The next morning rose slowly, as if the sun itself hesitated to push through the heavy clouds. The sky looked pale and uncertain. The air felt cold even inside the apartment. When Ha Jun opened his eyes, he knew immediately that something in him was different.
Not better.
Different.
His body felt drained. His limbs felt heavy, as if he had spent the entire night running through someone else's dream. He sat up slowly and rubbed his face with both hands. The silence in the room stretched on like a thin thread ready to snap.
A quiet knock touched his door.
"Jun ah. Breakfast," his mother called softly.
He answered, "I will come."
He stood, dressed, and walked into the living room. His mother and father sat at the table while his younger sister hummed a cheerful tune, swinging her legs under her chair. She waved at him with innocent joy.
"You look tired," his mother said.
"I am fine," he replied automatically.
His father glanced at him, eyes firm yet concerned.
"You came home late last night."
"I stayed to study," Ha Jun answered.
His father nodded but did not look convinced. His mother placed a bowl of porridge in front of him. The steam rose gently. He lifted the spoon but it trembled slightly in his hand. He forced himself to eat two spoonfuls before the tightness in his throat made it impossible to continue.
"I will eat more later," he whispered.
His mother watched him with silent worry, but she let him go. He grabbed his bag and stepped outside into the cold morning.
As he walked toward the bus stop, he felt the strange shift inside him growing. It was like a fissure running through him. Small. Quiet. But present. The kind of crack that could deepen without warning.
At the bus stop, students gathered with chatter and laughter. Some scrolled through their phones. Some complained about assignments. Some spoke excitedly about weekend plans.
Ha Jun stood at the edge of the group, feeling as though he were watching a screen rather than living in the same world.
When the bus arrived, he found a seat near the back. Rain tapped the windows again, this time in soft steady drops. The rhythm lulled the bus into a quiet trance.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Ji Hye.
Are you alright today
If it is too loud for you on campus, tell me
He stared at her words. Warm. Caring. Constant.
He typed slowly.
I will see you on campus
Thank you
When he arrived at the university, she was already waiting near the entrance. She wore a simple white blouse and held a small umbrella. Her hair was tied loosely and her presence felt like a gentle breath to a tired soul.
The moment she saw his face, her expression changed.
"Your eyes look different today."
He looked away. "I am just tired."
"Do not do that," she said softly.
"Do not hide in front of me."
He swallowed. The crack inside him widened slightly.
They walked together toward their lecture room. Students passed them in bright streams of color. Someone bumped into Ha Jun accidentally.
"Sorry," the student said quickly.
"It is alright," Ha Jun replied.
But the impact had jolted him. His breathing quickened for a moment. His vision sharpened at the edges. Ji Hye noticed immediately.
"Come," she said.
She led him to a bench near the courtyard. Trees dripped with the morning rain. The air smelled of wet soil and leaves.
"Talk to me," she whispered.
"What is happening today."
He hesitated. The words sat heavy on his tongue.
He had held them for too long.
Finally he spoke in a quiet voice.
"I feel like something in me broke yesterday. I do not know what it is. I woke up with a weight I cannot explain. It is like I am walking inside a shadow I cannot see."
Ji Hye nodded slowly.
"You are having one of those days."
"One of those days," he repeated softly.
"Yes. The kind that scares me."
She looked at him with unwavering tenderness.
"Then let me stay with you through it."
He felt his throat tighten.
"You do not have to."
"I want to."
He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing her presence to steady him. Her voice, her warmth, her steady patience felt like the only anchor he had today.
When they went into class again, he sat where the light touched him but without burning. Ji Hye sat beside him, not leaving even a small gap. Her closeness kept the shadows from crawling too far.
But halfway through the lecture, something inside him reached its limit.
He had been writing notes when his vision blurred. His chest tightened without warning. His hand froze mid movement. His breath caught like a knot inside his lungs.
The sound of the room grew distant.
The professor's voice became a muffled echo.
The edges of his world turned faint.
The crack inside him finally split open.
His pen fell from his fingers and hit the floor with a soft tap.
Ji Hye turned instantly.
"Jun," she whispered urgently.
"Look at me."
He tried. He truly tried.
But the world was slipping.
She touched his hand gently, guiding it into her palm.
"I am here. Look at me. Stay with me."
His breath trembled.
"I cannot," he whispered.
"Yes you can," she murmured.
"You are not alone. You hear me. You are not alone."
But the pain inside him was overwhelming.
The sorrow.
The exhaustion.
The memories.
The weight.
Everything crashed into him at once.
He stood abruptly.
The entire class turned toward him.
The professor paused mid sentence.
Ji Hye rose with him.
"Let us go," she said firmly.
He nodded faintly, barely aware of his surroundings. Together they walked out of the room. Ji Hye kept his hand in hers the entire way.
They reached the hallway.
His knees gave out.
He sank to the floor with his back against the wall.
His breath broke into shallow shaky gasps.
His eyes stung with tears he could not hold back.
Ji Hye crouched beside him.
"Breathe with me," she whispered.
"In and out. Slowly."
He tried.
He tried with every part of him.
But the storm inside refused to calm.
"I am tired," he choked.
"I am so tired."
She placed her hand on his cheek.
Her voice trembled now too.
"I know. I know you are. But you are still here. You are still fighting."
Students passed by with curious glances but Ji Hye did not care. She stayed close to him. She shielded him. She refused to let him drown.
He finally buried his face in his hands.
Tears slid through his fingers.
His smile had broken.
Not in a dramatic way.
Not in a loud explosion.
It had cracked quietly.
It had slipped away like a whispered goodbye.
Ji Hye pulled him into her arms.
And Ha Jun let himself fall against her.
For the first time in a long time, he let someone hold the pieces of him without shame.
They stayed there until his breathing slowed.
But the day was far from over.
And the story was far from healing.
Something deeper was stirring in the shadows of his soul.
The chapter ends not with calm, but with a question that hangs heavily in the air.
How long can a heart endure before it asks for rescue.