Annyeongz One-shots

97. Wall

The house was unusually quiet that evening, the kind of silence that felt heavy instead of peaceful. Wonyoung had rushed out earlier that morning, forgetting one small, life-changing thing on the edge of her bathroom sink. She hadn’t noticed it sitting there—two pink lines, bold and undeniable.

Her mother did.

At first, she had only stepped into Wonyoung’s bathroom to grab a towel from the cabinet. But her eyes caught the small white stick lying beside the sink. She frowned, picking it up slowly. Her heart began to pound as she stared at the result.

Two lines.

Her fingers started trembling.

She didn’t want to believe it. It had to be someone else’s. A mistake. A misunderstanding.

But deep down, she already knew.

That evening, when Wonyoung returned home, she immediately felt it. The air was wrong. Too tense. Too still.

Her father was sitting stiffly on the couch, arms crossed tightly against his chest. Her mother stood beside the dining table, holding something behind her back. Her eyes were red.

“Wonyoung,” her father said, his voice low but shaking. “Come here.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

Her mother slowly revealed the object in her hand.

The pregnancy test.

“Is this yours?” her mother asked, her voice breaking in the middle.

Wonyoung froze.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her chest tightened so hard she could barely breathe.

“Answer me!” her father suddenly raised his voice, making her flinch. “Is this yours?!”

Tears immediately filled her eyes. She couldn’t lie anymore. She couldn’t run.

“…Yes,” she whispered.

The word shattered the room.

Her mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Her father stood up so abruptly that the chair behind him scraped loudly against the floor.

“You’re eighteen!” he shouted. “Eighteen, Wonyoung! How could you do this?!”

“I didn’t mean to—” she tried to explain, but her voice cracked.

“Didn’t mean to?!” he repeated, disbelief and anger mixing in his expression. “Do you know what this means? Do you know what people will say?”

Her mother began crying quietly, sitting down as if her legs could no longer hold her weight.

“Who is the father?” her father demanded.

Wonyoung squeezed her eyes shut. The name felt like poison in her mouth.

“…Soobin.”

The silence that followed was worse than the shouting.

“Soobin?” her father repeated sharply. “Lee Soobin?”

She nodded weakly.

Her father immediately grabbed his phone. “We’re going to his house. Right now.”

They drove there in suffocating silence. Wonyoung sat in the back seat, her hands gripping her stomach unconsciously. She had already known what would happen. Soobin had stopped replying weeks ago. His number was disconnected.

When they arrived, his parents looked shocked — but not in the way they expected.

“Soobin left,” his father said stiffly. “He went overseas for study.”