The morning sun did little to ease the weight pressing on Kang Haeun's chest. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, the eerie message from the unknown number still echoing in her mind. She had read it three times last night and another four before sunrise, hoping it would somehow disappear or change.
We know who you really are. Stop hiding.
Even now, as she tied her shoelaces in silence, her fingers trembled ever so slightly. Rihan hadn't noticed—thank God. He was still sprawled on the couch, snoring into the popcorn bowl they never cleaned up.
She stood, grabbed her bag, and slipped out the door before he could wake. She didn't want questions. Not yet.
At school, everything looked the same. Laughter rang through the corridors. Shoes squeaked against linoleum. Friends exchanged dramatic stories about weekend drama that didn't matter in the real world. And yet, the moment Haeun stepped inside, the air around her always seemed to shift. Like she pulled a storm cloud in with her.
Minjae noticed.
He was standing by his locker when she walked past. His eyes followed her—not curious this time, but focused. Noticing things no one else did. Like how her steps were a little more tense. How her eyes stayed fixed on the ground for a little longer.
He hesitated for a second, then followed.
"Haeun," Minjae called gently, catching up to her outside their classroom.
She turned, one brow raised. "What?"
He paused. The hallway buzzed behind them with noise and motion, but her eyes locked on him like a needle pressed to skin.
"I just… you okay?" he asked.
Her expression flickered—so fast you might miss it. Then it settled into something flat and unreadable again.
"I'm fine," Haeun replied, shifting her weight. "Why?"
Minjae smiled softly. "You don't look fine."
"I didn't know you were my therapist now," she said, walking past him.
But he followed her inside, smiling still.
"You're not that scary, you know," Minjae said as they took their seats. "People just have no idea how to handle someone who doesn't pretend."
Haeun glanced sideways at him. "You talk a lot for someone who's been warned not to sit near me."
Minjae laughed. "Yeah, well. I'm bad at listening."
She didn't smile, but something in her chest loosened.
Throughout class, she could feel his gaze flickering toward her now and then. Not in the way boys usually starred. Not the kind of look that judged or expected. Just quiet awareness. Curiosity without pressure.
And for some reason, that unsettled her more than any threat.
At lunch, she was already at her usual table when Minjae showed up again. Tray in hand. Determined as ever.
He sat without asking this time.
"You're persistent," Haeun said, stabbing her rice.
"I'm hungry," Minjae replied with a shrug. "And you're less annoying than the other options."
"That's a compliment now?"
He grinned. "From me, yeah."
For a while, they ate in silence, the sounds of the cafeteria filling the space between them. Then Minjae leaned back, picking at his fruit.
"So… do you always eat alone?"
Haeun gave him a look. "Do you always ask so many questions?"
"Only when I'm curious."
She sighed and set her chopsticks down. "I don't do people."
"Lucky for you, I'm not people," Minjae said with a smirk.
She stared at him.
He stared right back.
Then, to her own surprise, she laughed. Just once. Softly. Almost like the sound escaped before she could stop it.
Minjae blinked. "Did… you just laugh?"
"No."
"You totally did."
"Shut up."
He raised his hands in surrender, but the grin didn't fade.
Later that day, Haeun sat on the rooftop of the school, where no one usually went. She often came here to think, to breathe, and to hide. The wind tugged at her hair and hoodie, the sky above painted in pale gray clouds.
She didn't hear him approach until he was standing right next to her.
"Thought I'd find you here," Minjae said casually.
She sighed. "What do you want?"
"Nothing," he said, sitting beside her. "I just… thought you shouldn't be alone right now."
She looked at him, her expression unreadable. "Why not?"
"Because you looked like you were trying to hold the whole world together by yourself."
For the first time, she looked away. Her voice was quieter when she spoke again.
"You don't know anything about me."
Minjae leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.
"Maybe not. But I know what it feels like to be tired of pretending everything's okay."
Haeun's fingers curled into fists in her lap.
"I'm not pretending."
"I know," Minjae said softly. "That's what makes it harder."
Silence stretched between them. Not uncomfortable. Just… full.
She didn't tell him about the message. About the fear creeping under her skin like poison. About the past she couldn't outrun. But for a moment, she let herself breathe beside him.
And that was more than she'd allowed anyone in a long time.
That evening, when she returned home, the apartment was quiet. Rihan was seated at the kitchen table, flipping through something on his tablet. The moment she entered, he looked up.
"Hey," he said. "You're late."
"I was at school," Haeun replied, tossing her bag on the couch.
Rihan narrowed his eyes. "You don't usually stay late."
She shrugged, heading toward the fridge. "I wasn't alone."
There was a pause.
Then Rihan's voice turned curious. "That transfer kid?"
"Maybe," Haeun said.
"You like him?"
She shot him a glare. "Don't be gross."
"I'm just asking," Rihan said, raising his hands. "You brought him up first."
"I didn't bring him up."
"You just called him 'him.' That counts."
Haeun rolled her eyes. "Oppa, please. You sound like Ella."
"Ella would have already made a wedding slideshow."
"I'd rather die."
He laughed, then stood and crossed the room. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, voice softer now.
"You can trust him?"
Haeun hesitated, then answered quietly, "I don't know yet."
"Then don't let him too close."
Her chest tightened. She nodded.
That night, as she lay in bed again, staring at the glowing screen of her phone, she scrolled through her recent messages. The unknown number remained at the top. Still no reply. Still no trace. She had tried to ignore it. Pretend it was a prank. But the weight in her gut said otherwise.
We know who you really are. Stop hiding.
She pulled the blanket over her head and shut her eyes tight.
But sleep didn't come easily.