Prologue

An unfortunate and profoundly distressing situation has transpired. Over the course of eight months, I have developed a deep and inexplicable bond with a man who, as it turns out, is the ex-boyfriend of my closest friend. Despite the glaring conflict of interest, I found myself unable to sever the connection. There was an undeniable force preventing me from doing so. Initially, I refrained from labeling this feeling, convincing myself it was inconsequential. Yet, my efforts to deceive myself were futile; I am not adept at lying, particularly to myself. It became irrefutably clear that what I felt was love. I had fallen in love with my best friend's ex-boyfriend.

This realisation marked the beginning of a tumultuous journey, one fraught with ethical dilemmas and emotional turmoil. It is a story of forbidden love, internal conflict, and the inevitable consequences of a heart torn between loyalty and desire. As you turn these pages, you will witness the unraveling of relationships, the testing of friendships, and the true nature of the bonds that tie us together. This is my story, and it begins with a choice I never thought I would have to make..

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Chapter 1

October had always been a month of transitions for me, but this year it took on a whole new meaning. It all began when I fell sick, first with a mild fever that quickly escalated. My mother, ever the caretaker, nursed me through it, but despite her best efforts, the illness lingered. For two relentless weeks, I was bedridden, my body betraying me as I fluctuated between feverish dreams and exhausted awakenings.

One morning, I fainted. It was as if the world tilted and darkness consumed me. When I came to, I found myself sprawled on the living room floor, my mother’s lap serving as a makeshift pillow. She was crying, her tears dropping onto my cheeks. The scene was chaotic: my father, usually so composed, was visibly distressed, his tall frame hunched as he hovered over me.

Before I could utter a word, he splashed a few drops of water onto my face. The shock brought me back to full consciousness, and I managed to croak out a few words, reassuring them that I was okay. They insisted I rest after forcing down some breakfast, their concern palpable.

The day slipped away, and it was evening when I finally roused myself from a fitful sleep. My body was still weak, but my mind was restless. Seeking comfort, I turned to a familiar source: YouTube. There, among the countless videos, was a new upload from Andrew Kim, an architecture student whose journey I had been following for months. His videos were a source of inspiration, his passion and determination striking a chord within me. It was an odd relationship—one-sided and distant—yet his words motivated me in ways he would never know.

As I watched, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. Andrew spoke about overcoming obstacles, about pushing through even when the odds seemed insurmountable. His words resonated deeply, reminding me of my own goals and dreams. By the time the video ended, I found a renewed sense of purpose.

Despite my lingering weakness, I gathered my books and notes, determined to study. Andrew’s voice echoed in my mind, pushing me forward. It was difficult, my concentration wavering, but I persevered. October had tested me, but I was determined to rise to the challenge.

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The fever still clung to me like a stubborn shadow, but I knew I couldn’t afford to let it slow me down. My second term exams were approaching, and every hour spent resting felt like a step closer to failure. I forced myself to study, my books spread out in front of me as I tried to absorb the information. The effort was exhausting, and after a few good hours, I knew I had to stop. I didn’t want to collapse again and add to my family’s worries.

Mom was also suffering from the fever, so I took my medication on time without her reminders. I’ve always tried to do my best in everything, not wanting to disappoint those who expected so much from me. To the world, I was a "born genius," but in my eyes, I was just a scared, dumb coward. The fear of failure, of disappointing those who believed in me, loomed large over everything I did.

I’ve never been fond of socializing, but I wasn’t one to laze around either. Doing nothing felt like a chore to me. I needed to keep moving, to keep doing something productive. Yet, over time, I began to hate studying. It wasn’t that the material was too hard; it was what studying did to me. It brought out the worst in me, turning me into someone who forgot to drink water, to eat, to take care of myself. The only thought that ran through my mind was a relentless chant: “You can’t fail. You can’t disappoint them. You can’t fail. You can’t disappoint them.”

Despite the fever, despite the exhaustion, focusing on my studies wasn’t hard once I put on my headphones and let soothing music fill my ears. The melodies helped me escape, creating a cocoon where I could block out the world and its expectations. In that space, I could almost believe that I was capable of meeting everyone’s expectations. I could almost forget the fear that gnawed at me, the fear that I wasn’t enough.

As the hours passed, the fever ebbed and flowed, but I kept studying, driven by that relentless inner voice. I couldn’t afford to fail. I couldn’t afford to disappoint them. With music as my refuge, I pushed on, determined to prove to myself and everyone else that I was capable, that I was worthy.

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As days turned into weeks, I kept myself immersed in my studies, dutifully balancing it with self-care. My health began to improve, and eventually, my parents decided it was time for a check-up at the hospital. Their calm demeanor didn’t fool me; I knew they were still worried sick. I wasn’t the type to fall ill often—the last time was

years ago when I battled pneumonia for months.

But that was the past. Now, it was October, and the one person I missed the most was Athy, my online best friend. I hadn't heard from her in what felt like an eternity. Her family had taken her phone away for reasons she didn’t explain. The last message she sent me was short and cryptic: “Hey, I won’t be able to talk for some months. But I’ll come back.” No goodbye, no details. Just a promise to return.

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The silence was unbearable. I was more worried than upset,

constantly wondering what could have happened. Athy and I had a mutual friend, Kizzy, who I respected a lot, though we weren’t particularly close. My social circle was small by choice; it felt safer that way. Everything was relatively fine—except for being sick and Athy’s absence.

During one of my study breaks, I saw a notification from Athy’s Instagram account. My heart leapt with hope, only to crash when I opened it. The message wasn’t from Athy but from one of her offline friends. “Hey, I’m Athy’s friend,” the first message read. Another followed quickly, “She’ll

come back in a few months.” The disappointment hit me hard. I almost—almost—hated that friend for not being Athy. The vague reassurance did little to ease my anxiety.

Between my illness, missing Athy, and the looming exams, my anxiety reached new heights. I was on my period for five excruciating days in the middle of being sick, making everything feel intolerable and unbearable. Missing school, especially for my mathematics and social studies exams, only added to my stress. Fortunately, the school director, who liked me (not romantically, of

course), granted me the opportunity to take those exams once I was better.

One morning, I woke up determined to tackle my English exam and face my first day back at school after two long weeks. My health was better, but my nerves were frayed. Just a day before the exam, something happened. It was something I had both anticipated and dreaded.

As I sat at my desk, reviewing notes and trying to focus, a sense of dread washed over me. Despite the improvements in my health, my mind was still restless. I

wanted to be fine again, to feel normal. But the combination of sickness, anxiety, and Athy’s absence made that feel impossible. I took a deep breath, putting on my headphones and letting soothing music envelop me. It was my only escape, the one thing that could still my racing thoughts and bring me a semblance of peace.

With the music playing, I tried to center myself. I had to be ready for the English exam, for school, for everything. But deep down, I knew something was about to change, something I wanted and didn’t want at the same time. And

as October drew on, I braced myself for whatever was coming next.

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October passed more smoothly than I anticipated, largely thanks to Andrew's YouTube videos. His content kept me grounded and motivated. I also found solace in music, especially songs by underrated artists. One of my favorites was JHIN, and his song "You Would" became my anthem during those trying days. I listened to it on repeat, the lyrics and

melody providing a refuge from my anxieties.

One evening, while watching one of Andrew's vlogs, I was surprised to see JHIN make an appearance. The two were friends! It felt like a small, comforting connection in my world of isolation. I already had my sources of comfort, but what I lacked was someone to comfort me. I tried to ignore this void until Athy's offline friend entered my life.

After receiving the message from Athy’s account, I mustered up the courage to reply. “Hey, how’s she doing?” I asked, nervous

about reaching out to a complete stranger.

To my surprise, the response was swift. “She’s suffering from fever,” the friend replied. I hesitated, unsure if it was rude to ask only about Athy without acknowledging the person I was talking to. I decided it would be inconsiderate.

“How are you?” I finally texted back.

“Fever,” came the response, followed by, “What about you?”

“Fever,” I replied, feeling a strange kinship in our shared misery.

“Oh, we three fell sick together lol,” the friend responded.

“Yeah,” I typed back, my communication skills dwindling. I felt awkward and out of my depth. “I have to study,” I added before switching off my Wi-Fi. I couldn’t wait for the reply. Instead, I played "You Would" by JHIN from my downloaded Spotify playlist and turned my focus to my studies.

Physically, I was feeling much better. The fever had finally broken, and I no longer felt as weak as before. The hospital check-up confirmed that I was on the mend, which was a relief to my parents. They were more relaxed, at least outwardly, but I knew they were still worried. I had to prove to them—and to myself—that I was okay.

Despite my improving health, studying remained a challenge. The looming English exam was just a day away. Andrew’s videos and JHIN’s music were my anchors. They kept me sane, providing a sense of normalcy in a turbulent time.

The interaction with Athy’s friend lingered in my mind. It was strange to think that someone I didn’t know could offer a tiny bit of solace. Maybe, just maybe, I could reach out more often, even if it was just a small connection. For now, though, my priority was my studies. I couldn’t afford to lose focus.

With "You Would" playing softly in the background, I dived back into my books, determined to face

whatever came next. My health was improving, my resolve was strengthening, and with each passing day, I felt a little more ready to tackle the challenges ahead.

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