Know that I still love you

New Beginnings and Old Wounds: Chapter 2

       As the days passed, Ji-Ho finally arrived in Seoul, her heart brimming with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Her new apartment was small but cozy, a perfect blank slate for her fresh start.

"Make sure you get some rest, Ji-Ho," Emi, her best friend and self-proclaimed manager, reminded her with a teasing grin. "Tomorrow's a big day—you start school, and we have to look stunning for the first impression!"

Ji-Ho rolled her eyes but smiled. Emi's enthusiasm was contagious. Together, they had dreamed of Seoul University, and now it was a reality. For Ji-Ho, though, there was another layer to this journey—one she hadn't shared with Emi yet.

Meanwhile, Minghao had already settled into his routine in Seoul. Days before Ji-Ho's arrival, he'd been spending time with his close-knit group of friends, known as the 97 Liners. They were infamous around campus—not just for their looks and wealth but for their larger-than-life personalities and talent. Minghao, though quieter, was no exception.

After a long night of basketball and drinks, Minghao stared at the ceiling of his luxurious apartment. Memories of someone he had tried to forget surfaced, unbidden. He shook his head and closed his eyes. Not again.

The first morning of school dawned bright and cool, the city buzzing with energy. Ji-Ho couldn't contain her excitement as she and Emi made their way to the university.

"Can you believe it, Emi? We're really here! Seoul University!" Ji-Ho gushed, running ahead on the bridge leading to campus.

"Ji-Ho, slow down! You're going to—"

Before Emi could finish, Ji-Ho collided with a group of tall, sharply dressed men. She stumbled back, her apology dying in her throat when one of them sneered.

"Watch where you're going, low-level," said Bam Bam, his tone dripping with disdain.

Ji-Ho bristled. "Excuse me? Who do you think you are?"

Before she could say more, Bam Bam snatched her phone and let it fall to the ground with a deliberate motion, shattering the screen. Ji-Ho froze, her anger bubbling up, but her breath caught when her eyes met another familiar pair.

Minghao.

He didn't say a word, didn't even meet her gaze. Instead, he turned and walked past her as if she were invisible. The crowd around them began to chant, "97! 97! 97!" Their presence was magnetic, their reputation unassailable. For everyone but Ji-Ho.

Emi rushed to Ji-Ho's side, helping her up. "Are you okay? What a jerk! Who does he think he is?"

Ji-Ho barely heard her. Her mind was stuck on Minghao's cold indifference.

In the 97 Liners' private lounge—a space equipped with gaming consoles, a massive flat-screen TV, and luxurious couches—the atmosphere was casual but electric.

"Bam Bam, that's the first time someone's stood up to you," Mingyu teased, laughing. "She's got guts."

Bam Bam scowled, gripping a glass of water before slamming it down. "She'll regret it. No one embarrasses me like that."

Minghao sat in silence, his guilt battling with the bitterness he couldn't shake. Seeing Ji-Ho again had thrown him into turmoil, but he wasn't ready to admit it. Not to anyone, and especially not to himself.

That night, Ji-Ho sat at her dining table, absentmindedly pushing her food around. Emi studied her friend's expression carefully.

"It's him, isn't it?" Emi asked softly.

Ji-Ho nodded. "I thought seeing him again would make me happy. But the way he looked at me..." She trailed off, her voice thick with emotion. "It felt like he hated me."

"You're being too hard on yourself," Emi reassured her. "You'll have a chance to explain—just give it time."

But Ji-Ho wasn't so sure. Could she ever bridge the chasm that years of misunderstandings and pain had created between them?

The following week, whispers and tension followed Ji-Ho wherever she went. Notes with a red cross—the 97 Liners' infamous symbol—kept appearing in her locker. Everyone knew what it meant: she was their target. But Ji-Ho refused to be intimidated.

Confrontation came sooner than expected. Ji-Ho stormed into the middle of the campus courtyard, holding up one of the ominous notes for all to see. "Bam Bam!" she yelled, her voice cutting through the chatter. "If you think I'm going to play your little games, think again. I'm not like the others—you can't control me!"

The crowd hushed as Bam Bam and the rest of the 97s emerged. His smirk was infuriatingly smug. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But you'll regret it. Don't come crying to me when you can't take the heat."

Ji-Ho stood her ground, her heart racing. Minghao, standing off to the side, kept his eyes fixed on the ground. He felt torn. He didn't want her to get hurt, but he wasn't ready to forgive her either.

The tension escalated over the following weeks. Ji-Ho tried to focus on her classes and dance practice, but the taunts and pranks became relentless. One afternoon, as she opened her locker, a jar of cinnamon tipped over, spilling its contents onto her. Students crowded around, laughing and hurling eggs and flour at her.

"Cowards!" Ji-Ho shouted, her voice breaking as she faced the jeering crowd. "You're all just spineless followers!"

The crowd parted as the 97 Liners approached, Bam Bam leading the way. "You called?" he said mockingly, holding a crate of eggs.

Ji-Ho braced herself, refusing to flinch as he threw one egg after another. Then, just as Bam Bam prepared to launch another, a hand shot out to grab his arm.

"Minghao?" Bam Bam hissed in disbelief. "What are you doing?"

Without a word, Minghao threw the crate to the ground and grabbed Ji-Ho's wrist, pulling her away. The crowd erupted in whispers as the two disappeared into the stairwell.

On the rooftop, the chaos of the school felt miles away. Ji-Ho tried to catch her breath, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "Why did you do that?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Why now?"

Minghao didn't answer immediately. His jaw clenched, his emotions barely contained. "Because," he finally said, "I'm the only one who gets to hate you."

Ji-Ho's eyes widened, her breath hitching at the weight of his words. Whatever lay between them, it was far from over.