16.

The only one who did know Hansol – who could answer my questions and shed light on my doubts – was but one person: Kim Jongin. And yet the moment the solution so as appeared, I dispelled it; my own concerns and insecurities in regard to it being but the most apparent.

The thought of approaching the subject let alone Jongin himself left behind a great deal of discomfort. In fact, discomfort and anxiety went hand in hand for the last three days since meeting with the detective. Or more accurately, since uncovering secrets I never imagined could possibly exist.

It was the Wednesday after when Gayoon and I had taken to one of the few local cafés in town. Between us on the small table indoor were stacks of textbooks, notepads, pens, pencils and calculators littered in pairs. We had taken the later part of the morning to thoroughly check for errors after our first paper for the semester, retiring to a quaint coffee store in town for a gruelling session of comparing the answers we'd come to.

But as ritually as we'd once carried out such activities in the past, now, I couldn't help but find it fail to be the distraction I sought. Gayoon had seemed enthusiastic enough. Her dramatic show of exhaustion when we left the exam venue compelling me to play along for her sake as well as my own.

But the longer we spent punching numbers into our calculators and researching methods of interest we may or may not have applied during the exam, the more restless I grew. And I was foolish to think Gayoon wouldn't notice.

'You look so done, Saerin.'

'Yeah,' I smiled. But there was little conviction in the expression, even I could tell. 'This is sort of the last thing I want to do right now.'

I realised the implications of these words too late. But just how truthful the statement was took me aback and Gayoon was more than aware of it, snapping her head up to look at me in surprise.

'No, I mean...' I started, flustered, apologetic. 'I didn't mean it that way. We just wrote a three-hour paper, did loads of calculations consecutively, and...'

'Is it about what happened at the police station?'

I fell silent at the question, holding Gayoon's concerned stare before she returned to the mess that was our table, quickly stacking as many books as she could to make space between us. A few seconds later upon deeming the makeshift workplace decent, she reached for one of my hands, plucking the yellow highlighter from between my fingers and setting it aside. Now with our attention undivided, she looked at me again, leaning forward attentively.

'I heard about it from your mum...,' she explained carefully; her hands finding each other similarly to my own at this point over the table.

'It can't be easy, Saerin. If I had to be called in to see my boyfriend's stuff after the kind of thing that happened to you...'

Gayoon observed a moment of thoughtful silence; her eyes trained on the window beside us before flitting back to me with unmasked empathy. It was a look I'd seen far too often on her. On my mother. On my father, even, when they assumed I was preoccupied as they silently shared concerns for my wellbeing.

'I don't know,' she admitted. 'I don't know what I'd do, honestly.'

I only hoped Gayoon could tell I appreciated the thought. I smiled at her, leaned forward, and grasped her hands in mine. I squeezed them reassuringly; my voice rising unexpectedly smooth and composed.

'You'd have me,' I murmured, smiling. 'Just like I have you.'

'What did they ask you, though?' she grasped my hands in response, holding my look. 'Was it scary? Did they have any answers?'

The questions prompted a cold deliberation. The hesitation that came with her genuine concern one that brought with it a stabbing guilt. Surely, Gayoon's intentions were pure. And yet the shocking, brutal nature I uncovered of the situation was an undeniably incogitant thing to have shared. Could I have expected her to understand? To keep the very secrets I did? To bear the uncertainty and creeping betrayal surrounding Hansol, whom we'd known – or at least imagined we did – for so long?

These burdens grew significantly. Even more so now that I was presented the opportunity to share them, to fulfil Gayoon's endless pleas for closure, for help... but in the end, I could not.

'It was a little scary, yeah,' I confessed, but that was about as much as I would truthfully divulge. 'But they just needed me to identify some things. That's it.'

It was difficult to gauge whether or not Gayoon distinguished the lie. But I smiled. Willed a brightness in my eyes I hoped she was convinced of, because with one last squeeze – a conflicted raise at the corners of her lips and furrowed eyebrows – she dropped the topic. And with it, the normalcy I was so convinced had returned between us has once more fallen away as we took to a more casual outing, ordering lattes and pastries I found difficult to stomach with the more this tho