Recap :
Aurora, preparing to leave the country for a prestigious university in Seoul, South Korea, is urged by her mom to bid goodbye to her close friends, Flare and Amber, who are like sisters to her. After some procrastination, Aurora visits their house and is warmly greeted by their mother. Amid warm congratulations on her achievement, Aurora learns her friends are upstairs in Amber's room.
Before entering, Aurora overhears a surprising conversation between her friends. Amber suggests sharing some "life-changing news" with Aurora, but Flare dismisses the idea, portraying Aurora as "cold" and unreliable in such situations. Shocked and hurt by Flare's comments, Aurora chooses not to confront them. Instead, she writes them a note, leaves her farewell gifts, and quietly departs, keeping her dignity intact.
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As I hurried downstairs, my steps halted abruptly when their mother stood in my path, her eyes filled with concern. Her lips parted as if to say something, her voice soft but insistent, "Aurora, are you alright?"
For a fleeting second, my resolve almost wavered. But I couldn't stop now. I couldn't let her see the tears threatening to spill over, the cracks breaking through my carefully constructed walls. Without acknowledging her, I moved past her swiftly, my heart pounding against my ribcage like a caged bird desperately seeking freedom.
The cool evening breeze greeted me as I stepped outside, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside. The distance between their house and mine was short, but it felt endless. I forced myself to stop halfway, clutching the edges of my sleeves tightly as if grounding myself.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I blinked away the tears brimming in my eyes. I refused to let them fall. My infamous cold expression—the one that could mask even the deepest of wounds—fell into place like armor, concealing every crack and flaw. Composed and calm, I resumed my walk, each step measured, as though nothing had happened.
When I arrived at my home, a taxi was already waiting, its engine humming softly in the silence of the evening—a sound that seemed to echo my unspoken goodbye. This was it. My escape. My final departure.
Back at Flare's home,
Their mother stood at the bottom of the stairs, her brows furrowing as Aurora's hurried departure played over in her mind. Something felt off. The urgency in Aurora's steps and her refusal to even acknowledge her spoke volumes, and yet, it left so much unsaid. Unable to shake the unease in her chest, she made her way upstairs, her footsteps light but purposeful.
Pushing open the door to Amber's room, she found the girls sitting on the bed, chatting with the boys. Their laughter floated through the air, casual and unguarded, as if nothing unusual had happened. The room was neat, its warm lighting and comfortable arrangement amplifying the relaxed atmosphere.
"Girls?" their mother called, her voice lined with concern.
"Yes, Mom?" Amber asked, turning toward her, though her tone still carried the nonchalance of someone pulled away from an easy conversation. Flare, similarly, glanced over, her expression curious but unbothered.
"Why did Aurora leave like that?" their mother asked, stepping further into the room. Her eyes shifted between the girls, searching for answers.
"Aurora?" Flare echoed, her brows knitting together in confusion. "Wait—she was here?"
Their mother frowned, surprised by the question. "Of course, she was here. She came to bid you goodbye. Look, she even left these gifts." She held up the neatly wrapped packages she had found earlier and placed them on the desk. Her tone grew gentler but still carried an edge of worry as she continued, "What happened? Did something happen between you ?"
Amber froze, her gaze falling to the gifts. Flare stared at them too, but neither spoke for a moment, the air suddenly heavier. Before their mother could press further, the sharp ring of her phone broke the silence.
Letting out a sigh, she glanced apologetically at the group. "I have to take this," she murmured, stepping back toward the door. "But I want an explanation later." Her voice lingered with concern as the door clicked shut behind her.
Amber exhaled slowly, her focus still locked on the gifts as the room quieted. The easy laughter from before had vanished, replaced by a tension that none of them wanted to acknowledge. Finally, she moved, pulling one of the packages closer and running her fingers over the ribbon. Her expression was clouded with thought, a flicker of unease creeping into her features.
"She must have heard us," Amber muttered, almost to herself.
Flare's head snapped up at that, her eyes wide and panicked. "What do you mean, she heard us? That's not possible—Amber, what are you talking about?" Her voice rose slightly, the anxiety bubbling to the surface.
Meanwhile, the two boys exchanged puzzled glances, their unease growing with each passing moment. They hadn't been part of the earlier conversation, and the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere left them grasping at fragments of context they didn't have.
One of them finally broke the silence, his voice hesitant but tinged with curiosity. "Guys, what's happening?" His eyes moved between Amber and Flare, searching for answers in their increasingly tense expressions.
Amber didn't look up, her focus locked on the piece of paper in her hands. Her posture was rigid, and a cold intensity had replaced her earlier casual demeanor. It was clear she'd already pieced together more than she was ready to share.
"Please, let me read this for a moment," Amber said sharply, her voice calm but with an edge that silenced any further questions. She didn't need to explain. There was something about her tone—steady, deliberate, and unyielding—that made it clear whatever was in that note would unravel the mystery on its own terms.
The room fell silent again, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on everyone. As Amber's eyes began to move across the lines, the boys exchanged another glance, the confusion on their faces now mixed with a cautious sense of dread.
Her expression shifted almost instantly. Her lips parted slightly, her breathing quickened, and by the time she reached the bottom of the page, her face had gone pale. The note hung limply from her trembling fingers as she stood frozen in place, the impact of the words still sinking in.
"Read this," Amber said sharply, turning to Flare and thrusting the note into her hands. Her voice wavered, frustration mingling with an uncharacteristic hint of vulnerability.
Flare hesitated, her fingers shaking as she took the note. With every line she read, her expression crumbled further—shock, regret, and something close to despair crossing her face. By the time she reached the end, her knees gave out. One of the boys stepped forward quickly, catching her before she could fall.
The room fell into an uneasy silence, the note now lying discarded on the bed. The boys exchanged confused glances, their expressions mirroring the growing tension in the air.
"What did it say?" one of them finally asked, his voice hesitant.
Neither girl responded. The weight of what had just happened—and what it meant—seemed to smother the words before they could reach their lips.
THE NOTE
I don't know why I ever thought you were different. I wasted so much time and energy on you—caring for you, standing by your side, and being there when you needed someone. I treated you like family, like a sister, but hearing what you really think of me has made one thing perfectly clear: I was wrong about you. Completely wrong.
I came here today to say goodbye. I thought it would be difficult, that I'd leave feeling sad about us parting ways. But now, I see that saying goodbye to you is the easiest thing I've ever done. You've proven you're not worth a second of my time.
The gifts I left—take them, throw them out, do whatever you want. They mean nothing to me anymore. They're just a reminder of all the time I wasted on someone who clearly never valued me in the first place. Thank God I saw your true colors before leaving the country.
From now on, you're on your own. I won't be there to help you, to protect you, or to clean up your messes. You've made your choices, and now you can live with them. Don't expect anything from me—ever again.
Goodbye.
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"We messed up badly. Actually, wait—not we, but you," Amber snapped, her tone sharp and accusing. "You're the one who didn't want to invite her. You're the reason she left! Now, what are you waiting for? RUN!"
As I stood at the door, bidding goodbye to my family with my suitcase by my side, I felt an odd stillness settle over me. Everything was moving so fast, yet this moment felt slowed, like the world was giving me one last chance to savor the weight of it all.
From a distance, I noticed them—Amber and Flare running frantically toward the house, their movements uncoordinated and desperate. Behind them, the two boys trailed slightly, confusion etched into their faces. They looked as though they'd been dragged into a story they didn't understand.
My chest tightened, but I refused to let it show. I had perfected the art of hiding my emotions, and this moment was no different.
"Aurora, wait!" Amber's voice rang out, sharp and pleading, cutting through the stillness of the evening air.
I glanced back, just enough to meet their frantic eyes. My expression stayed calm, unreadable, as if their desperation was happening in a different world altogether.
"Please, just listen!" Flare cried, her voice trembling, nearly breaking.
I turned away again, taking measured steps toward the taxi. The engine hummed softly, a sound that seemed to echo the resolve in my mind. My hand reached for the door handle, my grip tightening, but something held me back.
The silence behind me was deafening, broken only by their ragged breaths. Slowly, I turned, my gaze sweeping over them. Amber and Flare looked like they were hanging onto some fragile thread of hope, while the boys still wore expressions of quiet confusion, their brows furrowed as if trying to solve an unspoken riddle.
Without a word, I stepped away from the car and started walking toward them. Their faces lit up—relief, hope, something close to triumph flickered in their expressions. But the moment shattered when I brushed past Amber and Flare as though they weren't even there.
I stopped in front of the boys, ignoring the girls' stunned silence. Greeting the boys with a faint nod, I leaned in closer. My voice was quiet, steady, and deliberate. The words I spoke were meant for them alone. Their expressions shifted as I spoke—confusion deepened, then gave way to something unreadable.
I straightened, meeting their eyes for a beat longer before stepping back. My shoulders squared, my face calm and distant, I turned and walked back toward the car.
Behind me, I could feel Amber and Flare's shock, their disbelief tangible in the stillness. The boys didn't move; they only exchanged glances, their confusion mirroring the uncertainty in the air.
Reaching the car, I grasped the handle once more. This time, there was no hesitation. The door closed behind me with a soft click, and the taxi began to move, taking me away from everything and everyone I thought I once cared about.
Preview of Next Chapter:
Two crucial figures emerge, their connection to Amber, Flare, and Aurora set to shift the story in unexpected ways. Their lives are intricately tied not only to the two girls but also to Aurora in a manner that gives her words, "they are studying there," a profound meaning.
Her happiness about being admitted to the university wasn't just about academics or ambition—it was about the bond she shared with these individuals. For Aurora, the university symbolized more than just her future; it was a bridge to their past, a place shaped by their presence and filled with echoes of their stories.
Their introduction sheds new light on Aurora's world, unveiling the depth of her admiration and the personal connection that made her achievement so much more significant.