LETTER [정원]ᴇɴ⁃

1

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

💗💗

"Did you get a letter again?" Niki asked, wiping sweat from his forehead with a kitchen towel, the one he shamelessly stole from Jay before we left for the company.

We had been dancing for hours in the practice room, rehearsing relentlessly for our upcoming comeback.

Just when we were about to catch our breath, someone called my name and handed me another letter.

No name. No explanation. Just the same familiar handwriting.

"She used a different name again,"

I muttered, flipping the envelope between my fingers.

Niki frowned. "Same person as before?"

"Yeah," I said. "I've been getting these since 11th grade. She started when I was still a trainee."

I stared at the unopened letter, then shook my head.

"I'm not reading this one."

I walked over to the trash bin and tossed it in without hesitation.

Patting Niki on the shoulder, I turned back to the mirror.

"Let's go again before midnight."

⸻

"What are you doing?" Hana's voice came from behind as she tousled my hair.

I jumped, nearly knocking over the pen in my hand.
"Oh my god, you scared me! I thought—ugh, never mind."

I sighed in relief when I realized it was just my best friend. She laughed and plopped down in the chair beside me, peeking at the paper I was writing on.

"Yang Jungwon?" she read aloud, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded with a shy smile. "Do you know him?"

"Nope," she replied casually.

"Who is he?"

I lowered my voice, a small smile forming.

"He was my first love. We were classmates in 11th grade. I had a huge crush on him. Now, he's an idol."

Hana tilted her head. "So why write him a letter? You could've just confessed to him back then."

I paused, eyes drifting back to the letter.

"He was popular. Good at everything. Sports, singing, dancingyou name it. All the girls liked him, including me. But every time someone confessed, he always said the same thing: 'I already like someone.'"

She listened quietly as I continued.

I smiled faintly.

"Sometimes I came to school early just to leave chocolates and letters on his desk."

Hana crossed her arms.

"You've been writing to him ever since?"

"For three years," I whispered.

She frowned. "So why now? Why this letter?"

I let out a breath, slow and shaky.

"Because I want to confess. I want to finally say how I feel, but I'm scared. What if he rejects me?"