The following week felt different. The easy rhythm that had been forming between Ji-eun and Min-jae was disrupted, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. It started subtly little things she wouldn’t have noticed before. Min-jae wasn’t waiting by the school gates in the morning like he usually did. He didn’t call out to her in the hallway or tease her about her serious expressions.

At first, Ji-eun told herself she was imagining things. Min-jae had a life outside of annoying her, and it wasn’t like they were anything more than friends if she could even call him that. But as the days passed, the distance between them became more apparent.

It wasn’t just her imagination.

Min-jae was avoiding her.

She noticed it when he walked past her in the hallway without saying anything. She noticed it when he laughed a little too loudly with his friends, acting as if nothing was wrong. She noticed it when he barely even looked at her during class, even though he always found an excuse to bother her before. It was as if all the effort he had put into breaking through her walls had suddenly stopped.

Ji-eun told herself she shouldn’t care. She had spent years keeping people at a distance why should it bother her now that Min-jae was doing the same? But the uneasiness sat in her chest, heavy and suffocating.

By Friday, she couldn’t take it anymore.

During lunch, Ji-eun spotted Min-jae outside, leaning against the back wall of the school courtyard, scrolling through his phone. He was alone for once. No friends surrounding him, no playful energy buzzing around him. Just him and the distance he had placed between them.

Taking a deep breath, Ji-eun squared her shoulders and walked over to him.

“Min-jae.”

He glanced up at her, surprise flashing in his eyes for a brief moment before his expression turned neutral. “Oh. Hey.”

That was it? Just ‘hey’?

Ji-eun clenched her fists, suddenly feeling ridiculous for even coming here. What had she expected? That he would flash her his usual grin and act like everything was normal? That he would pull her into one of his dumb jokes and pretend nothing had changed?

“What’s going on?” she asked, keeping her voice steady. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Min-jae sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Really?” Ji-eun crossed her arms, not buying it. “Because that’s funny, considering you suddenly don’t talk to me anymore. Did I do something?”

Min-jae let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “It’s not about you, Ji-eun.”

She frowned. “Then what is it about?”

Min-jae hesitated. For the first time since she met him, he looked... uncertain. Min-jae was always sure of himself, always confident in what he said or did. But now, he looked like he was struggling to find the right words.

Finally, he exhaled sharply. “It’s just... maybe I was being too pushy before. Maybe I overstepped.”

Ji-eun blinked. That was the last thing she had expected him to say. “What?”

Min-jae shifted uncomfortably. “I thought— I mean, I assumed we were becoming close, but maybe I was wrong. I don’t know. You keep so much to yourself, and I don’t want to be that annoying guy who forces his way into your life.”

Ji-eun stared at him, stunned. Was that really what he thought? That she didn’t want him around? That she had just been tolerating his presence this whole time?

“I never said that,” she said quietly.

Min-jae looked at her, his expression unreadable. “You didn’t have to.”

His words struck something deep inside her, something she wasn’t ready to face. Was it true? Had she been unintentionally pushing him away while he was the one trying to pull her closer?

Ji-eun’s throat tightened. She hated this. Hated the way emotions tangled inside her, the way she couldn’t seem to say what she really wanted to. She had spent so long keeping her distance from others, and now, when she finally wanted to reach out, she didn’t know how.

Min-jae must have seen the conflict on her face because he sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Look, I’m not mad at you. I just... I needed to take a step back. Give you space. I don’t want to force anything, Ji-eun.”

For some reason, those words made her chest ache. She didn’t want him to step back. She didn’t want him to give her space. But she didn’t know how to say that without making herself vulnerable.

Ji-eun swallowed hard. “I never asked you to leave me alone.”

Min-jae studied her, his gaze sharp. “Then what do you want, Ji-eun?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. What did she want? She didn’t know. She had never let herself think about it, never let herself admit that maybe, just maybe, she wanted him to stay.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Min-jae let out a short chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “See? You don’t know either.”

Ji-eun felt frustration rise in her chest. She hated that he was right. Hated that she couldn’t give him an answer when she so desperately wanted to.

Min-jae shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m not going to keep pushing if you don’t want me around. I meant what I said—I’m here if you ever need me. But if you don’t, then that’s fine too.”

Ji-eun’s heart clenched as he turned away, walking back toward the school building. She watched him go, the distance between them growing with every step he took.

For the first time in a long time, Ji-eun felt something unfamiliar: regret.

And she hated it.