Her heart raced as she pulled into their driveway. She couldn’t decide if she was genuinely afraid of the consequences she had chosen when she ran away for the slightest time or if it was what Jongin said. His words swirled in her mind. Oh Sehun. Oh Sehun still loved her.

She dropped her head on the rest, letting the cold air seep through her car, and washing away any warmth left. The man who left her still loved her. This felt so unreal. She didn’t know whether to squeal with excitement or scream out in anger, instead, a gentle teardrop rolled down. Her teeth chattered, but she bit the inside of her cheek until the taste of iron flooded her senses.

Why? Jongin wouldn’t lie, would he? When the cold finally enveloped her, she made her way into the pathetic building she called home. She could run away from it anytime; no one was stopping her, but at the end of the day, she found herself returning. She took a deep sigh and fumbled around with the number pad.

She heard the familiar click and lazily walked in. Without turning the lights on, she made her way to her room. It was always the same, straight path through the front door and right up until the stairs that spiraled to the top level. The same, old, worn out path for the last three years.

“Minji, I promise to make up our dinner date from before. It wasn’t even my fault.”

She paused in her step. She could see the light creeping out from under his door and resisted the urge to march through. What right did she have anyway after meeting up with Jongin?

“Minji and a dinner date,” she bitterly thought.

Her hands curled into a fist, but she continued her way to her room. Even though it was almost morning, she refused to sleep without a hot bath and a glass of warm milk. A routine she had switched to with the superstition of helping her sleep when she knew the core of her sleepless nights began with Baekhyun.

After her bath, she went down for the glass of milk without bothering to turn on the lights. As she opened the door to the fridge, what surprised her most was the untouched cake that wasn’t there that morning when she left. What occasion was it necessary for a cake, especially when they both weren’t home often enough to share a cake, never mind a meal.

Her mind shouted “Minji” until she remembered it was the twentieth of September, her own birthday. became dry. Was he waiting for her? She neglected the glass of milk and started back up to his room, the guilt eating her away.

She boldly turned the doorknob to his room and sat on his bed. She never realized he didn’t lock his door, but what surprised her more was when he was nowhere in his room. She fiddled with her thumbs and even laid down to get a whiff of his scent. Instead of breathing in a nice scent like she expected, Hana felt the sudden urge to throw up. She tried suppressing the feeling but quickly ran into his bathroom when the door clicked open. She didn’t waste time for his questioning stares or to be flustered at the sight of him.

“Are you okay?”

He was rubbing her back to which she stiffened at such a gesture.

“I’m okay,” she reassured.

He handed her a towel, and she gladly took it. It was only then when she realized he was wearing nothing, but a towel wrapped around his waist.

“I see you’ve come home,” he casually stated, but it felt like a stab to her heart.

He was now putting on a white t-shirt, but she still avoided him. He smirked, amused at her sudden visit to his room. He