Chapter Text
The drive back was quiet, the hum of the car engine the only sound between us. Minho didn’t push for answers, and I didn’t offer any. My mind was too full, a tangled mess of guilt, fear, and confusion that couldn’t be unraveled—not in one car ride, not in one night. I was holding on to what little composure I had left, but each passing moment felt like another crack forming in the fragile walls I’d built around myself.
When Minho pulled into my driveway, I hesitated, my hand lingering on the door handle. The words "thank you" hovered on my lips, but they felt wrong, hollow. Instead, I turned my phone over in my hand, my attention drawn to the buzzing notification that lit up the screen.
Chan .
My stomach twisted as I saw his name. I wasn’t ready to face him, not yet. I unlocked my phone with trembling fingers and read the message.
“Hey, where are you? Your location says you’re not home. Is everything okay?”
My breath hitched. I had forgotten about the location-sharing feature. It had been Chan’s idea—something to give us both peace of mind. Now, it felt like a spotlight shining directly on the secret I was trying so desperately to hide.
I typed out a response quickly, my fingers shaking. “I’m fine. Just out for a walk. Needed to clear my head. I’ll be home soon.”
I stared at the message for a second before hitting send, feeling the weight of the lie settle over me. It wasn’t even a good lie, but it was all I could manage. I glanced at Minho, who was still sitting in the driver’s seat, watching me. His eyes flicked to the phone in my hand, then back to my face, but he didn’t say anything.
“Thanks for the ride,” I muttered, barely meeting his gaze as I stepped out of the car.
“You’re welcome,” he said softly, his voice tinged with something I couldn’t quite place—sadness, maybe, or resignation. “Take care of yourself.”
The words lingered in the air as I closed the door and walked up to the house. I could feel his eyes on me until I stepped inside. The quiet of the house felt oppressive, the silence pressing down on me like a physical weight.
I didn’t even make it up the stairs before my phone buzzed again.
“Where exactly are you walking? You’re still not showing up as home, and it’s late. Just tell me what’s going on.”
I froze, the message staring back at me like a challenge. He wasn’t letting this go. Chan never did. My heart raced as I tried to think of a way to explain without digging myself deeper into this mess.
I typed back: “I told you, I just needed some air. I’ll be home soon. Don’t worry about me.”
Barely a moment passed before his response came. “I am worried. You’ve been acting strange lately, and I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. Please, just be honest with me. Where are you?”
I sank onto the edge of the stairs, my legs weak beneath me. He was pressing harder now, and the sincerity in his words cut through me like a knife.
“I’m fine, Chan. I just need some time to myself.”
This time, his reply didn’t come as quickly. The pause made me anxious, my mind racing with what he might be thinking. When the screen lit up again, his message hit me like a punch to the gut.
“If you’re fine, then why do I feel like you’re slipping away? I can’t help if you won’t let me. Where are you really? Please don’t lie to me.”
The firmness in his words left no room for escape. He wasn’t going to let this slide, and I knew it. My chest tightened as I stared at the message, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. I couldn’t keep dodging him, couldn’t keep running from the truth. But how could I tell him the truth without breaking everything we had?
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to type. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, to beg him to trust me, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I placed my phone face down on the step beside me and buried my face in my hands, the weight of it all pressing down on me.
But then the phone buzzed again.
“I’m coming over.”
Panic surged through me as I grabbed the phone, staring at the words in disbelief. He wasn’t giving me a choice anymore. And deep down, I knew I couldn’t stop him.
The panic settled in my chest like a weight I couldn’t shake. Chan was coming over. My mind raced, trying to come up with a plan, an excuse, anything to prevent what felt like an inevitable confrontation.
I stared at the last message on my phone, the words “I’m coming over” glaring at me like a warning light. He’d never done this before—pushed this hard. But then again, I’d never been this reckless with the fragile balance of my life.
I typed quickly, my fingers trembling. “Chan, don’t. It’s late. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
The reply came almost instantly, as if he’d been waiting for my response. “I’m already on my way.”
My heart sank. He wasn’t bluffing. I didn’t have time to clean up the mess of my emotions, to piece together a story that might hold up under his scrutiny. All I had was the truth I wasn’t ready to share.
I paced the living room, my thoughts spiraling. What would I say? How would I explain? My phone buzzed again, and I flinched.
“I’m five minutes away. Please don’t shut me out.”
The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over. I hated how perceptive he was, how he could always tell when something was wrong, even when I tried so hard to hide it. But wasn’t that what I loved about him, too? That he cared enough to push, even when it hurt?
I barely had time to compose myself before I heard a car pull up outside. My heart pounded as I glanced out the window and saw Chan stepping out, his face shadowed but unmistakably determined.
There was no use pretending now. I opened the door before he could knock, the cold night air rushing past me and into the house.
He stopped at the foot of the steps, his gaze locking onto mine. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The weight of unspoken words hung between us, thick and suffocating.
“You weren’t walking,” he said finally, his voice calm but firm. “Where were you?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. He took a step closer, his expression softening.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said. “Whatever it is, I can handle it. Just tell me.”
I looked away, the guilt burning in my chest. “It’s not that simple, Chan.”
“It is,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re making it harder by shutting me out.”
I shook my head, tears threatening to spill again. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
His words hung in the air, daring me to take the leap, to trust him with the truth. But how could I? How could I admit that I’d betrayed him, that I’d crossed a line I couldn’t uncross?
“I... I can’t,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
His jaw tightened, frustration flickering across his face. “Is it about Minho?”
My breath hitched, and I felt my legs weaken beneath me. The question struck like a thunderclap, leaving me reeling. How did he know?
He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. “You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been distant ever since he came back. I didn’t want to believe it, but…”
He trailed off, his voice cracking. The pain in his expression was unbearable.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” I blurted, my voice trembling. “I didn’t want any of this, Chan. I swear.”
“What happened?” he asked, his tone softer now but still laced with hurt.
I hesitated, the truth on the tip of my tongue. But looking at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say the words that would shatter everything between us.
“I made a mistake,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “A big one. But it’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what it is,” he said, his voice breaking. “Because right now, I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know how to fix this if you won’t let me in.”
I shook my head, the tears streaming freely now. “I don’t think you can fix this, Chan.”
For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just stood there, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. Then he reached out, his hand brushing against mine.
“I’m not giving up on you,” he said softly. “Not now, not ever. So whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here. But don’t push me away.”
The sincerity in his voice broke something inside me. I wanted to tell him everything, to pour out the truth and beg for his forgiveness. But the fear of losing him held me back.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”
He nodded, his grip on my hand tightening briefly before he let go. “I’ll wait,” he said. “But don’t make me wait too long.”
With that, he turned and walked back to his car, leaving me standing in the doorway, the weight of his words pressing down on me.
As his car disappeared down the street, I felt the full weight of what I’d done crash over me. There was no escaping it now. The cracks in my armor were too wide, too deep. And soon, everything I’d been trying to hold together would come undone.