There were those fleeting moments that I’d think of how I still failed the History project despite doing the best that I could. It was the first time that my efforts went futile. It was the first time I failed at something I was only good at. Now, I could no longer be proud of myself for my studies. Everything turned to an embarrassing downfall.

Along with receiving the torturous punishments from the administration for something that was caused by my desperate wish to pass the subject, I was left behind by the people I tried to reach out to. In the end, taking an initiative won’t leave everything to go my way. Sometimes, it took good circumstances and luck to push everything through. But I lost them all at the last moment.

I zeroed out luck. As expected, everything was so good to be true.

Yeri and Jongdae still tried to help me by doing their own research, but it wasn’t like it was enough. I had to cover what the rest bailed out from while receiving punishment. I spent sleepless nights working on the fifty page report, often skipping meals and experiencing nosebleeds—to the point mom had to scold me for not taking care of myself. It didn’t matter much to me, though. At that point, I no longer had anyone to blame. Time was ticking and I was on my own again despite moving past that stage already. It was just that no matter how hard I tried to get away from being alone, it fought to pull me back in. Now, time was my only enemy.

That was what I thought.

On the day of the report, I deluded myself that everything was going to be fine. I printed out copies for all the members and told them to just read through so that everyone still had participation. Kang Joon pulled the papers from me with a glare. Seulgi didn’t even pick up her copy when I placed it in front of her. Jaejin took the time to flip through pages but it wasn’t like he seriously looked into the content. And Junghoon? He slept through the few minutes I was discussing and almost begging for them to help me. Yeri tried to help and report well in front, but she couldn’t get past her stuttering. Right from the start everything went wrong.

That the History teacher gave us a good scolding, telling us how foolish of her it was she even gave us a second chance despite ruining her reputation just because of some stupid project grade.

“How could you guys fight and get punishment for mere grades?” I couldn’t help but feel guilty. She was glaring at me the whole time she was lecturing us so I knew everything was meant for me.

But why even the teacher called grades stupid? She was the one telling us, after all, to get good ones. I wanted to scoff at her pathetic attempt to save herself, but I had no voice to speak. Obviously, they were all pointing fingers at me. The teachers, the students, and not just Junghoon who, ever since that fight, embarrassed me more than once in front of everybody.

“Look at the genius Han Mijoo walking by. Make way or she’ll slap you on the face too for not following her orders,” he’d often say.

We ended up with a C- grade that day. And I didn’t know if it was an exaggeration but I couldn’t just help and feel bitter about it. I always worked hard, but it always came as useless.

Jongin tried to console me that day about it, but I was too lost because of that first failure that I couldn’t help but bite back tears. My feelings were starting to overflow again and I just couldn’t accept the fact that after all those nights I didn’t sleep, those times I was alone doing that project and then running in the cold weather to accept the punishment I knew I didn’t deserve, I just failed.

I failed.

How does it sound to hear that?

I couldn’t easily accept defeat that I got up from our lunch table in the cafeteria that very same day, surprising my friends, and stormed into the History teacher’s cubicle in the faculty room. She was in a very light mood, talking to our Math teacher, but as soon as she saw me coming forward her demeanour changed.

“I think my student needs something from me. Shall we continue discussing later songsaengnim?” she asked the math teacher while trying not to grit her teeth in anger at seeing me again.

The math teacher nodded, sparing me an odd look before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the papers that he was checking.

The History teacher heaved a loud sigh and said, “what do you need now?” She was avoiding my eyes.

“Songsaengnim, you should at least give consideration to me, knowing that I completed the—“

“What does it matter if you completed the project alone? Wasn’t it a group project after all? If not all of you worked together on it equally, how was it fair to give you good grades despite a good output?”

“But—“

“If it’s going to be that way, I should have just asked you guys to do it individually. But what to do? It was a group project that you all did. Everyone managed to complete it together without trouble. How come you were not the same?”

“Can’t you at least consider?” I was almost pleading in front of her.

“If I do, what does that make me?” she retorted, not sparing me a glance at all and trying her best to make her voice sound calm despite the tension. “It would only make me look like I am favouring you, which will not happen. I don’t favour students, especially those who only caused troubles for themselves.

You shouldn’t think I’d take pity just because you worked hard on this and took punishment. I acknowledge your hard work, but that isn’t everything. Sometimes you should know how to work with others and know your limits. Grades aren’t everything in life. Just because you want to get good ones that you should become greedy. I guess, to maintain your position in the ranking that you should focus on you upcoming final exams instead of sulking over this.”

I curled my fists at my sides in agitation. The teacher was speaking nonsense. I felt like she was being unfair because it was me.

“Are you starting to get angry at me now?” she suddenly said, finally turning her head in my direction with a smirk on her face.

I tried my best to loosen my facial muscles and held myself back. This battle was something I obviously lost in, right from the start.

She smiled. She must have noticed me.

“I am just trying to be fair,” she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. I looked away. “Come to think of it. If I adjusted your grades, then what should I do to the others? Should I adjust theirs too just for your sake?” She shook her head, smiling.

“The world isn’t always about you, Han Mijoo-ssi. Always remember that.”

I walked out of the faculty room with nothing of gain. Her words, though hurtful and something I knew I should forget, kept coming to me. They struck a sensitive spot in me and made me wonder if I was really being greedy for mere grades.

The world isn’t always about you, Han Mijoo-ssi.

Did I really look like that kind of person who only thought of herself? All this time had I been selfish and only thinking that the entire universe revolved around me?

I walked the empty hallways while thinking of the same questions over and over. And it wasn’t until I was outside in the open field and noticed six familiar faces seated on a patch of green, green grass, smiling at each other and teasing each other, that something sunk in.

Perhaps I became too greedy, this time.

I looked at each of their faces as I halted a few feet behind them. Those smiling faces were better without me. The thought made me a bit jealous and frustrated. Why I was not allowed to take another step even if I was told I could come closer?

Why was I not allowed to become greedy?

There were times when I thought I had sacrificed enough that perhaps I deserved a break. That I thought it was okay to be greedy and ask something from others—like care and love and time and kindness. But then, I guess, I couldn’t hold something that was not mine right from the start, much less ask for them to stay by my side.

Perhaps strangers should end up being strangers at the final moment.

-

The semester had a temporary end as Christmas vacation begun. Of course, it didn’t end without me being criticized. People looked at me funny because of the incident I caused. I kept hearing them say how pathetic I was just because of stupid grades and that I shouldn’t continue being an embarrassment to Oh Sehun. As his cousin, I was bound to some double-standard expectations which I didn’t understand. Why did I have to act accordingly just because of him? Why did every action and every word I say matter and affect his reputation?

Was this what Sehun was trying to avoid right from the start? Was it also the reason why he let me pretend as his cousin? So that he would really be able to protect himself and avoid any loss?

I thought of those stupid questions and yet I wouldn’t believe that Sehun was that kind of person who only thought of himself. He saved me a lot of times for me to accuse him of such fallacy.

He had been nothing but a good person to me, who only looked after me. I was so grateful for him that it broke me how I could accuse him of such a crime. It was useless to think of such despite that I was curious.

Sehun had all the reasons for doing things. But I didn’t have any clue why he would always say he did them for me for no reason.

He was too generous. For no reason.

“What are you thinking about at this late hour?”

I was sitting by myself at the kitchen island when Sehun’s voice disturbed my thoughts, almost startling me—causing for me to jolt in my seat and for my chair to shake. He must have noticed I was about to clumsily take another fall that he rushed to my side and steadied me. My heart was still beating wildly when he sighed in relief and glared.

“You could have fallen,” he muttered, accusing me with his eyes.

I shrugged, placing both my hands on the sides of my chair.

“You startled me,” I said, wondering why he came to the kitchen when he stopped doing so a long time ago.

He chuckled, pulling out a chair and planting himself next to me, a teasing smile spreading from the corners of his lips. I tried to avoid looking at him this time, though it was a curiosity why he seemed suddenly in a good mood.

“What’s up,” I started, sipping on my glass of milk. “You can’t sleep too?”

He shook his head and snatched the glass away from me, drinking from the milk I took from the fridge. I scowled at him for not getting himself one, but couldn’t stay any angry. It was not like I was going to fight with him, too, for some glass of milk.

“I miss talking to you,” His admission took me by surprise that I looked back at him with widened eyes.

“But we talk every day.” I looked down, feeling my cheeks burn slightly.

“Not like before,” he said. “You used to tell me the important things. But now you don’t.”

Guilt flooded me as soon as the words left his lips. He was right.

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