Chapter 28 –
(Eun-ji's POV)
Silence has a weight.
You don't notice it right away — not until it starts pressing against your chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to sleep, hard to think.
That's what the days after the prank felt like. Heavy. Suffocating.
Soo-min didn't talk to me. Not a message, not a glance, not even a passing look in class.
I still sat in my usual seat, two rows behind her, pretending to take notes while my eyes betrayed me every few minutes — always finding her. Her posture was the same, calm and focused, but her shoulders were stiffer than usual. When she laughed at something Mirae said, it was soft, polite, nothing like the real laugh I'd memorized.
I wanted to run to her, to explain again that I hadn't meant for things to go so wrong.
But what could I say that wouldn't sound like another excuse?
She'd told me not to talk to her.
And for the first time, I was actually doing what she asked.
---
Monday
Yura shoved a chocolate bar into my hand during lunch. "You're not eating again."
I pushed it back. "I'm not hungry."
"Liar," she said flatly. "You're just punishing yourself."
"Maybe I deserve it."
Her sigh was sharp, frustrated. "Eun-ji, she's angry, yes. But she's not heartless. You need to give her space and stop acting like you're halfway to a tragic drama ending."
I managed a weak smile. "Feels like one, though."
Across the cafeteria, I caught a glimpse of Soo-min sitting with Mirae and Hye-jin. The sight twisted something inside me — not jealousy, but emptiness.
Hye-jin noticed me looking and winced. She mouthed sorry. I nodded, even though the word barely mattered anymore.
---
Tuesday
I tried painting. That usually helped.
But every time I lifted my brush, the image blurred into her — the curve of her jaw, the softness in her eyes when she teased me, the way she used to flick paint at me whenever I got too serious.
I ended up with nothing but muddy colors on the canvas and hands shaking with frustration.
Yura came in, holding two cups of coffee. She took one look at my mess of paint and sighed. "That bad, huh?"
"She hates me," I muttered.
"She's mad at you. Not the same thing."
"Feels the same."
She walked closer, placing the cup beside me. "You can't fix it overnight, Eun-ji. But you can't give up either."
I didn't answer. I just stared at the silver bracelet on my wrist — the one Soo-min had given me for my birthday. I hadn't taken it off once.
Now, it felt like a weight I couldn't let go of.
---
Wednesday
I caught a cold — or maybe it was just exhaustion. I stayed in bed all day, wrapped in blankets while Yura hovered like a worried nurse.
"You should eat something," she said, setting down soup.
I mumbled, "Later."
She frowned. "You've been saying that for three days."
"I know."
She hesitated. "You know, Soo-min asked me yesterday if you were okay."
That made my head snap up. "She did?"
Yura nodded slowly. "She tried to sound casual, but she was clearly worried. I told her you weren't feeling well."
My throat tightened. "What did she say?"
"She just… nodded. Then left."
For a second, warmth flickered in my chest — small, fragile, like a candle that could go out any second.
"She still cares," Yura added softly.
I looked down at my hands. "Then why does it hurt like she doesn't?"
---
Thursday
By the fourth day, I'd stopped checking my phone every five minutes.
Now it was every ten. Progress, I guess.
Hye-jin found me sitting alone outside the art building after class.
"Yura told me you've turned into a ghost," she said, sitting beside me.
I didn't look up. "I deserve it."
She groaned. "Please don't start that again. I already feel like crap for what happened. I should've never changed the folders."
"It's not just your fault," I murmured. "I agreed to the prank. I started it."
"Yeah, but you didn't want it to go that far."
"Doesn't matter. She still got hurt."
Hye-jin sighed, ruffling her hair. "You know, Soo-min's been different too. She laughs less, zones out during lectures. It's like she's mad but also… sad."
I glanced up at her. "Sad?"
"Yeah. Like she misses you but doesn't know how to stop being angry."
The words hit harder than I expected. I swallowed. "Do you think she'll ever forgive me?"
Hye-jin hesitated. "If she doesn't, she's dumber than I thought."
That made me laugh — a small, cracked sound, but a laugh nonetheless.
---
Friday
By the fifth day, the silence had turned into routine.
We passed each other in hallways like strangers. Every time her hand brushed against someone else's shoulder — Mirae, Yura, anyone — my heart flinched even though I knew it wasn't fair.
After our last class, I stayed behind to clean up my brushes. The room emptied slowly until it was just me and the fading sound of rain against the windows.
Then the door opened.
My heart jumped.
Soo-min.
She stepped inside, not noticing me at first. Her hair was damp, her jacket half-zipped, and she looked tired — like she hadn't been sleeping much either.
When her eyes finally found me, she froze.
We just stared at each other for a heartbeat too long.
"Hey," I whispered before I could stop myself.
She looked away. "I told you not to talk to me."
The words cut, but I forced myself to stay calm. "I know. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay."
Her laugh was short, sharp. "You care now?"
"I always cared."
"Then why didn't you think before doing something that would humiliate me in front of everyone?"
I swallowed hard. "Because I was stupid. Because I thought it was funny. Because I trusted the wrong person with something that should've never happened. I didn't mean to hurt you, Soo-min."
She finally looked at me — really looked — and for a moment, I saw the pain beneath her anger.
"I can't even look at you without remembering that day," she said quietly. "Everyone was staring. Laughing. And I kept thinking — if it had been anyone else, it wouldn't have mattered. But it was you."
Her voice trembled on the last word.
I wanted to reach out, to wipe away the frustration on her face, but my hands wouldn't move.
"I'm sorry," I whispered again. "Not because I got caught, or because you're mad — but because I made you feel small. You never deserved that."
Her lips parted slightly, but before she could reply, someone called from the hallway — Mirae's voice, asking if she was ready to leave.
Soo-min hesitated, then stepped back. "Don't do this again, Eun-ji. Don't lie to me. Don't hide things."
"I won't," I said quickly. "I swear."
She nodded once, then walked away without another word.
The sound of the door closing behind her echoed louder than any argument could have.
---
That night, I sat by the dorm window again, knees pulled to my chest, the city lights blurring through the rain.
Yura was asleep already, breathing softly in the other bed. The bracelet on my wrist caught a glint of moonlight — still there, still shining, even when everything else felt dull.
Maybe silence really does hurt louder than words.
Because at least when she was angry, she spoke.
Now, there was only distance — quiet, cold, and filled with everything we weren't saying.
Still, I couldn't bring myself to give up.
Not yet.
Because love wasn't about being perfect.
It was about staying — even when you'd made the worst mistake of your life.
And tomorrow, I decided, I'd start proving that to her.