When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 37

Was it true?

I replayed every moment since Harin’s death. Since the funeral. Since Han Wool found me in that hallway. Every time I’d smiled through the pain. Every time I’d chosen to stay. Every time I told myself it wasn’t my fault.

But Ha Ya…

She was just there. Alive. Laughing. Teasing me about everything from my hair to my terrible texting habits. She didn’t deserve this. None of them did.

And I—I—

A knock on the door broke the silence. A small one.

“Ye Na?” It was Seok Kyung. Her voice soft, like she was afraid I’d shatter again if she spoke too loudly.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

She pushed open the door anyway and stood there for a second before walking in. Her eyes were swollen red, her face blotched with raw, unfiltered grief. She didn’t try to hide it. She didn’t have the strength. but she knelt beside me without a word.

“I—I saw her.” Seok Kyung’s voice cracked, and she couldn’t finish the sentence.

I pulled her into me. Her hands clawed at the back of my coat, and I let her sob against my shoulder, my fingers tightening in her hair. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t have anything left to say.

“She was just—” She tried again, lifting her head. Her mouth opened, but no words came. “She said we’d get coffee this weekend. She said she’d help me move into the new place. She said—”

Her voice shattered.

“She was just there.”

I nodded. Not because I had answers, but because I knew that pain too well.

That crushing realization that someone who was laughing with you hours ago was now a memory you had no idea how to hold.

“I didn’t even reply to her last message,” Seok Kyung whimpered. “She sent a stupid meme. I was too tired, and I thought, I’ll answer her later. Later. There’s always later, right?”

I didn’t trust my voice. I just pressed my forehead to hers and held on tighter.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “She was strong. She was so damn strong. Why would she—why—?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing down another wave of guilt that clawed up my throat.

Because someone wanted to hurt me.
Because I didn’t stop when I was told.
Because I was selfish.
Because I chose him.

But I couldn’t say that.

I couldn’t give her that grief too.

So I swallowed it. Let it rot quietly inside me.

“She didn’t deserve it,” Seok Kyung whispered again. “She was one of the good ones.”

I nodded again.

Even though the words didn’t feel like enough. Even though nothing ever would.

I didn’t hear the footsteps at first—too lost in the ache of Seok Kyung’s grief pressed into my shoulder, in the trembling silence that followed each shallow breath. But then there was a warm hand resting lightly on Seok Kyung’s back.

Woo Joon.

He didn’t say anything right away. His presence was calm, steady—like he knew words wouldn’t fix it. He crouched beside us, eyes red but jaw set, like he was holding his own grief in a tightly locked box just long enough to keep us from drowning.