2015.
The hallway was drenched in shadow, the faint glow from a lone desk lamp spilling through the thin crack of a half-closed door. Muffled voices floated toward Min-jae—Seok-min's deep tone tangled with a softer, lilting voice.
His brow furrowed. Seok-min… with a girl?
He moved forward quietly, the air between each step thickening. The closer he got, the clearer the sounds became—her voice low and almost threatening, his barely audible in response.
Min-jae's hand found the doorknob. He turned it slowly, the creak of the hinges somehow deafening in the silence.
And then—
his breath stopped.
There, under the spill of pale lamplight, stood Ga-young.
Her face was inches from Seok-min's, her hands gripping his shirt collar, pulling him down toward her. The shadows masked their expressions, but the soft parting of their lips under that warm light was unmistakable.
From where Min-jae stood, it looked deliberate. Familiar.
The world around him seemed to slow—the faint buzz of a streetlight outside, the hum of the refrigerator, all drowned under the rush of his own pulse.
Seok-min's hand twitched at his side, it seemed like the kind of hesitation that came before surrender.
Ga-young's hair brushed against Seok-min's cheek, her fingers curling tighter into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring herself to him.
Min-jae's chest constricted, his thoughts fracturing into sharp, messy pieces. He immediately turned back, closing the door gently. He leaned on the door, didn't speak. Just stood there in the doorway, a silent witness to something that shattered more than he wanted to admit.
BACK TO PRESENT DAY...
That same evening, the rain-slick streets shimmered under the wash of neon signs, puddles catching the glow like spilled jewels. Inside the tiny barbecue joint, warmth and smoke curled in the air, the scent of sizzling pork and garlic wrapping around them like a thick blanket.
Ga-young and Ji-hye sat in their usual corner booth, a bottle of soju sweating between them, banchan dishes scattered in messy disarray. Soft '90s ballads leaked from a crackling speaker, each note thick with nostalgia.
Ga-young dragged out a long exhale before tossing back a shot of soju.
"Hey, don't you think you're… maybe overthinking this?" Ji-hye asked, twirling her chopsticks.
"Overthinking?" Ga-young scoffed. "Do you want me to remind you how we broke up?"
"I've heard the story too many times," Ji-hye said, lips curling into a wicked grin. "But honestly? You were all over him."
Ga-young froze mid-bite, chopsticks poised like a weapon. "Do you have a death wish?"
Ji-hye laughed. "I just think it is going to be… interesting."
Suddenly...
The restaurant door clicked open. A small gust of cold air swept in, along with him.
Min-jae. Perfectly pressed black coat, unreadable gaze, and that calm, unfazed charisma that made heads turn without him even trying.
Ga-young's eyes went wide. "Did you call him?" Her heart dropped to her stomach.
Ji-hye's sheepish smile said it all. "He's my friend too. And what kind of friend would I be if I didn't throw him a welcome party?"
"Why involve me?" Ga-young hissed, already shifting to stand.
Ji-hye's hand shot out, holding her in place. "Too late—he's seen you. If you run, it'll be awkward."
Hundreds of curses ran through Ga-young's mind. "Just so you know, I'm very upset with you," she muttered before forcing herself to stay seated.
Min-jae reached the table and slid into the seat beside Ji-hye.
"I thought you wouldn't make it," Ji-hye said brightly.
"I didn't want to," Min-jae replied, his voice even, almost bored. But his eyes—briefly—flickered toward Ga-young.
"You haven't changed a bit," Ji-hye said with an eye roll. "Still the arrogant jerk."
Ga-young sat frozen, praying for invisibility.
"Ga-young!" Ji-hye called suddenly.
Her gaze snapped up, bracing herself. Nothing good ever followed that tone.
"Why so quiet?" Ji-hye asked, grinning.
Ga-young forced a daring little smile. "Excuse me. Restroom." She said without giving Ji-hye room for another comment.
She stood and escaped. In the small, dimly lit bathroom, she twisted the tap open, watching water rush over her fingers.
"Ji-hye is dead," she muttered, pushing her hair back. "Okay… I'll just tell them something came up, then leave. Simple." She nodded at herself "it's that simple".
But when she stepped out, her stomach dropped—Ji-hye was gone. No coat. No bag.
And Min-jae was still there… scrolling through her phone.
"That lunatic," Ga-young whispered under her breath. "She set me up."
She inhaled, pasted on a brittle smile, and returned to the table. Clearing her throat, she said, "I… I need to go. Something urgent came up."
Min-jae's eyes lifted to hers. Her breath caught.
"I'll drop you off," he said—not an offer, but an order.
"No, I'm fine. It's not far—"
"Ji-hye would kill me if I let you walk alone."
She knew it was pointless to argue. Minutes later, they were in his car, silence pressing in tighter than the city traffic. She kept her gaze fixed on the window, avoiding his reflection in the glass.
When they reached her apartment, she murmured, "Thank you," and bolted from the car without a backward glance.
As she fumbled with her keys, she muttered, "Ji-hye, I swear I will kill you with my own two hands."
Inside, the door had barely closed before a voice called,
"You're home late again!"
Ga-young turned to see a short, chubby woman holding a wooden spoon like a weapon.
"Mother," Ga-young sighed. "I had work."
"Work?" Mrs. Choi repeated, clearly unconvinced. "Why didn't you call? Do you want me to worry?"
"Mother, I'm twenty-eight. I can take care of myself," Ga-young said, heading for her room.
"Freshen up and come have dinner!"
"I'm not hungry," she called, closing the door.
Mrs. Choi shook her head. "Kids these days… Even if you're seventy, you'll still be my child." She shouted.
Ga-young let out a small laugh despite herself, shaking her head as she tossed her bag on the chair and flopped face-first onto the bed, still in her work clothes.
The smell of kimchi stew drifted in, her mother's soft humming carrying through the walls.
But none of it quieted the storm in her chest.
Because deep down, Ga-young knew—what lay ahead wasn't just a lot.
It was everything.