Chapter 27
(Eun-ji's POV)
If anyone asked me how it all started, I'd probably say it was Hye-jin's fault.
Actually, no— technically, it was mine.
But Hye-jin lit the fuse.
It had been three weeks since Soo-min and I had gotten together— three peaceful, almost dreamlike weeks. We'd gone from shy smiles to casual teasing, from quiet study sessions to late-night walks that felt stolen from a movie. Everything was soft and comfortable, too comfortable maybe.
Because that's when Hye-jin decided I'd "lost my edge."
> "You've gone full domestic girlfriend mode," she'd declared one afternoon, tossing a paintbrush at me while I was sketching. "Where's the savage Eun-ji who used to roast Soo-min daily?"
I'd rolled my eyes, trying not to smile. "Maybe she retired."
Yura, overhearing from her desk, had grinned. "Or maybe love tamed her."
Hye-jin gasped dramatically. "Tamed?! Eun-ji, this is unacceptable behavior. We must intervene."
That was how the "Operation Wake-Up Call" began— half joke, half dare.
At first, it really was harmless. The plan was to prank Soo-min during her upcoming art critique by secretly swapping her sketch folder with a decoy one filled with my old doodles. Something funny, light, nothing mean-spirited.
"Just a little chaos," Hye-jin said, grinning.
"Just a little," I agreed.
We stayed up late at the dorm that night making the fake folder. Yura sat cross-legged on the floor, helping me pick out my silliest sketches— tiny doodles of cats, crooked self-portraits, a chibi version of Soo-min holding a huge coffee cup.
Hye-jin cackled. "Imagine her face when she opens this in class!"
I laughed too, even though a tiny voice inside me whispered that maybe we were pushing it. Still, it was all in good fun. Soo-min had teased me enough times that she could handle one joke, right?
Right.
Except… things rarely go as planned.
---
The morning of the critique, campus buzzed with energy. The art department always felt like a carnival before presentations— students rushing around with portfolios, paint smudges on their sleeves, the faint smell of coffee and panic in the air.
I spotted Soo-min at the far end of the hall, carrying her presentation board and folder. She looked calm, confident, her brown hair tucked neatly behind her ear. She didn't notice me, but she smiled when she passed Hye-jin, who was pretending to text.
That was my cue.
I took a deep breath, walked over to her locker, and switched her real sketch folder with the decoy. My heart raced like I was committing a crime, which technically, I guess I was— an artistic crime.
Yura stood watch nearby, whispering, "You're ridiculous."
I grinned. "It's going to be funny."
Famous last words.
---
An hour later, everything fell apart.
I'd gone to grab coffee when I got a message from Mirae.
> "Um… Eun-ji, you might want to come to the art room. Like, now."
My stomach dropped.
When I arrived, the room was silent. A dozen students sat staring at the front, and in the middle stood Soo-min— frozen, pale, eyes wide.
On the display board behind her was a large sheet of paper. I blinked.
My Secret Love: Eun-ji
My blood ran cold.
It wasn't my handwriting. Hye-jin was standing near the back, her expression horrified.
Oh no.
Apparently, after I'd left, Hye-jin decided to "upgrade" the prank by swapping the decoy with an even worse one— a fake love confession portfolio she'd made for fun earlier. She thought it'd be hilarious. It wasn't.
Soo-min looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her.
Her classmates were whispering. Some chuckled; others looked confused.
And then her eyes found me— standing at the door, guilt written all over my face.
She didn't say a word, but that one look was enough.
---
After class, I chased her out into the hallway.
"Soo-min, wait!"
She stopped but didn't turn. "Don't."
My throat tightened. "It wasn't supposed to— Hye-jin switched it after—"
"Don't," she repeated, voice flat, calm in the way that scared me more than shouting ever could. "I trusted you, Eun-ji."
I flinched.
"It wasn't like that," I tried again. "I just—"
"Didn't stop it."
That shut me up completely.
She turned then, eyes sharp with something I hadn't seen in weeks— hurt, disappointment, anger.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" she said quietly. "That I wouldn't notice your drawings in the folder?"
"I—"
"I looked like an idiot in front of my classmates. Because of you."
Her voice cracked at the end, just slightly, and it broke something inside me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
But sorry wasn't enough.
She walked away without looking back.
---
Back in the dorm that night, Yura paced in front of me like a frustrated mother.
"You should've told her the whole truth immediately!"
"I tried! She wouldn't listen!"
"Then make her listen!" Yura threw her hands up. "Eun-ji, she's not just some random girl. You love her. You don't let something this stupid ruin everything."
I pressed my palms to my eyes. "I know. I just… panicked. She hates being lied to."
Yura sighed, sitting beside me. "You didn't lie. You just messed up."
I gave a humorless laugh. "Same thing to her."
She didn't answer, and for a moment, the room was quiet except for the faint hum of rain against the window.
Finally, Yura said softly, "Then you'll have to show her you mean it. Not just say it."
I looked up at the small sketch pinned to my wall— the one Soo-min had drawn of me months ago, back when we barely spoke. My chest ached.
"I don't even know where to start."
"Start with the truth," Yura said. "Always the truth."
---
The next day, Soo-min didn't show up to class. Or the next.
Hye-jin apologized to me at lunch, looking genuinely remorseful. "I didn't think it'd blow up like that. I thought she'd laugh."
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything.
Mirae added quietly, "You should go to her. Even if she pushes you away."
I did try— once. I waited outside the art building after sunset. When she finally came out, she walked right past me. I reached out, fingers brushing her sleeve, and she froze but didn't turn.
"Please," I said softly. "Just hear me out."
Her voice, when it came, was low and tired. "You already said sorry. It doesn't fix what you did."
And then she walked away again, leaving me in the dark corridor with nothing but the echo of her footsteps and my own heartbeat pounding too loud.
---
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I lay staring at the ceiling, my phone on my chest, the silence heavy enough to drown in. Every memory replayed itself: the way she'd smiled at me the day we shared coffee in the rain, how she'd brushed paint from my cheek during our first date, how her hand fit perfectly in mine.
And now… gone.
All because I thought one stupid prank would be "funny."
At around 2 a.m., I got up, went to my desk, and opened my sketchbook. My fingers trembled as I began to draw—nher profile first, then her eyes, the soft curve of her lips when she smiled.
When I was done, I wrote beneath it:
> I messed up. I hurt you. But I didn't laugh.
Because I'd never laugh at you. Not when you're the one I can't lose.
Tears blurred the page, and I let them.
Maybe tomorrow, I'd find a way to give it to her.
Maybe she'd tear it up, or maybe she'd finally listen.
Either way, I had to try.
Because losing Soo-min over a mistake I didn't even mean to make—
that was something I couldn't live with.