When Park Sohee is forced to leave behind her childhood home, the familiar comforts of family, and all the memories she's spent years building, she's faced with the overwhelming challenge of starting fresh. With her younger brother Jisung by her sid...
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Sohee lay in her bed, exhausted but finally allowing herself a moment of peace. The weight of the day—caring for Jisung, running errands, juggling the stress of school and work—had worn her down, but now, with the door left ajar in case Jisung needed anything, she let her body melt into the soft embrace of the blankets. Her head sank into the pillow, her body cocooned in warmth, and the familiar scent of Sunwoo's hoodie—his favorite one she'd borrowed weeks ago—brought her a strange comfort.
For once, the chaos of her life seemed to recede, replaced by a quiet stillness she hadn't realized she was craving. The fabric of the hoodie, too big for her, wrapped around her like a hug, and for a brief moment, she let herself imagine that she was somewhere far away, somewhere that wasn't a hospital room or a classroom or a café. Somewhere where she didn't have to be "strong" all the time.
Her eyes fluttered closed, but her mind, as always, refused to fully shut off. Thoughts about Sunwoo, Dabin, and everything that had happened earlier today began to drift in and out of her head. The tension between them was obvious, but she didn't know how to fix it. He hadn't texted her, and that left a strange knot in her stomach. It wasn't that she expected him to constantly check in—it was just that she needed to feel like he was there, especially when everything else around her felt so overwhelming.
But she couldn't think about that now.
The gentle hum of the room, the sound of rain softly tapping against the window, and the quiet atmosphere of the house finally lulled her into a light nap, her breathing evening out. The rest she so desperately needed was finally coming, but even as she drifted off, her thoughts still clung to the worries of the day.
Meanwhile, Sunwoo was sitting in his car, parked outside a convenience store. He'd left his phone in the passenger seat, ignoring the messages that had popped up, including one from Dabin about meeting up to work on the essay. His thoughts kept returning to Sohee—her face, the way she'd looked at him before walking off earlier that day. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he had. It wasn't just about the essay or Dabin—there was something deeper, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He felt like he was failing her, and he hated it.
He glanced at his phone again, considering texting her, but then he stopped himself. What could he even say? He wasn't good at this—at being open, at dealing with emotions that felt too complicated to handle.
Instead, he sent a quick text to Dabin, agreeing to meet up later, before starting the engine and driving away. But as he did, he couldn't help but think about Sohee again.
Sohee's pulse raced as the sound of her mother's yelling sliced through the quiet house. Her eyes snapped open, her body already stiff with the familiar tension of an impending confrontation. It wasn't the first time her mother had come home in a state like this, and it wouldn't be the last, but the anxiety was no less raw.
She heard Jisung's muffled sobs from downstairs, her stomach dropping in an instant. No, not now. She bolted out of bed, her breath shallow and quick as she ran toward the stairs. Her mind raced—her mother had just walked in, and she could already guess what the argument was about.
