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⚠️ This book contains potentially triggering themes, including confinement and self-harm. Reader discretion is advised.
“Everyone, this is your new friend, Yoon Sangha. He’ll be staying with us starting today.”
We met at an orphanage when we were twelve.
Unlike the other children, whose faces were grubby, he was different.
I often stole glances at him; his face was almost entirely devoid of expression.
Why was that? I wanted his life to fall apart.
I am rotten and twisted to my very core.
***
“Were you with him?”
“Who told you that?”
“Were you intimate with him?”
“…”
“Answer me!”
When we met again at eighteen, you shouted at me.
We glared at each other, seething. Then we screamed. Then we pretended we didn’t know each other.
I could not dare to assume that the frantic pounding of my heart was love.
Such a luxurious emotion was utterly forbidden.
***
“Could you lend me some money?”
“No need to pay me back. Pay with your body instead. Whenever I want.”
And at twenty-seven, you don’t love me.
Once the storm of events had passed, all that remained between us was hostility.
How much further would I have to fall before I stopped sinking?
The only way forward was to cut through the tangled web of emotions I was caught up in.
“You and I are never ending. It’ll never end—at least, not until I decide to stop.”
This game of hide-and-seek, with its predetermined seeker and victor, was never going to end.
