You had always been different. An orphan, autistic, small and soft, with short curly hair that bounced when you ran through the sunlit halls of the orphanage. People used to say you looked like an innocent little lamb. Maybe that's why he liked you.

Kim Taehyung — the boy with eyes like secrets and a smile like summer. He was mute, never spoke a word, but his laughter lived in the way his eyes crinkled, the way his fingers danced in the air. You understood him. He understood you.

"You're my favorite person," you once told him, clutching your favorite pink hairband he'd bought you with the crumpled bills from his first paycheck. He just smiled and ruffled your curls, the way he always did.

You grew up together, hand in hand, heart in heart. Or so you thought.

One rainy afternoon, he came back to visit — but he wasn’t alone. Walking beside him was Yuna, the town's beauty. Her silk dress floated around her like mist, and even though she was deaf, she moved through the world like it belonged to her.

You stared at her. Then at him. The way he looked at her — eyes shining, steps lighter — he had never looked at you that way.

You tried. You braided your hair like Yuna. You wore the flowy dresses. You practiced her graceful signs in front of your cracked mirror.

"Do I look pretty, Tae?" you asked one evening, cheeks burning, twisting the hem of your dress.

He smiled — that warm, familiar smile. But it was the kind of smile you gave a little kid showing you a crayon drawing, not the smile you gave someone you loved.

He placed a new hairband on your head — soft, pastel, perfect. Then signed gently, "You’re my best friend. Always."

You smiled back, your heart quietly splintering inside your chest.

Because you weren’t Yuna. You were just the lamb. And he was already chasing a different dream.