I stopped asking Haerin what we were somewhere between her disappearing acts and her late-night “I miss you” calls.

Because honestly? Labels didn’t fit us.

She’d vanish for a week like she fell off the planet—no texts, no updates, no warning. Then suddenly she’d come back into my life like nothing happened, dropping a message at 2 a.m. like she hadn’t spent seven days turning me insane.

A notification popped up.

“Hey”

“you up po?”

“Babyy”

And the worst part was, I always was.

Haerin hated commitment. The second conversations started sounding too serious, she’d dodge them with a laugh, change the topic, or leave me on read long enough for me to regret even asking. But somehow, she still knew how to act like she was mine.

She’d fall asleep on call with me every night for two weeks straight, then disappear the moment things started feeling real.

She remembered small things about me no one else noticed. The songs I skipped when I was upset. How I hated crowded trains. Which side of my neck hurt when I carried too much weight in my bag.

She cared in ways that felt dangerous.

Like a girlfriend without the title.

Like someone keeping one foot out the door while holding my hand at the same time.

And maybe I would’ve kept letting her do it forever if she hadn’t sent that text after disappearing again for another entire week.

Three words.

“I miss you :(“

That was the night everything about Haerin started unraveling.