EVANGELINE POV:

The door slams as Sooyoung walks in, greeting me. I glance at the clock on the wall. 9:13 PM. She's never this late home, even when she had had a job. My mouth twists bitterly, and Sooyoung mistakes it for a smile. She grins back, and I can sense the self-content hiding behind her casual manner, the self-content that she's trying so hard to hide. 

I silently turn back to the shirt that I had been stitching up on my lap. I have to squint against the darkness, and sometimes prick my finger, drawing beads of blood. I try to appear calm, but inside I am seething with anger. I knew exactly where she had been; after all I had been there when he had called her, asking her to meet him. She had shot me a look of apology, then rushed out the door. I had could only glare after her dissapearing back. 

Lately, I had found myself fighting to resist blowing up at Sooyoung. I had always tried to act indifferently towards her, but it had all been an act. Deep down, I had wanted to lash out at her, scream at her, punish her for what she had done to me. Her apology had not moved me at all- in fact, I resented her more. Who was she to apologise after scarring me for life? We were sisters; we used to be so close, but now, because of one guy all that had changed. It felt like we were opponents, enemies, facing against each other. It hurt me so much. 

Now, I sat calmly sewing as she changed into warm clothes behind me. She was exclaiming at the cold, laughing as she pulled on her jacket. Totally unaware of the anger I was directing at her. I hear her shuffling around in the kitchen, whistling as she fixes dinner. Oh, so she doesn't need me to cook for her anymore? I roll my eyes, frustrated, and fling the shirt into a corner of the room. It hits the wall with a dull bang. There's a silence. "Evangeline?" Sooyoung hollers. 

"Goodnight sis!" I call, stiffly climbing into bed. Sooyoung must have sensed my anger or something, because a minute later she slips in next to me, taking my hands into her own cold ones. She shivers, and draws the thin blanket tighter around us. For the first time, I realise how thin and frail she is, how bony her wrists are between my hands. For a second, concern rushes through me, but only for a moment. "Hey sis?" she whispers into the silence. Her breath blows warmly into my face and I'm grateful for her being there. I lie still, breathing evenly, faking sleep. 

"Look, I know you hate me a lot right now because of... what's been happening," she murmurs, "But I want you to know that I'm so sorry. No, really, I am. I know how heartbroken you must be. It's so unfortunate that the both of us have to like him. Right now, there's a silent war going on between us because of him, and I hate it. I want this war to be over. So please, Evy, I hope you understand. Please, you have to. It's for the better. And I'm sorry." 

With a sigh, she touches my face gently with a finger. Then she gently turns over and falls asleep. I open my eyes and stare at her back, contemplating her words. I wondered if she had said so much because she thought I was asleep, or if she really wanted me to know. Thoughts swim through my head as I stare up at the ceiling. Without warning, tears start to cloud my eyes and like every other night, I begin to cry. But this time, I'm not crying because I feel sorry for myself. My body doesn't shudder with grief, either. I lie on my back, tears slowly wetting my face, vowing to follow out my sister's wish. I would try to end this war, and forget about Minho. 

The next morning, I rise earlier than Sooyoung and head out to school an hour earlier. I knew that Minho, who was in my class, would be in the classroom early, and I wanted to see him... alone. 

Sure enough, he was sitting in his usual seat, alone in the empty classroom. He seemed puzzled to see me, but went back to his book. I took my usual seat behind him, suddenly shy. I stare at the back of his neck, the vein standing out. His hair was brown, long and almost curly, and I could imagine it falling into his face as he read. My fingers itched, and I stretched them outwards nervously. But you promised you'd forget about him, I reminded myself, and pull out a book to read. I guess I had just wanted to be alone with him for a while, to admire him for the last time. 

Soon, students started to stream through the door. Minho was flocked by his friends, and I could only glimpse him through the crowd of people. I watch him through my curtain of hair, and silently bid farewell to him. I would never look at him again, and he wouldn't look at me.