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The party was loud, a blur of colors and laughter, but you moved through it with quiet precision, untouched by the chaos. Sunghoon was across the room, as magnetic as ever, and you… you stayed just out of reach, always observing, always calculating. Only Jiwon knew the truth, your small, secret obsession, shared in whispered confessions late at night, laughed off but never forgotten.

Then came the bottle. You barely registered it spinning, the way the polished glass caught the light. And then it landed on Jiwon.

She looked at him. And then, without hesitation, she kissed him.

Not a fleeting peck. Not the shy brush you might have imagined. It was deliberate, languid, confident. Sunghoon didn’t pull away; he leaned in, curious, caught, and for a moment the world shrank to just them.

You set your drink down, smooth, controlled. The crowd’s laughter, the music, the spinning bottle, they all faded into the background. You excused yourself with a tilt of your chin and moved toward the garden. Heels clicking softly, posture perfect, expression unreadable.

Outside, the air was sharp, the night quiet in comparison to the noise inside. You breathed in deeply, letting the cold fill the spaces fire couldn’t reach. You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You were Jiwon’s friend, the composed, admired, flawless version of yourself, but that didn’t make the burn any less real.

Because some truths, no matter how carefully tucked behind polish and poise, still sting.

You walked along the garden path, lights spilling in golden stripes, counting each step, measuring each breath. Inside, your mind ran, silent, relentless, and precise. She kissed him. And he didn’t stop her.

And that knowledge, sharp and fleeting, was enough to set your chest taut, just for a moment, before the perfect mask returned.