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.
She took another sip from her coffee.
“Something happened,” she spoke again.
Gaeul’s hands clenched the book and closed her eyes for a moment. The peaceful silence lasted before she could even bathe in it. She sighed. “Yujin—please. I’m not in the mood for this.”
“But something happened,” she pressed, her voice wasn’t playful, nor was it accusatory and pushy. It was simply the kind that wanted a gentle confirmation.
Gaeul shook her head and refused to answer. Because she wasn’t in the mood for this. She closed the book with a little more force than she hoped. She grabbed the other one, flipped it over to the back to check the card. She tried to work, but the words seemed to have blurred together. Like it was meaningless, that her mind was definitely somewhere else.
She tried to focus again. Ignoring Yujin, ignoring the chime of the bell.
Yujin sighed, placed both elbows on the counter, facing her properly, while her hand cradled the cup of coffee in her hands. “You could go to her,” Yujin said carefully.
Gaeul stilled, almost dropping the book in her hands. But she recovered quickly, shaking her head. “No.”
“Why?”
That made her exhale slowly, closing the book and placing it down.
Why?
Why?
Because she didn’t want to get hurt again.
Because Wonyoung was given the chance to come back if she wanted to.
Because Gaeul didn’t want to make the first move.
“I don’t have a reason to,” she lied, and that made her feel like absolute shit. She hated lying. She hated lying to her friends, and she hated lying to herself.
She quickly turned around, feeling her eyes sting already from all the feelings she tried to keep sorted away.
There was silence between them, and Gaeul was ready to beg Yujin to allow the silence to remain and not ask any more questions, to not say anything that was correct. She wanted to leave it alone, and she wanted to not think about it.
She held her breath when Yujin nodded her head, took a deep breath before replying.
“Okay,” Yujin said softly. But when they looked at each other, Gaeul could see everything Yujin wanted to say with her eyes. It lingered. It affected her.
Because it was the truth. Because Yujin understood despite Gaeul not telling her everything, and that was the part that scared her the most.
More days have passed, and many more. Gaeul’s routines remained the same. The customers remained the same, the bell still chimed, and there was still no Wonyoung.
Which was fine.
Yujin still didn’t push, but the feeling was still there, and it kept Gaeul up at night.
Seeing Wonyoung? Why should she? She wasn’t the one who left in the first place.
Gaeul had always remained in the same place—as sad as it sounded—but she never left. She was always there, blending in the background, just an entity that floated through the surface of the earth, waiting for something meaningful to happen.
But nothing usually happened. Everything remained the same and Gaeul was perfectly fine with that.
It was just challenging when she had to approach the table Wonyoung had always sat at, looking out the window to see what the young woman saw whenever she was sitting there. Who were the people she was watching, what was the taste of the coffee whenever she read that book.
Gaeul didn’t restock on that book either. For petty reasons, she believed if she ordered that book once again, Wonyoung was going to come back, and a part of her wasn’t sure if she wanted that to happen—or if she wanted it.
She hated how all of this resurfaced a lot of emotions for her. The hurt. The confusion. Her love.
Wonyoung shouldn’t be living in her head rent-free for too long. It felt like she didn’t deserve it. Gaeul deserved to have peaceful nights for once. For her chest to not ache the way it did whenever she thought about Wonyoung.
But it did.
And she hated how even the ghost of Wonyoung lived within the walls of her bookshop.
This shop was supposed to be her safe haven. But everywhere she looked, she could only see the tall woman standing by the shelves, standing awkwardly by the counter, ordering the same cup of coffee every day, sitting by that table that was by the window, reading that book her friend recommended but not bothering to borrow another book when she finished it.
Gaeul hated that the sound of her own bell made her think that Wonyoung had changed her mind and that she wanted to finally talk.
Her hands stopped when she realized that she poured two cups of coffee in front of her. She was holding the one cup filled with the liquid. She stared at it, trying to remember why she made it.
She made her decision. She told Wonyoung to stay away but… why?
Why did she do this?
Why was she constantly thinking about Wonyoung?
Why was she waiting for something to change? For the bell to chime and Wonyoung would be standing there, greeting her good morning, ordering the same thing again, standing there awkwardly, trying to talk to her, then her eyes would linger and—
The bell chimed.
Gaeul felt her heart shoot up to her throat. She quickly turned around, hand knocking over one of the cups, hot coffee burning her hand, but eyes were on the door. Not knowing she couldn’t see anymore.
“Gaeul?”
Her chest starts heaving, vision blurring further.
Wonyoung.
“Gaeul—” the voice came again, rushed, concerned. The figure moved closer, by the counter, but when Gaeul couldn’t answer, they came closer, past the counter.
She tried to move, to push away from this person, but she felt her knees buckle and she stumbled back, not realizing she was crying. “N-No—”
“Hey, hey,” Rei’s voice called to her gently, hands steadying her. “It’s me, unnie. Take deep breaths.”
Gaeul blinked. Once, twice, another time. Tears were freely falling from her face, finally feeling the burn on her hand. She tried to calm herself as her heart was beating wildly against her chest. She tried to speak, but Rei told her not to.
She hated this.
She hated how Wonyoung could make her cry like this. How she hated crying in front of other people. She hated it. She hated it so much.
“I know, unnie,” Rei cooed, pulling Gaeul into her arms to cushion her with an embrace, her hand gently rubbing her back. “Let it out.”
“I—” Gaeul didn’t realize she was talking, or that she was voicing out what she was thinking. Slowly realizing that this entire situation was just driving her crazy. She couldn’t take this anymore. Gaeul gave in, threw herself into Rei’s chest and sobbed again, fist clenching her friend’s shirt. “Fuck—”
Rei didn’t say anything anymore and hugged her tight, allowing her to let everything all out.
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