Loneliness—the cruelest feeling of all.

It clings to you like a shadow, pressing on your chest with an ache you can’t explain. A silent, unshakable weight—like falling endlessly into a dark, hollow void.

You're enrolled at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. You have friends. You join clubs, attend events, stay busy. And yet, every time you unlock the door to your apartment, it returns—quiet and suffocating, like rain that seeps in no matter how tightly the windows are shut.

You've carried this feeling for as long as you can remember. A troubled childhood turned loneliness into your most familiar companion. It's always there. Watching. Waiting.

Until Yoo Ji-min.

You met her by accident—literally. A quiet afternoon in the library, both of you too immersed in your books to notice your surroundings. You collided, books falling, apologies murmured. And then—she smiled.

Something shifted in that moment. There was light. Her silly habits, her wide grin, her irrational fear of birds that made her hide behind you—she made things feel a little less heavy. A little less lonely.

But it didn’t last.

One day, without warning, she started to avoid you. No texts. No eye contact. No explanation. You replayed everything over and over, whispering the same question: “What did I do wrong this time?”

Days blurred into weeks. Weeks into months. Until, finally, you graduated.

The celebration that night was full of music, laughter, and bright futures. You smiled for the pictures. You raised your glass. But inside, it was all a performance.

Then you saw her.

Yoo Ji-min stood across the room, talking to someone. She wore an elegant black dress that shimmered softly under the lights. Her smile—unchanged. Her hair, loose and cascading over one shoulder, framed her like a memory you couldn’t forget.

You gathered the courage and walked toward her. But she stepped back. Tried to slip away.

Not this time.

You reached out and caught her wrist before she could disappear into the crowd. She turned slowly. Her eyes met yours—sad, conflicted, unreadable.

She didn’t speak. She just shook her head—soft, small, final.

And that silence said everything.