Saturday morning was rainy. The sort that didn't torrent, only whispered — gentle, relentless, indifferent.
Campus was subdued behind the haze. Umbrellas bobbed like tiny, multicolored specters as students rushed across the courtyard. I stood at the dorm window, cooling coffee in hand, watching rivulets of water compete on the glass.
Yura complained from bed. "Tell me we're not going to class today."
"It's the weekend."
"Better still."
I smiled weakly, placing my mug aside. "You're impossible."
She opened one eye, hair disheveled. "You didn't sleep."
I didn't reply. She already knew.
---
By the time noon arrived, the rain had ceased, but the air remained damp and smelled like wet leaves and asphalt. I informed Yura I'd go to the library, lying in part — I wanted silence, not its company.
The corridors were sparse. My footsteps echoed, too loud.
When I arrived at the art building, I lingered at the entrance. A part of me had hoped that she would be there, drawing, headphones on, half-smile prepared when she saw me.
But she wasn't.
Her easel was also missing.
I have no idea why that constricted my throat. It wasn't as if she owed me a seat next to her, or a glance, or a word. But habits become promises when they are broken.
I sat in my usual place anyway, breaking out my sketchbook. Pencil poised, I attempted to concentrate on the lines, the shapes, the shadows — but each sketch was botched.
Too empty. Too quiet.
---
The door opened slowly, and my heart skipped a beat.
It wasn't her.
It was Mirae, with a folder clutched against her chest. "Hey," she whispered, sitting down next to me. "You okay?"
I managed a small smile. "Yeah, just… preoccupied."
She looked at me for a second before nodding slowly. "You know, I ran into Soo-min a little while ago. She was assisting at the student council booth by the quad."
"Oh." I attempted to sound neutral.
"She seemed tired," Mirae said softly. "And a little off."
That stopped me. "Off?"
Mirae hummed. "Like she's faking that everything's okay, but it's not."
I glanced down at my sketchbook, at the light sketch of a smile I'd penciled and erased a dozen times. "Maybe she doesn't want to discuss it."
Mirae's voice became gentle. "Neither do you."
---
By night, the rain had resumed — harder this time. The dorm was abnormally quiet, the sort that makes each thought sound magnified.
Yura was with Hye-jin, and I was alone with my sketchbook and far too much time.
The text lingered on my phone screen:
> Can we talk?
I gazed at it for ten complete minutes before I finally deleted it.
I did want to talk.
I wanted to know what changed.
I wanted to quit pretending I didn't care.
But what if she said something I didn't want to hear?
The question kept me up until the rain became a lullaby I couldn't sleep to.
---
Sunday morning was clearer. The sun made everything look softer — too gentle for the way my chest felt.
Yura was humming as she prepared to see Hye-jin again. "You sure you don't want to come? We're just grabbing brunch."
"I'll pass."
She looked at me for a moment, then nodded knowingly. "Then at least promise you'll talk to her. No excuses."
"I will," I said, meaning it this time.
---
Monday
The beginning of a new week — and perhaps, at last, an opportunity to make things right.
Classes ran together. I saw her in the hallways, at the cafeteria, among other students, smiling — but never at me.
Every time I tried to go up to her, another person would say her name first. And every time, I lost a little bit of nerve.
By afternoon, I'd determined that I couldn't wait any longer.
She was in the courtyard, sitting with Chae- young. The two of them were stooped over a pile of papers, laughing over something.
My heart pounded irregularly, but I forced myself to walk closer.
I practiced what I'd say -- something simple, informal. Hey, can we talk for a second?
But when I approached, Chae- young leaned in and whispered something I couldn't hear.
Then she hugged Soo- min.
It wasn't long — just a quick hug. But Soo-min hugged her back, easy and soft, like it was second nature.
And I stopped.
The world outside me faded into a blur — babble, wind, the sound of shoes on the pavement in the distance. All I could see was that peaceful smile on Soo-min's face.
The one she hadn't smiled at me in weeks.
---
I didn't wait to see more.
My legs carried me back the way I had come, quiet and quick. My head stayed down until I was at the art building, until I could breathe once more.
The burn behind my eyes surprised me. I wasn't the type of girl who cried easily — not about something I didn't understand myself.
But the picture of her in someone else's arms lingered.
Perhaps Yura was correct. Perhaps I was a fool.
---
The night, I did not draw.
I did not read.
I just lay there in bed, looking at the ceiling, attempting to talk myself out of the fact that what I had seen didn't matter.
She could be friends with whoever she wanted.
She could laugh, smile, hug whoever she wanted.
It didn't mean anything.
But on some level, I knew that wasn't true.
Because it mattered to me.
More than I cared for it to.
And for the first time since the festival, I was not sure if things between us would ever be like they were.