"Your life fucking amazes me, Nana," Kenji said, his voice tinged with disbelief, eyes wide in awe.
"Seriously... were you blessed by a K-drama writer or some shit?" Hyeri added, shaking her head as if unable to process the absurdity of it all.
Nabi only rolled her eyes, her fingers instinctively launching a pink paintball toward the blank canvas in front of her. She watched in silent satisfaction as the vibrant splatter erupted against the white, the sudden burst of color mirroring the relief that began to seep into her chest. It was like the tension in her body had melted away with each splash of paint.
"See? That helped, didn't it?" Kenji chuckled, clearly amused by the way Nabi's expression had shifted from one of quiet shock to subtle release.
Nabi, still trying to hold onto some semblance of composure, shoved him playfully, her lips threatening to curve into a smile. "Hey, I swear, if you throw one of those at me..." she warned, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
Kenji raised his hands in mock surrender, but the teasing was far from over. "I'm right, and you know it~" he said, his voice light, taunting, as he prepared another paintball, ready to strike.
Meanwhile, Hyeri, exasperated by their usual antics, threw a few paintballs herself—recklessly and without much aim. "You two are like children," she muttered under her breath, choosing to focus on her own canvas as her eyes glazed over from the constant bickering between her two friends.
Nabi wiped the sweat from her forehead and turned to grab some water, the familiar warmth of her friends' presence easing her frazzled mind. "Hey, Nana," Hyeri called, her tone suddenly softer, more serious. "You sure you're okay?"
Kenji, who usually kept his emotions close to his chest, seemed almost hesitant to voice the same concern. His inability to be openly serious often kept his words trapped behind layers of jokes and sarcasm. But there was something different tonight, a quiet weight in the air that neither of them could ignore.
"Why do you ask?" Nabi's voice was guarded as she tossed the last of her paintballs, watching it burst on impact with a blank spot on the canvas. It wasn't as though she wasn't grateful for her friends' concern; it was more that she wasn't used to being the subject of it. She had already shared the skeletons of her life, the parts that weren't hidden under layers of pride and self-reliance. But Jeonghan? That was a part of her life she wasn't ready to expose, not to them. Not yet.
Hyeri let out a soft sigh before speaking again, her voice gentle but filled with care. "Babe, you know damn well why I'm asking. I'm glad you're on good terms with Hansol now, but there has to be some feelings there, I'm sure. Good and bad."
The question hit harder than expected. Nabi's chest tightened, and she felt the weight of it hanging in the air between them. It was one thing to talk about Hansol casually, to downplay the past, but Hyeri's words were too close to the truth, to the reality she hadn't yet fully confronted.
"We're fine. It's fine," she said, her voice thin, as if she could brush the question away with ease.
But Hyeri and Kenji shared a glance that spoke volumes, their connection so in sync it was almost eerie. Nabi could feel their concern radiating toward her, a quiet plea for her to open up, even just a little.
"Nana... we just wanna be here for you, okay?" Kenji's voice was soft now, quieter than usual. "We only pry because when you keep things to yourself, you end up... almost going crazy. And after last time, none of us want that again."
The sincerity in his voice made something in Nabi stir, a mix of warmth and guilt. She'd been the one leaning on them, letting her problems spill out like water from a broken faucet. But had she ever been there for them the same way? Sure, she'd listened when they needed her, but when had she ever made space to check on them? To make sure they were okay? They were always there for her, but she couldn't help but wonder—why?
