The girl’s long, dark hair dragged on the ground as Seulgi’s mother stared blankly at her. The weather was nice, Seulgi remembers that, and there wasn’t a single utterance from the crowd that formed around the kneeling girl and the weary older woman. The weather was nice, the sun was high in the sky, and the shadow of Seulgi’s mother fell on the young girl, as if to deprive her of all light.

A small child cried out, hesitantly, unknowingly, and the girl lifted her head. She looked too young to have done what she did, and Seulgi felt that ridiculous tug in her chest as the girl blinked once, twice, before furrowing her eyebrows and bowing her head again.

“Bae Joohyun.”

Her mother’s voice. A sound choked with resentment and resignation, an understanding that what is done cannot be undone. Joohyun kept her head down and let out a sob.

“I’m sorry.”

It was an equally choked whisper that made Seulgi wonder if the girl felt guilt from speaking. There was nothing melodic or particularly captivating about her voice, but she still felt the resonance of emotions that made those vibrations. A beautiful cacophony of a guilt-ridden girl being forced to reveal herself.

“Get up.”

Nothing.

“Please.”

Joohyun stood up without looking Seulgi’s mother in the eyes. Seulgi noticed that her the pale skin of her knees was marred with deep red indents from their contact with the scalding asphalt. She wondered how the girl withstood the pain. She wondered if the girl truly knew pain in the first place.

“I know that you’ll never forgive me. And I won’t either. I promise that I’