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[Wonderwall] - [Oasis]

The world outside was quiet, almost mocking in its serenity, as if it didn't care about the storm tearing through Iseul. The warm light of Chaeryoung's small apartment should have been comforting, but tonight it only cast long shadows across the room.

"He lied to me," Iseul choked out, her voice breaking under the weight of her words. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, leaving trails of salt behind. Her arms clutched her knees tightly, pulling herself into a ball as if she could physically protect what little remained of her shattered spirit. "He said it was all a game, and I believed he loves me... like an idiot."

Chaeryoung, sitting cross-legged beside her on the couch, wrapped an arm around her friend, her fingers combing gently through Iseul's hair. Her touch was soft, soothing, but it couldn't erase the raw ache radiating from Iseul's chest.

"That doesn't sound like Sunghoon," Chaeryoung said quietly, her brows knitting together in concern. Her own heart ached for Iseul, who sat trembling beside her.

"It is him!" Iseul snapped, her voice rising sharply before breaking again. "He did it, Chae. He looked me in the eyes and said it." Her voice cracked, and a fresh wave of tears spilled over. "He said it, and now I'm stuck dealing with his shitty personality, like always."

The silence that followed was deafening, punctuated only by the sound of Iseul's uneven breaths. The tension hung heavy in the air, suffocating them both.

Chaeryoung continued to play with her hair, trying to piece together the situation, but Iseul's voice broke through again, this time softer—more fragile.

"He said... 'Now we're even,'" she whispered, her words trembling as they escaped her lips. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, unseeing, as if reliving the moment. "He's marveling at it... celebrating my pain."

Chaeryoung stiffened, her hand pausing mid-stroke. She knew Sunghoon could be cold, but this? It didn't sit right.

"I was right to be afraid of falling for him," Iseul continued, her voice barely audible now. "And now look at me. My heart aches, Chae. I can't even breathe just thinking about him... about them."

Chaeryoung's protective instincts flared. Her own heart twisted painfully as she watched Iseul unravel. She stood abruptly, fire lighting her eyes. "No. Something's wrong. This doesn't add up. I'm going to figure it out."

Iseul blinked up at her, her tear-streaked face painted with both gratitude and exhaustion. "I'm going home," she said after a long moment, her voice flat, lifeless.

"Are you sure?" Chaeryoung's tone softened. "You can stay here. We'll have a girls' night—movies, snacks, whatever you need. You shouldn't be alone."

But Iseul shook her head, summoning a weak, fragile smile. "No, thank you. I just... I just want to sleep."

Chaeryoung nodded reluctantly, walking her to the door. "Promise me you'll call if you need anything. I mean it—anything."

"I will," Iseul murmured, though her voice lacked conviction.

As she stepped outside, the cool night air hit her tear-streaked cheeks like icy needles. The streetlights cast a dim glow over the empty road, and for a moment, Iseul just stood there, her arms wrapped around herself. Each step she took toward home felt heavier than the last, as if the weight of Sunghoon's words was physically dragging her down.

In her mind, his voice replayed again and again, sharp and unyielding. "Now we're even."

She pressed her fingers to her lips, stifling a sob. But it didn't stop the ache, the unrelenting burn that consumed her. Sunghoon wasn't just someone she loved—he was someone she trusted. And now, all she could do was relive the pain of that trust being shattered.

Iseul walked home like a shadow of herself, her steps heavy and unsteady. The world around her blurred, dimmed by the veil of tears that still clung to her lashes.

She pushed it open and stepped inside. The warmth of the house wrapped around her like an unwanted embrace, mocking her with its comfort. Her mother appeared from the living room, her face etched with concern the moment she saw Iseul's expression.

"Sweetheart," her mother whispered, rushing toward her. "What happened?"

Iseul didn't respond immediately. Her lips quivered, her throat tightening as she tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill once more. Her mother reached out, gently cupping her face, her thumbs brushing away the remnants of earlier sobs.

"Tell me," her mother urged softly, her voice a balm against the storm raging inside Iseul.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Iseul sank onto her bed and let it all out. In a quiet, trembling voice, she recounted everything: Sunghoon's betrayal, the way he dismissed their love as a game, and the cruel satisfaction he seemed to take in her pain. She spoke of how she'd been foolish enough to trust him, to open her heart again, only to have it crushed under the weight of his vengeance.

Her mother listened silently, her expression a mixture of sorrow and anger as she took in her daughter's suffering. She didn't interrupt, knowing that Iseul needed to release the storm inside her. When Iseul finally finished, her body was slumped forward, drained from the emotional purge.

Her mother guided her gently to her room, helping her into bed as if she were a child once more. She didn't leave her side, lying next to her and holding her close. It wasn't long before exhaustion claimed Iseul, and she fell into a deep, heavy sleep, her mother staying with her as a quiet sentinel against the darkness.

The next day unfolded like a hazy blur. Iseul sat slumped on the couch, wrapped in her own cocoon of despair. Beside her, Sohee mirrored her mood, equally engulfed in heartbreak.

Both had been wounded by the Park siblings—Sunghoon's betrayal cutting into Iseul's heart, and Yeji's new boyfriend leaving Sohee adrift.

Bags of chips, half-melted tubs of ice cream, and wrappers of chocolate served as their companions as they watched a K-drama on the tv.

Minjae, entered the living room holding a tray of steaming soup. She approached Iseul with a soft, encouraging smile. "Iseul, my sweetheart, I made your favorite soup," she said, her voice tender.

"I don't want to," Iseul mumbled, her voice muffled as she hugged the blanket tighter around her.

Minjae set the tray down carefully, undeterred. "Why don't you change your clothes, and we can go to the beach? It'll be refreshing to get some air and talk together," she suggested, her tone laced with motherly concern.

Iseul shook her head, burrowing deeper into the blanket. "I don't want to. It's cold," she replied, her voice flat and distant.

Sohee mumbled under his breath, his pout unmistakable. "I'm also sad, but you didn't even make me soup... why?"

Minjae let out a small sigh as she set the tray aside and lowered herself between her two heartbroken children on the sofa. She looked between them, her brows furrowed in concern. "What should I do to make you two happy?" she asked, her voice soft but tinged with desperation.

Sohee, perked up. "Mom, I told her we should kidnap Sunghoon and threaten him to explain everything, but she didn't agree."

Iseul turned her head slowly, giving Sohee a deadpan look. "What are we? Barbers?" she replied flatly, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Before Sohee could retort, the rhythmic sound of drums and lively music drifted into the house from the neighborhood. The distinct cheer of a celebratory gathering filled the air, clashing starkly with the gloom in their living room.

Sohee groaned loudly, throwing his head back in frustration. "Do they have no regard for depressed people?" he grumbled, clutching his bag of chips as though it were the only thing keeping her tethered to sanity.

Iseul, on the other hand, didn't flinch. She kept her gaze glued to the TV, her expression blank. The noise outside might as well have been a distant echo in her mind, drowned out by the turmoil of her thoughts. The joyous sounds seemed to mock her misery, but she didn't give them the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, she adjusted the blanket over her legs and turned the volume of the TV up a notch, as if the fictional world on the screen could drown out reality.

The celebration outside reached an earsplitting crescendo, the drums thundering like a heartbeat gone wild. Voices chimed in laughter and song, but what pierced the air sharper than any sound was Yejin's jubilant cry, her voice unmistakable even in the chaos.

"Today is my day! My CEO son is getting married!"

Inside the living room, Sohee froze. His hand, mid-reach for another chip, dropped to his lap. His eyes darted to Iseul, who was now curled tighter under her blanket. The flickering light from the TV danced on her face, but her expression was void of life, her gaze fixed forward, refusing to acknowledge the commotion.

Without hesitation, Sohee scooted closer, wrapping an arm protectively around her shoulders and pulling her into him.

"Don't listen," he whispered, his tone low and urgent as he pressed his hands gently over her ears. His voice cracked slightly as he added, "It's nothing. Just noise."

Minjae, however, was already in motion. She slammed the tray of untouched soup onto the coffee table, her usual calm demeanor cracking like thin ice.

"That woman," she muttered under her breath, marching to the window. Her gaze burned as it landed on Yejin, twirling and clapping like a carnival act in the middle of the street.

Sohee's brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced out the window. "She must've heard it from her son," he mumbled, piecing the puzzle together, though his voice held a note of disbelief.

Outside, Yejin swayed as she danced with wild, unfiltered joy, her braceletts jingling like celebratory bells. The neighbors were joining in, clapping and cheering, swept up by her infectious energy.

"My son is marrying a very beautiful woman, Rena!" Yejin shouted.

Minjae flung the door open with enough force to make it slam against the wall. She stepped onto the porch, her hands on her hips, a fierce glint in her eyes. "Yejin, stop this nonsense right now!" Her voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the celebratory noise like a blade.

Yejin barely spared her a glance, her smirk widening. "Jealous family," she sneered, twirling with exaggerated grace, her chin tilted high as though the world revolved around her.

Minjae's lips tightened into a thin line, her patience hanging by a thread. Her gaze darted back to her own home, and a flash of resolve crossed her face. Without a word, she stormed back inside, her movements swift and purposeful.

Moments later, she re-emerged, this time with a bucket in her hands. Water sloshed at the brim as she carried it out, her expression unyielding. The neighbors exchanged curious looks, whispering amongst themselves as Minjae approached Yejin.

Yejin didn't even pause her dance, her arms raised and her laughter filling the air. Minjae stopped a foot away, her voice calm but laced with steel. "You've had enough," she said.

And with that, she tipped the bucket.

The icy water poured over Yejin, drenching her in an instant. Gasps rippled through the crowd as Yejin froze mid-dance, her once-perfect hair now plastered to her face, her bright makeup running in streaks down her cheeks.

For a moment, silence fell over the neighborhood, the only sound the last few drops of water hitting the pavement. Then, Yejin shook her head dramatically, water droplets scattering like raindrops. She raised her hands defiantly, taking a step forward.

"Even water can't dampen my happiness!" she declared, her voice booming with stubborn pride. She resumed her dance, now with an added flair as though the water had only emboldened her.

Minjae stood there, her knuckles white as she gripped the empty bucket. Her chest rose and fell with restrained anger as she watched Yejin sway and clap like a queen refusing to relinquish her throne.

Turning on her heel, Minjae muttered under her breath, "Unbelievable," and strode back into the house, her temper still simmering as she shut the door firmly behind her.

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may your 2025 be filled with happiness