The One I Love

23:00

Somehow, Jennie finds herself sitting in a chapel pew for the third time that month. It's not that she's found God, or that she had ever been looking for him.

The chapel smells like cedar and burnt wax.

Within its walls Jennie can seek refuge from beeping monitors, squeaking Crocs, and the pervasive stench of disinfectant. Only in the chapel can she escape the concerned glances and pitying frowns.

She folds her hands as she goes through the motions. She doesn't know any prayers, but she likes to talk to herself. Her therapist, whose suggestion was the only reason Jennie had stumbled into the chapel at all, told her that she needed to learn to let go.

Let go of the blame, the guilt, the anxiety. It's all easier said than done.

A slow creaking of the door breaks into the silence of the chapel and sends a shiver down Jennie's spine. Her eyes pop open as her heartbeat quickens. Warily, she lifts her head to look.

The doorway is empty. No one is there.

She tells herself it was the just the draft from the air conditioning and lowers her head again.

. . .

Jennie had heard that love makes girls beautiful. It felt like a warning, like a threat, like a knife against her throat.

But there's something about the glow in Nayeon's cheeks and the softness in her eyes that makes Jennie wonder if it had been true all along. She absently pats at the wig on her head, trying not to fixate on the full-bodied shine of Nayeon's brown curls.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to talk more at the wedding." Nayeon says quietly, shifting the straw around in her iced coffee. The diamond ring on her finger catches the light and sparkles each time she moves her hand.

"No, I understand. It was your day." Jennie reaches into her purse, pulling out a small box. She gently pushes it across the table. "I wanted to give you something then but I wasn't sure if I should."

Nayeon opens the box with a furrowed brow. She holds the bracelet in her palm.

"Isn't it weird to give me this, Jennie?"

"You can throw it away if you want." Jennie gives her a tiny smirk. "It was never supposed to be mine, anyway."

Nayeon laughs in disbelief. Jennie sips at her drink, pulling back to let out a cough. The light cough rips through her chest. Jennie holds onto the table, feeling her eyes water. She takes a longer gulp of her drink to soothe the rawness of her throat.

"Are you okay, Jennie? Do you need me to call your doctor?" Nayeon's eyes widen in alarm as she shoves a handful of napkins toward her.

Jennie blots a napkin against her lips, feeling slightly embarrassed at the eyes on her.

"I'm fine." She waves it away. "I've just been feeling a little lightheaded lately. Probably just a cold, you don't have to get so worked up."

Nayeon settles down in her seat, but Jennie knows the mood has changed. Ever since Jennie had become ill, her sickness became another person in the room. A tangible presence that demanded all of the attention. A macabre entertainer shouting look at me look at me look at me.

"You and Minho..." The other girl's teeth peek out as she worries at her bottom lip. When had Nayeon become timid? When did she become hesitant to speak her mind? Jennie wonders if she eventually wore her friend down—there was too much say.

"What about us?"

Nayeon peers up from under her thick eyelashes. There's a gentle, knowing smile on her features.