Hyeri never thought being too close to someone could hurt the people she loved.
She had Miyeon, her beautiful, sweet girlfriend who made her heart flutter with just a smile. But she also had Subin—her loud, sarcastic, comforting best friend since they were kids. And it wasn’t her fault that being around Subin felt effortless. They understood each other like they shared the same brain sometimes.
That’s why everyone at school always assumed they were a couple. The way Subin slung her arm around Hyeri’s shoulders in the hallways, how they bickered like an old married couple, or how Hyeri always saved Subin a seat next to her no matter where they were.
It was a normal day—laughter echoing through the schoolyard as Hyeri and Subin cracked jokes, faces close together, hands brushing by accident, eyes sparkling with that kind of closeness only people who grew up together had.
But someone else didn’t think it was so funny.
Miyeon stood at a distance, her arms crossed, eyes dark with something Hyeri hadn’t seen before. Jealousy. Hurt.
Later that day, Miyeon pulled Hyeri aside behind the school building, voice low but sharp.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Hyeri blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I’m tired of watching you laugh with Subin like she’s your girlfriend,” Miyeon said. Her voice cracked. “Everyone talks. Everyone thinks you’re dating her instead of me. And honestly… sometimes I think they’re right.”
Hyeri’s chest tightened. “Miyeon, no—what are you talking about? She’s just my best friend. My childhood friend.”
Miyeon didn’t flinch. “Then why does it look like you love her more than me?”
“Because I’m comfortable with her!” Hyeri snapped, instantly regretting it. “I don’t have to think twice when I’m with Subin. But you—you get jealous over nothing.”
“It’s not nothing when your girlfriend feels invisible,” Miyeon whispered.
There was a long pause.
“Then what? You want me to stop being friends with her?”
Miyeon nodded once, hesitant but firm. “Yes.”
Hyeri stared at her, frozen. Her jaw clenched.
“No,” she said quietly. “I won’t.”
Miyeon’s eyes filled with disbelief. “So that’s it?”
“I’m not cutting Subin out just because you’re insecure.” Hyeri’s voice wavered, even if she tried to sound strong.
They didn’t scream. They didn’t cry. They just stood there, looking at each other like strangers.
Miyeon turned and walked away. She didn’t say goodbye.
Hyeri just stood there, stunned and aching.
That night, Hyeri didn’t go home.
She walked straight to Subin’s apartment and knocked on the door, still holding back the tears she swore she wouldn’t cry.
Subin opened the door, confused at first—until she saw Hyeri’s expression.
“Hyeri?” she stepped aside. “What happened?”
“She told me to choose,” Hyeri muttered, sitting on the edge of Subin’s bed. “Miyeon said I had to distance myself from you. Because she was jealous. Because people think we’re dating.”
Subin sat beside her, quiet for a moment. Then, softly, “...Did you choose?”
“I chose you,” Hyeri said, barely holding it in. “She walked away.”
