No message. No ring. No sign of intelligence. Minwoo’s phone remained silent. Every day was like this. After cram school, exhausted from the long day, he would return home and lay on his bed, just staring at his phone. Every day for two and a half months. Besides from the regular texts from Boyfriend, there was nothing. At least, nothing from her.

Growling, he gripped the device tightly in his fist, as if by force he could magically procure a message from her. A “how are you?” or “what’s up?” or “sorry I haven’t even said a word for almost 3 months.” Anything. Anything would do. Anything at all. But nothing came. Angrily, he threw the phone into the quilt of his bed, screaming out. Why, all of a sudden? Why would she just disappear from his life? Especially at the time when they really needed each other the most? To rely on each other after such a nightmare? How could she be so selfish?

Shoving the phone aside, Minwoo slammed his fist into the pillow. Again and again, he vented his anger, his hurt, the betrayal that lodged in his heart like a knife. Again and again, until the tears he’d been holding back sprang forth, running down his cheeks. Fat, hot tears wet his face.

He missed her. He missed that smile, those shining eyes. He missed that small dimple in her right cheek. He missed her laugh, the way it pulled at his heartstrings. He missed her, terribly so. What had become of her?

His punches slowed to a stop, and he looked down at his phone on his floor. He should do as Youngmin suggested, he should message her first. He needed to hear from her. He needed to know how she was. Everyone said she hadn’t gotten hurt, but was she entirely alright? Where was she? What was going on in her head? What would cause her to avoid him? What, indeed? Was it really survivor’s guilt? Was there something more? Well, if she wasn’t going to come forth with the information on her own, he would pry it from her.

Determined, he picked up his phone.

Kwangmi awoke with a start. In the dark, remnants from her nightmares swirled around her, reluctant to withdraw their hold. But there was a light breaking through the darkness, and she moved closer to that light, reaching for it with outstretched fingers. At last, her hand gripped the light, just before it extinguished, and the solid piece of reality was enough to bring her out of the smoky clutches of fitful sleep. Blearily, she peered at the object in her grasp, pressing the button to re-awaken the screen of the phone.

One new message.

She wondered who, at this time of night, would message her? Almost three months later, all her friends had finished checking up on her. Now, the only one left was Kevin, but he rarely left her side anymore, barely letting her out during daytime for simple errands and for school and therapy. Slowly, she was gaining her independence again, though she wondered if it was more a force of habit than actual desire that drove her to it.

Once again, she looked at the notification. Somehow, she knew this message would entirely alter the course she was on. Somehow, this would change her. At first, she was inclined to ignore it, to just delete it and pretend it had never existed. But there was that part of Kwangmi that wouldn’t allow it, that part that had lost itself over two months ago that she was slowly regaining.

Before she could stop herself, she opened the message.

There was a name.

A name she hadn’t seen in ages.

A name that wouldn’t leave her nagging thoughts alone.

A name that had changed her life forever. Now here it was, changing it again.

No Minwoo