The day at the cafe dragged on forever. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly glow over everything. It was one of those weirdly quiet days where the silence itself felt loud and heavy. And my phone was a dead weight in my apron pocket. I'd check it every five minutes, my stomach sinking a little lower each time. Nothing. No new messages. The read receipt under my last text to Jongyun felt like a personal insult. He didn't see a single message after I asked him if we missed us. Just that. He was definitely ignoring me. But why? What had I done?

I was so lost in my own head, running through every possible reason, that I barely registered the world around me. Then, like a switch had been flipped, the peace shattered. A tour bus must have unloaded or something, because the cafe was suddenly swarming with people. The
quiet hum was replaced by a chaotic cacophony of voices, the shriek of the espresso machine, and the constant ding of the order bell. It felt like the universe was personally testing my patience today.

My irritation, already simmering because of Jongyun, now had a new target: the entire population of this cafe. I usually thrived on the busyness, but today every shouted order, every demanding customer, felt like sandpaper on my nerves.

My thoughts kept circling back to him. Was he okay? He hated crowds. If he was here, he'd be bearing the brunt of this pandemonium, and the thought of him struggling alone made my chest feel tight with a weird mix of worry and sympathy.

A tiny moment of grace came from a little boy, his eyes wide as he pointed at the hot chocolate I was making. "For me?" he whispered. I managed a real smile for him. "Yeah, for you." His beaming grin was a brief spot of sunlight in a very grey day.

Behind me, Yunjin let out a groan that was half-exhaustion, half-despair. We were both running on fumes. When the clock finally, mercifully, hit eleven, a collective sigh of relief passed between us without a word. I leaned back against the counter, my shoulders aching.

Yunjin trudged toward the backroom like a zombie, and I followed, flipping the sign on the front door to 'CLOSED' with a sense of profound finality.

Yunjin didn't even make it to a chair; she just tossed her apron onto a stack of cardboard boxes and collapsed into the worn cushioned bubble wraps in the corner with a sound that was more of a death rattle than a sigh, ignoring the mug in her hand.

I sank into a chair opposite her with a glass of cold coffee in one hand, but my body was still buzzing with restless energy. My phone was back in my hand, my thumb automatically unlocking it to stare at the same blank screen. Nothing.

"Songjae? Woo Songjae!"

Yunjin's voice was like a gunshot in the quiet room. I jumped so hard I fumbled my phone, sending it clattering to the floor. I blinked at her, my heart hammering. "What?!"

"You were the one sticking your face in that phone," she retorted, leaning over to pick it up for me.

I snatched it back from her, a hot flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck. "It's fine," I muttered, brushing imaginary dust off the case.

Her eyes narrowed. "Was that Jongyun? You were texting him? Since when? You saved his number differently too." Her tone was pure accusation.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly feeling like I was under a microscope. "Uh, we text sometimes," I mumbled, avoiding her gaze as I slumped back into the chair.

Yunjin's expression softened a fraction, but I saw it—the familiar, tiny twitch at the corner of her eye that meant her internal detective was on the case. I nervously picked up a stray straw and started stirring the dregs of my cold coffee, the clinking sound absurdly loud in the tense silence. I don't know why her scrutiny made me so nervous, but she had a freaky sixth sense for when something was up.

"What are you hiding, Songjae?" Her voice was quieter now, but it cut deeper.

"I-I mean, it's nothing," I stammered, my deflection weak even to my own ears.

"Of course, it's nothing. Why are you so jumpy then?" she pressed, not buying it for a second. I felt like I was in one of those interrogation scenes, a single dim light bulb swinging overhead.

I tried to muster my usual cool, condescending look. "Because you screamed. What else is there to it?"

She didn't blink. "I know something happened between you and Jongyun."

My heart did a painful squeeze. The memory of our backstage conversation flashed in my mind, vivid and cringe-worthy. "Nothing happened—" I started, the lie tasting bitter.

"You're lying, Songjae. I don't even know why you're lying," she insisted, and I heard the disappointment in her voice.

"I'm not—" I tried again, but she was a bulldog.

"I can tell you are. Don't fool me, Songjae."

I sighed, the fight draining out of me. "Come on, stop it, Yunjin," I pleaded, hoping she'd just drop it.

Her eyes widened. "Yunjin? Not Yun? What did you do, man? It's serious, isn't it?" The use of her full name was something I rarely used at work. Way to go, this stupid mouth of mine.

"It's not, come on. Finish your coffee, we have to do a final check after this," I deflected, desperate to change the subject.

"It's about Jongyun, isn't it?" The question hung in the air. I couldn't look at her. I just stared into the dark, swirling depths of my coffee mug, seeing my own confused reflection.

I could feel Yunjin's glare, sharp and knowing, stripping away all my defenses. Maybe... maybe I just had to surrender.

"Yeah..." I finally whispered, the word feeling like a confession. "It's about him."

"Okay, so what happened?" She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, all her attention focused on me.

"I'll tell you after work—"

"We can extend our break. Either way, our boss doesn't care much as long as the sales are met and stocks are checked, and the cafe is closed now anyway," she interjected, her persistence utterly relentless.

Sure, we usually finish stock checking by twelve and leave, but we could always extend that break. I hesitated, the words stuck in my throat. But her face wasn't angry or judgmental; it was just... concerned. And I was so tired of carrying this alone.

"Something awkward happened, isn't it?" she prodded gently.

I just nodded, a wry, helpless smile touching my lips.

"Hit a nail, huh?" she added, reading my silence perfectly.

Sometimes, in moments like this, she reminded me so much of Jongyun. Maybe it was from all their years together, how much he had trusted her, he picked up her habits as well. Word to word. I chuckled lightly.

"Sure did," I admitted.

And so, I told her. I spilled everything. The weird tension after breakfast at the cafe, the bus ride, the confession backstage, his embarrassment, my confusion. I held nothing back, except for the tangled, messy knot of feelings I couldn't even name myself.

As time slipped by, Yunjin listened, her expressions shifting from curiosity to surprise to thoughtful silence. When I finished, she exhaled deeply, her hands flat on the tiny table between us.

"Oh. So that's how you cleared the air," she remarked.

I stayed quiet, the unspoken 'but' hanging between us.

"But then, Song, what was so awkward about it? There's something you aren't telling me, isn't there?" she asked, her voice soft but piercing.

I looked down at my hands. "Yeah, you're right."

"Why—" she began.

"Because I'm not sure what to say myself," I blurted out, the frustration finally boiling over. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Yun."

She leaned forward a bit more, trying to comfort me with her presence alone. "Hey. It's okay. Tell me."

And I did. I poured out every stupid, insecure thought. The way my stomach twisted when I saw him with Sooyeong. The irrational anger. The possessiveness I felt but had no right to claim. It all came tumbling out in a rushed, embarrassed jumble.

When I was finally done, I couldn't look at her. I just stared at the floor, my foot tapping a nervous, restless rhythm against the leg of the chair.

The silence stretched. Then, a slow, mischievous grin spread across Yunjin's face.

"You are jealous," she declared.

I bristled. I'd expected comfort, maybe advice. Not this smug accusation. "I wasn't jealous. I'm not, why do both you and him, hah..." I protested, but it sounded weak even to me.

She raised a single, knowing eyebrow. "Oh really? Then what would you call it?"

I floundered, searching for a word, any word, that wasn't that one. "I don't know..." I admitted, defeated.

Yunjin's grin just got wider. She'd always been too perceptive for her own good.

I left Yunjin in charge of cleaning up, her knowing grin the last thing I saw as I practically flew out the door. I had to see him. The gnawing worry was back, stronger now. He hadn't replied to any of my messages all evening. I'd even called, timing it perfectly after his library shift ended—a schedule Yunjin and I had memorized. Straight to voicemail.

I ran, my bag thumping against my side, my breath coming in sharp gasps. I finally skidded to a halt in front of the library, doubling over to catch my breath. My bag slipped from my shoulder, and I only just caught it by the strap.

My eyes scanned the area frantically. And then I saw him. Relief, warm and immediate, flooded through me. He was there, leaning against the outer wall next to the vending machine. He was okay.

A smile started to form on my face as I began to sneak up on him, ready to surprise him. But then my steps faltered. My smile died.

There was someone else with him. Sooyeong. And he had his arm draped casually, comfortably, over Jongyun's shoulders. They were laughing at some private joke, their heads close together.

I froze, my earlier relief curdling into something cold and sharp in my stomach. He wasn't hurt. He wasn't in trouble. He was just... with someone else. And the sight of it, of Sooyeong's arm around him, felt like a physical blow. The spark of jealousy Yunjin had named roared to life, burning away all my relief and leaving only a cold, hard disbelief.