From Chapter 2:

Seolhyun tentatively walked up to Hyejeong, each step heavier than the last, each step bringing her closer to the girl she swore to shut off, to the memories she desired to forget.

To the girl who broke her heart. To the girl she still loved.

Seolhyun took the last few steps, rocked with indecision, before reaching out and shaking Hyejeong’s hand firmly.

“How are you? It’s been a long time.”

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Seolhyun gawked at Hyejeong, not really knowing what to do. It’s been five seconds since their hands connected, and neither had pulled away. Seolhyun’s gaze travelled up and down Hyejeong’s body. It’s been years since she last saw Hyejeong up close like that, and the brief glance she snuck earlier on during lunch wasn’t really enough.

Hyejeong was different. No doubt. She had shed the cheap T-shirts and baggy sweatpants that formed the majority of her wardrobe for something more…form fitting. She had grew taller, that’s for sure—whilst they were in high school Seolhyun was definitely a handspan taller; Hyejeong now was couple of centimetres taller. And she swore that Hyejeong only grew prettier since they last saw each other—she wasn’t the cute first-year klutz anymore; she was a y beast in her own right.

Seolhyun’s gaze travelled back to Hyejeong’s face, and more specifically her eyes. Those dark, chocolate brown orbs gazed intently back into hers, intoxicating, addicting, beautiful. Seolhyun remembered what one of the first things that drew her to Hyejeong was—her eyes, which she could stare at forever and feel loved, and feel comfortable, and feel safe. Those eyes which she struggled to attribute coldness and cruelty to, even after Hyejeong did that to her.

“I’m fine,” replied Hyejeong brusquely, withdrawing her hand and sliding it back into her trouser pockets. “It’s been awhile since I last dated, but its fine.”

Seolhyun’s curiosity was piqued. “You mean, Jongin broke up with you?” she enquired, her eager desire to know the details present in her voice.

“Well, not really,” Hyejeong replied, her tone overwhelmed with tinges of sadness and regret, her eyes clouded with a brief filter of pain. “Let’s just say that if we got married I would have been a widow.”

A light gasp escaped Seolhyun’s throat; she never expected to be discussing something like this in her first meeting with Hyejeong in 7 years. Never mind that Jongin was someone that she especially disliked; it always hurt her as a justice defender to hear someone die. “When…was it?” Seolhyun tentatively asked. Noticing the pained look in Hyejeong’s eyes, she quickly supplemented, “It’s…it’s fine if you don’t want to tell me. I mean like…I’m sure that opened so many old wounds didn’t it…I am quite sorry…I’m rambling now aren’t I?”

Hyejeong’s chocolate brown eyes regained some semblance of normality, clouded with sympathy, and warmness. The same gaze that brought shivers, and yet security, to Seolhyun’s fluttering heart. “No, Seolhyun. I should have moved on by now anyway. It’s been three years since Jongin died.”

“I…I see,” Seolhyun commiserated, her voice respectfully low. “Do you mind telling me how he died?”

Hyejeong shifted uneasily on the floor. It was clear to Seolhyun that what she was doing was just ripping apart old wounds and bringing pain back to Hyejeong. It made Seolhyun slightly hopeful of reconciliation when she heard that Jongin was out of the picture, but Hyejeong’s pained expression told Seolhyun all that she needed to know. “Jongin was always the adventurous one, you know?”

“Yea, he was the adventurous one amongst us lot, wasn’t he?” Seolhyun replied with a chuckle. Seolhyun grinned to herself, allowing herself to slip back into reminisces of her high school past—a part of her existence that she had tried to shut out for the better part of the decade. It was much like drugs—it was tempting to re-open her box of memories, but she knew that it would lead her back into her depths of despair. Jongin had joined their club in mid-April, when both Hyejeong and she were third years; Hyejeong having advanced a grade because she was always the smarter one. He was always speaking of outdoor escapades, of his latest mountain climbing trip, of his daunting, dangerous yet thrilling holidays during their club meetings. Amongst the trio it was always he who would do the dirty work, and source for clues—adventuring was just his thing.

“Well, one day he said that he w