For the third day in a row, Jennie was coming home from college right after her last classes, and alone. She really needed to avoid herself from seeing him.

When Jennie reached her house, Hana’s car was not in the driveway. Maybe she went to the market, she thought.

The house was still and peaceful as she let herself in.

She was glad for the stillness. She really wanted to be alone but on the other hand, she didn’t exactly know what to do with herself.

Every time she finally could cry, she found that tears wouldn’t come. She let her tote bag sag to the floor in her bedroom and walked slowly to her bed.

“Jen,”

It was his voice that she heard a few days ago, making her forgot what had he done before.

His voice had been cool and disdainful that made her knees weak with something entirely different to nervousness.

And that small hands – her hand itched to touch them into its softness.

She wondered if it could flip her life upside down, once again and how it would sound saying her name, whispering her name . . . .

“Jennie!”

She jumped, her reverie shattered. But it wasn’t him calling her, it was Hana shouting her name from downstairs.

Misery welled up in Jennie again, and she glanced around her bedroom. She couldn’t face Hana’s worried questions.

Not with her eyelashes wet and new tears threatening any minute.

She made a lightning decision and quie