criminal love; jungwon

13

It started subtly, like a whisper carried on the wind. At first, Nanhee didn’t notice, or maybe she chose to ignore it. But soon, the whispers turned into murmurs, and the murmurs into full-blown accusations.

“She’s always around him. Such a pick-me.”
“Can’t believe she’s pretending to be shy. It’s so obvious.”
“She’s just like the rest. Only wants attention.”

Nanhee walked through the school hallways, her head held high, but inside, she felt each word like a sharp needle pricking her skin. The words clung to her, echoing in her mind long after the voices faded.

It wasn’t just the comments. The stares followed her everywhere, cold and judgmental. People she didn’t even know suddenly had opinions about her, about her friendship with Jungwon.

Friendship.

That word felt like a fragile shield now, barely holding up against the storm. She wanted to believe that was all it was, but the looks, the whispers, made her question everything.

Jungwon noticed the change before she said anything. Nanhee, who was always so sure of herself, seemed quieter. Her smiles didn’t reach her eyes, and she walked a little slower, as if the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders.

One afternoon, they sat beneath a tree in the school courtyard. Snow still clung to the ground, but the sun peeked through the clouds, casting a pale light over them.

“You okay?” Jungwon asked, breaking the silence.

Nanhee nodded, but it was a lie, and they both knew it.

“Nanhee.” His voice was softer now, coaxing her to look at him.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the tree trunk. “It’s just... people talk. They say things.”

“What things?” His eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger crossing his face.

“Stupid things,” she muttered. “Calling me a pick-me, saying I’m desperate for attention. Stuff like that.”

Jungwon’s jaw clenched. “Why do you care what they think?”

“I don’t,” she lied again, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. “But it still hurts, you know?”

Jungwon didn’t respond right away. He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. His touch was warm, grounding her in the moment.

“They don’t know you,” he said firmly. “And they don’t know us.”

Nanhee blinked, startled by the way he said it—us.

The days stretched on, each one heavier than the last. The whispers didn’t stop. If anything, they grew louder.

Nanhee tried to ignore them, tried to focus on her classes, on her brother, on anything but the constant hum of judgment that followed her everywhere. But it was exhausting.

She missed the days when things were simple, when she and Jungwon could just be.

But those days felt like a distant memory now.

---

One evening, as she sat in her room, staring at the ceiling, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Jungwon.

Jungwon: Come outside.

Nanhee frowned but grabbed her coat and slipped out the front door. The night air was freezing, but she didn’t care.

Jungwon stood at the end of the street, hands in his pockets, waiting. When she reached him, he gave her a small smile.

“What are we doing?” she asked, her breath visible in the cold air.

“Getting away,” he said simply.

And for the first time in days, Nanhee felt a little lighter.

Because with Jungwon, she didn’t need to pretend.