Minho watched as Dove stormed away, her back stiff and her pace quick, the slight shake of her shoulders betraying the storm of emotions she was clearly trying to control. For a moment, the air felt heavy between him and his friends, their laughter trailing off into an awkward silence. He couldn't shake the image of her turning her back on him, the sharpness in her eyes still fresh in his mind.
"That was a bit much, don't you think?" one of his friends said quietly, as if sensing Minho's sudden shift in mood.
Minho forced a laugh, shrugging it off. "She's always been like that," he said, though the words felt empty even to him. He turned away and began walking with his friends, but his steps felt heavy. His usual cocky grin had faded, replaced by a strange unease that he couldn't quite explain.
As they walked toward the dorms, Minho couldn't stop thinking about the way Dove had looked at him. That cold, almost detached look she gave him-the one that made it clear she wasn't just hurt but pissed off, too. And when she'd fired back with her words, it was like a punch to the gut.
"Remind me-who ran away the first?" Her voice still echoed in his head, sharp and biting. It stung in a way he hadn't expected.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake the feeling off, but it wouldn't go away. Had he really gone that far with his taunt? He had only meant to provoke her, to get under her skin-he hadn't intended to actually make her upset. But looking back, he realized he might have pushed her too hard. He had known she'd been dealing with a lot, especially since they'd broken up. Maybe that comment about running away had been a little... much.
The more he thought about it, the more he regretted it. Dove wasn't the same person she had been back then, and neither was he. The past was complicated, and he knew it wasn't fair to bring it up like that, especially when it clearly still affected her.
Minho's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his friends joking around, but it felt distant. It wasn't that he didn't want to join in, but for the first time in a while, he wasn't sure he even cared. A knot formed in his stomach, and he sighed. It wasn't just the tension with Dove-it was something deeper. Something he hadn't fully acknowledged before.
"Forget it," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. But the words stuck with him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd gone too far this time.
Later that evening, Minho met up with Stella for their date, the one they'd been planning for a while. He had promised her a fun, easygoing evening to take his mind off things, and he was determined to at least try. But as they walked through the city, his mind kept drifting back to Dove.
Stella was talking animatedly about something-probably the latest gossip at school, knowing her-but Minho barely heard it. His thoughts kept circling back to the conversation with Dove, the way she had cut him down with her words, the way she'd walked away without a second glance. He could still feel the sting of her gaze and the heaviness in his chest, like something had been left unsaid, something unresolved.
"Minho," Stella said, pulling him out of his spiral. "Are you even listening?"
He blinked, focusing on her, but the smile he gave her didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, sorry. Just... tired, I guess," he muttered, trying to brush it off.
Stella raised an eyebrow but didn't press him. Instead, she linked her arm through his and continued chatting. Minho tried to focus on her, on the lightness of the evening, but every word she spoke felt distant. He couldn't stop replaying the conversation with Dove in his head. He hadn't meant to hurt her like that, had he? His stomach churned, and he found himself absentmindedly tapping his fingers against his phone, wishing he could just forget everything for a while.
When they sat down for dinner at a cozy little restaurant, Stella's laughter filled the air, but it only made Minho feel more detached. He watched her, her bright smile and easy charm, but his mind kept drifting back to Dove. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so preoccupied during a date.
Stella seemed to notice his lack of attention. "You're really not here tonight, huh?" she said with a small, teasing grin. "I feel like I'm talking to a ghost."
Minho felt a pang of guilt. He'd promised himself this date would be different, but it seemed like his mind had other plans. He looked at Stella, forcing a smile. "Sorry, I'm just... off tonight. It's nothing. I'll snap out of it."
But as Stella smiled and continued talking, Minho's mind kept wandering back to Dove, her face, her words, and that strange feeling in his chest that wouldn't let go.
After the date, Minho returned to his dorm, the evening's events swirling in his mind. He had tried to focus on Stella, tried to enjoy the night, but it had felt like he was going through the motions. The tension in his chest hadn't faded, and as he lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of it all pressed down on him.
He rolled over, his arm draped across his forehead as if he could block out the thoughts crowding his mind. The date had ended fine-Stella had laughed, and they'd shared a few moments of lightheartedness-but he hadn't really been there. He hadn't been present. And no matter how much he tried to distract himself, Dove kept creeping into his thoughts.
He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much. They were exes-he had no right to feel this conflicted about her. But the more he replayed their conversation, the more he realized just how far he'd gone with that taunt about her "running away." It hadn't been just a jab; it had been a cheap shot, a reminder of the past he knew still haunted her and him.
Minho groaned and rolled onto his back, running a hand through his hair. His thoughts felt tangled-he knew he hadn't meant to hurt Dove, but the way she had snapped back at him... it was like she'd broken through the defenses he'd carefully built up. The words she'd said echoed in his mind.
He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as the guilt gnawed at him. Maybe he had messed things up. Maybe he had pushed her too far.
As he stared at the ceiling, he tried to push the thoughts away, but the more he tried, the more they lingered. He wondered if there was any way to fix it-if it was even possible. The way she had walked away from him had felt final, like she was done with him, done with everything between them.
But even with all that, Minho couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this-more to her-than he was willing to admit. He rolled over again, reaching for his phone, but then hesitated. He didn't want to overthink it. Not tonight. But the truth was, the weight of their unresolved tension sat heavily on his chest, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to shake it off easily.
With a sigh, Minho set his phone back down, deciding to let the thoughts swirl for a while longer. Tomorrow, maybe, he would figure it out. But for now, all he could do was lie there in the quiet, his mind running through a conversation he knew had gone wrong.
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To sum up this chapter, it's basically Minho's perspective of the situation.
See you in the next chapter!