My breath caught in my throat and my fists clenched as I witnessed the scene in front of me.  I turned away as their lips met and started for home, the breeze tossing around my meticulously done hair and my nice shoes pinching my toes with each step.

                I went into my bedroom and caught sight of myself in my vanity mirror.  My gaze then shifted to the framed picture on the counter. 

                “I like it when you have braids in your hair.”  In the back of my mind, I could hear his voice and feel his shoulder against my cheek as I leaned on him and he twirled strands around his fingers. 

                I had held back my tears on the sudden u-turn I was forced to make but now my eyes were getting misty.  I slammed down the frame and tried to undo my hairstyle.  In my haste, I knotted some locks together and got tangled as I tried to retract my hand, leaving a throbbing spot in my scalp.  I curled into a miserable ball on the floor. 

                A few moments later, my phone vibrated.  I desperately searched around my purse until I clutched the plastic body.  Maybe it was him asking where I was or offering an explanation for what I had seen, although he probably still didn’t know the damage he had done. 

                But no, it was only a calendar reminder for the date I was dressed for that ended before it even started.  Part of me wanted to throw my phone across the room, but instead I opened my messaging app and punched out a few weak, senseless texts.

                Bastard.

                Stupid jerk.

                I hate you.

                I never want to see your face again.

                We’re done.

                I glanced over the words again and felt childish.  I buried my face in my knees and willed the day to be over already.

                Then my phone vibrated in my hand again.  I looked hurriedly at the incoming message and a sense of doom blanketed me.

                I think you have the wrong person.

                I looked at the receiver and wanted to scream from embarrassment.

                In my distress, I had selected Kim Mingyu, a longtime classmate of mine, instead of my now ex-boyfriend, Kim Minsoo.

                I in a deep breath to pull myself together.

                I’m so sorry, Mingyu.  I wasn’t looking and chose the wrong name, I replied.

                His answer came almost right away.  It’s fine.  Did someone do something bad to you?  Are you ok?

                It was almost sweet of him to be concerned, but my skeptical side told me he could be asking only out of courtesy. 

                I’ll be fine.  Sorry again.

                Cheer up.

                After that, my phone was silent.  I didn’t hear from Minsoo for the rest of the weekend.

-x-

                I sat at a table in the cafeteria, staring vacantly at my lunch, holding a pair of scissors used to cut the long, chewy noodles of the main dish.

                Someone set their tray in front of me with a clatter and pried the scissors from my fingers.

                “Here, I’ll do it for you,” a male voice said, using the scissors to cut up my food.  “I wouldn’t want you deciding to cut your hair short because of the heartbreak.”

                I looked up to see none other than Kim Mingyu grinning at me.  I cleared my throat and palmed the length of my hair self-consciously as if checking to make sure it was all there.

                “You heard?” I asked quietly, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.  I had taken Minsoo aside before class to formally break up with him.  He didn’t even flinch, only nodding solemnly and walking away.  The word must have already spread.

                “I got the advance notice,” he replied with a smirk. 

                At first I blinked at him, not sure what he was talking about.  Then I remembered and groaned.

                “Can we not talk about that?  I’m going to die from shame.”

                “Why?  I thought it was kind of funny.  Imagine suddenly getting a text from someone you haven’t talked to in awhile calling you a bastard for no reason.”

                The corner of my lips lifted.  “Sorry.”

                He shrugged.  “Don’t you think it might be fate?  Maybe something willed you to send those texts to someone else.  Maybe it was a call for that person to make you happy again.  And you chose me, so it’s my job.”

                I bit my lip.  “Why would you do something like that?”

                “Because…we’re friends.”

                Mingyu and I grew close over the course of the months.  But I was always wary of him, a side effect that still remained even after the pain of the breakup ebbed. 

                We were sitting on the grass in the park one day when he suddenly smoothed some loose hair away from my face.

                “You have nice hair,” he said absently.  “Aren’t you glad I saved you from chopping it off?”

                I laughed.  “You didn’t save me.  I wasn’t having those kinds of thoughts in the first place.”

                He smiled.  “Is that so?”

                A breeze ruffled my hair.  “You know,” he continued.  “I’m glad you sent me those texts.”

                “Why?”

                “Because now I’m sitting here with you instead of him.”

                My chest constricted and I stared at him.

                “Mingyu…”

                “Truthfully, I—”

                “Don’t say it!” He looked at me, surprised.  “If you say it, then I’ll have to admit it too and I don’t want it to be complicated.  I don’t want to always be on edge thinking it’ll end the same way.”

                He looked hurt and I hated myself.  I apologized quickly and stood up, starting to leave.  He stopped me.

                “I’m not Minsoo.  I’m the boy you picked instead.”

-x-

                That night, my phone chimed with a message from Mingyu.

                I’m sorry.

                I thought back to earlier.  I left so abruptly that he didn’t get a chance to say anything more.  As I was thinking of a reply, another message came in.

                I can’t go with you.

                And another, this one longer:

                There’s a girl I like, although she’s too scared for me to say it out loud.  I wanted to make her forget about her ex-boyfriend but it looks like I didn’t do a very good job.  She sent me a text on accident once calling me a stupid jerk but I was happy because it gave me an excuse to talk to her.  Sometimes I think of returning the favor by accidentally telling her the opposite of what she told me – that she’s a good person, and that I love her.

                The final chime brought me out of the shock.

                Whoops.  Looks like I did.