Sehun has known Soojung for a long time. They live in the same neighbourhood ― her house on the street behind his. They went to the same kindergarten, same elementary school, middle school, and up to high school. He had seen her in the hallways and the cafeteria, and whenever he saw her laughing with her friend he silently wished that they were friends.

It’s silly, he thinks, how long he has known her yet never talked to her. He kept telling himself that he’d do it someday, he’d say hi to her when she passed him by tomorrow, he’d strike up a conversation with her later. But each time he caught the sight of her, every muscle of his would stop working and he just stood frozen, not able to utter a single word.

It’s silly, he thinks, and somewhat amazing how he never once managed to pucker up the courage to speak to her all these years. And now as he stands in front of his mailbox, holding a scented light olive coloured card that bears her name and a certain Kim Jongin in some sort of a flowery font, he can only listen to the sound of his heart breaking and laugh at his own stupidity, a thousand what ifs running through his mind.