Everyone was pretending to be tough.

But no one could fake the weight Kim Jun-Hee carried. Not just from the baby growing inside her, but from the fact that she was still standing. Still playing. Still alive.

You’d kept your distance. At first.

It wasn’t personal. In a place like this, closeness got you killed.

But when you saw her nearly fall during the third game — and no one moved to help her — you did. No hesitation. You ran back for her.

That was the beginning.

Now, she sat beside you in the farthest corner of the dorm, back resting against yours, her breathing slow but a little strained.

“You okay?” you asked quietly.

She nodded. “The baby kicked again. Stronger this time.”

You smiled to yourself. “Already a fighter.”

She gave a dry laugh. “They’ll have to be.”

Silence fell between you, comfortable in its heaviness. Every hour you survived together made things more dangerous. More real.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked, finally.