Jungeun never thought Jinsoul would be the one that got away. Not when she broke up with the older girl in college, thinking that Jinsoul graduating earlier and moving away would put too much of a strain on their relationship. She didn’t think it when she saw Jinsoul almost a year later, after the older girl had graduated, at Jiwoo’s birthday party.

There’d been a few electrically charged glances across the room, a relapse in feelings that hadn’t quite been buried away yet, and Jungeun found herself pressed up against the wall of the bathroom with Jinsoul’s mouth latched onto her neck. When the next morning came, Jungeun found herself alone in her apartment, still feeling the ghost of Jinsoul’s lips across her skin and sensing a whisper of her perfume from the pillows.

And Jungeun certainly hadn’t thought it up until now. Here she was, standing front and center in the chapel pews, watching the love of her life marry someone else. Typical. The heart always wants what it can’t have. You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. There’s many different ways to coin the phrase: you ed up and you should’ve known better. Jungeun knows. She’s heard it all before, from friends and family and snarky Tumblr quotes on the internet.

She just never thought it would happen to her. She thought she’d been doing the right thing, the careful thing, by pushing Jinsoul away. Back then, she figured that Jinsoul would wait for her, that Jinsoul would still care about her. How wrong she had been. This wasn’t some kind of movie, this was real life. People don’t know exactly how you feel unless if you tell them, and Jungeun had neglected to mention that she was still in love with Jinsoul. Even if she had, it probably would’ve been too late for her to do anything about it.

It’s an odd thing, Jungeun knows, to still be so intertwined with your ex-girlfriend. But that was the way their friend group worked, some kind of circle you couldn’t break free of. So they remained distant but friendly acquaintances who pretended not to know each other when the rest of their friends freely conversed during the rare moments they hung out together. It worked for a bit. Until he started showing up as Jinsoul’s plus one.

His first name was Hansol and his middle name was Handsome. That much, Jungeun had to give to him. He was tall and had curly dark brown hair that hung over his eyes in that dreamy way every girl swoons over. At first, Jungeun hated his guts. He was suave and charming, like he’d walked straight out of a movie scene and had replaced Jungeun as the new lead romantic interest of Jinsoul’s life. But then she got to know the guy, and somehow, he worked his magic on her, too.

Then again, back when Hansol and Jinsoul first started dating, Jungeun was convinced it wouldn’t last long. She was still in denial, still thought she had some kind of place in Jinsoul’s heart that hadn’t been filled over quite yet. When she’s alone in her apartment and had one too many drinks out with the girls, Jungeun wonders when she’d stop messing everything up. The wedding invitation made everything ten times worse.

Two years had gone by in the blink of an eye, and when that gilded envelope fell through her mail slot and slid onto the floor, Jungeun felt like everything froze in place. Her hand reached for it, fingers trembling as she traced Jinsoul’s handwriting. There was only one thing that it could be. She’d heard the rumors of an engagement, but she’d been out of Seoul for the past two months on a business trip in Tokyo. Work kept her too busy to call and confirm anything, and the invitation came like a slap in the face.

It was then that Jungeun realized she was just a lonely twenty-three year old working herself half to death, and as she read the invitation, she knew she had lost the love of her life. Haseul showed up to her doorstep a couple days later, probably after receiving her own wedding invitation. The older woman was holding a plastic bag of takeout and a bottle of wine when Jungeun answered the door, wearing the same rumpled clothes she’d been wearing the day she opened her invitation.

There were bags hanging beneath her eyes and Jungeun knew she must’ve looked like some kind of shipwreck victim, but Haseul just wordlessly set her stuff on the counter and pulled her in for a hug. Jungeun wasn’t sure how long they stood there in the foyer, with Haseul letting her sob into her shoulder, rocking her back and forth slowly. When no more tears would come, Haseul led Jungeun into the kitchen and laid the takeout boxes and paper plates out.

The scent of the food made Jungeun’s mouth water. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d had a proper meal. The days had blurred into one singular moment in time, too alike to even begin to try and differentiate. The moment her plate was set down in front of her, Jungeun’s mind shut off and she began to shovel the piping hot food into . Kahei arrived twenty minutes, later, just when Haseul was clearing the dishes and she was climbing into the shower.

While Jungeun dried her hair and picked out some pajamas, Jiwoo and Sooyoung arrived. By the time she stepped out of her bedroom, over half of her friends were standing in the midst of her living room. From the amount of takeout, chocolates, and alcohol, Jungeun came to the conclusion that none of them had contact with each other before they came over. It was like each one of them secretly knew, had a hunch that they never asked about because they didn’t want to breach such a sensitive topic, until they knew that she needed them.

All ten of them, crowded in her tiny studio apartment. They’ll all probably be sleeping on the floor of her living room if they stayed, but none of them seem to mind. Jungeun hadn’t felt so loved, so touched before in her life. Jungeun settled herself on her sofa, sandwiched between Jiwoo and Heejin, looking at how the rest of her friends were scattered across the furniture. Sooyoung blinked up at her, propped up against Jiwoo’s knees.

“You don’t have to go, you know,” Haseul begins, looking around the room to watch their friends nod in agreement. She’s always been the mom of the group, and she wasn’t about to stop now, not even when all of them were well into their twenties. It’s endearing, the way she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and clasps her hands together. Still, Jungeun stares down at her fingernails, trying to be interested in the way her cuticles look rather than the topic at hand.

It’s difficult to talk about all of this without feeling the red hot burn of shame, knowing there was a possibility she could have avoided all of this in the past. If only she hadn’t been so afraid, if only she hadn’t broken up with Jinsoul in the first place. In some ways, it’s even more difficult now that Jungeun knows her act was completely see-through, that everyone but Jinsoul knew she was still in love. Thinking about everyone always knowing made her feel even worse for not saying anything or sorting out her feelings properly.

“It’s not like you’re obligated to go,” Kahei chimes in. She’s sitting beside Haseul with their fingers and shoulders brushing together. A happy couple of nearly four years. The epitome of what every person strove for in their love life. “We all know how swamped you’ve been at Blockberry,” she continues. “They’ve had y