimin stopped, but didn’t turn around. She took a shaky breath, as if wrestling with her own emotions. Finally, she said in a strained voice, “It’s not you, Minjeong. Just… forget it.”
And with that, she walked away, leaving Minjeong standing alone, her heart pounding with a mixture of anger, hurt, and an even deeper confusion.
///
Minjeong's heart raced as she stared up at the towering rock wall, a mix of determination and anger bubbling inside her. Jimin had been so dismissive earlier. Climbing the more challenging route felt like the only way to channel her frustration.
"Aeri, I want to climb this one!" Minjeong declared, trying to mask the anger in her voice.
Aeri, who is now her trusty belayer, raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Okay, just be careful. That route is tougher than it looks."
Minjeong tightened her harness and chalked her hands, ignoring the knot of anxiety in her stomach. As she began her ascent, she could feel Aeri's watchful gaze on her, and for a moment, it gave her a sense of reassurance. But with each higher hold she reached, her frustration fuelled her, making her reckless.
Determined to climb higher and faster, Minjeong pushed herself, her movements growing more aggressive. She attempted a difficult manoeuvre, reaching for a hold that felt just out of reach. In her impatience, her foot slipped. Panicked, she reached out for another hold, but her fingers missed, and she twisted awkwardly. Her foot caught at an odd angle, and she felt a sharp, twisting pain shoot through her ankle.
She cried out, her grip loosening as she instinctively clutched at the rope. Pain pulsed through her ankle, making it hard to focus.
“Minjeong!” Aeri’s voice rose, filled with concern. “Hang tight—I’m lowering you down. You’re safe, okay? Just keep holding onto the rope.”
Through the haze of pain, Minjeong nodded, trusting Aeri’s calm tone as she was gradually lowered back to the ground. By the time she reached the floor, the others had gathered around, their faces tense with worry.
“Are you okay?” Yeji asked, kneeling beside her as Aeri quickly inspected Minjeong’s ankle.
Minjeong forced a weak smile, trying to downplay the discomfort. “I think I just… twisted it a little.”
“Let’s get you to a doctor, okay?” said Aeri.
As she spoke, Minjeong noticed Jimin standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with fear and concern, the tension in her brow deepening as she bit her lip. The sight of Jimin’s worried expression felt like a mix of guilt and frustration, amplifying the chaos of emotions swirling inside Minjeong.
///
The atmosphere in the kitchen was tense, the air thick with disappointment. Mr. and Mrs. Yu stood near the counter, exchanging concerned glances as they faced Jimin, who sat stiffly on a stool by the island. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her posture defensive, as if bracing for the scolding she knew was coming.
"You should’ve looked out for her," Tiffany said, her tone a mix of frustration and concern. "We expected more from you, Jimin."
"I didn’t ask Minjeong to climb the harder wall," Jimin replied defensively, her voice edging with irritation.
"You could have helped her choose a safer route," Suho added, his disappointment clear.
Jimin fell silent, her gaze dropping to the floor. Maybe she knew she wasn’t entirely blameless.
Minjeong, sitting quietly on the edge of the couch her ankle propped up on the coffee table, felt a wave of confusion wash over her. She knew it wasn’t completely Jimin’s fault, and seeing the Yus scolding her filled Minjeong with a twinge of guilt. But she was still mad—still hurt—by Jimin’s coldness earlier at the gym.
The Yu parents had been nothing but kind to her. They’d done everything to make sure she was comfortable, helping her upstairs, even bringing her painkillers and water, before quietly excusing themselves to let her rest.
She heard a soft knock at the door and Jimin slipped in, lingering by the doorway. Her face was tentative, almost vulnerable. "Minjeong," she started quietly, "are you feeling any better?"
Minjeong glanced up, her gaze icy. “What do you care?” She didn’t bother to hide her bitterness.
Jimin flinched, visibly taken aback by the venom in Minjeong’s tone. Her expression faltered, but she took a step closer. “I just—”
“Just what?” Minjeong shot back. “You’ve barely said a word to me since I got here. Why should I believe you care now?”
Jimin opened her mouth to protest, but Minjeong didn’t let her. “You’ve been cold to me, Jimin. Like I’m some stranger you’d rather avoid. Do you hate me?”
“No. I—”
“Is it because you think I’m stealing your friends? Because I’m not. They will always be your best friends. I’m not trying to steal anything from anyone.”
“That’s not it, Minjeong… I—” Jimin trailed off, her voice sounding small.
“You hate that I’m taking up your space. Is that it? Because I can just move back to Canada. I never asked to be here in the first place,” Minjeong spat out, her chest heaving with pent-up emotion.
“No. Of course not! You don’t have to do that,” Jimin replied, her voice barely a whisper.
“Is it because I’m gay?” Minjeong’s voice was laced with anger, her heart racing as she confronted the truth.
“No… wait, what??” Jimin’s eyes widened in shock.
Minjeong pressed on, her voice rising. “You’re disgusted with me because I like girls. I saw your face the other day when I was listening to that music. You looked like you wanted to throw up.”
“That’s… no. I’m not like that,” Jimin said defensively.
“You’re not disgusting like me, you mean?” Minjeong shot back, her hurt spilling over.
“No. I meant I don’t hate you. I just… Oh God, I don’t know how to say this,” Jimin’s voice broke off, her hands clenched at her sides as she struggled to find the right words.
“Just shut it, Jimin. I don’t need to hear it,” Minjeong snapped.
Jimin opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she stared at Minjeong, emotions swirling between them—fear, regret, confusion—almost palpable. Minjeong didn’t want to analyse it; she was too angry.
“Just go,” Minjeong said coldly, turning her gaze away. “If you can’t be honest with me, then I don’t want to hear any more excuses. I don’t need your pity.”
Jimin stood there, her face a mixture of hurt and helplessness, her lips parted as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. For a long, tense moment, the room was silent, the weight of unsaid words filling the space between them.
Finally, Jimin took a step back, her shoulders slumping as she turned to leave. With one last look at Minjeong, she slipped out the door, leaving Minjeong alone with the storm of emotions that raged within her, the chasm between them growing ever wider.
///
Minjeong sat propped up in bed, her ankle elevated with pillows, a book in her lap, though she hadn’t turned a page in a while. Her gaze drifted toward the door, where she could faintly hear Jimin’s footsteps approaching. In the last few days, Jimin had become almost a fixture in her room, tending to her needs with a quiet, unexpected gentleness.
The door creaked open, and Jimin entered, balancing a tray with a bowl of steaming soup and a glass of water. She set it down on the small table beside Minjeong’s bed and looked over at her with a tentative smile. “Thought you might be hungry,” she said, her voice soft.
Minjeong nodded, but didn’t return the smile. She muttered a quiet “Thank you,” and focused on the tray, avoiding Jimin’s gaze.
Jimin lingered, arranging the pillows behind Minjeong so she could sit up more comfortably. “I brought an extra ice pack for your ankle too. You’ve been good about keeping it elevated, but the swelling needs more attention.”
Minjeong clenched her jaw, a mix of frustration and gratitude tugging at her. She hadn’t forgotten Jimin’s distant, almost icy attitude from before. The shift in Jimin’s behaviour—her warmth, the way she seemed to care now—felt confusing, almost unsettling. A part of her wanted to appreciate it, but another part resisted, unable to shake the bitterness that still lingered.
As Jimin gently re-wrapped her ankle with a new compression bandage, Minjeong couldn’t help but notice the care in her movements. She seemed to know exactly how much pressure to apply, her hands steady and reassuring. The silence between them stretched on, filled with unspoken words and unaddressed feelings.
“Do you…do you want anything else?” Jimin asked, glancing up, her face earnest.
Minjeong met her eyes for the first time, and for a brief moment, she saw a flicker of vulnerability there. “No, this is fine,” she replied, her tone flat. She was holding back, still unsure whether she could trust this new version of Jimin, this gentler side that had suddenly emerged.
Jimin stood up, hovering by the bedside. “Okay, just let me know if you need anything,” she said, almost pleading. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
As Jimin started to leave, Minjeong called out, surprising even herself. “Why are you doing all this?” she asked, her voice soft but edged with suspicion.
Jimin looked back, surprised “What do you mean?”
“I mean… this.” Minjeong gestured vaguely around her. “For weeks, you barely spoke to me, like you couldn’t stand to be around me. And now suddenly, you’re… caring. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Jimin’s expression softened, “I guess I didn’t know how to act when you first got here. I… I thought maybe keeping my distance was better.” She stood awkwardly, her face clouding with an emotion Minjeong couldn’t quite read. “But that was wrong of me. I know that now.”
Minjeong felt her guard waver but forced herself to maintain her composure. “You can’t just switch it on and off like that, Jimin. You don’t get to treat me however you want and expect everything to be fine later.”
Jimin’s face fell, and Minjeong noticed a flicker of something that looked like regret. “I know,” Jimin replied quietly. “I just… I don’t know how else to show you that I’m sorry. I’m trying to make up for it. I hope… I hope you’ll let me.”
Minjeong felt a pang in her chest, the sincerity in Jimin’s words catching her off guard. But the wall she’d built around herself held firm. She simply nodded, her face impassive. “We’ll see,” she murmured, looking away.
Jimin took a deep breath and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. As soon as she was gone, Minjeong let out a long, shaky breath, her emotions roiling inside her. She wanted to trust Jimin, to let herself believe in this new warmth. But the hurt was still there, a wound that hadn’t quite healed.
In the silence that followed, Minjeong stared down at the untouched soup, feeling a strange mix of hope and resentment. Maybe, she thought, things could be different. But for now, she wasn’t ready to lower her guard. Not just yet.
///
The swelling in Minjeong’s ankle had gone down significantly over the past few days, and while she still needed her crutches, she was able to hobble a few steps on her own. She had to admit that much of this progress was thanks to Jimin. With her background in sports, Jimin knew her way around managing injuries, and Minjeong had to concede, albeit reluctantly, that her help had been invaluable.
Jimin had also started talking more. Their interactions had become filled with small, almost casual conversations, and Minjeong could tell Jimin was trying to ease the tension, break the ice, or maybe even get her to soften up.
“You know,” Jimin began one afternoon as they were sitting at the kitchen table, Minjeong with her crutches propped against her chair, “there’s this ice cream shop I’ve been meaning to check out. It’s right by the store I work at, and they’ve got this mint chocolate flavour that’s supposed to be amazing.” She paused, glancing at Minjeong. “Maybe we could go there sometime when you’re feeling better.”
Minjeong raised an eyebrow. She had posted a lot of photos at ice cream shops on her social media—mostly to capture the best lighting or because the place had her favourite flavours. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Jimin had likely seen those posts and thought she’d use it as a conversation starter.
She kept her tone neutral as she replied, “Mint chocolate, huh? I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type.”
Jimin shrugged, a small smile forming on her lips. “I’m full of surprises.”
Minjeong gave a slight nod but didn’t respond, her mind still caught on the shift in Jimin’s behaviour. She couldn’t deny that there was a warmth in Jimin’s gestures now, a softness that hadn’t been there before. Still, there was a part of her that remained guarded, unwilling to let her walls down entirely. Jimin’s dismissiveness from before lingered in her memory, but for now, she allowed herself to enjoy the brief, tentative peace that had settled between them.