Love in the Halls [Lee Donghyuck]

Chapter 87: Door Twenty-Nine Fourteen

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Narae sat alone in the small, dimly lit bathroom of Chenle's beach house, her back against the cool tile wall, arms wrapped around her knees. The whirlwind of emotions that had overwhelmed her earlier had settled into a cold pit of regret and uncertainty. She had snapped, lashed out, and now all she could do was wait, nervously wondering how to face Haechan or Heejin again.

Thirty minutes had passed, but it felt like a lifetime. The thought of stepping out and bumping into either of them sent waves of anxiety rippling through her. She pulled her phone from her pocket, fingers trembling as she scrolled to Renjun's contact and hit the call button.

"Renjun," she whispered when he picked up, her voice shaking. "Can you help me leave? I... I don't want to run into them."

Renjun didn't ask questions. He simply agreed, telling her to wait by the back door.

Minutes later, she slipped out of the washroom, avoiding the familiar rooms where she knew laughter and conversation echoed. With Renjun's quiet help, she escaped unnoticed, murmuring a half-hearted excuse about her mom looking for her. It was a lie, but it didn't matter. Not right now.

The ride back home was a blur, the rhythmic hum of the Uber's engine doing little to soothe her nerves. Her thoughts were too loud, too chaotic. She wanted to scream, to cry, to rewind the night and redo everything—anything to erase the embarrassment, the hurt, and the bitter sting of rejection she wasn't ready to admit she felt.

When she stepped into her empty apartment, it felt colder than usual. Kiwi wasn't there to greet her, the apartment quieter and lonelier than she remembered. Narae locked herself in her room, shutting the world out. She sat at her desk, staring blankly at her phone, waiting for something—anything. Maybe Haechan would text. Maybe he'd explain, apologize, or even joke it all away like he usually did.

Thirty minutes passed. Then an hour. Still nothing.

Her chest tightened, the hope she clung to slipping through her fingers like sand. She hugged her knees, burying her face in them as the first tear rolled down her cheek. The tears came faster after that, her quiet sobs muffled by the silence of the room. She didn't even know if she was crying over Heejin or Haechan anymore.

No, it wasn't about Heejin. It never really had been. The frustration, the jealousy—it all came down to Haechan. She felt toyed with, like she'd been pulled along in some game she didn't even know she was playing. The almost kiss, the fleeting moments of connection—they'd meant something to her, more than she was willing to admit. But now, it felt like a cruel joke, and she was the only one who hadn't been in on it.

The hours ticked by, and her tears slowed, leaving her in a dazed, heavy-headed state. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she was exhausted from the crying. Her mind spun, replaying every moment from earlier, every smile, every word, every touch. She hated that she cared so much. Hated that she had allowed herself to feel this way.

It didn't help that as soon as she got back to her apartment, she slipped into Haechan's hoodie, seeking some form of comfort. The familiar scent still clung to the fabric—a mix of his cologne and something uniquely him—and, strangely enough, it eased the tight knot of nerves in her chest, if only slightly.

Her fingers absently toyed with the sleeves, pulling them over her hands as she curled into herself. It was ridiculous how much he calmed her, how the warmth of the hoodie made her feel closer to him, even though he was miles away in that moment. Yet despite the calm it brought, the weight of it also reminded her of how far away he felt, emotionally. It was like she was grasping at the last thread of a connection that seemed to be slipping away.