Jiwon didn’t even notice it at first. The hairpin, the cardigan, the bag. You’d worn them for months. But suddenly, his girlfriend was wearing the same ones—and when you commented on it, she laughed it off.

Then the whispers started.

“She copies everything I wear,” she told him, pouty lips and soft voice curling around the words like a secret. “It’s like she’s trying to be me.”

Jiwon didn’t want to believe it. Not about you. But his girlfriend looked so hurt, so certain—and you? You were acting distant lately. Bitter, even.

“Just… let her be,” he told you once in the hallway when you tried to bring it up. “She’s not trying to upset you. Maybe you’re just being too sensitive.”

That was the first time you didn’t speak to him for days.

But then you bumped into each other in the library, reaching for the same book like some cursed cliché, and it felt like you were kids again. His fingers brushed yours and he froze, eyes locked on your face like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“You always liked this one,” he muttered.

You didn’t reply. You just walked away.

It hurt more than he expected.

Still, every time his girlfriend claimed you were acting weird, he nodded. Every time she said you stared too much, or tried to one-up her, he stayed silent. He didn’t want drama. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were.

But you weren’t making it easy.

And part of him hated himself for wishing—just for a moment—that he hadn’t let go of your hand back then. That maybe if he had held on tighter, he wouldn't be stuck choosing between the girl he promised something new to… and the one he already gave his entire childhood heart to.