Chapter Text
Jinsol first met Haewon during their university’s club recruitment day. It was raining hard. She was clutching a stack of soaked flyers, rushed into a fried chicken shop to escape the rain, and almost knocked over a cup of coke in front of Haewon. Haewon who was an upperclassman and was having dinner with a club friend Yoona, caught the cup before it tipped. She casually pulled out two napkins and handed them to Jinsol.
Jinsol thanked her. Only then did she realize she still hadn’t memorized that girl face, she only remembered her voice was soft and gentle.
Later, at club meetings, Jinsol learned that Haewon was the vice president of the Film Studies Club she had joined. Haewon was in charge of organizing films and leading discussions. Every time she spoke, she got straight to the point. Her opinions were clear and never showy.
Jinsol was outgoing, when she watched movies her mind ran wild with strange ideas. She often laughed at her own comments. Haewon would look at her with a small smile before lowering her head to jot something down. Jinsol wasn’t sure whether Haewon was taking notes about her weird thoughts. A little worried, she asked after the meeting.
“Unnie, did I talk too much?”
Haewon shook her head, “No. Your perspective was interesting. Much better than the usual clichés.”
It counted as a compliment. Jinsol’s worry melted into a small burst of joy. She was a head taller than Haewon, whenever they walked together, Haewon had to tilt her head up slightly. Jinsol would lean down a little, as if that could close the distance between them. She never thought too deeply about it. She just felt comfortable around this upperclassman, so comfortable that she remembered Haewon’s free periods on Wednesday afternoons and “coincidentally” studied in the same section of the library. She would think of Haewon first whenever she needed help with a group assignment. On rainy days she would text: “Unnie, did you bring an umbrella? I have an extra one.”
The moment she hit send, she always felt she was being too obvious. But Haewon’s replies always came quickly, simple, “I didn’t. Thanks.” Or, “I did. But thanks anyway.”
They started eating together. Their conversations expanded from films and classes to everything in their daily lives. They grew closer.
Yoona, Haewon’s roommate and a club member, also became close with Jinsol. One time, Jinsol went to their dorm to borrow a book. Yoona went out to wash fruit, leaving her and Haewon in the room. Trying to find something to talk about, Jinsol pointed at a small Lego astronaut figure on Haewon’s desk.
“You like this?”
“Yeah. I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Nearsighted. Being realistic is better.”
Jinsol noticed the small bit of regret hiding beneath Haewon’s calm exterior. She wanted to say something, maybe “You’re great as you are,” or “Dreams can change form.” But the words wouldn’t come out. Just then, Yoona returned and the topic ended.
In the second semester, the club planned a short trip to a mountain outside the city to watch the sunrise. They started hiking in the middle of the night. Jinsol walked ahead and kept checking back on Haewon. Some parts of the trail were dark, and Haewon moved carefully. Jinsol reached out her hand.
“Unnie, it’s slippery here.”
Haewon took her hand. It was the first time they really touched. Her hand was small, a little cold, and her fingers soft. Jinsol held on, not letting go right away. Haewon didn’t pull away either. They kept their hands together as they crossed the rocky section. When the path leveled out, they let go. Neither of them mentioned it. But Jinsol felt her palm burning.
The wind was strong at the peak. Everyone huddled together waiting for the sunrise. Jinsol stood behind Haewon and shielded her from the wind. The horizon slowly brightened—first a pale white, then orange, then a surge of yellow-red spilling across the sky. The light washed over everyone’s faces.
Jinsol tilted her head. The dawn glow settled gently on Haewon’s features. Haewon stared into the distance, her mouth curved in a relaxed line. Something stirred in Jinsol, a sharp urge to imprint this moment—this person—into her memory.
She quietly took out her phone, pretended to photograph the sunrise, and shifted the angle to capture Haewon’s profile.
That photo stayed in a password-locked folder on her phone.
On the bus ride back, everyone was half-asleep. Haewon nodded off against the window. The bus jolted, and her head bumped the glass. Jinsol hesitated, then gently guided her head onto her shoulder.
Haewon didn’t wake, she nudged closer, settling into a comfortable spot. Jinsol froze, barely breathing. In that moment, the world shrank to only the hum of the engine, the warm weight on her shoulder, and the pounding of her heart.
She thought, or she hoped that some part of this feeling went both ways.
After the trip, things seemed warmer between them. Their messages increased, from a few a day to almost nonstop. They ate together at least twice a week. Jinsol joked more freely, and Haewon played along more often.
All of it packaged neatly under “close friends.”
But Jinsol knew it wasn’t that. She knew her feelings for Haewon had crossed the line. She found herself staring at Haewon’s eyelashes as she stirred her soup; felt her chest soften when Haewon laughed at something; sat stupidly staring at her phone after receiving a late-night good night.
She also tested the waters once. They had just watched a romantic film where the two female leads missed their chance at the end. It was late, the streets were empty, and they walked out of the theater side by side.
“If you like someone,” Jinsol said casually, “should you tell them early? Feels like it’d be a shame otherwise.”
Haewon stayed silent for a while before answering, “It depends on timing. If the other person doesn’t feel the same, or if the timing’s wrong, you might not even stay friends. Sometimes… not being certain lasts longer.”
Her words hit like cold water, snuffing out the courage that had just formed in Jinsol’s chest.
She forced a smile, “Yeah… you’re right. Better to be sure first.”
Jinsol became more cautious. She was afraid of ruining what they had. Haewon was good to her, special, even but did “special” mean “like”? Haewon had never crossed any line. Even the hand-holding never happened again.
In their junior year, Jinsol became swamped with school and internships. Haewon was preparing her thesis and job applications. They barely saw each other except for late-night check-ins. The delicate romance in Jinsol’s heart slowly thinned.
One night, after staying up two nights straight to finish a report, Jinsol returned to her dorm past 3 am, exhausted and miserable. Without thinking, she texted:
“Unnie, I’m so tired.”
The moment she sent it, she regretted it. Haewon was surely asleep. As she reached to delete it, her phone rang.
“Jinsol? What’s wrong? You’re still on campus?”
Hearing her voice broke something in Jinsol. Tears fell before she could stop them. She covered her mouth, too embarrassed to make a sound.
“Jinsol? Say something. Are you in your dorm?” Haewon sounded worried.
“Yeah, I’m in my dorm,” Jinsol sniffed, “It’s fine. The report was just too much. I woke you up, sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Haewon paused, “Did you eat? Just wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“In thirty minutes, come down to your dorm entrance.” Haewon hung up.
Jinsol stared at the time, 3:30. Haewon’s dorm was on the opposite side of campus.
She quickly washed her face, and went downstairs with her heart pounding.
Half an hour later, Haewon really appeared. She wore a thin jacket, hair slightly messy, holding a warm food bag.
“It’s so late, why did you come?” Jinsol asked, shocked and touched.
Haewon didn’t answer. She handed her the bag, “Only one convenience store was open. I got hot milk and a sandwich. Eat something, then sleep.”
The bag was warm. Something inside Jinsol snapped. She wanted to hug her, to spill all her exhaustion and affection. But all she did was clench the bag as her eyes blurred.
“Go on, it’s cold,” Haewon’s voice softened. She lifted a hand as if to pat Jinsol’s head but ended up only brushing her arm, “Don’t overthink it. You’ll finish the report. Tomorrow… no, tonight, if you need help, call me.”
“Unnie…” Jinsol choked out.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Haewon looked at her, then smiled faintly, “Don’t thank me. Go.”
After that night, Jinsol felt they had moved a little closer. But soon after, Haewon received an offer from a good company back home in Incheon. It meant she would leave Seoul after graduation.
Reality stood between them again.
Graduation season was chaos. Haewon prepared to move, end her lease, finish paperwork. Jinsol was busy planning her own future. Their time together shrank, and each meeting felt slightly awkward. The last time they ate together was at the noodle shop by the back gate.
“When’s your bus?” Jinsol asked, poking her noodles.
“Next Monday afternoon.”
“Should I come send you off?”
“No need. I don’t have much stuff. My friend will go with me. Don’t you have an interview that day?”
Jinsol actually did. But she was willing to skip it, “I can reschedule…”
“Don’t,” Haewon cut her off, “The interview matters. Prepare well.”
Jinsol didn’t push. She knew Haewon rarely changed her mind. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to go send her off or if she was afraid to. Afraid she would lose control at the station and say something she couldn’t take back.
“I hope everything goes well in Incheon.” Jinsol raised her coke.
Haewon clinked her cup lightly, “Same for you. If you stay in Seoul, take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
“If anything happens, you can call me.”
“Okay.”
The conversation felt like an old photograph that had faded with time. Jinsol had countless things stuck in her throat that she couldn’t bring herself to say. She looked at Haewon sitting across from her, quietly eating, and suddenly felt as if this person was miles away.
Maybe to Haewon, she really was nothing more than a close junior. Everything Jinsol had assumed was special maybe it had only been Haewon’s personality, or just the kind attention she gave to her juniors. Maybe Jinsol had simply overthought everything. The idea tightened around her chest so suddenly she felt breathless.
By the time they left the noodle shop, it was already dark. At the intersection, one headed back to the dorms, the other to Haewon’s temporary rental room outside campus.
“This is it,” Haewon said as she stopped walking.
Jinsol stopped too. They stood facing each other, only one step apart, but it felt like an ocean lay between them.
“Unnie…” Jinsol heard her own voice tremble a little.
Haewon looked at her. Under the streetlight, her eyes shone slightly, as if covered with a thin layer of moisture. But she didn’t say anything, she just gave a faint smile.
“Goodbye, Jinsol.”
“Goodbye, unnie.”
No hug. No extra words. Haewon turned around and walked in the opposite direction. Jinsol stood there, watching her silhouette gradually disappear into the night. Suddenly she remembered the slanted shadow at sunrise on the mountain peak, the weight on her shoulder on the bus, the warmth of the heat pack at three thirty in the morning. Those little memories now felt like grains of sand blown away by the wind.
Jinsol knew that some things end before they ever have the chance to begin.
After Haewon left, Jinsol forced herself to let everything go. She threw all her energy into job hunting and her graduation issues. Jiwoo and Kyujin could tell something was off and often dragged her out to eat or watch movies, making sure never to mention Haewon.
Not long after, Jinsol received an offer from a company in Seoul. Life seemed to fall into a new rhythm. Work went well. She made new colleagues. And she kept moving forward.
She and Haewon didn’t completely cut contact. They exchanged holiday greetings, and when they came across each other’s posts online, they would like them or leave a short comment. Their conversations stayed politely distant.
In her second year of work, Jinsol ran into Yoona at an industry networking event. After graduation, Yoona had joined a broadcasting station and was doing well. They went for coffee, talked about their recent lives, and inevitably, Haewon came up.
“Haewon’s doing well in Incheon. Work’s stable, just busy,” Yoona said casually while stirring her coffee, “Her family still seems to be arranging blind dates for her.”
Jinsol’s hand froze for a moment around her cup before she quickly relaxed and smiled, “Really? She… should probably start thinking about that anyway.”
“Yeah, she’s at that age,” Yoona said, glancing at Jinsol. There was something probing in her eyes, but she said nothing more and changed the subject.
Jinsol also tried opening herself up to new people. Friends set her up, she met people at work, and she went on a few casual dates, but nothing went anywhere. Not because the other person wasn’t good, just because something always felt missing.
That was until she met Seol Yoona. Yes, Seol Yoona. Not as “Haewon’s roommate,” but simply as herself.
It happened at an after party following a movie premiere. Jinsol was representing her company, and Yoona had been invited as media. They clicked easily, talking first about the film, then the industry, then funny stories from their work. Jinsol realized that once she removed the label of “Haewon’s roommate,” Yoona was genuinely interesting. They started messaging more. Their conversations drifted from work to life. Yoona invited her to exhibitions, movies, and new restaurants. At first, Jinsol felt uneasy, after all, Yoona was close to Haewon. But Yoona didn’t seem bothered, and never brought up Haewon again.
“Jinsol, I think I like you.”
They were walking home after watching a play when Yoona suddenly said it.
Jinsol froze. She’d had a feeling, but hearing it still stunned her.
“I know you might need time to think,” Yoona said with a small, awkward smile, “Or maybe you don’t feel the same. It’s okay. I just… think if I like someone, I should say it. I don’t want to regret it later.”
For some reason, those words struck something deep inside Jinsol. She remembered that night years ago when she asked Haewon, “If you like someone, should you tell them early?” And she remembered Haewon’s reply that uncertainty can last longer.
To confess and face whatever might change, or to maintain a comfortable uncertainty? She had chosen the latter once and lost something because of it.
Looking at Yoona, the shell around Jinsol cracked a little. Maybe she could give herself a chance. And give this girl beside her one too.
They started dating. The relationship was healthy, steady, and brought Jinsol happiness. Nearly three years passed like that. Through mutual friends, Jinsol occasionally heard bits about Haewon: a promotion, good blind dates arranged by her family, things seeming to go well... When she heard it, she didn’t feel that sharp ache anymore. She genuinely hoped Haewon was doing well.
Her relationship with Yoona continued smoothly. After years of dating, they moved in together. Their life was filled with ordinary joys. Jinsol believed she had finally let go of her memories of Haewon.
Then the wedding invitation arrived.
Jinsol had just finished dinner with Yoona and was cleaning up. The courier envelope looked fancy. Inside was a bright red invitation with gold lettering.
“The wedding of Oh Haewon & Park Junwoo…”
The time and place were printed clearly.
Jinsol held the invitation, standing still. Hearing Yoona’s footsteps coming from the living room, she quickly composed herself and handed it over.
“Haewon’s getting married,” she said calmly.
Yoona looked it over without much change in expression, then glanced up, “Are you going?”
Jinsol was quiet for a moment. Their contact over the years had been lukewarm, barely anything. There was no real reason she had to go. But something inside whispered: Go. See her once more. Say a proper goodbye.
“I’ll go,” Jinsol said, “She’s still my senior.”
Yoona nodded and placed the invitation on the table, “Okay. I’ll go with you.”
Jinsol looked at her in surprise.
“What?” Yoona laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, “Worried I’ll feel awkward? Or worried you will? It’s been years. I kind of want to see how Haewon looks in a wedding dress.”
Jinsol laughed despite herself, the heaviness easing a little. She slipped her arms around Yoona’s waist and kissed her lips, “Alright. Let’s go together.”
The wedding was held at a seaside hotel. They arrived a day early and checked into a nearby room. The weather on the wedding day was perfect. The banquet hall was elegantly decorated with flowers, sheer drapes, soft music, and lively guests.
Jinsol and Yoona entered the hall. She’d expected to feel nervous, but instead she felt strangely calm. They signed the guest book and left their gift money. A friend or relative from the groom’s side led them to their seats. At the classmates’ table, she recognized several familiar faces, including Jiwoo and Kyujin.
As soon as they sat down, before she could greet anyone, Jinsol saw Haewon.
She was in a pure white wedding dress, her hair neatly tied up to show her graceful neckline, her makeup flawless. She was smiling politely as she held the arm of a man in a black suit—presumably Park Junwoo. They were speaking to several elder guests. She looked thinner than Jinsol remembered, and calmer, softer somehow.
Jinsol watched quietly. Countless memories of Oh Haewon overlapped in her mind, then slowly peeled away from the glowing bride in front of her.
“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Yoona murmured beside her.
Jinsol blinked back to reality and nodded, squeezing Yoona’s hand, “Yeah. She is.”
Jiwoo leaned in, whispering, “Didn’t expect Haewon to be the first to get married. The groom’s her coworker. His family’s well-off.”
Kyujin added, “They’re doing really well. Her family loves him.”
As they chatted, the bride and groom began making their way from table to table for the toast. They slowly approached the classmates’ table. Jinsol’s heartbeat sped up despite her attempts to stay composed. She took a deep breath. It was just a greeting, nothing more.
They arrived.
“Thank you all for coming today,” Haewon said warmly. Her eyes swept across the table and lingered for a moment on Jinsol, “Jinsol, Yoona, thank you.” Her tone was natural, as if addressing any old classmate.
“Unnie, congratulations.” Jinsol stood and raised her glass, “I wish you both a long, happy marriage.”
“Thank you.” Haewon lifted her own glass. The groom politely lifted his as well.
Their glasses clinked softly. Jinsol finished her drink. Haewon took a small sip. For just a few seconds, their eyes met. There was the faintest tremor in the air—so small it was gone before it could be named—swallowed by the noise of celebration around them.
“Oh…?” Haewon’s gaze shifted to their intertwined hands.
“My girlfriend,” Jinsol said naturally.
Yoona smiled brightly, “Congratulations, Haewon. You look beautiful today.”
Haewon’s smile deepened, “Thank you. You two look great together.”
“Yes. We’re very happy,” Jinsol said, putting her arm around Yoona’s shoulder.
After a few more polite words, the bride and groom moved to the next table. Jinsol watched Haewon walk away, but this time there was no sting, no bitterness, only peace. The ceremony continued smoothly, everything warm and touching.
Near the end of the banquet, Jinsol got up to use the restroom. On her way out, she nearly bumped into someone.
It was Haewon. She had changed into a red dress for the toast. Her makeup had been refreshed, she looked radiant. She seemed to be alone.
They froze for a second.
“What are you doing out here?” Jinsol asked first.
“Getting some air,” Haewon said with a soft smile, leaning lightly against the window, “It’s a little stuffy inside.”
Jinsol walked over and stood beside her, looking out as well, “Today’s perfect.”
“Mhm.” Haewon was quiet for a moment, then suddenly said, “Jinsol.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for coming today.” She turned to her. Without the polished smile she had worn for guests, her expression showed a trace of weariness and a familiar softness.
“It’s something I should do,” Jinsol replied.
Haewon’s lips curved into a faint, genuine smile, “Seeing you like this, I’m happy. Yoona is a good person. I hope you two stay happy.”
Those words gently smoothed out the last invisible wrinkle in Jinsol’s heart.
“You too, Haewon. You have to be happy.”
Haewon’s eyes turned a little red, but she blinked quickly. She nodded and held out her hand. Jinsol held hers out too.
Their hands clasped softly. It wasn’t the unconscious help on a mountain trail years ago, nor the silent goodbye at graduation. It was a real handshake, one that carried the letting go of the past and a blessing for each other’s future.
“I should get back,” Haewon said, letting go and adjusting her dress, “Get home safely.”
“Okay.”
Haewon headed back toward the banquet hall. Jinsol stood there watching her disappear at the end of the corridor. Outside, the sky and sea were the same bright color, sunlight sparkling as seagulls flew across. She knew they had truly said goodbye, without regret, just two people moving forward on their own paths, both having found someone to walk beside.
Jinsol and Yoona didn’t stay much longer. After saying goodbye to Jiwoo and Kyujin, they drove back to Seoul. In the car, Yoona leaned against her shoulder and fell asleep. Jinsol watched the scenery rush past outside the window and slid her fingers across her phone screen.
She opened an old cloud folder she hadn’t touched in a long time. It used to store classwork and club documents from university. Among the files, she saw a photo folder with a random name. She opened it. Inside were blurry event photos, screenshots of lectures, and—
Her hand paused.
It was a candid photo, slightly blurry, but the focus was oddly sharp on the side profile of the person at its center. Oh Haewon. The background was the familiar library seat by the window. At the corner, half of an open notebook was visible on the table and a hand holding a pen had accidentally been captured too.
Jinsol didn’t remember ever taking this photo. But she recognized the hand. Her hand. The file details said it was taken one autumn afternoon in their second year of university—the time when their relationship had been closest, suspended somewhere between friendship and something more.
So her feelings back then had scattered everywhere, showing up even in forgotten snapshots. She closed her eyes, remembering that quiet moment in the hallway earlier. And suddenly, it clicked.
Maybe Haewon had known all along. Maybe uncertainty can last longer hadn’t been pessimism, it had been protection. Protection for two people who hadn’t been brave enough yet. Protection for something fragile and beautiful, keeping it from being crushed by a rushed confession or by reality. Or maybe Haewon had been just as hesitant, just as unsure of the future, just as afraid of losing something important.
They had genuinely been drawn to each other once when they were young. But the resonance had been so soft, drowned out by too much noise. They both stayed silent, telling themselves it was one-sided, and then life simply led them in different directions.
Jinsol closed the cloud folder and locked her phone. The scenery outside sped by like the days they could never get back.
She didn’t feel regret, nor any sharp pain, just a gentle calm. What she felt back then was real. The hesitation and the missed chance were real too. But those moments shaped who she had become. Without that loss, she might never have understood the value of being loved clearly. She might not cherish her honest relationship with Yoona the way she did now.
Haewon had found her own version of stability and happiness. They were both on their own paths now, earning the kind of happiness that suited them.
That was enough.
Jinsol tilted her head, watching the calm line of Yoona’s eyebrows as she slept. She reached out and gently brushed aside a loose strand of hair on Yoona’s forehead. In her sleep, Yoona instinctively nuzzled against Jinsol’s shoulder and tightened her grip on Jinsol’s hand. Jinsol let out a quiet smile.
The car moved smoothly along the highway back to Seoul. Outside, the sky was getting darker, and the distant city lights had begun to glow. The road ahead was clear, and the warmth of the person beside her was real, solid, and within reach.
The silent rain of their youth had ended long ago. Now, the sunlight was beautiful, and the person beside her was the one who truly fit.