Swipe Right for Love | WinRina

Chapter 10

The evening light casting a warm, almost nostalgic glow over the modest apartment as Jimin sat by the window. The bustling streets below seemed alive with a rhythm that felt distant and foreign, contrasting sharply with the unsettling stillness inside her. Her thoughts were trapped in a loop, orbiting around one central figure—Kim Minjeong.

Weeks had passed since their first meeting, and the moments they spent together had become the highlights of her days. Their time together, from shared meals to movie nights, seemed idyllic. On the surface, everything appeared perfect. But beneath that veneer, a gnawing uncertainty had taken root, feeding off the silence that hung heavy between them.

The question of where they stood had become an incessant hum in Jimin's mind, growing louder with each passing day. Their closeness had deepened, yet the conversation about defining their relationship remained conspicuously absent. The silence was a suffocating blanket, filling Jimin with an oppressive sense of anxiety.

Why hasn't she said anything? Jimin wondered, her fingers absently stroking the kitten that had nestled into her lap. The kitten's gentle purring was a fleeting comfort, a small oasis in a desert of doubt and unease, especially during moments like this, when her thoughts spiraled into uncertainty.

Suddenly, her mind was pulled back to a vivid memory from her past, unbidden and sharp. She was at a small, dimly lit café, sitting across from an ex, Lee Jeno. He had been her first serious relationship, someone she had truly thought would be "the one." They'd shared dreams, made plans, and talked about the future. But one evening, after months of what she thought was growing closeness, Jeno had suddenly become distant. He'd ended things with a vague explanation about needing "space" and "figuring things out."

"You're great, Jimin," Jeno had said, his eyes avoiding hers, "but I just don't see a future with us."

The words had been like a dagger, twisting painfully in her heart. The sudden end of what she had hoped would be a lifelong partnership left her reeling, questioning what she had done wrong. The ambiguity of his reasons, the lack of closure, had haunted her.

Another memory surfaced: She had been with Hwang Yeji, a charming but elusive partner who had seemed so perfect at first. They had shared many wonderful moments, but as time went on, Yeji's enthusiasm had waned. One evening, as they were walking in the park, Yeji had casually mentioned that they were "moving too fast." A week later, she had broken up with her, citing the need for "space" yet again.

Jimin had tried to understand, to find the root of her shortcomings, but the repeated pattern of being left with nothing but vague reasons had left deep scars. Each relationship had ended with her feeling like she was never quite enough, the doubts about her worthiness and likability solidifying with each painful parting.

Now, as she sat in her apartment, the doubts she had faced in those past relationships returned with a vengeance. The thought of Minjeong possibly following the same pattern—of her hesitation or subtle distancing leading to another vague breakup—made Jimin's chest tighten.

Is she not serious? The thought struck Jimin like a sharp blow to the chest. Could it be that Minjeong was simply seeking something casual, while Jimin had hoped for something more profound?

She couldn't help but fear that Minjeong might be on the same trajectory. The thought that Minjeong might have already decided she wasn't what she wanted was a dagger to Jimin's heart. Perhaps Minjeong was just waiting for the right moment to gently withdraw, as if to spare Jimin the harshness of an outright rejection.

Unlike my exes, Jimin thought bitterly, Minjeong wouldn't just disappear or end things abruptly. Her kindness made her too considerate for that.

But this very kindness added to Jimin's turmoil. If Minjeong had already made up her mind that they were better off as friends, would she say so directly? Or would she continue to offer vague reassurances, trying to cushion the blow for Jimin?

The constant uncertainty gnawed at Jimin's insides, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. She had tried to push her doubts aside, to savor the time she had with Minjeong, but the silence was becoming increasingly unbearable.

Maybe I should just ask her, Jimin mused, but the idea was a bitter pill to swallow. What if the answer was not what she hoped for? What if Minjeong confirmed her worst fears?

Jimin sighed deeply, leaning back in her chair, closing her eyes in an attempt to escape the suffocating weight of her thoughts. The uncertainty was exhausting, yet the prospect of confronting it was even more daunting. The fear of repeated pain, especially with someone she was beginning to care for so deeply, was almost paralyzing.

I guess I'll just have to wait and see, she thought, though the prospect of waiting felt like a slow form of torture. The not knowing, the constant second-guessing about every touch and glance—was wearing her thin.

The kitten stirred beside her, nuzzling her hand with comforting warmth. Jimin managed a faint smile, grateful for the small solace. As much as she wanted to believe that this time would be different, that Minjeong would not leave her like the others had, the doubts remained, an ever-present shadow.

Jimin was lost in her spiraling thoughts when her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen and saw Minjeong's name, usually a beacon of light in her day, now casting a shadow of dread over her heart.

She swiped to open the message.

What are you up to? Minjeong had written, her tone as casual as ever. Yet, Jimin found herself dissecting every word, searching for hidden meanings or subtext.

They hadn't spoken all day. A text from Minjeong after a day apart would have once brought her joy. But today, Jimin's excitement was eclipsed by the heavy veil of doubt that clung to her like a shroud.

Before she could type a response, another message came through.

Do you want to meet up? Minjeong asked.

Jimin's frown deepened, a small crease forming between her brows. Minjeong's phrasing was different this time—less direct, more hesitant. It felt like a cold draft in a room that had previously been warm.

Is she really going down that path? Jimin wondered, her heart sinking. Was this Minjeong's way of gauging her interest or, worse, subtly preparing to distance herself?

The thought made Jimin's stomach churn. She hated the feeling of being adrift, scared and desperate for reassurance. Yet, instead of finding the courage to confront Minjeong directly, Jimin found herself retreating behind a wall she hadn't meant to build.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly. Finally, she typed her response.

I'm busy with my upcoming training, she wrote, the lie feeling like a jagged stone in her throat. Maybe another time?

She stared at the screen, her heart heavy with guilt and fear. Turning down a chance to see Minjeong was foreign and uncomfortable. The fear of facing a potential end to their relationship overwhelmed her, making avoidance seem like the safer option.

As she set her phone down, the kitten meowed softly, sensing her distress. Jimin reached out, stroking its soft fur, finding some fleeting comfort in the small, quiet presence.

Maybe I'm overthinking it, she told herself, trying to push away the rising panic. Maybe it's just a rough day.

But deep down, she knew that wasn't the whole truth. The doubts weren't going to disappear on their own, and as much as she wanted to avoid the conversation, Jimin knew she couldn't keep this up forever.

Still, for now, she chose to retreat, letting fear dictate her actions. As the minutes ticked by with no reply from Minjeong, Jimin was left to ponder whether she had made the right choice—or if she was only deepening the chasm between them.

tbc.