Page 54 of Tell Me Where It Ends

Suho, of course, shows up one evening with his own brand of chaos. He walks in, a steaming bag oftteokbokkiin hand, with that specific, self-satisfied expression that means he’s just done something wildly irresponsible on my behalf.

“What did you do?” I ask, suspicion coloring every word.

“Can’t a man bring his girlfriend spicy rice cakes without an interrogation?” he says, tone light and innocent.

The word hangs in the air like bait. A deliberate, careful test—and he doesn’t take it back.

I blink. “Girlfriend?”

He freezes, chopsticks halfway out of the drawer, pretending confusion. “What?”

“You just called me your girlfriend.” I hear the way my voice shifts—just enough to give me away.

His shoulders lift in a shrug far too casual to be real. “Well… yeah. You are. Unless you’d rather be ‘random woman I occasionally feedtteokbokki.’”

A laugh tumbles out—shaky, disbelieving. My chest tightens; my cheeks flush. Of everything we’ve done, this feels the most intimate.

“You said it like it was nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” He looks at me, more certain than I expected. “It’s always been you, Min-hee. You know that, right?”

For a moment, I just stand there, completely undone by those four words. After everything—years of hiding, almosts and maybes, the breaking and piecing back together—he says it. Out loud. Like it’s the simplest truth in the world.

And despite the chaos, despite me being at the lowest point in my life, he doesn’t hesitate. He says it anyway.

***

The decision to leave doesn’t arrive all at once.

It comes in fragments—quiet, painful, liberating moments that unfold over the next two weeks.

The first fragment comes wrapped in an envelope. No sender—just my name scrawled across the front in neat, official text. Inside is a simple receipt: Seoul National University Hospital—balance paid in full.

I don’t need to ask who. There’s only one person in the world reckless enough to interfere, generous enough to mean well, and emotionally constipated enough to pretend it’s nothing.

When Suho gets home that night, I’m waiting by the door.

“You paid my father’s bill.”

He freezes mid-step, a flicker of guilt flashing across his face before he smooths it away. “Did you eat? I was thinking we could order—”

“Suho.”

He stops, shoulders stiff, eyes flicking anywhere but me. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is,” I say. “You don’t get to fix my messes behind my back. I have money too, you know—I don’t want yours.”

For a second, his façade slips. His jaw tightens, but his gaze softens at the edges. “Then consider it an advance,” he says finally, voice low, a faint,crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “On all the headaches you’ll give me later.”

I want to stay mad. I really do. But part of me can’t help loving him for it.

My stupid, infuriating, impossible boyfriend.

The second fragment is the long-overdue confrontation.

I don’t go inside the hospital this time. I tell my father to meet me outside, in the narrow courtyard behind the building where the smokers linger. Hardly anyone comes here, and the air smells like winter and… well, smoke.

He arrives with my brother, Yeong-gi, already scowling before I even speak.