Chapter Eleven:
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Let me tell you—peace never tasted so sweet. The moment that Caucasian girl got booted out of the class, it was like all the noise, all the tension just... disappeared. The room felt lighter. I could actually hear myself think. I let out a sigh of relief. Bliss.
As the teacher droned on, I noticed Jasmine raise her hand and ask to go to the bathroom. Then, of course, I followed suit.
“I gotta go too,” I said, casually.
The teacher eyed me for a second. he knew I was Janine's best friend, and yeah, maybe I’d been a little too eager to leave class once or twice, but I had no criminal record. In fact, I was a straight-A student, and teachers loved me for some reason—probably because I didn’t cause trouble, unlike some others.
“Sure, go ahead,” the teacher finally said with a sigh.
I slipped out behind Jasmine, watching her head toward the girls’ bathroom. Once she disappeared around the corner, I did a quick scan of the hall to make sure no one was around. The coast was clear.
And then, I slipped in after her.
I didn’t even get halfway through the door before I froze. There was a fair Arab girl—chubby, wearing a hijab, and washing her hands at the sink. She turned around and saw me.
Her eyes went wide. She was about to say something, but I cut her off.
“Hey, hey, wait,” I said, holding my hands up in front of me. “I’m Han Ji-Sung. You know me, right?”
She still looked confused, but I tried to calm her. “I’m just here to talk to my friend. It’s all good.”
She hesitated, but eventually nodded, understanding. She wiped her hands on a paper towel and left the bathroom, probably still thinking I was some kind of weirdo.
The door clicked shut, and I was alone.
I stood still for a moment, just listening. Somewhere behind the stall doors, Jasmine was crying. I could hear the muffled sobs, the sound of her trying to hold it all in.
I knocked lightly on the door.
“Who’s there?” she asked, her voice tinged with exhaustion.
I smirked a little, trying to lighten the mood. “All the stalls are taken, so hurry up,” I said, trying to make my voice squeaky, like a girl’s, but honestly, it probably sounded ridiculous.
There was a long pause before she sighed deeply. “Ugh, whatever,” she muttered, and finally opened the stall door.
She stepped out, her face blotchy and red from crying. She glanced around, probably hoping no one saw her, but there was no one else in sight. She turned to wash her hands, but didn’t seem to care much about how they looked.
I watched her, trying to think of what to say. I could see how badly she was hurting. It was in her eyes, in the way she held herself. And suddenly, I knew I wasn’t going to let her push me away this time.
Before she could finish drying her hands, I stepped out of the stall, grabbed her wrist, and gently pulled her toward me.
“Jasmine, come on, we need to talk.”
She froze, blinking up at me, her eyes wide with surprise. She looked almost... shocked, like she didn’t expect me to be the one to show up.
“Han?” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “What are you—”
I didn’t let go of her wrist. “You’ve been shutting down for too long. This isn’t the way to handle it.”
She tried to pull her arm away. “You’re not supposed to be in here,” she snapped, trying to brush past me, but I wasn’t having it.
I quickly moved in front of her, blocking her path. I placed both my hands on the wall beside her, trapping her in place.
“You’re not running away from me, Jasmine,” I said, my voice firm. “Not this time. You’re not going back into your shell. You’re not going to keep hiding. We’re talking.”
She turned her face down, avoiding my gaze. Her shoulders were slumped in defeat. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
I softened my tone. “I know it’s hard. But Marcus is worried about you.”
At his name, her face tightened. She cut me off, her voice cracking. “Marcus doesn’t want to look at me anymore. I lost everything.”
I shook my head. “That’s not true. He still loves you, Jasmine. He wants you to get better. He wants you to snap out of this. He wants you back.”
She shut her eyes and cried harder, her hands over her face.
It felt like my heart had just been ripped out. I hated seeing her like this. I couldn’t stand it.
I stepped closer and placed my hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. “I know what this feels like,” I said, my voice low. “Trust me. I know. Who better than me to understand?”
She pulled her hands away from her face and looked at me, her eyes red and puffy. “What are you talking about?”
I took a deep breath. “You know my story, Jasmine. What happened with my dad and my mom...”
Her face softened, and she nodded slightly, understanding.
“It scars me too,” I went on. “It’s with me every day. I see my therapist. I talk about it. It doesn’t just... go away. But over time, you learn how to carry it.”
She was quiet, but she was listening now.
“I know it’s hard, but you can’t let it define you. I’ve been dealing with this weight for so long, but you’ve always seen me smiling. You’ve always seen me laughing, trying to bring joy to the people I care about. Marcus and me... we look past the pain, because we love each other. And that’s all Marcus wants from you. He wants you to come back to him, to be that goofy, silly girl that he fell in love with.”
She managed a small, sad smile. “So Marcus told you about our little love story, huh?”
I laughed, but there was a sad edge to it. “Yeah, without your permission.”
She sniffled, teasing. “Oh now you wanna get married, don’t you?”
I scoffed, pretending to be offended. “What girl would want to marry a guy like me?”
She smirked. “Maybe if you gave them a chance.”
I shook my head, chuckling. “They never will. I’m not stupid enough to fall for that trap. It’s better to look like the wickedest jerk than to let anyone get close. The only girl I’ve ever let into my heart—besides my mama—is you.”
Her eyes softened. There was something in her gaze, like a mixture of understanding and something else, maybe hope.
Before I could say anything else, I realized I’d been in the bathroom way too long. The bell was about to ring.
“I gotta go, Jas,” I said, moving toward the door.
She grabbed my arm before I could leave. “Han,” she said, her voice now serious. “What really happened that night? With your mom? Did your dad really just... dice her into pieces?”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
I froze. “What are you talking about?” I asked, my breath coming faster.
She was leaning forward now, her eyes locked on mine, desperate. “Something else happened that night, didn’t it? You’re not telling the truth. Where are her organs, Han? Where are they?”
I felt a cold chill run down my spine. My body went rigid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, almost yelling.
I had to get out of there. I turned and rushed for the door.
“Han!” she shouted, her voice shaking. “You know I’m not crazy. You believe me, don’t you? You know something is wrong. You know it’s happening!”
I slammed the door behind me, my heart racing. I couldn’t process what she said. I had to get away.
But in the back of my mind, her words echoed...
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