The next morning, the sun felt colder.
MK sat by the tractor near the edge of the schoolyard, phone in hand.
The notification buzzed.
> Mi-un: "I don't like you."
The words hit him harder than anything ever had.
He stared at the screen for a long time.
The laughter of nearby students sounded distant, almost unreal.
Sandeep came running, waving a lunch box.
"Oi! What are you doing here?"
But MK didn't reply.
He just slipped the phone into his pocket and stood up slowly.
His legs felt heavy.
That afternoon, MK collapsed in class.
The teacher shouted his name, students rushed forward.
Everything became blurry — voices muffled, lights too bright.
When he woke up, he was in a hospital bed.
The smell of antiseptic burned his nose.
Machines beeped softly beside him.
MK turned his head and stared at the ceiling.
His chest hurt, but not just from his illness.
"Is this really my life?" he whispered to the empty room.
"The person I love… just rejected me.
Maybe she has her reasons… but still…"
His phone buzzed again.
With trembling fingers, MK unlocked it.
> Mi-un: "I regret what I said. I just… needed time.
I'm sorry."
MK let out a bitter laugh that turned into a cough.
He grabbed a pen from the bedside table and scribbled on a scrap of paper:
> I am dying.
The words stared back at him like a confession.
Tears blurred his vision.
He folded the paper and placed it under his pillow,
as if hiding a secret from the world.
Outside, the evening sun was setting.
The room grew dim, but MK didn't turn on the light.
He just lay there, waiting for the stars to come out.