Page 26 of Tell Me Where It Ends

Then, the mattress shifts.

I roll to my side. He lies stiffly beside me, on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling as if it holds the secrets to the universe.

“See?” I whisper. “Not so scandalous.”

He doesn’t reply at first. Then, softly, “You smell like my shampoo.”

I become aware of the space between us.

Or the lack of it.

Moonlight filters into the room as I glance at my wrist—the handmade bracelet Min-a gave me, plastic beads spelling out my name… almost right. It saysMIN-HI.

“I’m really glad I met your family,” I whisper.

He chuckles softly, eyes meeting mine. “You are?”

“Yeah,” I say, not looking away. “They make me feel… like a normal person again. Like I can breathe, even when everything else feels like it is falling apart.”

A soft silence settles between us. I can’t help but grin a little, despite the lump in my throat.

“You’re lucky, you know. That family of yours. I’m… jealous.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I admit, turning my gaze to the ceiling. “The chaos, the noise, the warmth… just being able to belong somewhere without worrying that everything’s about to go wrong. Eating homemade food. Not being afraid to come home—to my family home, I mean—and not knowing whether my dad is okay or getting worse. Having someone to talk to when things get rough.”

He shifts slightly, brushing his fingers against mine, the gesture casual but grounding. I feel my face heat up.

“You have me.”

I freeze, unsure what to say, but feel something shift inside me.

Then the words I’ve been holding in for years start spilling out.

“When I was a trainee, my mom left,” I say, voice tight. “I was sixteen. She just… disappeared. To Jeju, apparently. No letters, no calls—nothing. My aunt told me afterward. I thought maybe she’d come back, but she never did.”

I swallow, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. “It feels like she abandoned me… like I am left to figure out how to survive on my own. And at the same time, I feel like I have to take care of the rest of my family, because they… aren’t exactly reliable.”

I let out a long, shaky breath before adding, “Then trainee life itself is brutal. The only thing that keeps me sane is the sisterhood I have with the other girls at Jellypop. I think… maybe I find a new family there, one that could replace the broken one I am left with.”

He stays quiet beside me—doesn’t offer a quick filler reaction or a pep talk. He just listens, letting me go on and on.

“We used to be inseparable. Late nights practicing, sharing dorm snacks, crying over bad reviews. But now… it feels like that’s all falling apart too. We’re not really close anymore, not like we used to be. Just surface-level stuff.”

I let out a short, dry laugh. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this.”

“You don’t have to give me a reason,” he says softly.

He tilts his head slightly, smirking despite the seriousness of my confession. “So… you’re jealous, huh? Wait until you see the family photo album—I had a bowl cut all through middle school because my mom insisted she could cut my hair better than any salon.”

I laugh, imagining Shin in that haircut. I make it my personal mission to check out that photo album before we leave tomorrow.

Then his hand, which has been near mine, moves deliberately, lacing his fingers with mine. He doesn’t offer a simple platitude. Instead, he shifts, turning slightly to face me in the dim light.

“I’ve watched you for eight years, Min-hee,” he says, voice low and steady. “I’ve seen you build walls so high and push yourself until you break. I’ve seen you shoulder more than anyone should. I… I just never understood what you were carrying.”

His thumb brushes lightly over my knuckles, quiet and warm. “But now I see. You weren’t being impossible. You were just a kid, trying to survive the only way you could.”