ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ | ɪɴsᴏ's ʟᴀᴡ

027

Her throat felt parched, making it impossible to speak as she finally unearthed the rumors that had been swirling around the entire campus. How had she missed it before? Her eyes flitted to the figures standing before her, and shame washed over her. She lowered her head, the weight of her oversight pressing down on her, and whispered an apology.

"I'm sorry." The words slipped from her lips with a practiced ease. She had uttered this apology countless times before, and it no longer felt forced or hesitant. It was a part of her, ingrained in her being. She was sincere every single time.

Ji-ho, in a moment of raw frustration, grabbed his head as if to stave off madness before gently patting hers. The contrast between his rough gesture and the softness that followed was startling.

"You're an idiot," he said, his voice a mixture of exasperation and affection.

She didn't respond, simply lowering her head further, her apologies tumbling out in a hushed, continuous stream.

Someone cupped her face, their touch tender and warm. It was Ju-in.

"Mimi, don't blame yourself." His voice was gentle but firm as he stared into her eyes, which shimmered with a rich, haunting purple. "To begin with, it was never your fault."

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Chomi's eyes widened as she stared into Ju-in's gaze.

His eyes were calm and steady, a sea of tranquility amidst her internal chaos. He wasn't lying; she could see the truth in his gaze. It was something she had wished for from the start, something she had longed for desperately.

Someone who accepted her.

It felt like being in the deepest ocean, where darkness consumed everything around her. Yet, there was a faint light piercing through the abyss, guiding her way. A hand reached out to her from the depths, a beacon of hope and light amidst the overwhelming darkness.

Finally.

A soft smile curved her lips. She didn't cry; she wouldn't cry—no, she didn't need to cry. She knew moments like these were fleeting, transient as the waves. This serenity, this acceptance, wouldn't last long.

Because the deepest ocean was where she belonged.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with the weight of unspoken sorrow.

In her mind, a single, haunting thought echoed, 'I could never give myself again to anyone.'

Her heart ached with a deep, unyielding pain as she lowered her gaze, her eyes reflecting a storm of emotions.

The words felt like shards of glass on her tongue, cutting her from the inside as she forced them out.

The memories of betrayal and heartache were etched deeply into her soul, a scar that refused to heal. She felt trapped, as though the walls of her own mind were closing in, suffocating her with the weight of her own fears.

She couldn't bear to look up, to see the disappointment or pity in their eyes. The darkness she carried within her was a relentless tide, pulling her under, away from the light of hope and connection.

She had built walls around her heart, fortresses of solitude that kept others out and her pain locked within.

And so, she whispered her apology, a fragile, broken thing, knowing that she could never again give herself fully to anyone.

---

Chewing on a piece of tiramisu that Chunyoung had given her, Mimi couldn't help but speak with her mouth full, her words muffled by the delicious confection. "Why does Ruda and Chunyoung have bruises?" she asked, her voice garbled as she stuffed more of the sweets into her mouth.