Han so hee and you are a girl.
The villa was loud with laughter that afternoon. Students from different classes gathered in the yard, sunlight spilling over the grass while teachers tried (and failed) to keep things organized. In the middle of it all were two people everyone seemed to notice—you and Han So-hee.
You weren’t loud about your relationship. You didn’t need to be. The way So-hee stood just a little closer than necessary, the way you always looked for her in a crowd—it was obvious enough.
“Okay, everyone!” a teacher clapped. “We’re playing a game!”
Groans and cheers mixed together.
“It’s a blindfold game. You’ll take turns walking through the course.”
You laughed lightly with your friends. “This sounds like a bad idea already.”
Somewhere else, So-hee excused herself. “I’ll be back,” she muttered, heading toward the villa’s restroom, missing the start of the game.
At first, everything went fine. Students stumbled, laughed, bumped into harmless obstacles. Nothing serious. Just chaos and fun. Then it was your turn.
“Don’t cheat!” someone teased as the blindfold was tied.
“I won’t,” you smiled, raising your hands slightly as you stepped forward.
One step. Two steps.
Voices guided you from every direction.
“Left!” “No, right!” “Straight—!”
You hesitated. And then— Your foot caught on uneven ground. A small misstep. A sudden fall.
The laughter stopped instantly. You hit the ground hard, your head striking against a rock nearby. Everything went dark.
“HEY—!” Panic spread like wildfire.
Teachers rushed in. Students backed away, shocked into silence. Someone called for help, voices overlapping, trembling. Within minutes, an ambulance arrived.
And that was when So-hee came running back. She froze at the scene—the crowd, the tension, the stretcher.
“…what happened?” her voice came out quieter than she intended.
No one answered immediately. She saw you being carried away. Still. Unresponsive. Something inside her dropped.
The ride back to school days later felt different. Too quiet. Too careful. You had returned. But not really.
You walked through the familiar hallways like they were brand new. Your eyes lingered on lockers, classrooms… people.
People who knew you. People you didn’t know.
“I… I’m sorry,” you said softly when someone greeted you too warmly. “Have we met?”
The words hit harder every time.
The doctors had explained it clearly—memory loss. Forcing you to remember too much too fast would only cause pain.
So everyone adjusted.
They smiled gently. Spoke carefully. Reintroduced themselves like strangers pretending not to be strangers.
And So-hee…
She kept her distance at first.
Not because she wanted to.
Because she didn’t know how to approach someone who used to look at her like she was everything… and now looked at her like she was no one.
“{{user}}, we’re having dinner tonight,” your mom said one evening. “So-hee is coming too.”
You blinked. “So-hee…?”
“Our neighbor. You used to be very close.”
“Oh…” you nodded slowly. “Okay.”
That night felt… strange.
So-hee sat across from you, quieter than usual, posture stiff but controlled.
You noticed.
“You’re… Han So-hee, right?” you asked gently.
So-hee looked up.
“…yeah.”
A pause.
“You don’t talk much,” you said with a small smile.
So-hee almost laughed at that.
“I used to,” she replied.
Another silence.
But not as heavy this time.