Chanmi hugged her knees to her chest, staring at the dim glow of her bedside lamp. The city outside never slept, but in her room, everything was still—except for the thoughts running in circles in her mind.

Sooheon.

She exhaled, rolling her eyes at herself. It was embarrassing how often she thought about him. She was never this kind of person—the kind to sit around analyzing every interaction, reading into things that probably meant nothing. But with him, it was different.

Because sometimes, sometimes, she thought maybe she saw something in him.

She turned onto her side, hugging her pillow. The way he walked, the way his voice sounded when he spoke, the way his eyes flickered with something unreadable—she noticed it all. But what she didn’t know was how he felt about her.

She sighed, pressing her face into the pillow. Does he even think about me?

He was always hard to read, never giving too much away. He was kind, but not in a way that felt special. At least… not yet.

What if he doesn’t like me?

The thought sent a dull ache through her chest. But she wasn’t ready to accept that. Not until she knew for sure.

But deep down she knew he didn’t like her. Not yet.

But that didn’t mean he never would.

Hope was dangerous. She knew that. She wasn’t naive. But she also wasn’t ready to let go of the possibility that maybe, just maybe, one day he’d see her the way she saw him.

After all, feelings could change.

That’s what she thought—until now.

Because now, an unfamiliar face had appeared in his life. A face from his past.

Namra.

Chanmi didn’t know much about her. She had only heard her name in passing before, but now, she had seen her. And more importantly, she had seen the way Sooheon looked at her.

It wasn’t much. Just a moment. A glance. But it was enough to make something uneasy settle in Chanmi’s chest.

Sooheon wasn’t the type to let people in easily. But there was something different in the way he stood next to Namra, in the way his voice lost that teasing edge when he spoke to her. Like she wasn’t just another person in his life, but someone who had been there. Someone who meant something.

Chanmi had spent all this time thinking that if she was patient, if she stayed by his side, maybe things would shift. Maybe he’d start to see her the way she saw him.

But now, for the first time, doubt crept in.

Because Namra wasn’t just someone new. She was someone he already knew. Someone who had a part of him that Chanmi never did.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if hope was enough.

Her thoughts were cut off by a familiar sound.

Chanmi's phone buzzed against her bedsheet, its glow casting soft shadows on the ceiling. She sighed, expecting another useless notification—until she saw the name on the screen.

Jaebom.

She hesitated for a moment before picking up. "Hello?"

"Hey." His voice was light, casual. "You’re still up?"

She let out a small breath, rolling onto her side. "Yeah."

"Couldn’t sleep?"

"Something like that," she muttered, staring at the faint glow of the streetlights outside her window.

Jaebom was quiet for a second before saying, "You okay?"

Chanmi almost laughed. He always asked things like that so easily, like he wasn’t afraid of what the answer might be. Like he actually wanted to know.

"I’m fine." She hesitated, then added, "Just thinking."

Jaebom didn’t push, but she knew he was waiting.

Normally, she wouldn’t say anything. But tonight, she felt restless, uneasy in a way she couldn’t shake.

So she exhaled and asked, "Have you ever felt like something was just within reach, but then suddenly, it wasn’t?"

There was a pause. Not long enough to make her regret asking, but long enough for her to feel a shift in the air between them.

Then, quietly, "Yeah. I have."

Chanmi frowned slightly. "Really?"

Jaebom chuckled, but it was softer than usual. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I don’t know." She stared at the ceiling. "You just don’t seem like the type to… I don’t know, dwell on things like that."

"Because I don’t say them out loud?"

"Something like that."

Jaebom hummed in understanding. "Well… maybe some things are easier not to say."

Chanmi thought about that for a moment. About things left unsaid. About how she had spent so long believing that if she stayed close enough, long enough, Sooheon would see her.

But now… now there was Namra. And with her, a piece of his past that Chanmi had never been part of.

"Chanmi."

She blinked, realizing Jaebom had been saying her name. "What?"

"Whatever it is," he said carefully, "it’s not over just because it feels hard right now."

Her throat tightened for a second. "You don’t even know what I’m talking about."

"I don’t have to." His voice was steady. "I just know you don’t give up easily."

Chanmi let out a small, tired laugh. "And what if I should?"

Jaebom was silent for a beat. Then, softer than before, "Then I’d tell you that you deserve someone who doesn’t make you wonder if you should."

Her fingers tightened around the phone.

There was something about the way he said it. Something that made her feel like she had missed something important. But before she could even think to ask, Jaebom let out a breath and changed the subject.

"Anyway, you should sleep," he said lightly, like the moment hadn’t happened. "If you look like a zombie tomorrow, don’t blame me."

Chanmi rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see. "Yeah, yeah."

"Good night, Chanmi."

She hesitated, then, just as softly, "Good night, Jaebom."

As the call ended, she stared at her phone for a long time, her thoughts still tangled.

She still had hope.

But for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she was hoping for the right thing.