Spring Day // Kim Taehyung ( V )

Chapter 53 - let go.

Walking to class alone that morning felt surprisingly different. Sarah was absent—her family had traveled to Busan for her grandmother's funeral. I'd gotten used to her being there, a steady presence amid the chaos of college life. Without her, the campus felt emptier, quieter, more distant. Still, I didn't mind. I'd learned how to navigate these moments of solitude, even if they were tinged with a quiet ache.

College had become a constant source of stress—pressure from assignments, deadlines, expectations. But lately, the weight had lightened, especially after Jackson and I ended things. That breakup was a turning point. Lisa no longer haunted my thoughts the way she used to; her occasional glimpses now only prompted a faint smile from me—a gesture I never would have imagined seeing from her before. Still, I kept my distance. I wanted her out of my life, as much as possible.

And then there was her brother. I'd recently started resenting him. Not because he left me—though that hurt enough—but because, within a week of our breakup, I saw him with Rosè. The image cut deep; I couldn't help but wonder if he had cheated on me. It was a familiar pain, but this time, the ache was sharper, more visceral. The betrayal stung more intensely, and I found myself numbed—not with indifference but with resentment that refused to fade.

As I contemplated these feelings, I was suddenly halted by a figure blocking my path. Jackson. He appeared out of nowhere, his face etched with remorse, eyes searching mine as if trying to read what I was feeling.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked, voice tentative, almost pleading.

I looked away, coldness creeping into my tone. "I'm going through that door. Do you mind?" I refused to meet his gaze. I saw the vulnerability in his eyes—something I wasn't ready to believe anymore. I was exhausted, tired of feeling manipulated by hope and regret. I didn't want to fall back into old patterns; I needed to be firm.

He hesitated, then spoke again, voice barely above a whisper. "Can we have a proper talk?"

I shook my head slowly. "There's nothing left to say, Jackson. I get it—you're happy now. Please, step aside." My voice wavered slightly, but I masked it with a tone of finality. I was fighting the urge to cry, to let tears betray my pain. I refused to let him see me vulnerable again, not in that moment. I wanted to prove I was okay—more than okay. I was done with the dependence, done with feeling weak in front of him.

He sighed, defeated, and moved aside. I pushed past him, entering the classroom with a sense of relief I hadn't felt in days. Inside, a strange lightness settled over me. Not happiness, exactly, but a quiet victory. I had stood my ground, refused to let him undo the progress I'd made. That simple act—standing firm—felt like the most courageous thing I had done in a long while.

Two days later, Sarah returned. Her absence had stretched longer than I anticipated, and I'd missed her more than I realized. Her return was a relief, a reminder of the friendship that grounded me. I greeted her with an exaggerated, fake tear, pulling her into a tight hug.

"I missed you so much," I said softly.

"Gosh, I missed you too," she replied with her usual exaggerated dramatics. "It felt horrible being away, especially while feeling so down. I hated not being around for you and the girls."

Her voice was tinged with exhaustion, and I could see the weariness in her eyes. Her mother was still struggling with her grief—her grandmother's passing had hit her hard. She'd started to smile again, slowly eating properly, but the shadow of loss lingered.

"It's tough," I admitted, squeezing her arm gently. "Seeing someone you love hurt like that is never easy. But I'm glad we're here for each other."

Sarah nodded, her smile tinged with gratitude. We continued our walk to class, a quiet understanding passing between us. As I watched her, I reflected on how much I'd grown—how I'd found strength in the quiet resilience of standing my ground. It wasn't just about surviving; it was about reclaiming my peace, piece by piece.