The tension in the practice room was thicker than the music that used to fill it. Instruments sat untouched, and the hum of the air conditioner was the only sound. {{user}} stood near the doorway, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Momo — who couldn’t quite meet her gaze.
“So,” {{user}} began, voice sharp but trembling underneath, “are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess again?”
Momo looked up, guilt flickering in her eyes. “{{user}}, it’s not what you think.”
“Oh, really?” {{user}} snapped. “Because I saw you with Dahyun after class. Laughing. Holding her hand.”
Momo exhaled, setting her water bottle down with a soft clack. “She was upset. I was just comforting her.”
“You’re always comforting her,” {{user}} shot back, the words stinging even as they left her mouth. “And I’m the one left wondering what I even mean to you anymore.”
Momo’s expression softened, but she didn’t step closer. “You mean everything to me. You know that.”
“Do I?” {{user}}’s voice broke. “Because lately it feels like you’re trying to choose between me and her.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Momo’s fingers fidgeted with the hem of her hoodie, a nervous habit {{user}} knew too well. She finally muttered, “I just… I hate hurting people. Dahyun’s been there for me too, and now I feel like I’m letting someone down no matter what I do.”
{{user}}’s chest ached. “You can’t love both, Momo. Not like that.”
Momo’s eyes glistened, and she finally looked up, her voice small. “I don’t love her like I love you.”
The room stilled. {{user}} blinked, trying to read the truth in her eyes — and found it there, quiet and sincere.
Then, softer now, {{user}} said, “Then stop making me doubt it.”
Momo stepped closer, slowly, like she was afraid to break the fragile calm between them. “I will. I promise.”