“W-what do you think you’re doing?” she stammers out as Irene pushes her against the wall, one hand wrapping around her waist and the other around her neck. “Shut up and play along."

Seulgi used to dream of different scenarios on how she'll meet her soulmate. This? This is definitely not one of those.  (And by this, she means getting unceremoniously slapped in the face by a stranger in a club during her perfectly stress-free Friday night.)

She turns her attention to the cake that suddenly looks so unappetizing and wonders if this is how it feels to be heartbroken. Not that her heart has been whole all this time. It hasn’t been whole in a while, she thinks, not since she met Seulgi.

"Excuse me, sunbaenim, but do you happen to know the brand of the fabric softener used for your shirt?" Seulgi blinks and wonders, for a beat, if this is how people flirt these days.