Karina gulped and hid the tears that welled up from her lips, biting it hard to keep the sound within.

Her chest jerked with short, fast breaths as she tried to hold herself down, but the pain was just too much.

Then, she heard her mother's footsteps outside the door. She panicked, sprang to brush off the tears, and tumbled into the bathroom before Mrs. Yu could check on her again.

And in the bathroom, in the seclusion of her bathroom, Karina finally let herself break down. She put the shower on and hoped the noises from the water would drown out the sobs burning deep in her chest.

The hot water ran over her body and shook it as forcefully as her cries had been shaking it. Her heart screamed out to Winter, anger, pain, and everything mingled inside her heart.

Winter was supposed to be there; why wasn't she when Karina needed her the most? Why did she push her away?

Karina's crying grew heavy, her mind racing as she thought. It was becoming too much to bear; the sharp ache twisted in her chest, hurt even breathing.

The headache throbbed and seemed to worsen with every minute passing, but she wept, unable to calm herself down. She felt like hours passed as she finally, slowly managed to calm herself enough to finish showering.

Her limbs were heavy, but she dragged herself up, toweled off, and eventually into some comfy pants and an oversized shirt. She had to pull together now, even if the weight felt like it was drowning her. Her heart was in pieces, but she could no longer wallow. Not when final exams loomed on the horizon.

Drag herself to the desk, Karina sat down, called out her textbooks, and started staring blankly for a moment at the pages with unseeing eyes as if trying, against her will, to cast aside all thoughts of Winter.

She whispered to herself bitterly, "Why am I like this? We're not even in a relationship."

Her face was blank but her heart was heavy.

Karina took a deep breath, pushed her thoughts back into her books, and clutched her pen hard.

"If Winter doesn't want me," she mumbled, "then I don't need her either."

She began to write furiously, her eyes glued to the textbook before her, not wanting to feel the pain.

-

Karina walked through the school corridors, her face a mask devoid of emotion. She didn't listen to the whispers hanging in the air. She could feel eyes watching her-curious, sympathetic, or maybe judgmental-but nothing mattered anymore.

The weight of the role she once and for all played as student council president was gone. And she didn't care. Not any longer. All that was left was the tunnel vision she had forced herself into: her studies.

Karina went through the day beside Giselle, a dazed woman who seemed to care for nothing else in her life except her books and notes.

Days went by without Karina seeing Ningning. To be honest, she hadn't seen anyone else - her teachers and Giselle, that was it. The lively and merry-go-lucky Karina seemed to be gone, replaced by an numb, emotionless version of herself as she robotically trotted through school - study, class, smile.

There was always Giselle by her side; she was worried sick. That was not the Karina she knew. Her best friend had turned into a shadow of herself, so far away that even Giselle's words barely registered.

Karina did not speak back much to her anymore. She did not cry. She did not throw a tantrum — there wasn't any outburst. It was as if all of Karina's emotions had been engulfed whole by Winter, and now nothing remained.

-

One afternoon, Giselle bumped into Ningning in the corridor. They exchanged nods, a silent understanding passing between them.

Things were different now; no longer the same. The once lively, inseparable friends had fractured, and neither of them knew how to fix it.

And Winter?

Giselle hadn't seen her either. Maybe Winter hadn't returned to school yet. Maybe she was avoiding them too.

-

At home, Mrs Yu, was much relieved - pleased even, over the fact that Karina had stopped being lazy and resumed her studies. Her daughter had turned out to be ever more diligent, more concentrated, and things were only going better from there.

Yet Giselle saw beyond the surface. This was not recovery.

Karina wasn't healing; she was rather numbing herself, burying her pain beneath the study. And yet, as much as Giselle might have wanted to say something, to reach through to her best friend, she didn't.

Maybe, for now, this was what Karina needed-to keep going, even in autopilot.

-

Winter walked into her house, finally having discharged, her body still achings from the injuries, a few bandages visible over her arms and face, while others remained hidden beneath her clothes. Scars, both fresh and old, littered her skin, but they were nothing compared to the weight inside.

Into the familiar chaos she walked-hampered furniture, broken glass, the overpowering stench of alcohol hanging in the air like a suffocating cloud.

Her father slumped in his usual corner, submerged in his drunken stupor. Bottles surrounded him on the floor, half-full and knocked over, spilling across the room. Winter's eyes glazed as she passed by him unreadable, almost numb. She didn't flinch. She didn't acknowledge the wreckage, nor the man who'd made it happen.

But just as she was heading to her room's hallway, Mr. Kim, whose eyes are reeking with liquored-up eyes, spied her.

"Winter!" he slurred, trying to get up, wobbly on his legs because of drunkenness. His voice is a raucous, bitter, and angry croak. "This ungrateful child!"

Winter's heart pounded against her chest. Her legs brought her in a frantic pace as she managed to push her way into her room, turning the lock behind her.

Just in time, she heard him stumble after her. The very instant he tried pounding on the door with great crashing fists, the lock clicked, he banged and roared at her.

"Open this door!" he screamed in a voice that was both rough and filled with rage.

"You hear me?! Ungrateful little brat!"

But Winter didn't respond. She pressed her back against the door for a moment, breathing out slowly, trying to steady herself. She had learned long ago that responding to him only made things worse. She slid down to the floor, her eyes landing on the textbooks sprawled out on her desk. Exams were in a month. She could not fail, not now that everything she had rested on passing.

With shaky hands, Winter slowly got up and went to her desk, pulling out her earpieces to plug herself into the world outside, blocking from her ears the sound of her father's yelling and slapping on the door. She opened the books and ran her eyes down the page, though it hurt to concentrate as she could. The noise continued outside her door: his booming voice and slurring threats as his temper flared.

Winter held the pen firmly in her hand. She was focused. She had done this for too long. One month more. Only one month, and she would be free of this-at least, she kept her hopes high.

The cacophony and the pain receded into the mind as she stared at the pages and lost herself in the text, bent upon studying. To pass. To get away, if possible.