The next few days feel wrong.
Jae doesn't show up at school. Not once.
I text him, then immediately tell myself not to read into it.
Still, I check my phone every few minutes, like maybe it'll buzz if I want it badly enough.
It doesn't.
I rush through the day on autopilot. Homework. Dinner. Helping Sofia with her math.
By the time I get to my room, my books are open, but I can't focus.
My thoughts keep circling back to him.
"Great. Clingy girl alert," I mutter, dropping my pen.
Still, the quiet bothers me.
I move to the window as the sun starts to dip, painting the street gold. And then—
My breath catches.
Jae is standing outside my house.
He looks like he's been there a while.
I'm down the stairs before I can overthink it.
When I open the door, he's still there, hands in his pockets, shoulders squared as if bracing himself.
Up close, I notice the exhaustion in his face.
The shadows under his eyes.
"Jae," I say. "What are you doing here?"
He doesn't answer.
"What happened?" I ask.
For half a second, his control slips. A tear traces down his cheek.
He swipes it away immediately, rough and impatient, like it never existed.
I don't comment. I just step closer.
When I hug him, his body stiffens, then steadies.
One arm comes around my back, firm and protective, like he's grounding himself.
His hand stays there—solid, intentional.
He doesn't collapse.
He holds on.
After a moment, he pulls away first.
"Sorry," he says, voice steady. "I shouldn't have come like this."
"It's okay," I say. "You can be here."
He exhales through his nose, not convinced. "Take a walk with me?"
"Yeah, of course."
He sets the pace, long strides, silent. I let him.
The street quiet around us.
When he finally speaks, his voice is low.
"They're pulling life support."
My chest tightens. "Adam?"
He nods once. That's all.
"His parents decided today."
I wait.
"I went to their house," he continues. "Lost my temper. Told them they were killing him."
We reach a bench.
He sits, elbows on his knees, staring straight ahead.
I sit beside him, close enough that our arms almost touch.
"He was my best friend," Jae says quietly.
His jaw tightens.
"The night it happened," he says, "I found out he was seeing Bianca. I caught them at the dock."
My stomach tightens.
"She said she couldn't choose," he says flatly. "So I did."
He glances at me briefly, then looks away again.
"I sent her home," he says. "Then I hit him. Once."
His hands clench. "He didn't even fight back."
I stay quiet.
"The next day, they found him near the pier. Beaten. Stabbed." His voice dips.
Silence stretches between us.
"You loved her?" I ask.
He turns to me fully now. "No."
The certainty in his voice leaves no room for doubt.
"What hurts," he continues, "is knowing the last thing Adam heard from me was anger."
"That's not all you were to him," I say. "One moment doesn't erase a lifetime."
He watches me carefully. "You really believe that?"
"I do."
I hesitate, then say it. "I lost my parents when I was nine."
That makes him go completely still.
"The last thing I gave them was an argument about pizza on the drive home from my rehearsal," I say. "For years, I thought that meant their deaths were my fault."
His jaw tightens, eyes darkening.
"No," he says sharply. "Don't ever say that."
The intensity of it startles me.
"It wasn't your fault," he adds, slower this time. "Not even a little."
I tell him about the crash. The hospital. Waking up to a world that had already moved on without them.
He doesn't interrupt. He doesn't look away.
"I wanted someone to blame," I finish. "But I realized it wouldn't bring them back."
He exhales slowly, like he's holding something inside his chest that's too heavy to set down.
"You shouldn't carry that," he says. "You never should have."
Something about the way he says it—like a vow—makes my throat tighten.
He runs a hand through his hair, regaining control.
I put a hand lightly on his arm. "I'm sorry about Adam," I say softly.
"We all have our wounds. Things we can't change. You just… have to keep moving, that's all we can do."
His jaw tightens, and for a second I see the weight in his eyes ease.
He lets out a long breath, almost like he's letting the air carry some of it away.
His mouth twitches, almost a smile.
"Rehearsal?" he asks.
It takes me a second. "Yeah. I used to play violin."
He nods.
We walk back toward my house. At the gate, I stop.
I hesitate. "Will you be okay?"
He meets my eyes. "I will."
I really hope he means it.
"Goodnight, Jae," I say softly.
"Goodnight," he replies, calm, deliberate… and I swear he lingers there just a little longer than needed.
He waits until I'm inside before he turns away.
Later, in bed, my thoughts won't settle.
I keep thinking about him, about what he's going through, about Adam…
He came to me.
And somehow… that changes everything.