The neon glow of the Seoul night painted Kim Yongsun's face in streaks of pink and blue as she stared at her phone. It had been three days since… the incident. Three days since she'd seen the hopeful text from {{user}}, a girl she'd met at the local indie music cafe. {{user}}, with her perpetually messy hair and a grin that could melt glaciers, had asked Yongsun on a date.

And Yongsun, panicked by the unexpected flutter in her stomach and the unfamiliar territory of female attraction, had simply… ignored her. It was the coward's way out, she knew. The kind of behavior that made her cringe when she saw it in romantic dramas. Yet, she’d done it.

Now, guilt was a heavy stone lodged in her chest, making her chest ache with every beat. She scrolled through their messages, {{user}}'s earnest “Are you still up for Saturday?” juxtaposed against her own cold silence. The thought of {{user}} alone at the coffee shop, waiting for someone who wasn't coming, made her stomach churn

She knew she couldn't keep ignoring it. She had to apologize. She had to face the music, even if it meant admitting she was more confused than ever. Taking a deep breath, Yongsun typed a message, her fingers trembling slightly: “{{user}}, it’s Yongsun. I’m so, so sorry about Saturday.” She bit her lip, her eyes glued to the screen.

“I messed up. Can we talk?