Love in the Halls [Lee Donghyuck]

Chapter 23: Exam Season

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The crisp air of the new year seemed to invigorate Narae as she returned to school after the winter break. The holiday had been a whirlwind of study sessions and forced distractions, but now, with exams looming on the horizon, she threw herself back into her academic routine with a fierce determination. The walls of the school felt different, more like a haven of routine than a place of social drama.

Her first day back was a flurry of activity. She navigated the crowded hallways, her breath forming small clouds in the chilly air. The sound of chatter and laughter was a welcome change from the quiet solitude of her winter break. Yet, amid the bustle of returning students and the eager conversations about vacation stories, Narae felt a pang of unease. The familiar comfort of routine was there, but it was tainted with the absence of Haechan's presence beside her in class.

Classes resumed their usual pace, but Narae's focus was laser-sharp. Her textbooks and notes were her sanctuary. She had always thrived on structure, and now more than ever, she immersed herself in her studies with a single-minded intensity. Her desk in the library became her battlefield, her textbooks her armor. The once-welcome hum of the library now seemed too quiet, too isolated without Haechan's occasional interruptions and the small exchanges that had become a part of her daily rhythm.

Every day after school, she would head straight to the library, her steps echoing in the empty corridors. Her routine was meticulous: she would spread out her notes, organize her study materials, and dive into her work with a sense of purpose. The hours would slip by unnoticed as she tackled one subject after another, her focus unwavering. Each time she glanced up from her books, it was always to an empty chair beside her.

Her interactions with friends were brief and functional. Jeno and Renjun joined her for study sessions, but their conversations were dominated by academic topics. The friendship was there, but it felt strained, as if the absence of Haechan had cast a shadow over their usual banter. They worked together in concentrated silence, their discussions punctuated by the sound of turning pages and the occasional murmur of agreement.

The weeks sped by, each day blending into the next in a blur of textbooks and exam prep. The school environment seemed to hum with a subdued energy, a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of the holidays. Narae's performance in her exams was stellar, her hard work paying off as she aced each test with a quiet confidence. The results were a testament to her dedication, but the triumph was overshadowed by an underlying sense of loneliness.

As the days of the new semester wore on, Narae noticed a subtle shift in her surroundings. The classroom, once a place of familiarity and routine, now felt oddly empty. The seat beside her was occupied by unfamiliar faces, and the once-comforting presence of Haechan was replaced by a growing sense of solitude. The familiar gestures—Haechan's quick glances or half-hearted jokes—were missing, and the absence created a void she hadn't fully anticipated.

During lunch breaks and study sessions, she found herself engaging in small talk with her friends, but the conversations felt oddly hollow. The laughter and chatter seemed muted, as if the absence of Haechan had cast a veil over the vibrancy of her interactions. She focused on her studies with renewed vigor, but the sense of connection she had once felt seemed to be slipping away.

One afternoon, as she sat alone in the library, her textbooks spread out before her, she found herself lost in thought. The quiet hum of the library was soothing, but something was missing. She glanced around the room, the familiar setting now feeling strangely alien. The empty desk beside her was a constant reminder of what had changed, and the quiet moments between study sessions were filled with a subtle, gnawing sadness.

Her phone buzzed with a notification, breaking the silence. She glanced at the screen and saw a message from Renjun, asking if she wanted to join a study group. She quickly typed a response, agreeing with a practiced smile. But as she put her phone away, a sudden wave of sadness washed over her. The emptiness she felt was not just about the lack of Haechan's presence but about a deeper sense of disconnection.

Her gaze lingered on the empty seat next to her, the one that had once been a small sanctuary in the chaos of school life. The realization that she missed Haechan's presence was uncomfortable. It was strange, almost foreign, to admit that someone's absence could have such an impact. She pushed the thought aside as she focused on her notes, but the unease remained.

The realization hit her harder than expected. The school year had resumed its usual rhythm, and she had slipped back into her routine with surprising ease. Yet, the quiet moments between classes, the empty seat next to her, and the subtle absence of a familiar face were a constant reminder of what had changed. The adjustment wasn't just about seating arrangements; it was about something more profound.

As she walked home that evening, the cold wind biting at her cheeks, she found herself lost in thought. The winter nights grew colder, and the evenings stretched on, but the sense of sadness lingered. She missed the familiar interactions, the small moments of connection that had once been a part of her daily life.

In her room that night, she tried to focus on her studies, her textbooks spread out before her. The sense of purpose and determination was there, but the underlying sadness refused to be ignored. She muttered to herself, trying to push the feelings aside. "Get it together," she told herself firmly. "It's just a matter of adjusting."

Despite her attempts to maintain her composure, the sadness lingered. The school year had resumed its usual rhythm, but Narae couldn't shake the sense of loss. She continued to focus on her studies, pushing through the emotions she wasn't ready to confront. The empty seat next to her and the subtle absence of Haechan were reminders of a change she hadn't fully accepted.

As she settled into her study routine, her textbooks open before her, Narae forced herself to concentrate on the tasks at hand. She would keep pushing forward, keep working hard, and keep the unwanted feelings at bay. For now, she reasoned, she had always been able to handle everything on her own.

The evenings stretched on, the winter nights growing colder, but Narae's resolve remained as firm as ever. She would focus on her goals, on her studies, and on keeping her emotions in check. There was no room for distractions—especially not those she wasn't ready to confront.

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