JIAH POV
"Seo Jiah."
The voice cuts through the hallway.
Sharp. Cold. Precise. The kind that doesn't echo because it doesn't need to.
My blood goes cold before my brain catches up. Not fear exactly. More like my body recognizing a problem before it gets officially announced.
I turn slowly.
Shin Ara walks toward me like the hallway was built for her entrance. Heels clicking in a steady rhythm, shoulders back, chin lifted.
She looks polished in that way that always makes people step aside without realizing they're doing it. Her smile is tight. Not friendly. Not even fake-friendly. The kind that exists only to show teeth.
Behind her, she's gripping someone's wrist.
Tight enough that it's obvious it's not an accident.
Baek Jiho.
Of course.
They look like a poster. The lighting is wrong, the angle is dramatic, and somehow the universe decided this was prime entertainment hour.
Students line the hallway now, pretending to check lockers, pretending to tie shoes, pretending they're not absolutely starving for this.
I catch Jeonhwa's eyes for half a second. He looks from Ara to Jiho to me, interest flickering sharp and ugly, like this just upgraded from background noise to premium content.
Great. Love that for me.
Ara stops a few steps away, gaze sweeping over me slowly. Not curious. Judgmental. Like she's already decided what category I fall into and is mildly offended I exist in her space.
"How dare you," she says, voice loud enough to carry, "make stories up about Jiho?"
I blink.
Once.
Twice.
"What?" slips out before I can stop it.
She steps closer, invading my space on purpose. I don't move. I refuse to give her that satisfaction. Her perfume hits my nose, sharp and expensive and entirely unnecessary.
"You heard me," she snaps. "You think you can go around saying you rejected him just because he rejected you six times? You think people will believe that?"
For a second, my brain just… stops.
Then I laugh.
I don't mean to. It just happens.
It starts low, a short breathy sound, then spills out into something real. Not polite. Not restrained. It's the kind of laugh you make when reality glitches so badly you don't know what else to do with it.
Ara stiffens. "Are you making fun of me?"
I wipe under my eye like I'm clearing tears. I'm not crying. I'm genuinely entertained.
"Wait," I say, still smiling. "Let me get this straight. You think I made up rejecting him?"
Her jaw tightens. "Every person in this school knows you're obsessed with Jiho. And now suddenly you reject him? Come up with a better story."
God.
This is not even on my bingo card.
I glance around. Faces everywhere. Eyes bright. Phones half-hidden. This isn't even subtle anymore. This is a live show.
"You know what's really funny," I say, tilting my head, "is how confident you sound while saying something that dumb."
Her eyes flash. "Watch your mouth."
I shrug. "You're the one embarrassing yourself."
That does it.
She laughs sharply, no humor in it at all. "We've been dating for months. And you have the audacity to go around saying Jiho confessed to you and you rejected him?"
Months.
The word hits like a slap.
My smile freezes for exactly half a second before something ugly settles in my chest. Dating for months. And he still had the nerve to stand in front of me this morning, nervous and hopeful, acting like he just discovered feelings?
Wow.
Enhyeok was right.
Absolute loser behavior.
I look past Ara, straight at Jiho.
He hasn't said a word. He's standing there stiff, eyes darting, clearly not enjoying the spotlight as much as she is. His wrist is still trapped in her grip. He doesn't pull away. That tells me everything I need to know.
"Dating?" I repeat slowly.
Ara smirks, clearly thinking she won.
I nod once, like I'm processing. Then I smile again, wider this time. "Congrats, dude."
Jiho flinches. Ara's brows knit together.
"You guys are a great match," I add pleasantly. "Seriously. It makes sense."
Ara's smile turns smug.
I glance between them, letting my eyes linger just long enough to make it uncomfortable. "A loser for a loser."
The hallway explodes.
Gasps. Whispers. Someone actually lets out a shocked laugh. Ara's face goes red instantly, fury flashing hot and uncontained.
"You—"
"I don't have any interest in him anymore," I cut in, voice steady, loud enough for everyone. "And I definitely don't have time to spread bullshit stories. Believe whatever helps you sleep."
Ara steps forward like she might actually try to hit me.
I don't move.
My heart is pounding, sure, but there's something else underneath it now. Relief. Ugly, messy relief. Like I finally dropped something heavy I didn't realize I was carrying.
Jiho finally finds his voice. "Jiah, that's not—"
I look at him, really look this time.
Nothing.
No ache. No pull. Just exhaustion and the faint urge to laugh again.
"Don't," I say flatly. "Please don't."
That shuts him up.
Ara glares at me like she wants to burn my name into the floor. "You think this makes you look strong?"
I tilt my head. "I don't care how it makes me look."
And I mean it.
That's the part that scares me the most.
"You have no interest in him anymore?"
Shin Ara tilts her head, smile curling like she just remembered a punchline she's been saving. Her grip on Jiho's wrist tightens, not subtle at all. She wants everyone to see it. Claim staked. Receipt displayed.
"You were cheering for him a few days ago," she continues, louder now, eyes bright with that mean little sparkle. "Wearing Enhyeok's jersey too. Seriously, do you hear yourself? You're such a pick me. You know that, right?"
There it is.
That word lands heavy, like she practiced it in front of a mirror.
The hallway hums. Phones are definitely out now. No one's pretending anymore. This isn't background noise. This is lunch-table material. Screenshot-worthy.
Someone near the lockers whispers, "What's her deal?" like I'm a glitch they're trying to diagnose.
I feel it crawl up my spine. Not embarrassment. Not shame.
Annoyance.
The kind that settles in your bones and makes you smile instead of scream.
I let out a slow breath and look at her properly this time. Not at Jiho. Not at the audience. Just her. Perfect hair. Perfect posture. Perfect certainty that she owns the narrative.
I smirk.
"Yeah," I say, voice easy. "I cheered for him because I needed to."
Her brow twitches. Confusion flashes for half a second.
Then I take a step forward.
Not aggressive. Not dramatic. Just enough to invade her bubble the way she's been invading mine since she showed up. I can feel the heat of her irritation now, sharp and personal.
"And I wore the jersey," I add, glancing down at myself like I'm checking a label, "because I want to."
A ripple moves through the crowd. Actual gasps this time. Someone laughs nervously. Someone else says my name like it's a warning.
Ara's lips part. "Excuse me?"
I tilt my head. "You heard me."
She scoffs, shaking her head like I just proved her point. "You're unbelievable."
I look at Jiho again, then back at her. "You've been dating him for months," I say calmly, dragging the words out just enough. "And he still Confessed to me"
I pause, eyes locking with hers.
"So tell me. Who's the loser here?"
The silence that follows is thick and delicious.
Ara's face hardens instantly. "Shut up."
I don't.
Instead, I smile wider, leaning in just a bit like we're sharing a secret. "Grab him tighter," I say lightly, nodding at her hand on his wrist. "Like that. Don't ever let go. Seriously. You two look… meant for each other."
Jiho finally shifts, uncomfortable, but still doesn't pull away. That detail sticks with me. Burns itself in. Good to know.
Ara laughs, sharp and humorless. "You think you're powerful because you run your mouth?"
She gestures vaguely around us. "No one is going to believe Jiho confessed to you. And no one's going to believe you rejected him. Not after everything."
Everything.
A year and a half reduced to a word she tosses around like trash.
I open my mouth, ready to say something cutting, something final, something that would probably get me dragged to the office.
"I do."
The voice comes from my left.
Low. Flat. Unimpressed.
The hallway freezes.
And I mean freezes. Like someone unplugged the simulation. Every head turns at once. Even Ara's grip slackens for half a second.
Enhyeok.
He is standing a few steps away, expression exactly the same as it always is. Cold. Calm. Like he just commented on the weather instead of detonating the entire situation.
My brain blanks.
Fully blanks.
Because this is Yu Enhyeok. My seatmate. My academic rival. The guy who barely acknowledges my existence unless it's to correct my math. We are not friends. We don't talk unless it's for verbal fight. We don't defend each other. That's not our thing.
Ara stares at him like he just spoke another language. "What did you say?"
"I said I believe her,"
Enhyeok repeats, tone unchanged. His eyes flick briefly to me, then away just as fast, like it doesn't matter. Like I don't matter. Which somehow makes it worse.
The hallway erupts into whispers again, louder this time, frantic. This is no longer gossip. This is lore.
Ara opens her mouth, clearly scrambling for footing.
"Me too."
The second voice hits even harder.
My head snaps around.
Jeonhwa.
Kim fucking Jeonhwa.
He's leaning against a locker like this is all mildly entertaining, hands in his pockets, expression lazy but eyes sharp. He shrugs when everyone stares at him.
"I was there," he adds casually. "Saw it myself."
What.
What is happening today??