My knuckles are a mottled shade of red and purple by the time 7 PM rolls around.

The first thing I did when I got home was go ape on my boxing bag. It’s the only item I’ve purchased in Lucy’s house. I bought it right after I landed my first hit on Jin while sparring and realized that there was something euphoric about my fists making contact with something.

I should despise Mrs. Kim. She allowed me to come to Windsong knowing that it was a crawling pit of Kado danger. I could’ve been seriously hurt. Or killed. And her son was the primary antagonist in my life for a year.

But , there’s something about her smile that reminds me of my mom’s.

After I had sufficiently beat my bag to a pulp, I went to go make pretty for the Kims.

“You look beautiful!” Mrs. Kim gasps as I walk into her house. “Where’s that dress from? Fendi- no, Kaite?”

I shrug. “It’s my friend’s.”

“Little black dresses are so timeless. They were all the rage at the Fashion Week afterparties last September.”

Walking through these hallways causes chills to run down my spine. I haven’t been to this house since I abruptly moved out my junior year. I spot the glass balcony jutting out from the second-floor pool area; my lip curls.

“Andrews is out running an errand- he’ll be home soon. Take a seat! I told the chefs to make us a feast.”

Mrs. Kim and I sit at the sleek wood dining table as maids bring out platters of fragrant tofu stews, still sizzling in their black stone pots; chewy japchae noodles tossed with seaweed, steamed bok choy, and julienned carrots; tiny bowls filled with spicy kimchi, fried fish cakes, and seasoned white soybean sprouts.

My mouth instantly starts salivating. Mrs. Kim sees my wide-eyed expression and laughs.

“If you came over more, you’d get to eat all this all the time,” she teases.

Something in my chest softens. I offer her a small, tentative smile; the first one I’ve given her all day.

“You know the way to my heart,” I tell her.

The last thing I want to do is talk to Mrs. Kim about myself. So I pepper her with questions about her architecture firm. She tells me about the high-profile clients who hire her, the gorgeous buildings she designs.

“I just love being in New York City,” she sighs dreamily. “It’s the center of the world. I’m sure you’ll love California, but there’s something about New York that never gets old for me.”

“That’s awesome. The first time I went to New York, I was in shock the whole time.”

“Oh, goodness. Me too. You know how odd it was going from living in Daegu to New York-,”

The sound of heavy thumping down the stairs cuts her off. Taehyung has walked into the dining room, clad in an oversized grey hoodie and sweatpants. He’s obviously high as .

I tense.

“Taehyung,” Mrs. Kim says, her smile strained. “You’re... awake. You can join us for dinner.”

Taehyung silently looks at her, and then turns to stare at me.

“What is she doing here?” he utters in a gravelly voice.

“I ran into Joo at the store and invited her over-,”

“And she actually came?”

“I didn’t come for you,” I snap. “I’m here for Mrs. Kim and Andrews.”

Taehyung lets out a curt laugh. His eyes are glassy and cold. “Andrews.”

Anger bubbles up in the pit of my stomach. My humiliation from last night is still fresh in my mind.

Why am I so shocked that he chose Jimin over me?

It’s your fault, a small voice in the corner of my mind reminds me.

I look away, clenching my jaw.

Any pleasant feelings that arose from the beginning of dinner are instantly dashed. Taehyung decides to take a seat and eat with us. Mrs. Kim stares at him in consternation as he wolfs down a bowl of honey-glazed bulgogi and sticky rice.

“Slow down,” she murmurs.

“I’m hungry,” Taehyung says between heaping spoons of food.

I roll my eyes. Those are the weed-induced munchies at work. Mrs. Kim continues to act oblivious to Taehyung’s stoned state.

“Taehyung, tell Joo about how Yale has been,” she tells her son.

Taehyung ignores her and continues piling pickled zucchini onto his plate.

“He’s studying economics,” Mrs. Kim says, biting her lip. She looks so concerned as she watches Taehyung. “And he joined a frat.”

The silence is so uncomfortable I can feel it in the air.

Taehyung finishes scooping up the last morsels of food on his plate. He throws down his metal spoon with a clang! and promptly leaves the dining room.

“Taehyung! You can’t be so rude!” Mrs. Kim exclaims, calling after him, but he ignores her. The slam! of his bedroom door is distantly audible.

“I’m so sorry about that, Joohyun,” she blusters, turning to me. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him- he’s just been so antisocial since he’s come back from college-,”

“Yes, because I’m sure he’d never usually be this rude,” I can’t help but snipe back.

Mrs. Kim shuts up at that. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment, and I can’t help but feel a little guilty.

“It’s okay,” I quickly add. “Seriously. I really enjoyed dinner.”

Her face brightens at that. “Good! Oh- I know how much you love dessert. I actually asked the chefs to prepare chocolate ganache-,”

The sound of a phone ringtone cuts her off. Mrs. Kim glances at her cellphone- and then turns white.

“Oh, goodness,” she gasps. “I wasn’t expecting this client to call tonight- Joo, can you give me half an hour? I’ll be right back.”

“I can just head home-,”

“No! I want you to try the cake. I know you’d love it.” Mrs. Kim frantically dashes out the room. “Just hang on for a sec!”

I stare at the door in disbelief. Seriously? What does she expect me to do? Andrews still isn’t back from his errand either.

After 15 minutes of waiting, I get up. I feel too guilty to walk out on Mrs. Kim. I’ll take a little walk down memory lane, I guess. There’s no harm in reminiscing.

Unfortunately, by the time I’m at the stairwell where the Kims’ library is hidden, I am aching in sadness.

“So many happy memories here,” Lucy murmurs next to me. “We used to be so innocent.”

I look down the stairs. Lucy and I had stood in this very spot the first time I brought her, Dev, and Tom to the library. Jin had stormed out of the living room because Taehyung and his friends were being cruel to me. Jimin had flirted with Lucy.

I had felt so excited about magic. There I was at 16, innocently running around with my friends and poring over magical texts. There was an enjoyment in being bewildered by all the new concepts I was learning.

I had so much potential.

The heaviness in my body- which had disappeared during dinner- returns with a vengeance. It feels like my every limb has been strapped with lead, weighing me down and making me want to curl up in a ball and never get up again.

I manage to continue up the stairs. I am determined to see one last room before I walk out the door and never return again.

When I open the door to my old room, the wind is knocked out of my chest.

All of my things are still there, untouched. My old AP Chem textbook sits in the corner of the white desk, opened to a page about subatomic particles. Various college-ruled notebooks lay strewn around the room. The Polaroids we took at Lucy’s condo are tacked to the wall; Tom laughing as Dev pulls him into a headlock, Lucy, Sofia, and I trying to do our best supermodel impressions, Jin and I hugging each other.

My fingers skim over the copy of Magical Ornaments sitting on my dresser. It’s like I walked out to go to Windsong Prep and just came back home after a long day of school. Nothing has changed.

“I always thought you’d come back,” a low, slightly slurred voice says. Taehyung is leaning against the doorframe. His bloodshot eyes are swirling with intensity. “I wouldn’t let Andrews clean out any of your stuff. Because I’d never hear the end of it if you’d lost an essay or one of your books was missing.”

I swallow. My gaze holds his.

There are a million conflicting emotions swirling inside me; the most prominent one is hurt. He chose Jimin over me last night. He left me to go to college. He used to love me.

Taehyung tips his head back, takes another hit of his juul. I watch as he exhales the smoke out into a foggy cloud.

“Is this who you’ve become?” I utter. “Some drugged-out stoner?”

A throaty laugh rumbles in his throat. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried it before. It’s a great way of blurring your thoughts out.”

“That’s a move,” I say harshly. “Using drugs instead of facing your problems. You’re weak.”

A twisted smirk plays at his lips. “Oh, yeah. You made that pretty clear a year ago.”

I tense.

“What did you say?” Taehyung pretends to ponder the question, tapping his chin with his juul. “Ah. I was a pathetic follower who couldn’t make a decision for himself. You wished I’d disappeared instead of Lucy. You wanted me to be dead because I didn’t deserve anything.”

That night flashes back in my mind. Taehyung finding me sobbing in the deep recesses of the forest, his hand alight with an illuminating ball of chi. The way he clutched me to his chest- “I was so ing worried, Joo, we didn’t know where you’d gone.” How I was so furious that it wasn’t Lucy who'd come to find me crying amidst the dark foliage.

Something had faded in Taehyung’s eyes as I was telling him those evil things, my voice cruel and low and vicious. I wanted Taehyung to hurt like his magic had made me hurt. If he really cared about me, why would he continue to accept Jimin?

He had walked me back without a word, dropped me off at Jin’s house.

We never spoke again after that night.

I had a year to apologize and I never did.

But things got so numb after that that I forgot how much missing him hurt.

“It’s funny,” Taehyung says. His eyes scan over my bruised knuckles, hollow cheeks, and emaciated frame. “You said you wanted me to die. But it looks like you want yourself dead more.”