I stopped checking over my shoulder.
That was the first change I noticed.
The streets didn't feel less dangerous.
The world didn't suddenly become kind.
But I walked differently slower, less tense because somewhere behind me, or beside me, or watching from a distance, Minjae existed.
And knowing that made my chest feel lighter.
That realization scared me more than anything he had done so far.
I hadn't told him about my nightmares.
About the way sleep comes in pieces. About waking up with my heart racing, convinced someone was standing over me. About the habit of counting breaths just to stay calm.
But one morning, when I looked especially tired, he said quietly,
"You didn't sleep."
I blinked. "I—"
"You always press your nails into your palm when you're exhausted," he continued. "Like this."
He gently touched my hand.
I pulled back instantly, embarrassed.
But he didn't look offended.
He looked… satisfied.
Not because he touched me.
Because he was right.
"You don't have to explain," he added. "I already know."
That sentence settled into me like a weight.
Comforting.
Heavy.
During class, I found myself glancing toward him without thinking.
Every time our eyes met, he gave that faint smile the one that said I see you.
And slowly, I began to rely on it.
When my anxiety rose, I looked for him.
When my thoughts spiraled, I waited for his message.
When my chest felt tight, I wondered what he would say.
He was becoming my anchor.
I didn't ask for it.
He simply placed himself there.
At lunch, a girl from another class sat beside me.
She smiled kindly. "You're Jisoo, right? I like your notebook."
My heart stuttered.
Someone talking to me.
Before I could answer, Minjae appeared.
"You should eat," he said calmly, setting my lunch down in front of me.
Then, without looking at the girl, he added,
"She doesn't like talking during meals."
I froze.
That wasn't true.
But I didn't correct him.
The girl hesitated, laughed awkwardly, and stood up.
"Oh—sorry. I didn't know."
She left.
Silence settled.
I stared at my food, guilt crawling up my throat.
"You didn't have to do that," I whispered.
Minjae sat down beside me.
"I did," he replied. "You looked
uncomfortable."
"But—"
"People drain you," he said softly. "I don't."
I wanted to disagree.
But my body betrayed me - my breathing steadied, shoulders relaxing now that it was just us.
He noticed.
He always notices.
That night, I realized something terrifying.
I hadn't spoken to anyone else all day.
And I didn't feel lonely.
I felt… held.
Like the walls around me were closing in gently, padded with warmth.
Safe.
And cages always feel safest when you don't realize they've locked.