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People always say you never see it coming.
They're wrong.
Looking back, the signs were always there.
I just didn't know what I was looking at.
My name is Han Jisung, and this is the story of how I survived the worst year of my life.
I wish I could tell you I left the first time he hurt me.
I didn't.
I wish I could tell you I hated him by the end.
I didn't.
I loved him.
That's what made it so hard.
I met Kim Min-jae during my senior year of high school.
He wasn't the loudest person in class or the most popular, but he had this stupid smile that somehow made everyone around him smile too.
The first time he talked to me was because I dropped my pencil in math class.
He picked it up before I could.
"You drop everything?" he asked with a grin.
I rolled my eyes.
"Only important things."
"So... just pencils?"
I laughed.
Looking back...
I wish I'd never laughed.
But if I hadn't...
None of the good memories would've happened either.
The first few months were amazing.
We spent almost every day together. We'd stay after school to study, stop at convenience stores for snacks, and argue over what movie to watch whenever one of us picked the other up on the weekend.
He remembered my favorite drink without asking.
He'd save me a seat in class.
He always texted me good morning before I even woke up.
When he asked me to be his boyfriend, I didn't even let him finish the question.
I just smiled and said yes.
If someone had told eighteen-year-old me how things would end...
I would've laughed in their face.
The changes were so small that I barely noticed them.
It started with questions.
"Who were you texting?"
"Where are you?"
"Who's driving you home?"
At first, I thought it was sweet.
He just cared about me. Right?
Then the questions became rules.
"Don't wear that."
"I don't like you hanging out with him."
"Tell me when you get home."
It wasn't controlling.
At least...
That's what I kept telling myself.
When I looked uncomfortable, he'd apologize immediately.
"I'm sorry."
"I just worry about you."
"I love you."
Those three words fixed everything.
Until they didn't.
Graduation came faster than either of us expected.
We talked about the future like every other couple our age.
College.
Jobs.
Moving in together.
Growing old.
It sounded perfect.
I thought we'd made it.
I didn't realize I was walking straight into the worst year of my life.
Moving in together felt like the beginning of our lives.
For a little while...
It was.
The apartment wasn't anything special.
The walls were too thin, the kitchen was tiny, and the heater barely worked.
But it was ours.
Or...
I thought it was.
The first real argument happened over something so stupid that I almost laugh thinking about it now.
Almost.
I couldn't find a towel after my shower, so I borrowed one of Min-jae's oversized T-shirts.
I'd barely pulled it over my head when the bedroom door slammed open.
"What are you doing?"
I blinked.
"Wearing your shirt?"
"I can see that."
His voice was cold.
"I didn't say you could."
"I just needed something dry."
"I don't care."
The room suddenly felt much smaller.
"I said don't touch my stuff."
"I'm sorry."
He stepped closer.
Then closer.
Until my back hit the wall.
His hand slammed against it beside my head.
I flinched.
"Do you ever think before you do anything?"
"I said I was sorry."
For a long moment, he just stared at me.
Then he walked away.
I slid down the wall after he left.
I remember thinking...
Everyone fights.
I wish that had been true.
After that, the arguments became more frequent.
Dinner wasn't ready?
My fault.
Laundry wasn't folded the way he liked?
My fault.
I forgot to buy his favorite drink?
My fault.
Nothing I did was ever enough.
The first time he hit me...
It was over a plate.
I dropped it while washing the dishes.
The crash made both of us jump.
Before I could apologize, his hand connected with my face.
Everything went silent.
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
Then he sighed.
"Look what you made me do."
Those words stayed with me longer than the bruise.
Because somehow...
I believed him.
Around the same time, I started seeing a therapist.
I told her I was exhausted all the time.
That I couldn't sleep.
That getting out of bed felt impossible.
After listening quietly, she smiled kindly.
"Jisung, I think you're experiencing depression."
The word echoed in my head.
Depression.
It explained a lot.
Just not everything.
I never told her about Min-jae.
Not the bruises.
Not the yelling.
Not how I jumped every time I heard keys in the front door.
Instead...
I lied.
Every single week.
Weeks turned into months.
The bruises became easier to hide.
Long sleeves.
Concealer.
Fake smiles.
Eventually...
People stopped asking if I was okay.
Except for one person.
There was a guy in one of my classes.
Lee Minho.
We'd never really talked.
I'd seen him around campus plenty of times, but we were basically strangers.
That was about to change.
I just didn't know it yet.The next morning started like every other morning.
I woke up exhausted.
I barely slept the night before. Min-jae had been yelling over something I'd already forgotten, but the knot in my stomach was still there. It always was.
I got dressed, covered the fading bruise on my cheek with concealer, grabbed my backpack, and headed to campus.
I just had to make it through the day.
One class.
Then another.
Then lunch.
Then home.
That was my routine.
Keep my head down.
Don't draw attention to myself.
Don't give anyone a reason to ask questions.
It was working...
Until I wasn't paying attention.
I turned the corner a little too fast and walked straight into someone.
"Oh—!"
My backpack slipped off my shoulder as my binder flew out of my hands. Papers scattered across the hallway, and my laptop hit the floor with a loud thud.
My heart nearly stopped.
"Oh my god," I blurted, immediately kneeling down. "I'm so sorry!"
"No, that was my fault."
The voice was calm.
Gentle.
I looked up.
It was the guy I'd seen around campus.
Lee Minho.
He was already kneeling beside me, carefully picking up every page before anyone could step on them.
"I'm really sorry," he said, handing me a stack of papers. "I wasn't paying attention."
"I wasn't either."
He glanced at my laptop.
"...Is it okay?"
I picked it up with shaky hands and opened it just enough to check the screen.
Still working.
I let out a sigh of relief.
"Yeah. Somehow."
"Good."
For a second, neither of us said anything.
The hallway buzzed with students rushing to class, but somehow it felt strangely quiet where we were.
He handed me the last sheet of paper.
"There you go."
"Thanks."
"No problem."
He stood up and brushed the dust off his jeans.
I did the same.
Another awkward silence settled between us.
I smiled nervously.
"I'm Jisung, by the way."
He nodded once.
"Minho."
Then, just as he started walking away, he looked back over his shoulder.
"Try not to drop everything next time."
I laughed.
"I'll do my best."
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he disappeared down the hallway.
...
Huh.
He wasn't nearly as intimidating as he looked.
After that, I started noticing him more.
Not in a creepy way.
I just... noticed him.
He always sat near the window in our lecture hall.
He always arrived five minutes early.
He always had headphones around his neck, but I don't think I ever saw him actually wearing them.
Sometimes we'd pass each other in the hallway.
He'd give me a small nod.
I'd smile back.
It became our unspoken routine.
It was nice.
Simple.
Normal.
I'd almost forgotten what normal felt like.
A week later, I ran into him again outside the library.
"Hey."
I turned around.
Minho was walking toward me with two coffees in his hands.
"I accidentally bought two."
He held one out toward me.
"You want it?"
I blinked.
"You sure?"
He shrugged.
"I don't drink caramel."
I looked down at the cup.
"...This is caramel."
"I know."
"...So you bought the wrong one?"
"Unfortunately."
I couldn't help but laugh.
"I guess I can save you from your tragic mistake."
He smiled.
"I'd appreciate that."
We ended up walking across campus together.
It wasn't some deep conversation.
We talked about classes.
Professors.
Assignments.
How terrible the cafeteria food was.
The kind of conversation you have with someone who's slowly becoming a friend.
It felt...
Easy.
I hadn't realized how long it had been since talking to someone felt easy.
When we reached my next class, Minho stopped.
"So..."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Do you maybe want to eat lunch together sometime?"
My stomach dropped.
Lunch.
With Minho.
Min-jae would hate that.
I must've hesitated too long because Minho quickly shook his head.
"You don't have to. I just thought I'd ask."
"No!"
The word came out louder than I meant it to.
A few people turned to look at us.
I cleared my throat.
"I mean..."
"I'd like that."
His shoulders relaxed.
"Tomorrow?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Sure."
"Cool."
He smiled.
"I'll meet you outside the cafeteria after second period."
As he walked away, I couldn't stop staring after him.
For the first time in months...
I found myself actually looking forward to tomorrow.
I just didn't realize...
Tomorrow was going to change everything.The next morning, I almost didn't go.
I stood outside the cafeteria for a good minute, debating whether I should just text Minho and tell him I wasn't feeling well.
Not that I had his number.
...Minor detail.
Before I could chicken out, I heard someone call my name.
"Jisung!"
I looked up.
Minho was waving at me from the cafeteria doors.
"Thought you changed your mind."
"I almost did," I admitted.
He laughed.
"Well, I'm glad you didn't."
"So am I."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
For a second, we just stood there awkwardly.
Then Minho smiled.
"C'mon. If we're any later, all the good food's gonna be gone."
I snorted.
"There is good food?"
"No."
"But let me be optimistic."
Lunch was...
Normal.
Wonderfully, painfully normal.
We complained about classes, laughed about one of our professors accidentally calling a student by the wrong name for an entire semester, and argued over whether cereal counted as soup.
"It literally doesn't," I said.
"It technically could."
"It absolutely could not."
"It has liquid."
"It has milk."
"So?"
"So milk isn't broth!"
"Who's making these rules?"
"I am."
He laughed so hard he nearly dropped his drink.
"You know," he said once he finally caught his breath, "you're funnier than I expected."
I blinked.
"I am?"
"You always look so serious."
"Oh."
I looked down at my tray.
"Sorry."
"What?"
"I didn't mean to look serious."
His smile disappeared.
"Jisung..."
His voice softened.
"You don't have to apologize for that."
Something about the way he said it made my chest ache.
Nobody had ever told me that before.
For a little while...
I forgot.
I forgot about Min-jae.
I forgot about the apartment.
I forgot about walking on eggshells.
I was just...
Happy.
Then I looked across the cafeteria.
Min-jae was staring at me.
He wasn't eating.
He wasn't talking to anyone.
He was just watching.
Watching me laugh.
Watching me smile.
Watching Minho.
The smile disappeared from my face instantly.
Minho noticed.
"You okay?"
"...Yeah."
"You sure?"
"I just remembered I have an assignment due."
He looked like he wanted to ask something else.
Instead, he nodded.
"Okay."
I hated lying to him.
The rest of the day crawled by.
Every class felt twice as long.
Every vibration from my phone made my heart jump.
By the time I got out of my last lecture, I had three missed calls from Min-jae.
And seven texts.
Where are you?
Who were you with?
Answer me.
Don't ignore me.
I saw you.
The last message made my stomach twist.
We're talking when you get home.
I thought that was the worst part.
It wasn't.
When I got outside, Min-jae was already waiting for me.
Leaning against his car.
His arms folded across his chest.
He smiled when he saw me.
It wasn't a happy smile.
"Get in."
I didn't argue.
I knew better.
The drive was silent.
That somehow made it worse.
I kept waiting for him to yell.
Instead, he drove past our apartment.
"Min-jae..."
No answer.
"Where are we going?"
Still nothing.
A sick feeling settled in my stomach.
The buildings slowly disappeared, replaced by empty streets and abandoned lots.
Eventually, he pulled into a cracked parking lot outside an old warehouse.
My heart sank.
No.
Not here.
His friends' cars were already parked outside.
He turned off the engine.
"Get out."
I couldn't move.
"I said..."
His voice dropped dangerously low.
"...get out."
My hands were shaking as I reached for the door handle.
The second I stepped inside, I knew something was wrong.
Six pairs of eyes turned toward me.
Someone locked the door behind us.
I swallowed hard.
"Min-jae..."
He walked past me without a word and leaned casually against the wall.
One of his friends stepped forward.
Another blocked the exit.
The room suddenly felt much smaller.
"Please..." I whispered.
"Can we just go home?"
Nobody answered.
Then Min-jae laughed.
A quiet, humorless laugh.
"Maybe now you'll finally learn."
My heart started pounding.
"Learn what?"
He looked me dead in the eyes.
"Who you belong to."
Nobody moved.
The warehouse was eerily quiet.
I looked around the room, hoping, praying, that someone would say this was all some stupid joke.
Nobody did.
Min-jae leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, watching me like he was waiting for a show to start.
One of his friends took a step toward me.
"So..." he said with a grin. "You're the boyfriend."
I swallowed hard.
"...Yeah."
"You don't talk much."
"I-I don't really have anything to say."
A few of them laughed.
The sound made my skin crawl.
I looked back at Min-jae.
"Please," I whispered. "Can we just go home?"
He tilted his head.
"Why?"
"I don't want to be here."
"That's funny."
He pushed himself off the wall and walked toward me.
"I didn't ask what you wanted."
I took a step back.
He took another step forward.
Soon my back hit the cold concrete wall.
There was nowhere left to go.
"You embarrassed me today."
"I didn't mean to."
"You laughed with him."
"He was just a friend."
"I don't care."
His voice stayed calm.
Somehow...
That scared me more than when he yelled.
"You smiled at him."
"I smile at everyone."
"You don't smile like that."
"I wasn't—"
His hand shot out, grabbing my jaw hard enough to make me wince.
"Don't lie to me."
Tears stung my eyes.
"I'm not lying."
For a long moment, he just stared at me.
Then he let go.
I stumbled backward, rubbing my jaw.
"You know what your problem is?" he asked.
I stayed quiet.
"You think people are going to save you."
He glanced toward his friends.
"They won't."
Nobody spoke.
Nobody stopped him.
They just watched.
Just like he did.
Minutes felt like hours.
Every joke they made was at my expense.
Every laugh chipped away at what little confidence I had left.
I begged to go home more times than I could count.
Every answer was another laugh.
By the time Min-jae finally decided we were leaving, I didn't have the energy to argue anymore.
I just wanted the day to end.
The drive home was silent.
I rested my forehead against the window and watched the streetlights blur together.
I kept asking myself the same question.
How did my life end up like this?
I couldn't think of an answer.
The next morning, every part of me hurt.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to hide the bruises with concealer.
One on my cheek.
Another near my jaw.
A darker one just above my collarbone.
There wasn't enough makeup in the world to cover all of them.
I pulled on a hoodie instead.
Maybe nobody would notice.
Maybe.
Campus was already busy when I arrived.
Students rushed between buildings, laughing with their friends.
It felt like I was watching someone else's life.
I kept my head down and headed toward my lecture hall.
"Jisung."
I stopped walking.
Minho.
He was standing a few feet away with his backpack slung over one shoulder.
The smile he'd been wearing disappeared the second he saw my face.
"...What happened?"
"I fell."
Even I cringed at how unconvincing it sounded.
He looked at me for a long moment.
"You fell."
"...Yeah."
"...Into somebody's fist?"
I let out a nervous laugh.
"It wasn't like that."
He didn't argue.
He didn't accuse me of lying.
He just looked...
Sad.
"You don't have to tell me," he said quietly.
"But if someone is hurting you..."
He hesitated.
"...I'm here."
Something inside me cracked.
I'd spent months pretending everything was okay.
Months pretending the bruises were accidents.
Months pretending I wasn't terrified to go home every night.
I couldn't do it anymore.
The words came out before I could stop them.
"I have a boyfriend."
Minho stayed silent.
"He's..."
I looked at the ground.
"He wasn't always like this."
My voice shook.
"He used to be kind."
I laughed bitterly.
"I don't even know when everything changed."
By the time I finished explaining, I was crying.
Not loudly.
Just enough that I couldn't stop wiping my eyes.
Minho waited until I was done.
Then he handed me a packet of tissues from his backpack.
"I don't know exactly what you've been through," he said.
"But I do know one thing."
I looked up.
"You don't deserve any of it."
Nobody had ever said those words to me before.
Not my therapist.
Not my family.
Nobody.
I burst into tears all over again.
Without saying anything, Minho stepped forward and wrapped me in a hug.
It wasn't tight.
It wasn't forced.
It was the kind of hug that silently asked permission.
For the first time in months...
I hugged someone back.
We ended up spending the rest of the afternoon together.
We walked around campus.
Talked about anything except Min-jae.
He made me laugh more than once.
For a few hours...
I almost felt normal again.
When the sun began to set, Minho glanced at the clock on his phone.
"I should probably take you home."
The smile faded from my face.
He noticed immediately.
"...You don't want to go back."
It wasn't a question.
I looked away.
"I have to."
He sighed softly.
"I don't like the idea of leaving you there."
"I'll be okay."
Neither of us believed that.
The drive was quiet.
The digital clock on the dashboard read 10:45 p.m.
Minho parked outside my apartment and turned toward me.
"Thanks for today."
"No..."
I managed a small smile.
"Thank you."
He smiled back.
"If you ever need anything..."
He let the sentence trail off.
"I know."
I climbed out of the car.
I made it three steps before I saw him.
Min-jae.
Standing in the doorway.
Waiting.
Every instinct told me to run.
Instead...
I froze.
His eyes locked onto mine.
Then they shifted toward Minho's car as it pulled away.
His jaw clenched.
Slowly...
He walked toward me.
"Where the fuck have you been?"
My throat went dry.
"I was with a friend."
His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.
Hard.
"Who."
"A classmate."
His grip tightened until I cried out.
"Min-jae... please."
"You think I'm stupid?"
"No!"
"You think I didn't see you?"
He twisted my wrist.
Pain exploded through my arm.
There was a loud...
Pop.
I screamed.
My knees nearly gave out.
He didn't stop.
"You've been lying to me!"
"I'm sorry!"
"Stop crying!"
"I can't!"
His fist came toward me.
Everything went black.
When I finally opened my eyes...
The first thing I heard...
Was someone crying.
Not yelling.
Not laughing.
Crying.
I slowly turned my head.
Minho sat beside my hospital bed with his face buried in his hands.
"I thought I lost you..."
he whispered.
For the first time in a very long time...
Someone was crying because they cared whether I lived.
Everything hurt.
My head.
My wrist.
Even breathing felt like work.
Slowly, I opened my eyes.
The bright hospital lights made me squint, and the steady beeping of a heart monitor filled the room.
I was alive.
"...Jisung?"
The voice was quiet.
Almost afraid.
I turned my head.
Minho was sitting beside my bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his face buried in his hands.
His eyes were red.
Had he been...
Crying?
The second he realized I was awake, he stood up so quickly that the chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"Oh my god."
His voice cracked.
"You're awake."
I tried to answer, but the only thing that came out was a raspy groan.
"Don't," he said gently. "Your throat's going to hurt. The doctor said you hit your head pretty hard."
I blinked slowly.
"...What happened?"
Minho looked away for a moment, rubbing a hand across his face before sitting back down.
"I dropped you off," he began quietly.
"But something didn't feel right."
He let out a shaky breath.
"I don't know why."
"I just... had this feeling."
"So I turned the car around."
His hands trembled as he spoke.
"I'd only been gone a couple of minutes when I heard something hit the floor."
"I ran inside."
His voice broke.
"You were lying there."
"...You weren't moving."
Silence settled between us.
"I thought..."
He swallowed hard.
"I thought I was too late."
For a long moment, neither of us said anything.
I didn't know what to say.
Nobody had ever come back for me before.
The television mounted in the corner of the room was quietly playing the evening news.
"...University student Han Jisung remains in stable condition after what police are currently calling a household accident."
Household accident?
The screen changed.
My stomach twisted.
Min-jae.
He stood in front of a crowd of reporters, tears running down his face.
"He tripped," he sobbed.
"It all happened so fast. He hit his head, and I couldn't do anything."
One reporter asked if we'd been arguing.
"No," Min-jae answered immediately.
"We were happy."
Happy?
I almost laughed.
If my jaw hadn't hurt so much.
"What an idiot," I muttered.
Minho looked over at the television before quietly turning it off.
"You don't have to watch him anymore."
The next few days passed in a blur.
Doctors came and went.
Nurses checked my wrist every few hours.
Apparently, Min-jae had fractured it when he twisted it.
I wasn't surprised.
The bruises across my face faded little by little, but every time I caught my reflection in the hospital bathroom mirror...
I still looked scared.
Minho visited every single day.
Sometimes we'd talk.
Sometimes we'd sit in comfortable silence.
Sometimes he'd bring me terrible vending machine snacks because the cafeteria food somehow tasted even worse.
"You know," I said one afternoon, looking down at the packet of stale crackers he'd handed me.
"I think these expired before I was born."
He looked offended.
"I'll have you know I paid an entire dollar for those."
"A whole dollar?"
"My wallet is devastated."
I laughed.
A real laugh.
It caught both of us off guard.
"There it is," Minho smiled.
"What?"
"Your laugh."
"I was starting to miss it."
My cheeks grew warm.
"...Thanks."
Three days later, the doctor finally came in with good news.
"You're free to go home today."
Home.
The word made my stomach drop.
Minho noticed immediately.
"You don't have to go back there."
"I..."
I stared down at the blanket covering my legs.
"I don't have anywhere else."
"You have me."
I looked up.
His expression never changed.
He wasn't saying it because he felt sorry for me.
He meant it.
Every word.
"You can stay with me until we figure something out."
"I don't want to be a burden."
"You won't be."
I opened my mouth to argue.
He beat me to it.
"And before you try saying no..."
He folded his arms.
"I'm not asking."
Despite everything...
I smiled.
But first...
I had to go back.
Not forever.
Just once.
I needed my clothes.
My passport.
The few things that still belonged to me.
Before leaving the hospital, I asked Minho to wait outside.
There was somewhere I needed to go first.
My therapist looked relieved the second she saw me walk through her office door.
"Oh, Jisung..."
She stood and wrapped me in a gentle hug.
"I was so worried."
That was all it took.
Everything I'd been holding inside for nearly a year came pouring out.
I told her everything.
Every bruise.
Every slap.
Every threat.
Every apology.
Every lie I'd told to protect him.
By the time I finished, I was sobbing so hard I could barely breathe.
"He hurts me," I cried.
"I know."
"I was so scared."
"I know."
"I thought..."
My voice broke.
"I thought maybe if I loved him enough..."
She gently shook her head.
"No amount of love gives someone permission to hurt you."
Silence filled the room.
Then she smiled.
"I'm proud of you."
I frowned.
"For what?"
"For surviving long enough to ask for help."
Everything moved quickly after that.
My therapist contacted the police while I sat beside Minho in the waiting room.
An officer came to speak with me.
Then another.
I answered every question.
This time...
I didn't lie.
Later that afternoon, I returned to the apartment one last time.
My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped my keys.
Minho waited outside in his car.
"I'll text you every minute," I promised.
"You'd better."
"I will."
"And if anything feels wrong..."
"I know."
"Leave."
I nodded.
"I promise."
The apartment was silent.
For a second, I wondered if he wasn't home.
Then someone knocked on the door.
Min-jae groaned from the bedroom.
"Can you get that?"
I froze.
Another knock.
He sighed loudly and walked toward the door himself.
"Who keeps knocking—"
The sentence never finished.
"Kim Min-jae?"
A firm voice echoed through the apartment.
"You're under arrest for aggravated assault, unlawful imprisonment, and domestic violence."
Everything happened at once.
The officers stepped inside.
Min-jae started shouting.
"I didn't do anything!"
"She's lying!"
"He fell!"
One of the officers corrected him.
"He."
Min-jae looked at me.
For the first time since we'd met...
He looked scared.
Not angry.
Not controlling.
Scared.
I realized something.
He couldn't hurt me anymore.
I picked up my backpack.
That was all I took.
Everything else...
I left behind.
The apartment.
The memories.
The fear.
The lies.
When I stepped outside, Minho was already walking toward me.
The second I saw him...
I broke.
I wrapped my arms around him and cried harder than I ever had before.
"Is..." I hiccupped.
"Is it finally over?"
He hugged me back immediately.
His arms were warm.
Safe.
"It's over."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
I believed him.
As we walked toward his car, a cool breeze swept through the parking lot.
I shivered.
Without saying a word, Minho pulled off his oversized hoodie and draped it over my shoulders.
It smelled like fresh laundry and the faintest hint of his cologne.
I pulled it tighter around myself.
For the first time in over a year...
I wasn't wondering when the next punch would come.
For the first time in over a year...
I wasn't afraid to go home.
Because for the first time...
Home wasn't a place.
It was the person walking beside me.