Seoul's air was colder than she remembered.
Maybe it wasn't the air — maybe it was just the way everyone looked at her now.
Kang Hye-rin gripped her phone tightly as she sat in the back of the car, the city flashing by in silver streaks. Every time a notification buzzed, she didn't need to look. She already knew what it was — more articles, more comments, more strangers dissecting her life like it was entertainment.
Her name — her face — was everywhere.
Gold digger. Opportunist. Manipulator.
She'd read the words so many times, they had stopped looking like language and started to feel like bruises.
"Miss Kang, we've arrived," the driver said softly.
She looked up.
The sleek silver gates of Joon-hyuk's apartment complex stood ahead, familiar and cold. A place that once felt distant but safe — now, it looked like a wall between her and the rest of the world.
Her fingers tightened around her bag. She hadn't even unpacked from the resort trip before everything fell apart.
