Chapter 29
(Eun-ji's POV)
The morning after the rain, the campus looked washed clean — like the world had hit reset.
I wished I could do the same.
My heart felt heavy but steady, no longer weighed down by indecision. I'd spent enough days hiding behind silence. Soo-min deserved the truth — all of it.
So I made a plan. No running, no excuses, no waiting for the right moment. I'd find her after class and tell her everything, even if she never forgave me.
---
Lunch Break
Yura frowned as soon as she saw me walk toward the cafeteria with purpose.
"Wait. You've got that face."
"What face?" I asked, though I knew what she meant.
"The one that says, 'I'm about to emotionally self-destruct in public.'"
I forced a shaky laugh. "Not this time. I'm just going to fix what I broke."
Hye-jin, who was sitting beside her, raised an eyebrow. "You're finally talking to her?"
I nodded. "No more running."
Hye-jin looked guilty, her chopsticks stilling mid-air. "Eun-ji… if this blows up, I'll explain that I went overboard with the prank. That it was me who—"
I stopped her with a small shake of my head. "No, Hye-jin. I need to be the one to say it. I started it, I hid it, and I hurt her. This time, I'll take the fall."
She looked down, quiet. Yura reached out, squeezing my wrist. "Be honest, Eun-ji. That's all she ever wanted."
"I will," I whispered.
---
After Class
By the time I reached the courtyard, my palms were slick with sweat. The autumn wind nipped at my skin as I spotted Soo-min under the old cherry tree — the same place where she'd once waited for me after our late classes.
Now she stood there alone, scrolling through her phone, earbuds in. She looked calm. Too calm.
My throat tightened.
When I approached, she noticed me immediately. Her brows furrowed, and her body stiffened like she'd been caught off-guard.
"Eun-ji," she said flatly, removing one earbud. "Didn't I tell you—"
"I know," I interrupted softly. "You told me not to talk to you. But please, just listen this once. Then I'll leave you alone."
She crossed her arms. "You've already said sorry. What more is there to say?"
"Everything I didn't say that day."
Something in my tone must've gotten through, because she didn't walk away. She just stood there, expression guarded but listening.
---
"The prank… it wasn't Hye-jin's idea," I began quietly. "It was mine. I wanted to pull something harmless — just to make you laugh. You were so stressed that week, and I thought… if I could make you smile, it'd be worth it."
Her eyes hardened, but she didn't interrupt.
"But when Hye-jin took over, I realized it had gone too far. You were embarrassed, and I froze. I should've stopped her, or told you the truth right away, but I was scared. Scared you'd hate me for being stupid."
Soo-min's lips parted slightly. "And you decided lying by omission was better?"
"I didn't lie," I said quickly, then sighed. "No. That's not true. I did. I hid behind silence and half-truths. I thought protecting you from the truth would make it easier, but all I did was make things worse."
Her eyes glistened faintly — anger, hurt, maybe both. "You should've trusted me more than that."
"I know," I whispered. "You've always been honest with me, even when it hurt. I wasn't brave enough to do the same."
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the rustle of leaves overhead.
Then Soo-min looked away. "Do you even realize how humiliating that day was for me? I thought it was random. That everyone was laughing at me for no reason. But knowing you were behind it…"
Her voice cracked, and my heart did too.
"I know," I said again. "And I'll regret it for a long time. I don't expect forgiveness. I just… didn't want to keep pretending. You deserve the truth, even if it ruins everything between us."
---
Behind us, a few voices carried from the path — Mirae and Hye-jin were approaching, talking quietly. They stopped when they saw us, realizing what was happening.
Yura lingered a few steps back, watching with quiet hope.
Soo-min noticed them too. "So, everyone knew?"
Hye-jin looked guilty, lowering her head. "Not everyone. Just me and Eun-ji. I made it worse. I didn't think before acting—"
"I don't care who started it," Soo-min cut her off, voice shaking. "It hurts that you let it happen, Eun-ji. You're supposed to understand me better than anyone."
"I do," I said softly. "And that's exactly why I should've stopped it."
For a second, her expression softened, then hardened again. "Do you know what's worse than being laughed at?"
"What?"
"Feeling like you can't trust the person you love."
The words hit me like a storm. My breath caught.
She realized what she'd said and looked away, biting her lip — but the damage was done.
"You—" I began, but she held up a hand.
"Don't," she said quietly. "I don't even know what I'm feeling right now."
"I'm not asking you to forgive me," I said, stepping closer despite the ache in my chest. "I just want you to know I'll earn back your trust — however long it takes."
She looked at me then — really looked — and the tension in her shoulders wavered.
"I don't hate you," she said finally. "But I can't just forget this either. Not yet."
"I wouldn't ask you to."
We stood there in the cool afternoon air, the distance between us smaller but still full of uncertainty.
---
Later That Night
Back in the dorm, Yura was sprawled on her bed, scrolling through her phone. "So? How did it go?"
I sank onto my bed, exhaling slowly. "She listened. Didn't forgive me, but… she listened."
"That's something," Yura said, smiling gently. "Trust takes time."
I nodded. "I told her the whole truth. No more hiding."
"Good," she said, setting her phone aside. "Because if you hadn't, I was going to lock you both in a supply closet until you talked it out."
I laughed weakly. "You'd really do that, huh?"
"In a heartbeat."
The sound of my laughter faded as I looked out the window — the same view I'd stared at countless times when I missed her. Only now, the silence felt different. Lighter.
I picked up my sketchbook and began drawing again — not perfect lines, but messy, raw strokes of ink that finally felt honest.
Each mark was a promise — to be better, to not hide again, to love without fear.
---
Two Days Later
The next time I saw Soo-min, she didn't avoid me. She didn't smile either, but when our eyes met across the lecture hall, she gave a small nod — a simple, quiet acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, we weren't broken beyond repair.
And that was enough.
Because sometimes, forgiveness doesn't come with words.
Sometimes, it starts with a look — steady, searching, uncertain — that says, I'm still here.
And for the first time in weeks, I finally believed we'd find our way back.