I was ready to kill him.

I must have paced outside the doors of the lecture hall for twenty minutes, again waiting for Namjoon’s arrival and mentally debating over whether to call or text him. When I finally gathered the courage to do so, I received his voicemail instead.

Breathe.

Murder never solves anything.

I couldn’t focus in class either because- surprise, surprise -he didn’t show up. He and my paper were nowhere in sight. I probably chewed through two of my fingernails since Professor Min kept emphasizing how the due date was just around the corner.

He might as well have tattooed it across my forehead.

I only had myself to blame as I slowly slumped behind the eager crowd exiting the lecture hall after the end of class. Many were chatting amicably about what they were planning to get for lunch while a few others rushed off to their next class.

Why couldn’t I be in their shoes?

My cell phone didn’t reveal anything new at that time nor when I got back home to my apartment a half hour later.

Forty-two texts and eighteen phone calls have yielded nothing in return.

This is what I get for entrusting all of my written hard work to a stranger no less.

I officially deemed myself in the lowest pits of Tartarus when I discovered that my first draft was probably attached to my second draft when I couldn’t locate its presence in my backpack either.

Everything.

Was.

With.

Kim.

Please Subscribe to read the full chapter