The sun rose quietly, casting soft golden rays through the sheer curtains of Ara's bedroom. A faint breeze moved the fabric, dancing like a whisper—gentle, but unable to ease the heaviness in the air.
Ara's eyes fluttered open. Her body stirred slowly under the weight of exhaustion that hadn't left her for days. She blinked a few times, letting her gaze adjust to the light before sitting up in silence. Morning came like it always did—uninvited and indifferent to the storm brewing in her heart.
As usual, she made her way to the washroom, feet dragging slightly against the floor. The moment her eyes met her reflection in the mirror, her breath caught. Her face looked drained, eyes hollow with stress and weariness.
Why does it feel like something dark is creeping back in? Like the trauma I buried so deeply is about to knock on my door again?
She turned the faucet off and quietly left the washroom, heading back to her room. As she reached for her towel, her eyes fell upon the bedside table—and she froze.
There it was.
An old, slightly torn magazine cover, its colors faded but the image forever imprinted in her memory. Two girls, arms around each other, shining smiles on their middle-school faces. The moment they'd won their first fashion competition—so full of dreams and innocence. Ara Jeon and Arianna Park. Best friends once. A perfect team.
A bittersweet smile played on her lips before vanishing into a hollow sigh.
That was a lifetime ago.
That version of Arianna—the girl who held her hand and cheered the loudest—no longer existed in Ara's world. All that remained was silence, cold stares, and a memory too painful to keep alive. And Ara… she had accepted the blame. One mistake. One misstep. And everything fell apart.
She shook her head firmly, trying to chase the thoughts away. With a quiet thud, she shoved the magazine into the drawer, burying the past once again. She picked up her towel and went back to the washroom.
She turned on the shower. The sound of running water filled the silence.
She stepped under the stream, letting the warmth wash over her body, but it did little to thaw the cold inside her. The water soaked her long hair, clung to her skin, Her skin, pale and soft, was covered in faded scars—reminders of a nightmare she never asked for. Across her back, on her upper arms—each one a piece of a story she wished she could erase.
Ara slowly sank down to the floor of the shower, knees pulling to her chest, arms wrapping tightly around them. The warmth of the water now felt heavy. Like grief.
Her voice cracked the silence.
"I gave everything… I worked so hard…" Her eyes welled up, and she pressed her forehead to her knees. "But… now? What was it all for?"
A sob escaped her throat.
"I was supposed to be something. I was supposed to be someone."
She choked out a bitter laugh, barely audible beneath the sound of water falling.
"But now… all I am is broken."
The steam thickened. The sobbing grew louder. Her pale skin, once praised by the world, was marred with the marks she never asked for—long, faint scars stretching across her back, her arms. Wounds from a moment that had stolen her light and left behind shadows.
She lifted her face slightly, tears mixing with the water.
"You're useless, Ara…" she whispered. "No one will ever really love you. Not like this."
The shower rained down relentlessly. But it couldn't wash the pain away.
She stayed there, curled into herself, letting the water hide her tears. Letting it drown the world for just a little longer.
--
Hours later, Ara walked toward her university, her body moving on autopilot. The sun was higher now, students filled the campus paths with chatter and laughter. But to Ara, it all sounded distant… like white noise in a dream.
Her eyes stayed low, steps slow and heavy. She didn't notice who passed her. Didn't care. Her mind was clouded in grey.
Then… a sudden presence behind her. A taller figure. A shadow cast over her path.
She froze.
A soft, sweet cologne danced in the air, unfamiliar yet oddly comforting. Her breath hitched.
Then came the whisper. Soft, teasing. Warm.
"Pookie."
Her eyes widened.
Heart pounding, she turned sharply—only to come face to face with him.
Taehyun.
Again.
His smile was lopsided, confident, eyes twinkling with playful charm. And that voice—it sent a confusing wave through her chest.
Ara's lips parted, but no words came.