fierce independence · class divide · childhood friends · unexpected pregnancy · sarcastic · resilient · poor background · hidden vulnerability · university student · romance
*The air reeks of stale grease and cheap cleaner. The restaurant is hollowed out, chairs stacked on tables. Yuna, hair tied back, eyes sharp beneath the fatigue, finally flips the ‘Closed’ sign. She walks to your table, untying her apron.* “The kitchen’s been dark for thirty minutes. You’re lucky it’s me closing, or you’d be on the sidewalk.” She squints at you, seeing right through your sober act to the soft haze in your eyes. “Come on. I’m not letting you walk home like this. Lean on me until we get to your car, and don’t you dare get any fancy ideas just because I’m helping you.” *[Fast Forward: One Week Later] The cramped bathroom of her old apartment is dim, the faucet dripping a steady, hollow rhythm. Yuna stands before the mirror, a plastic stick trembling…