.
.
.
"I'm the author of TWSA"
The chicken was getting cold. The fries were soggy now, the ketchup on the side bleeding red into the paper tray. But I didn't care. I looked at her,sitting across from me like she hadn't just flipped my entire world over in a single sentence.
"I am the author of Three Ways to Survive the Apocalypse," she said, her voice steady, almost casual.
My heart stopped again for a moment.
"You… what?"
"I wrote TWSA," she repeated, as if saying it again would help make it real. "From the first chapter to the end. It was all me."
I stared at her. No words came out. No thoughts, even. Just static. Just the sound of rain picking up again outside.
"But… how?" I finally managed. "Why?"
At first, I thought this was a joke. Some prank. But then I saw her expression,no trace of mischief, no sarcasm. Just a tired sort of truth, like someone confessing a secret. I mean I never told anyone about this novel anyway.
She reached across the table, placed her hand gently on mine.
"I wrote it… to save you."
My throat closed up.
"You're lying," I said, even though I didn't believe it. "You didn't even remember me. I didn't remember you either."
"I did," she said. "I always did."
The rain outside began to pour harder, slapping the windows like it was trying to get inside.
"I started writing it for fun," she said softly. "You know, because I always loved stories. I didn't even realize it was you at first. Just a commenter named Kim, someone who kept reading my novels about the world I wrote . But then one day, a comment popped up
She looked at me.
"dokja_kim."
I blinked.
"That was me," I whispered.
She smiled. "I figured. It wasn't just the name… It was the way you typed. The things you said. Like you understood everything too deeply. Like you'd lived through those chapters already. Just like you understood my stories like we were younger, the way you always asked me for more twists, more plot."
The tears came without warning. Just a sting behind my eyes at first, then a full wave of emotion I couldn't hold back. I looked away quickly, but Sooyoung saw.
"It's alright, I'm with you now" she said, and before I could respond, she stood up, came around the table, and pulled me into a hug.
And I let her.
Outside, the rain was no longer just a background noise,it was a thunderous curtain, a roaring veil that shielded us from everything else. I didn't care about the stares from other customers. For the first time in years, I felt seen. Heard. Held.
She whispered near my ear, "When I found out about what happened to your family… your mom, your dad… I couldn't stand it."
"How did you know?" I murmured, my voice cracking.
"Even though we went to different schools after fifth grade, I still heard things. Through old friends, through gossip. I found out your mom was arrested, that your dad was dead. I knew you were alone. And I knew you were suffering."
Her voice was trembling now too. "So I kept writing. Every night. I thought if I could just write the right story… maybe I could reach you. Maybe I could give you a reason to keep going."
I couldn't breathe. Everything in me was breaking apart and rebuilding at once.
"Thank you," I said finally. It was all I could say. All the emotions inside me were so pure, so strong it didn't even let me express. We stayed like that for a moment longer, then quietly sat back down. Neither of us touched the food again. It didn't matter.
.
.
.
By the time we stepped outside, the rain had stopped. The night air was cool, damp, and strangely comforting. Seoul glistened under the streetlights, raindrops still clinging to railings and leaves.
"It's ten already," Sooyoung said, stretching her arms behind her back. "Are you sleepy?"
"Not even a little."
"Great. Then let's explore the city."
I raised an eyebrow. "Explore?"
She grinned. "You've been living here too long to appreciate it. Come on. Let me show you the Seoul I fell in love with."
We started walking,no destination, just wandering through the damp, humming streets. The sky was still cloudy, but there was a softness to it now. A kind of peace. Then we decided to go to the park we used to play together in, it was drenched in mud but we didn't care,just like back then, we chose our fav coloured swings, me white and she purple. It was nothing but peace
"So…" I said after a while, "Fashion designer?"
"Oh, yeah." Her eyes lit up. "It's been my world for the last eight years. After high school, I moved to Daegu, then Tokyo, then back here. I started from scratch. Got rejected by twenty agencies before one of them took a chance on me."
"That's impressive."
"Thank you. I'm proud of it. But I always kept writing on the side. That's why TWSA took so long,it was my secret world, the one I could control when everything else felt like chaos."
I smiled. "You really are insane."
She laughed. "You're one to talk."
Then we got up and started walking again. We passed under a flickering neon sign. A ramen shop. A bookstore. A closed flower stall with wilted tulips still catching rain in their petals.
"Promise me something," I said suddenly.
She looked over. "What?"
"Don't disappear again."
She stopped walking, turned to face me. Her expression grew serious.
"I won't," she said. "Not this time. But promise you won't push me away either"
I nodded, the silence between us wasn't empty anymore. It was full of unsaid words, of childhood memories, of a rain-soaked photo and a story that saved my life.
And for the first time, I didn't hate the rain.
Not when she was here.
Not when I had someone walking beside me in the dark.
.
.
.