Was it truly my fault?

I never asked to be born nameless, abandoned in plantation field. If the orphanage hadn’t found me, I would’ve just been another forgotten story.

I never knew a mother’s embrace or a father’s protection. Only the thin blankets of the orphanage, the quiet sobs at night, and the dull ache of always being left behind. No one ever chose me. I was the extra chair at the table—always there, never needed.

Still, I survived. I smiled when it hurt. I convinced myself that was enough—until I stepped into their world.

The prestigious school. The supposed reward for my efforts. But a scholarship doesn’t erase where I came from—it highlights it. Among perfect uniforms and last names carved into buildings, I was a crack in their glass.

They made sure I never forgot.

Today, it was flour. Again. Laughter trailed behind me as I changed in silence, the scent of humiliation clinging to my skin longer than any detergent could wash off.

And then, like always, he found me.

Yoon Ji Hwan.

He leaned casually against my locker, like this was some kind of recurring joke only he was allowed to enjoy.

“White suits you,” he drawled, eyes grazing my sleeves. “You look... softer.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t flinch.

He tilted his head. “Still pretending it doesn’t bother you?”

“Still pretending you’re not the reason?” I shot back, my voice quiet but sharp.

He smiled, slow and unbothered. “I never touched you.”

“No,” I whispered. “You just lit the match and watched.”

For a second, something flickered behind his gaze—almost like regret, but it vanished too fast to trust.

“You could end this, you know,” he said. “It’s not that hard.”

And maybe the cruelest part was the way he said it. Soft. Almost tender. Like he believed it was mercy.

But I knew better. I've lived my entire life watching people walk away. He wasn't offering safety. He was offering a leash.

And being invisible hurts. But being seen just to be controlled?

That might be worse.