The second week was worse than the first.
My body had adjusted slightly to the schedule—or maybe I'd just become numb to the constant exhaustion. Either way, I kept going. Work, class, work, sleep. Repeat.
I'd stopped checking my grades. Stopped pretending I could keep up with readings. In Constitutional Law, Professor Kwon had called on me and I'd fumbled the answer so badly that she'd moved on to someone else with a concerned look I couldn't afford to acknowledge.
I'd sent 520,000 won home on Friday—the 500,000 my mom needed plus a bit extra I'd scraped together. My bank account now had 180,000 won. Rent was due in two weeks. I had no idea how I was going to make it work, but I'd figure something out.
I always did.
Sunday evening, Min-Ji cornered me in the kitchen.
"You're not going to running club tomorrow," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I'm going. I'm the president."
"You can barely stand up straight. You're not running."
"I'll be fine."
"Ji-Mang." She grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at her. "You're destroying yourself. You've lost at least six pounds in two weeks. You have permanent dark circles. You fell asleep in the middle of eating dinner yesterday. This isn't fine."
"I don't have a choice."
"You do have a choice. You're just too stubborn and proud to make it."
"Don't," I warned.
"Someone has to say it. Bok-Jin would help you. He'd do it in a heartbeat. But you won't even—"
"I said don't." I pulled away from her. "I'm going to bed. I have running club at six."
"You're going to collapse."
"Then I'll collapse. But I'm going."
Monday morning I woke up at 5:30 and immediately knew I'd made a mistake.
The room spun when I sat up. My head pounded. My legs felt like lead.
I should stay home. Should rest. Should admit that Min-Ji was right and I couldn't keep doing this.
But I got dressed anyway. Put on my running clothes. Made it to campus through sheer force of will.
The running club was already gathering when I arrived. I did a quick count—about eighteen people today. Normal for a Monday.
And there, stretching near the edge of the group, was Bok-Jin.
He looked up when I approached, and I saw him do a double-take. His expression shifted from surprise to concern so quickly it was almost comical.
I looked away before he could say anything.
"Alright everyone!" I called out, my voice rougher than usual. "Standard warm-ups. Let's get moving before we freeze."
We went through the routine—dynamic stretches, light jogging in place, the usual prep. I could feel multiple people watching me with concern, but I ignored them all.
"Same route as always," I announced. "Five K around campus. Stay together for the first half, then free pace. Let's go."
We started running, and immediately I knew I was in trouble.
My legs felt wrong—heavy and uncoordinated. My breathing was off from the start, too shallow, too fast. The morning air felt like ice in my lungs.
I should slow down. Should drop to the back of the pack and just survive the run at an easy pace.
Instead, I pushed harder.
If I ran fast enough, hard enough, maybe I could outrun everything else. The exhaustion, the fear, the weight of impossible choices. Maybe I could just be someone running, nothing more.
I was vaguely aware of people calling out—Min-Ji yelling "Ji-Mang, slow down!" and someone else saying "Is she okay?"—but it all sounded distant, unimportant.
I just kept running.
The world started getting fuzzy around the edges. My vision narrowed to the path in front of me, gray and blurry. My heartbeat was too loud in my ears, drowning out everything else.
I made it around the library, past the business building, almost to the turn that would lead back to the meeting point.
And then my legs gave out.
I didn't fall dramatically. It was more like my body just... stopped cooperating. One moment I was running, the next I was stumbling, and then I was on my hands and knees on the path, gasping for air that wouldn't come properly.
"Ji-Mang!"
Multiple voices, multiple people surrounding me. Hands on my shoulders, my back, someone saying "Give her space" and someone else saying "Should we call an ambulance?"
"I'm fine," I managed to say, but it came out weak and unconvincing.
"You're not fine." Min-Ji's voice, scared and angry. "You just collapsed."
"I just need a minute."
"You need a hospital."
"No." I tried to push myself up and failed. "No hospital. Too expensive. I'm fine."
"You're not—"
"I said I'm fine!"
The sharpness in my voice made everyone go quiet. I tried again, managed to get to my feet with Min-Ji's help, and immediately regretted it. The world tilted violently.
Strong hands caught me before I went down again. I knew who it was before I looked up.
Bok-Jin.
"I've got you," he said quietly. "Just breathe."
"Let go."
"Not until you're steady."
"I said let go!"
I tried to pull away and nearly fell again. He held on, patient and infuriatingly gentle.
"Everyone head back to the meeting point," Min-Ji announced. "We're done for today. Ji-Mang is clearly not well."
People started dispersing, casting worried glances back at us. Within a minute, it was just me, Bok-Jin, and Min-Ji on the path.
"I'm going to get water," Min-Ji said, though it was obviously an excuse to leave us alone. "Don't move."
She jogged off, and I was left standing there, supported by the arms of the boy I'd been avoiding for two weeks.
"You need to let someone help you," Bok-Jin said. "This isn't sustainable."
"I don't need help."
"You just collapsed during a run. Your body is literally shutting down."
"I just pushed too hard. It happens."
"It doesn't just happen. Not to you. You're the most careful runner I know." His voice was strained. "Please. Tell me what's wrong. Tell me what's happening that's making you do this to yourself."
I wanted to tell him. God, I wanted to tell him everything.
But I couldn't. Because telling him meant accepting help, and accepting help meant proving that I couldn't handle my own life.
"It's none of your business," I said.
"None of my—" He stopped, took a breath. "You made it my business when you became the person I care most about. When you let me fall in love with you. You don't get to just shut me out and expect me to stop caring."
"I told you it's over. You need to accept that."
"I'll accept it when you give me a real reason. Not this bullshit about 'different worlds' or 'impossible situations.' A real reason."
"Fine. You want a real reason?" The words came out harsher than I intended, fueled by exhaustion and frustration and two weeks of holding everything in. "Because being with you makes me feel like a charity case. Because your family will never accept me and mine will always need more than I can give. Because every time I look at you, I'm reminded of everything I don't have and can't be. Is that real enough for you?"
He looked like I'd slapped him. "That's not—I've never made you feel—"
"You don't have to. It's just reality." I pulled away from him, and this time he let me go. I was steadier now, though everything still felt slightly off. "I'm going home."
"Let me walk you."
"No."
"Ji-Mang—"
"I said no. Just... leave me alone. Please."
I walked away before he could argue, and made it about ten steps before someone else called my name.
"Han Ji-Mang-ssi?"
I turned to find Park Seo-Yeon standing a few meters away, looking concerned and slightly uncertain. She was dressed in expensive activewear, clearly about to exercise or just finished.
Perfect. Just what I needed. The suitable match witnessing my complete breakdown.
"I'm sorry," she said, approaching carefully. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was walking to the gym and saw... are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine. You look like you're about to pass out."
"Everyone's got an opinion on how I look today. It's fantastic."
She smiled slightly at my sarcasm. "Can I buy you coffee? Or breakfast? You look like you could use both."
"I don't need charity."
"It's not charity. It's coffee." She tilted her head. "And maybe a conversation between two people who are both dealing with the Choi family in different ways."
That got my attention. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I saw you and Bok-Jin just now. I know you two were together and now you're not. And I think we might have more in common than you realize." She gestured toward the campus café. "Thirty minutes. If you hate the conversation, you can leave. But at least you'll have eaten something."
I should say no. Should go home, shower, try to sleep before my afternoon shift.
But something in her expression—sympathy without pity, understanding without judgment—made me hesitate.
"Okay," I heard myself say. "Thirty minutes."
The café was quiet at 7:30 AM on a Monday. Seo-Yeon bought us both coffee and insisted on getting food despite my protests. We ended up at a corner table with Americanos and breakfast sandwiches I couldn't really afford but was too tired to refuse.
"Eat," she said, pushing the sandwich toward me. "You look like you haven't had a proper meal in days."
"I eat."
"I'm sure you do. But not enough, clearly." She took a sip of her coffee. "Can I be direct?"
"I don't think I could stop you if I tried."
"Fair enough. Bok-Jin is miserable. Has been for two weeks. He won't tell me exactly what happened between you two, but I can guess. And watching you just now—working yourself to death, pushing past your limits, refusing help from anyone—I'm guessing you're dealing with something that feels impossible."
I stared at my sandwich, not trusting myself to speak.
"When I came back from the US," she continued, "I was terrified. My parents had spent four years pretending I didn't exist because I came out as gay. They only welcomed me back when I agreed to let them try to set me up with 'suitable matches.' Men who could 'fix' me. Make me normal."
I looked up. "Bok-Jin told me. About you being gay."
"I figured he would. He's terrible at keeping secrets from people he cares about." She smiled slightly. "The point is, I spent four years thinking I had to handle everything alone. That asking for help meant I was weak or broken or couldn't take care of myself. And you know what I learned?"
"What?"
"That sometimes the strongest thing you can do is admit you need help. That survival isn't the same as living. And that the people who love you want to help not because they think you're weak, but because they think you're worth it."
The words hit harder than they should have. I felt tears burning behind my eyes.
"I'm not you," I said. "Our situations are different."
"Are they? Because from where I'm sitting, we're both trying to carry impossible weights alone because we're afraid of what it means to lean on someone." She leaned forward. "I don't know what you're dealing with. But I know Bok-Jin. He's not the kind of person who helps people to make himself feel superior or to hold it over them. He helps because he cares. Genuinely."
"That makes it worse," I whispered. "Because if he helps me, I become dependent. I become the poor girlfriend who needs rescue. And even if he doesn't see it that way, everyone else will. His family, my classmates, myself."
"So you'd rather destroy yourself than accept help from someone who loves you?"
"I'd rather maintain my dignity."
"Dignity doesn't keep you fed. It doesn't keep you from collapsing on running paths." She said it gently, but the truth of it stung. "Look, I'm not saying you have to take money from him or let him solve all your problems. But maybe you could at least tell him what's going on? Let him support you emotionally even if you won't let him help practically?"
"I tried breaking up with him to protect both of us."
"How's that working out? Because he's miserable, you're literally destroying yourself, and from what I can see, nobody's protected from anything."
She wasn't wrong.
I took a bite of the sandwich and was shocked by how good real food tasted. How hungry I actually was.
"I don't know how to do this," I admitted. "How to need someone. How to let someone help without feeling like I'm failing."
"You start by admitting you can't do everything alone. And then you figure out the rest as you go." She smiled. "For what it's worth, I think you two are good together. He's less guarded around you. More himself. And from what I saw just now, you care about him too. Even if you're pretending you don't."
"Caring about him doesn't solve the practical problems."
"No. But it's a start."
We finished our coffee in comfortable silence, and I felt something shift slightly in my chest. Not hope, exactly, but maybe the possibility of hope.
"Thank you," I said finally. "For this. For listening."
"Anytime. And Ji-Mang?" She waited until I looked at her. "Whatever you decide about Bok-Jin, please take care of yourself. You're clearly smart and determined and strong. But strength includes knowing when to rest."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
We parted ways outside the café, and I walked home slowly, my mind churning.
Maybe Seo-Yeon was right. Maybe I couldn't keep doing this alone.
But admitting that felt like admitting defeat.
And I didn't know how to lose gracefully.
When I got home, both Yoo-Na and Min-Ji were waiting.
"We heard what happened," Min-Ji said. "Half the running club texted me."
"I'm fine."
"You collapsed."
"I recovered."
"Ji-Mang." Yoo-Na's voice was unusually firm. "We love you. We want to help you. But we can't keep watching you destroy yourself like this."
"I'm handling it."
"You're not handling it. You're drowning." Min-Ji moved closer. "Please. Let us help. Or let someone help. But stop trying to do this alone."
I looked at my two best friends, at their worried faces and their genuine concern, and felt my carefully constructed walls start to crumble.
"I don't know how," I whispered. "I don't know how to ask for help."
"You start with the words 'I need help,'" Yoo-Na said gently. "And then we figure out the rest."
I took a shaky breath. "I need help."
"Okay." Min-Ji pulled me into a hug. "Okay. We're here. We've got you."
And for the first time in two weeks, I let myself cry.
Really cry. Not the silent tears I'd been suppressing, but full, body-shaking sobs for everything I'd been holding in.
My father's lost job. The impossible money I needed to send home. The law school dreams I'd postponed indefinitely. The boy I'd pushed away because I was too afraid to be vulnerable.
I cried until I had nothing left, and my friends held me through all of it.
"We're going to figure this out," Yoo-Na said when I finally calmed down. "Together. Starting with you taking a day off to rest."
"I can't. I have work."
"Call in sick."
"I can't afford—"
"One day won't destroy everything. But if you keep going like this, you will." Min-Ji squeezed my hand. "One day. Rest, eat, sleep. Then we'll figure out the next step."
I wanted to argue. But I was so tired. So completely exhausted in every possible way.
"Okay," I said. "One day."
It wasn't a solution. It wasn't even close to fixing anything.
But it was a start.