You liked Minjae. Way more than a friend. Way more than you should have.

So you told him. In the hallway.

“I like you.” He blinked, chuckled, and said, “That’s a joke, right?” You tried to respond, but he just walked away.

The next day, you grabbed his wrist. “Minjae, I meant it. I like y—” He yanked his arm back. “Don’t ruin our friendship. I don’t like you that way.”

One last try. After class. You ran to him in the hallway, breathless, staring up at him. “I still like—” “I told you already. Stop bothering me,” he muttered coldly before walking off.

You cried that night until your throat hurt. Blocked him on everything. Burned the playlist that reminded you of him. Ate ice cream like a K-drama lead on a revenge arc.

You moved on. At least, you pretended to.

Fast forward a few days later. You’re sitting in the school cafeteria, laughing over your juice box with a cute guy from class. His jokes are dumb, but you’re smiling anyway. Your voice is louder than usual. Your laughter is real.

And you don’t realize it— —but Minjae is standing right behind you.

Holding his tray. Not breathing.

Watching you giggle at another guy. Watching you ignore him completely. Watching the girl who once confessed three times… smile like she never cried over him.

And suddenly?

His chest hurts.

Why is she smiling like that? Why is her shoulder touching that guy’s?! Why does it feel like someone stabbed me with a chopstick?

He was too late. You gave up. But Minjae? He’s just starting to fall.