It's Empty

The familiar sound of the bell woke her up early that morning. Like it was haunting her. 

She tried to go back to sleep. She went to the bathroom, washed her face, drank milk, changed her position in the bed—multiple times at that—and nothing. She couldn’t sleep.

Gaeul had to force herself from thinking about it; to keep the memories of the parking lot away so she wouldn’t let her heart take over once again.

There were words she wished she didn’t say, because she didn’t want to hurt Wonyoung that way. The hurt in her heart shouldn’t have spilled out through her words. Gaeul had a lot to say, but that wasn’t what she wanted to say. 

But a part of her knew that whatever she blurted out to Wonyoung were things that she kept in for so long. Because she honestly wanted to know why. She wanted answers, even if they were going to hurt her, even if she couldn’t trust it. She knew deep down inside that she really wanted to know the reason why. 

Wonyoung said she didn’t know what to do. That she was a kid. That it wasn’t easy for her to deal with.

Gaeul tightened her grip on the blanket when she could hear the words in Wonyoung’s voice. If she closed her eyes, she could see the hurt in Wonyoung’s expression, how she froze, how she wanted to speak but nothing came out. Gaeul remembered everything so clearly. 

It was unfair. 

God, it was so fucking unfair.

She flipped over in her bed, stared at the ceiling, and tried to take deep breaths. 

But the moment she did, when her chest felt less compressed, the emotions crashed onto her so quickly. Gaeul’s face contorted, her shoulders started shaking and the tears inevitably escaped her eyes. An arm was thrown over her eyes, and she started sobbing.

The emotions came in great waves, one after the other, and it didn’t give her any moment of rest. It kept coming and coming and coming.

Wonyoung’s face flashed in her head, the look on her eyes, the way her lips moved, the smell of her perfume, how her hands were shaking and moving in frantic actions. Gaeul knew that there was a reason. She knew what Wonyoung wanted to say, that if she just allowed the moment to happen, then questions that haven’t been answered in years could finally be answered.

Gaeul hadn’t cried this hard since high school.

Her pillows were soaked, her throat was aching, her chest felt like it was caving in by the heavy feeling that had always been there, but only this time it was sinking deeper and deeper. 

As much as she loved Wonyoung, she also deserved an answer. She deserved to know the reason why. Because Wonyoung didn’t know the feeling of waking up one morning and not knowing that the only person that mattered in the world treated you like a stranger. Wonyoung didn’t know the feeling of trying to blend in the background while watching her succeed in everything. Wonyoung didn’t know how embarrassing and difficult it was to explain to her family why Wonyoung didn’t come over anymore.

Wonyoung didn’t know how painful her first heartbreak was. 

So perhaps, despite the feelings Gaeul had for Wonyoung, it wasn’t enough to erase the fact of the past. Gaeul was hurt, and all she wanted to do was live her life and protect her heart.

She made the right decision. 

She had to convince herself that she made the right decision. 

The bell chimed. 

Gaeul felt like it was a grim reminder of what the reality was.

A part of her thought about removing it. Because every time it chimed, she had that feeling of wanting to look up and wonder if things had changed.

But she knew that was never going to happen. 

“Welcome,” she said, her voice was even this time, eyes glued to the page that she had been reviewing for the past twenty minutes.

No coffee orders that morning.

Which was fine, she wasn’t expecting anything anyway.

But a part of her wondered if the response was going to be the same. Was it going to be the voice of a stranger, someone slightly familiar, or was she going to be greeted by silence again.

To no surprise, it was the same. 

Different person. 

Same feeling.

Gaeul decided to keep her eyes on the paper.

If it was going to be the same thing over and over, then she had to expect the same results. She shouldn’t be waiting around for something—or someone—to come back and make a difference. Gaeul had made it clear between them. 

Wonyoung shouldn’t come back to the bookshop.

Gaeul knew it was foolish of her to end the declaration with a condition. That Wonyoung should only come back when she had a good reason to. But given that it had been days since the parking lot incident, that was clear enough for her that Wonyoung really had no good reason to return.

That alone was a good enough answer.

Right?

Then why was Gaeul still wondering—or still hoping that Wonyoung would find that reason so that she could come back and try again. 

The days that passed had taught her that things like this would be easier. Gradually, not all at once. That was what she told herself, because if no one was going to help her, she only had herself to depend on. Because she convinced herself that this was a good way for her to move on. 

Because her life wasn’t like the others. She had her routines to depend on. 

Opening the shop, inventory, arranging books, making coffee, papers, editing articles, and then by the end of the day, she cleaned up and closed up shop. Her life at home wasn’t as glamorous as anyone would imagine. The only thing that had ever disrupted it was Yujin and Rei. Anything else, it had always been the same. 

There was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that she could consider too unfamiliar, too familiar, something that she was always dreading, something she didn’t want to admit she was looking forward to. 

Wonyoung coming back was just a bump in the road. 

She didn’t have to worry about it.

Not anymore.

Even if it made her sad. Even if she wanted to cry. 

She had to learn everything all over again.

“Is it safe to ask if you’re doing okay?” Yujin asked in between sipping her coffee.

“I’m fine,” Gaeul answered quickly, eyes never leaving the books she was sorting out. 

Yujin didn’t answer right away, she didn’t push for anything either. Which was fine. Gaeul honestly preferred it that way. Yujin kept leaning on the counter, but she was watching her the entire time. Gaeul could feel her gaze but that didn’t stop her from what she was doing.