Complexity

Trust her?

Ever since Xinyu sat next to me, my life has been far from peaceful. Though, truthfully, it was never peaceful to begin with. But her presence? It brought a new kind of chaos. Not the violent, heart-thrashing type I was used to—but something softer. Unexpected. Her chaos wasn't disturbing; it was persistent, loud, sometimes annoying, but weirdly warm. Like a wind that never leaves you alone but doesn't destroy anything either. She yaps about everything. Every little thing. To the point where I find myself snapping at her just to shut her up. Once, I remember turning to her and saying—coldly, directly,

"You're disturbing me. Just tell me what you want. I'll grant it. Just stop trying to be my friend. You disgust me." After that, silence. For a moment, I felt powerful, in control. But later that night, guilt clawed at my chest. Was it too far? Probably. But what else could I do? My life had already been shattered once. I couldn't let anyone close enough to break what's left of me. Even if Xinyu wasn't the enemy, I couldn't take that chance.

Still, that line I threw at her? It wasn't just cruelty. It was a shield. A shield I built with trembling hands to protect myself from kindness that felt too foreign. I wanted peace. I desperately wanted to walk through school halls without flinching, without preparing my heart for the worst every second. I kept my distance from everyone, especially her. Because her presence? It wasn't just persistent—it was tempting.

Then came the day I found out Xinyu stalked my Instagram.

I was in the library with Joobin and Jiyeon, our usual hangout spot when we weren't in class. It was quiet, only the occasional whisper of pages turning. We didn't talk much, just coexisted. I liked it that way. Just when I open my Instagram, I notice someone like oene my post. And it's Xinyu.

"Xinyu... liked one of my posts." I looked up.

"Xinyu eonnie? Wow. Which post?" Joobin chimed in, curious.

"The one where I was in the café," I answered, unsure how I felt.

"Xinyu eonnie really tries to be friends with you, huh?" Jiyeon said with a small smile, maybe to soften the moment. But I didn't respond.

On a post that wasn't even recent. She'd scrolled. She'd searched. She'd seen me through a screen before even knowing me in person. Weird? Yes. But I did the same. I clicked on her profile. Scrolled through random posts that made no sense. Pictures of cats. Ramen bowls. A plant she named something human name that I can't remember. She was chaos in pixels too. But it made me smile. A little.

I tried pushing her away in class, still snapping when she talked too much. But quietly? I listened. Memorized. Every detail she shared, I recorded in my notebook. What she likes, what she dislikes. Every little fact, I kept like treasure. I told myself it was nothing. Just habit. Curiosity. But truthfully? I was waiting for a reason to believe in someone again.

Then my world fell apart.

They broke my guitar.

My guitar. The last piece of my father. The only thing he left behind. I didn't have photos. I didn't have letters. Just that guitar. And now it was gone—splintered on the ground like my dreams, like my trust. I didn't cry in front of them. I didn't scream. I just stood there, frozen, feeling my soul collapse quietly. That's when it all came back—the trauma, the nights I locked myself in silence, the panic that ate my chest raw. I was nothing again. Broken. Again. And I hated it. I hated how even in this moment, Xinyu's name crossed my mind. I hated that I thought of her.

The bell rang. But they didn't let me go.

They locked me inside the warehouse.

It was dark, cold. The metal air choked me, and the silence was too loud. They had no intention of letting me out. I sat against the wall, hugging my knees, hunger gnawing at my stomach. Fear swirled in my chest, but exhaustion pulled me under.

Then—

"PARK SOHYUN!!!"

A voice.

A familiar voice.

Xinyu.

I wanted to shout back. I really did. But fear had caged my throat. What if it wasn't her? What if this was another trick? What if she was just like them?

I stayed silent.

Eventually, my eyes closed again. When I woke up, it was evening. The noise of students filled the air beyond the walls. But still, I stayed. Weak. Lost. Wondering why of all people, I kept thinking of her.

"Why is it her?" I whispered to no one.

Then, the doorknob rattled.

Panicked, I grabbed a wooden stick, ready to defend myself. The door creaked open, and there she was—Xinyu—with a worried expression and her messy hair falling over her eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and it didn't sound fake.

She held my bag. A hairpin dangled from her fingers—she picked the lock.

"I... uh... I was worried. I brought your bag so you wouldn't need to go back to class," she mumbled. Then handed me a paper bag full of snacks.

"I also... overheard what happened. I saw them destroy the guitar."

My hands trembled as I took the bag. I couldn't look at her. I just nodded, turned, tried to leave. But she called after me again.

"Please don't do everything they ask. This is your life. Do what you want. Whatever they threaten you with—don't be afraid. If you are... find or call me."

She shoved a piece of paper in my hand. Her number. Her address.

And she left.

Just like that.

I stood there, staring at her handwriting.

And whispered to myself, 

"What is wrong with her..."

But part of me?

Part of me didn't want to let go of that paper.

Since that time, I try and I want to trust her.