Umire’s silence pressed on her, but it wasn’t the comfortable kind. It was the kind that made every second feel like it was stretching into something heavier.

The classroom was nearly empty now. The pale evening light streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the desks. 

“Look, Yuna knows because…” Umire began, but the words thinned out, dissolving into silence— like they’d never really been meant to reach Lena in the first place.

Suddenly, Umire’s hand brushed against Lena’s before resting lightly on top of hers, the warmth from her hands spreading to Lena.

“Let’s hang out tomorrow, okay?” she said instead, her voice suddenly bright and light, almost too bright, like a light flicked on in a dark room, chasing away everything before it.

"Yeah..." Lena said, her voice dull, a cloud of uncertainty hanging over her.

“Lena…” Umire murmured, her fingers still resting lightly on hers. Her expression shifted—into something Lena couldn’t quite place. Not cold… no, the opposite. There was a softness in her eyes, something like quiet understanding tinged with something unknown.

“Listen, I don’t mean to hide things from you. Yuna is—”

A sharp ringing cut her off.

Umire glanced down at her pocket, then sighed long and tired as she gently let go. The warmth of her hand disappeared like it had never been there.

Lena blinked, surprised by how the absence of warmth on her skin seemed so much more noticeable than when it had been there.

“I have to go now,” she said with a smile, already stepping away and heading towards the door. “Let’s hang out tomorrow, ‘kay?”

Lena didn’t answer.

She just stared at her hand, empty now, her skin still remembering the ghost of Umire’s touch—far more vividly than it should have.

“Hey, Lena…”

Umire stopped a couple of desks away, her voice light, but there was something underneath it. A chill filled the air as she turned toward Lena with that same smile.

“You like me, right?” she asked casually, but there was an underlying weight to the question. An invisible thread was tightening between them, threatening to snap. “You like me the most? I’m your best friend, aren’t I?”

Lena met her gaze.

Umire was smiling, but her dark eyes looked down at her with something Lena couldn’t name—something almost eerie. As if her gaze could swallow her whole if she stared too long. The words lodged in Lena’s throat. The atmosphere around them felt suffocating, as though the classroom itself was holding its breath.

“Yeah…” Lena finally answered, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt as if the room had shrunk around them, like the dream was waiting for her to say it. If she answered any other way, would the illusion break?

“Yeah… me too. You’re my bestie, Lena!” Umire’s smile stretched too perfectly across her face, her hand lifting in a slow, gentle wave. “Bye-bye, bestie~! See you tomorrow.”

Then she turned and walked out, her voice still echoing faintly as the classroom fell quiet again.

After a small while, the rest of the few remaining students trickled out, their footsteps fading. But Lena stayed behind, sitting perfectly still.

Her hand clenched and unclenched slowly against the desk.

Something violent, something wordless, clawed at her from the inside—growing louder, sharper, closer.

—---------------

Lena blinked, pushing the memory away as she stared up at the ceiling.

She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten home after that. The rest of the day passed in a blur, her body moving on autopilot, but her mind distant, floating somewhere far away where her consciousness couldn’t reach.

But the memory still lingered, lodged deep in her chest like a splinter. It didn’t soothe the ache. If anything, it made it worse.

She slowly pushed herself upright, grabbed her phone from the nightstand, then sank back down to the floor, letting the chill of it seep into her skin.

3:00 a.m.

Lena stared at the time for a long second before locking her screen again. She reached for her headphones, slipped them in, and let the music bleed into her ears— dull and distant at first, then growing louder until it smothered the silence.

She had two, maybe three hours before she needed to get ready for school. Not that she expected to sleep again.

She closed her eyes, the music washing over her. Every time a memory threatened to crawl back—of warmth that didn’t belong to her, of girls who smiled a little too kindly—she shoved it away. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes, it didn’t.

Thinking about cake helped. About the recipes she’d seen earlier and how she might tweak them. Measurements, ingredients, steps. Easier to focus on those than on how everything else in her life always seemed to unravel.

Eventually, she drifted into a hazy in-between—half-asleep, half-awake—where the world blurred at the edges. A faint glow lit her face in the dark, and somewhere in the distance, she heard a door across from her room creak open.

Her mom’s voice pierced the silence—curses hurled under her breath, followed by the hurried stomping of feet down the stairs. Lena didn’t flinch. Just listened as the front door slammed shut behind her. Late for work again.

She didn’t open her eyes until the light streaming through the window burned too bright to ignore.

Morning.

She checked the time. Thirty minutes before she had to leave.

With a heavy sigh, she sat up, joints stiff and popping with the motion. Everything ached in the quiet, like her body was made of worn-out string. She stayed there, still and hollow, staring at the wall until her playlist shifted to the next song.

Eventually, she moved—slow and detached—through the motions of getting ready. Brushed her teeth. Washed her face. Braided her hair, messier than yesterday’s, but she didn’t care enough to fix it.

By the time she made it downstairs, ten minutes remained until she had to leave for her bus. She chewed her breakfast while half-watching a baking video on her phone, the narrator’s voice slightly muffled under the music that played from her earbud in one ear.

Then she grabbed her lunch, stepped outside, and walked toward the bus, the music still playing in her ears like a distant dream she couldn't quite wake from.

Every step felt both fast and slow, like time was bending around her.

The ride to school passed in a blur. She wasn’t thinking of anything. Not really.

Her mind was a strangely quiet, empty place. And for now… that felt easier.

As Lena stepped through the school gates and slipped into the small growing crowd in the hallways, a familiar heaviness began to creep into her chest. The sound of chatter, slamming lockers, and shuffling feet buzzed around her like static, but all she could think about was Umire.

She seemed a little annoyed yesterday… but she still smiled at me, Lena thought, though the memory didn’t bring her comfort. If anything, it made her steps heavier as she climbed the stairs, the dread growing with every one.

It had stung—seeing how easily Umire shared things with Yuna that she kept from Lena. Especially when Umire was the one who had insisted they were best friends.

Best friends, Lena thought again, the words echoing hollow in her mind. She didn’t know what that was supposed to feel like. She’d never had one before. Maybe this was normal. Maybe she was just overthinking it. Still… it hurt in a quiet, messy, burning way she couldn’t name.

By the time she reached the classroom door, her stomach had twisted itself into knots. She already knew Umire would be inside. She always was. Even before they started talking, before Umire ever looked her way, Lena had seen her. Always in her seat by the window early in the morning before class started, sometimes with a book in hand, just staring out into the sky like she was waiting for something.  

Umire always seemed to make it to the classroom first despite how early Lena got there. Lena had never dared to look at the girl for too long, though. Scared of being caught in the act.

But now that she knew Umire, knew her voice, her smile, her laugh. Lena couldn’t help but wonder: had Umire ever noticed her too, in those early, quiet mornings? Had she ever looked up when Lena walked in? Had she known they were the only two sharing that soft silence in the early school mornings?

Probably not. Girls like Umire didn’t notice girls like her.

Lena curled her hand into a fist. Just open the door. Get it over with. She smiled at you yesterday. She said she liked you. She called you besties.

That word again. It didn’t feel real.

She pushed the door open slowly, already bracing herself for Umire’s familiar figure near the window. Her gaze lifted—

But the seat was empty.

The entire classroom was.

Lena blinked, standing alone in the doorway, then stepped in and closed the door behind her with a soft click. Maybe she came earlier than usual and beat Umire here once. She checked her phone.

She had come five minutes earlier than usual. So she got here before Umire for once? 

She sat down at her desk and let the music in her headphones fill the silence, her playlist flowing from one song to the next like background noise to her thoughts. But time passed. And the seat by the window stayed empty.

Eventually, the door swung open—not slowly, like it would for someone arriving alone, but in a rush of noise as a group of students tumbled in laughing, talking, loud enough to make the quiet feel like a dream that had just popped.

Still, Umire didn’t enter.

Lena’s heart jumped when the door opened again. Her head turned fast, too fast. But it was Yuna, surrounded by three others, chatting casually with each other as they walked in.

And when the bell finally rang, sharp and final, signaling the start of class—

Umire’s seat was still empty.