People Say They Care
The fireworks had faded hours ago.
Yet the smell of smoke still lingered inside the empty campus corridors… as if the night itself refused to let go.
Rainwater dripped slowly from the rooftops.
Whenever the wind passed, abandoned plastic cups rolled across the wet ground like forgotten memories.
And somewhere far away…
the final echoes of music slowly drowned inside the silence.
Ehan walked alone.
Hands inside his hoodie pockets.
Earphones in.
But no music played.
Sometimes silence hurts less than voices.
His phone still felt strangely heavy in his hand.
Unknown account.
No name.
No identity.
Only those messages replaying again and again inside his head—
“You finally started testing them?”
“Deep down… you already know nobody stays.”
The words disturbed him.
Not because they were false.
But because they felt personal.
Too personal.
Like someone had been quietly watching him for a very long time.
Ehan unlocked the profile again.
Nothing.
No bio.
No followers.
No posts.
It looked less like an account…
and more like a shadow made only for him.
Then—
a voice broke through the silence.
“You look like someone who just lost a war.”
Ehan stopped.
Near the old library stairs stood a girl.
Two coffee cups in her hands.
An oversized black hoodie wrapped around her.
Rain-soaked strands of hair rested against her face.
No heavy makeup.
No fake festival smile.
Just calm eyes…
the kind that looked at people too carefully.
Ehan frowned slightly.
“Do I know you?”
She held one coffee toward him.
“Not that well.”
“I don’t take drinks from strangers.”
“Good,” she said quietly. “Most people should learn that.”
For one brief second—
Ehan almost smiled.
Almost.
The girl casually sat on the railing beside the stairs.
As if silence between two people wasn’t uncomfortable at all.
Ehan looked at her again.
“Everyone’s still at the fest.”
“And you’re here,” she replied.
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“That wasn’t a question either.”
Ehan stared at her for a moment longer.
Strange.
Usually people around him tried too hard.
Too loud.
Too interested.
Too fake.
But this girl felt different.
Like she had no interest in impressing him.
No interest in forcing a conversation.
She simply existed beside him…
comfortably.
And somehow—
that felt unfamiliar.
Dangerously unfamiliar.
“Do you always talk like this?” Ehan asked.
“Only when someone looks emotionally exhausted.”
The words hit harder than expected.
Ehan immediately looked away.
Most people noticed his expressions.
She noticed his silence.
And that difference scared him.
Rain started falling again.
Soft at first.
Then heavier.
Students ran through the campus laughing, screaming, trying to save themselves from getting soaked.
The girl quietly watched them.
Then softly said—
“Funny, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“People.”
Ehan stayed silent.
She continued—
“They spend the whole night trying to prove they’re happy.”
Something inside Ehan stopped for a second.
Because that sentence sounded exactly like something he would’ve said himself.
“Who said I care about people?” he asked coldly.
“You don’t.”
Her answer came instantly.
“You only care that they always disappoint you in the end.”
Silence.
Heavy silence.
The kind that says more than conversations ever can.
For the first time in a long while…
Ehan genuinely didn’t know what to say.
The girl slowly stood up.
“Anyway,” she said while adjusting her sleeves, “you should go home.”
“And why do you care?”
For a few seconds, she just looked at him.
Not romantically.
Not softly.
Just with a strange sadness in her eyes.
Then she spoke—
“Because people who slowly start disappearing… secretly wish someone notices them before they’re completely gone.”
Ehan’s heartbeat slowed.
Just for a second.
Then came that fear again.
That strange feeling crawling beneath his skin.
How was this girl understanding him so perfectly?
“Who are you?” he asked quietly.
The girl stepped backward into the rain.
“A mistake… you probably haven’t made yet.”
And then she walked away.
No goodbye.
No smile.
Nothing.
Ehan remained standing there while the rain completely soaked through his hoodie.
But his mind stayed trapped on her.
There was something strange about that girl.
Not dangerous.
Something worse.
Familiar.
Like she understood the darkest parts of him…
the ones he had never shown anyone.
Then suddenly—
his phone vibrated again.
Unknown account.
One new message.
“Careful, Ehan.”
“The people who understand you the fastest… are usually the ones who destroy you the deepest.”
For the first time that night—
fear replaced loneliness.
And beneath the dark clouds hanging over the city…
thunder quietly echoed across the sky.
