Slightly bewildered, you say, "But - "

"He wanted to know, so I told him the truth, you know?" She shrugs. "He - "

"I already told him that," you interrupt. She cuts her gaze at you. You add, "I don't get why he'd ask you that. Unless ... he didn't hear me the first time. So does that mean that he ... he's curious? And if he's curious about how I think about him, then he ... must feel something."

She scoffs. "No. That's stupid. He'd only ask you because he wanted to know. Why would he like you?"

"But if he asked," you protest fiercely, "then he - "

"Don't you forget," she says through her gritted teeth, "that he broke up with you. So whatever you had before - fake, real - he started it. He broke it. And now you want to get back together again? What the heck for? Huh? You want to be rejected again?" Her eyes start to glisten, and you stare, surprised and paralyzed at her sudden sensitivity. "You actually want to keep chasing after that guy no matter how many times he turns you down? You want to get hurt over and over again? You want to ask him how he feels about you even if you already know what he's going to say?" She bites her bottom lip to keep herself from sobbing. You realize, almost guiltily, that this has nothing to do with you anymore. "You want to keep doing that? That's what you want? Being naive and stupid? You want to do it? Then, fine. Do it. Do what you want." She leans back, distressed. "I'm not going to stop you."

You watch her as she covers her face with her hands and takes deep, long breaths. Her shoulders are low and her back is slumped, but she doesn't care. She actually doesn't care for once about how she is portrayed to the world. After a few seconds of hard silence, she looks up at you and blinks away the dew in her eyes. 

"You're lucky," she murmurs. "You have at least one chance. And as for me ... I never got even one.

"But I'm not asking for pity," she hurriedly adds. "I'm just saying that sometimes ... " at this she laughs, albeit bitterly, " ... love ."

Afraid to say the wrong thing, you don't reply. Min sits frozen on her chair until she grabs her tray and stands up. "I'm leaving. Later." She walks away, and you listen to her footsteps recede until you turn to look at her retreating back. Swallowing the food you had put into your mouth, you turn back to your tray and mull over the things she's said. 

You can sympathize with Min, actually. You don't have to like someone to be able to sympathize with them. You comprehend her feelings, too. Although you hadn't known what it had felt like to not have your affection returned, you can now say that you have the experience to back up the statement. In a way, you and she are similar. But like she's said, you still have a chance. It just depends on whether Baekhyun is going to let you take that chance.

You haven't talked to him in a while, and you miss that. You miss randomly arriving at his house or him arriving at yours and going on spontaneous trips to the grocery store or to the mall. You miss his calling you at midnight just to yell something reckless and strange right before he falls asleep. You even miss kicking him in the shin. He owns the best shin to kick. 

You didn't throw away any of your things like he suggested. You kept the necklace; you still wear it, but it's hidden beneath the collar of your shirt. The Contracts sits on your desk - untouched, unmarred. You want to rip it if only to confirm its ending. But you don't want to confirm an ending before a beginning has even gotten the chance to start.

You still have that photo of him on your phone.