Roses and Thorns (Jinlia)

Chapter 28: Lines in Shadow

Jisu hadn’t expected silence to feel so loud.

It sat between her and Yeji like a fogㅡthick, suffocating, impossible to see through. They faced each other across the low table, its polished surface lined with objects that only deepened Jisu’s confusion: a bouquet of fresh roses, a box of chocolates, a neatly wrapped bundle of sketch pads and drawing supplies. Gifts, all of them, but for what?

Yeji sat stiffly, fingers tangled together in her lap, her gaze fixed anywhere but on Jisu. The tension in her shoulders, the tremble in her breathㅡit all signaled something far heavier than a simple visit between friends.

“What’s all this for, Yeji?” Jisu asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t want to believe what her gut was already beginning to suspect.

Yeji’s lips parted, but no sound came. She bit down gently on her lower lip, as though debating whether to speak at all. Finally, after a breath that trembled on its way out, she lifted her eyes to meet Jisu’s. Vulnerability radiated from her like a cracked mirror reflecting light.

“Gifts?” she said weakly, her voice tentativeㅡa test, perhaps, or a plea.

Jisu leaned forward slightly. “Yeji, what’s going on?” A knot tightened in her chest. The confusion was no longer just confusion; it had morphed into dread, quiet and creeping.

Yeji’s eyes welled with unshed emotion. Her voice quivered. “I love you, Jisu.”

The words landed with force, stunning Jisu into silence.

Yeji pressed forward, as though afraid she’d never get the chance again. “It’s always been you. Even back in high school, when I thought it was Chaeryeong I loved... it was you who made me realize how those feelings had already begun to fade. You were always the one. I’ve kept it buried for years.”

Jisu’s breath hitched. Her heart plummeted.

“But Yeji... I’m in a relationship,” she said, barely able to process what was unfolding. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Yeji’s expression twisted, anger and grief warring across her features. “Because I was a coward. I let fear stop me. If I hadn’t, that ShinㅡRyujinㅡwouldn’t have had the chance to take you away.”

Her voice cracked, but it wasn’t from sorrow. It was frustration, barely restrained, and Jisu saw it in the way Yeji’s fists clenched against her thighs, knuckles white from the pressure.

“You know Ryujin won’t take this well,” Jisu said carefully. “Yeji... you’re already on thin ice with her.”

Yeji leaned in, her gaze unflinching and full of torment. “Jisu, I’m in love with you.” Her voice, though trembling, carried a weight that couldn’t be ignored. “Watching you with her is unbearable. Every kiss, every touchㅡit’s like being torn apart from the inside out.”

Jisu’s heart cracked at the anguish in Yeji’s words. “Y-Yeji... I’m so sorry...”

“Don’t,” Yeji cut her off, shaking her head with force. “Don’t apologize. I needed to tell you. I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

Her laugh came out wrongㅡsharp, bitter, and brittle. It echoed for a moment in the quiet room.

Jisu dropped her gaze, her chest tightening. Yeji was trying to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her mask was slipping.

“I can’t accept these,” Jisu said finally, gesturing to the table. Her voice was gentle but resolute. “Not like this.”

“Please,” Yeji whispered, eyes pleading. “Just take them. Think of them as gifts from a friend. That’s all.” She hesitated. “I know my place, Jisu. I know the line, and I won’t cross it again.”

A stillness settled over themㅡnot peace, but the kind of quiet that came after something irrevocable. Something broken.

Yeji stood slowly, her movements stiff, as though even her body struggled to carry the weight of her confession. “I should go now,” she murmured.

Jisu rose as well, instinct guiding her to at least walk Yeji to the door. They moved in sync, like dancers out of step, haunted by a melody neither of them wanted to hear.

At the threshold, Yeji paused, then turned and threw her arms around Jisu. The embrace was sudden, desperate. Her tears came silently at first, soaking into Jisu’s shoulder as she trembled in her grasp.

“Please...” she choked out, voice ragged. “Don’t shut me out. Don’t let this be the end of us.”

Jisu froze, torn between the discomfort pulsing inside her and the compassion that reached beyond it. Slowly, her arms came up around Yeji’s back, holding her in returnㅡnot with promise, but with kindness.

“Promise me,” Yeji begged, clinging tighter. “Promise me we’ll still be friends. That this won’t be goodbye.”

Jisu’s throat tightened, her vision blurring. She knew what Ryujin would say. She knew this moment was a line drawn in shadow, one she could barely see but already feared crossing.

Still, she couldn’t deny Yeji what little peace she could offer.

“I promise,” she said softly, barely audible.

Yeji’s grip eased. Relief swept across her face like a tide pulling back. She leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to Jisu’s cheek. It lingered a second too longㅡnot romantic, not platonic. Just full of pain.

“I’ll head out on my own,” she said, her voice thin. “Thank you, Jisu.”

And with that, she turned. The door clicked quietly behind her.

Jisu stood in the silence that followed, her hand brushing the place where Yeji’s tears had fallen. The gifts still sat untouched on the table, casting long shadows in the fading light.

The room was full of silence again.

But now, it was a silence that knew too much.