The happiness I'd found with Carla was like holding a bird in my hands; I was constantly afraid of holding on too tight or too loose. After her unexplained absence, that fear had a new name: the whispers.
I was grabbing a coffee before class when I heard them. Two girls from my literature class were huddled by the sugar station.
"…Carla. Yeah, I heard she's back."
"I give it a week before she's gone again. My cousin said she sees her at Roen General all the time. She's, like, seriously sick or something."
The word "sick" hit me like a physical blow. Sick. Not a family trip. Not a random bug. Sick.
"You don't know what you're talking about," I said, my voice cutting through their gossip. They stared at me, startled. I turned and walked away, my hands shaking, the coffee forgotten.
Now, I saw the evidence everywhere. The way she'd sometimes pause to catch her breath after laughing too hard. The faint chemical scent that sometimes clung to her clothes, disguised by perfume. The way she'd deflect any question about the future beyond the next item on the list.
The "Living List" wasn't just a fun game. It was a mission.
The crash came on a Tuesday. I was in the middle of a lecture when my phone buzzed with a call from Seo's workplace. His foreman's voice was grim: "Your brother collapsed. They're taking him to Roen General."
The world narrowed to a single, terrifying point. I ran. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs as I burst through the hospital's main entrance. And then I froze.
Standing near the information desk, looking lost and small and impossibly pale, was Carla. Our eyes met. For a split second, I saw it all—the fear, the recognition, the shame. Why was she here? Was she visiting someone? Was she…?
"Jin?" she whispered.
There was no time. "My brother—" I choked out. I fumbled in my pocket, finding a receipt and a pen. With trembling hands, I scribbled Seojun's number. I shoved the crumpled paper into her hand, my fingers closing around hers for a brief, desperate second. "Call me. Please."
Then I was running again, leaving her standing there, a statue of my other, growing fear.
Seo was okay. Severe exhaustion and dehydration. The doctor said he needed rest, a concept as foreign to my brother as a vacation. I sat by his bedside in the quiet room, the steady beep of the monitor a soundtrack to my turmoil. I held his phone, the object that connected me to both my crumbling family and the girl who held my heart. Every vibration sent a jolt through me.
When the call finally came, her voice was small. We agreed to meet near the library.
The setting sun cast long shadows.
She looked tired, but her eyes were clear.
"Is your brother okay?" she asked softly.
I nodded. "He will be." I took a shaky breath. The fear of the day, the weight of the whispers, the overwhelming need for something solid and true—it all burst out of me. "Carla, I… I need to tell you. I'm in love with you."
The words hung in the air between us, fragile and hopeful.
She didn't smile. She looked down, her shoulders slumping as if carrying a great weight. When she spoke, her voice was thick, final. "Jin, you can't be."
"Why?" I pleaded, my heart cracking.
"Because," she said, her voice breaking as she looked at me with infinite sadness, "I can't be the reason your heart breaks."
She turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the growing dark, my confession hanging in the air, rejected and unanswered.