After dinner, I retreated to my room, the weight of the day's events dragging me down like a heavy blanket. I pulled out my laptop, searching for a distraction. A movie, something to take my mind off of Miss Kim and the unrequited love that now felt like a gaping wound. I stumbled upon "Life in a Year" and decided to give it a watch. The romance and tragedy of the plotline seemed fitting for my mood.
As the story unfolded on the screen, I couldn't help but feel a connection to the characters. Isabelle's fiery spirit and Daryn's strength mirrored my own feelings—desire and despair wrapped in a tapestry of hope. Their love story, though doomed, was beautiful, and it made me ache for what I could never have with Miss Kim.
The movie's end was a punch to the gut, leaving me sobbing into my pillow. The raw emotion on the screen was too much to handle. Isabelle's death had hit me harder than I thought it would. It was stark reminder of my own unrequited feelings. As the credits rolled, the only sound in the room was the quiet sobs that I tried to muffle.
Daryn's pain was a reflection of my own pain, his love for Isabelle, similar to my love for Miss Kim. It was a painful reminder that sometimes, love just isn't enough. It didn't matter how much I cared for her, how much I wanted to be with her—the universe had other plans. My eyes grew heavy, and I let myself be consumed by sleep, hoping to escape the sadness.
The next morning, I awoke with a jolt, my head pounding like a drumline and my body feeling as if it was on fire. My nose was blocked, and the room spun around me when I tried to sit up. I clutched the edge of my bed, taking deep ragged breaths. It felt like the air was thick and heavy, each inhale a battle.
I staggered to the bathroom, the cold tiles a stark contrast to my hot bare feet. I took out the thermometer from the medicine cabinet and placed it under my tongue, my heart racing. The digital numbers flashed, confirming my suspicion. A fever. Great.
I stumbled back to my bed, the world spinning around me with each step. I thought of my dad's concerned face from last night. He'd be worried if he knew I was sick, and I didn't want to burden him while he was at work. Not now. Not when things are so tough for us financially. I collapsed onto the bed, my body wet with sweat.
The room was blurring around me as I reached for my phone, squinting at the screen as I texted Mina. "Sick. Can't make it to school." I didn't elaborate, knowing she'd understand.
The effort of sending the message exhausted me, and I sank back into my bed, the sheets were soft around my sweaty body. Sleep called to me, a sweet distraction from the pain and the spinning room. I gave in, letting the darkness envelop me once more.
When I woke up, it was to the sound of the front door closing, the jangle of keys echoing through the apartment. My father was home from work. The clock on my nightstand read 6:00 PM. My eyes widened when I realized that I had slept the whole day.
The room was dark, due to the curtains drawn tight. My body felt heavy, the fever making every movement a struggle.
With trembling hands, I reached for my phone, the screen illuminated my dark room. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the notifications—11 missed calls and 3 texts, all from Mina. She was like that, always looking out for me, even when she had her own life to deal with.
The first few messages were from early morning, checking in to see if I was okay after and asking if I needed anything . They read, "Jisoo, are you okay? You're worrying me. Call me." The last one was sent just an hour ago. ''I saw Miss Kim, she asked about.'' My heart skipped a beat.
I gathered what little strength I had and called Mina back. She picked up almost immediately. "Oh my god, Jisoo, I was so worried!" she exclaimed. "What's going on?"
I tried to keep my voice steady, not wanting to cause her more concern than necessary. "It's just a fever," I said, my throat feeling raw. "I'll be okay."
Mina's sigh of relief was audible through the phone. "Thank god," she said. "I was so worried after what happened with Miss Kim. You know, she asked about you today."
My heart stuttered in my chest. "What did she say?" I croaked, the words sticking in my throat like a mouthful of dust.
Just as Mina was about to answer my question my dad knocked on my door his voice laced with concern coming from outside. ''Jisoo? Are you in there?'' I tried to sit up but the room spun around me like a merry-go-round gone wild. ''Coming!'' I called out, my voice hoarse and barely recognizable.
Mina's voice grew distant as I placed the phone down on the nightstand and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The floor felt cold against my skin, and my body protested with every movement. I stumbled to the door and pulled it open, my hand gripping the frame for support.
My father's eyes widened when he saw me. "You're burning up," he said, his hand reaching out to touch my forehead, the coolness of his palm against my feverish skin.
"I'll be okay," I insisted, though the tremble in my voice betrayed me. "Just need some rest."
"Someone's here to see you," my dad said, his eyes scanning my flushed face with worry. "But you're not in any state for visitors. I'll tell them you're not feeling well and need to rest."
"Who is it?" I managed to ask, my curiosity stronger than my need for rest.
"It's your teacher, Miss Kim," my dad said, his voice gentle. "But like I said, you're not up for visitors."
My eyes widened in surprise, and her heart began to beat faster at the thought of seeing Miss Kim's face, even if it was just for a brief moment. The very mention of her name made the blood rush to my cheeks. "No!" I shouted, my voice no longer shaky. "I mean no, don't send her away. Can I... talk to her, please?"
My father looked at me, his eyes filled with confusion but also a hint of understanding. He nodded and stepped aside, allowing me to make my way to the door. I took a deep breath and willed my legs to cooperate as I walked out of my room.
...
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FanfictionWe feel many things in our lifetime that are never meant to stay, but they make us feel better. Just by the feel. You were one of those things. ~JM. Storm
