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yeri laid wide awake, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers, but all it offered was silence, thick and suffocating. 3 a.m. felt like a cruel hour—too late for hope, too early for clarity. her heart twisted in knots she couldn't untangle, every thought of sunghoon dragging her deeper into a pit she couldn't crawl out of.
why was it always her? why was it always aera who got everything? the golden girl, the one everyone adored—or at least that's how yeri perceived her, consumed by jealousy. aera wasn't perfect. far from it. she saw how aera treated sunghoon, how she pushed him away, giving him nothing, no reason to stay, rejecting the love yeri yearned for. and yet, he stayed. every time.
yeri's chest burned with something ugly—something that clawed at her ribs and made it hard to breathe. why couldn't he see it? why couldn't he see her? she'd been there, right there, offering all of herself, every piece of her heart. but it was never enough. not when aera was around, casting shadows over everything yeri tried to be. one thought rang loud in her mind—what if they're soulmates?
the anger simmered beneath her skin, but beneath that, there was something far worse: a deep, gnawing ache, a loneliness that wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed. because the truth was, it wasn't just sunghoon she hated for ignoring her. she hated aera for existing. for being the one he chose.
why her?
it echoed in her mind, over and over, like a curse she couldn't shake. what did aera have that yeri didn't? they used to be friends once, back when the world was simpler, back when yeri didn't know what it meant to be left behind. but something shifted, twisted, and now all yeri could feel was resentment. she rolled onto her side, biting her lip so hard it nearly bled. she hated herself for feeling this way, for wishing aera would disappear. it wasn't fair, but then again, nothing ever was.
the worst part? it wasn't even aera's fault. no, the blame fell squarely on sunghoon—on his stupid, oblivious smile, on the way he lit up when aera walked into the room, on the way he never once spared yeri a glance, not in the way she needed. it was always her. always aera.
