The wind at the summit cuts through my jacket like it has teeth, even though the early sun is out, casting long slashes of light over the damp, leaf-strewn trail. The Mount Royal Cross rises in the distance, tall and metallic, like some holy relic for tired hikers. We've just made it to the junction where the Summit Loop starts—an "optional" two-kilometer detour, according to the sign, which Tamara reads out like she's a park ranger on a mission.

Chloe groans behind me, dragging her feet in her fuzzy earmuffs. "Two more kilometers? Whyyyy."

"We've come this far! You can nap on the descent," Tamara calls back, already leading the charge with her gloves tucked into her jacket like she's in a Patagonia ad.

I pull my scarf tighter and look to my left. Taeho trudges beside me, his beanie slouched too low over his eyes, hood half-up like he's trying to disappear into himself. His steps are heavy, his jaw clenched.

"You've been grumbling since morning," I say, pitching my voice low so only he can hear. "What's going on with you?"

He shrugs, expression flat. "Nothing."

I give him a side glance. "You huffed at Chloe when she asked if pinecones float. That's... not your usual chill."

He exhales hard through his nose like it physically pains him to be here. Then, a beat of silence.

Finally: "You owe me, right?"

My brows arch. "You mean... ramen?"

"No. Yeah—I mean, not anymore. This is something else. Forget ramen."

That gets my full attention. I narrow my eyes. "What kind of something?"

He scratches the back of his neck, then gestures vaguely like the words might just fall into the air for him. "Just... cover for me later. I need to slip away."

"To do what?"

"To see someone."

I blink. "Someone?" I squint at him like he's suddenly speaking in riddles.

He presses two fingers to his temple like he's fighting off a stress migraine. "My girlfriend," he mutters, fast and low, like he's confessing a felony.

I stop walking for a second. "Wait—she's here? Like, here here?"

"Yeah. In the city. We planned to travel around this same time like the group's plans, but just the two of us. Then you came crying about 'Operation Win Haeri's Heart' or whatever—"

"I didn't cry."

"—and I thought, 'Okay, maybe I can juggle both.' You needed help. She was cool with adjusting. But then we ended up stuck like this, and every time I try to sneak away, someone calls me over. Chloe wants emergency pretzels. Tamara's shouting for photos like she's directing a wedding shoot. Even Yegi made me explain how squirrels survive winter. Like bro, I don't know!"

I snort. "You do have a very... approachable face."

He deadpans, "I will actually leave you here to figure out your "quest"."

I shake my head, amused. "So, what, you just want ten minutes alone to call her?"

"I called her yesterday at the mall. She's just arrived today, and I need to bail on the hockey game later to see her. I haven't even talked to her since last night. No texts, she must've been tired from her flight."

I lift my hands in surrender. "Hey, no judgment. If I had a girlfriend in the same city, I'd have bailed on this hike yesterday."

"Exactly. But now I'm stuck playing social butterfly."

I glance down at my shoes—spattered with wet leaves and mud from earlier, the edges drying stiff in the cold air. "You could've just told me, man."

He shrugs again. "Didn't want the whole group knowing. Then it becomes a thing. Now you know. So congrats, you're my accomplice."

I grin. "I always suspected I'd be good at crime."

Taeho rolls his eyes. "So you'll cover for me later?"

"Of course. Just tell me when. I'll make something up. Maybe you got food poisoning from Chloe's gummy bear stash."

He chuckles under his breath. "Appreciate it."

We fall into step again, our boots crunching over the gravel path. The rest of the group is up ahead, laughing about something. I catch a glimpse of Haeri turning toward me, her scarf flutters in the wind, loose strands of hair sticking to her cheek, face tinged pink from the chill. She meets my eyes, and I suddenly forget how to walk for a second.

Taeho sees it too. "You're so down bad," he says under his breath.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

"Too late."

--++*++--

The late lunch smells like grilled heaven. Meat hisses over the tabletop grill, smoke curling in the air and soaking into my hoodie. Plates come and go—ribs, pancakes, bubbling tofu stew. There's barely enough room to rest a cup between the bowls. It's chaos, but the good kind. Outside, the sky's gone pale grey, like it's contemplating snow but hasn't decided yet.

Taeho's been glued to his phone the whole meal, barely looking up except to toss in the occasional grunt or sarcastic comment. Across from him, Yegi's on a mission—snapping food shots, directing group photos, checking angles like this is her full-time job. She catches a candid of me mid-bite and beams. I don't even protest.

Tamara and Chloe are deep in food talk, rating each dish like judges on a reality show.

"The marinade's a little sweeter, but not in a bad way," Tamara says, holding a rib midair.

"It's better than that barbecue joint back in Toronto, remember?" Chloe replies. "That place gave me emotional damage."

They rope Haeri and Yegi into the critique, laughing about kitchen disasters and promising to make a "vacation recipe series" when they're back. Chloe even starts ranking kimchi from best to blandest. Haeri hasn't eaten much, barely halfway through her plate, but I notice her eyes flitting around the table like she's taking mental snapshots—resting a little longer on each person—makes it obvious she's enjoying this. Comfortable, I think. Maybe even happy.

For a while.

Then the conversation tilts. Tamara brings up an old classmate who used to write love letters to the boy she liked, and suddenly we're knee-deep in high school lore and crush confessions.

"Oh god, I had a thing for this guy who only wore neon socks," Yegi groans into her palm.

"I liked someone who didn't know I existed until graduation," Chloe laughs. "Tragic but charming."

Tamara's acting out dramatic reenactments of failed flings and what-if scenarios. Haeri laughs along, at first, but when the conversation creeps closer to real past relationships, her smile slips. Her gaze flicks to her plate.

Chloe, grinning too hard, jabs her chopsticks toward Taeho. "Alright, sadboy. What about your ex files? You've definitely had some wild romance stories."

Taeho doesn't even blink. "Not really. I got dumped. End of story." He shrugs like it doesn't matter, and maybe it doesn't. "But hey, I'm good now."

There's a brief, collective "aww" moment, mostly sarcastic.

Then all eyes turn to me.

I already knew it was coming. Still, I freeze for a second, chopsticks hovering midair.

"Alright, freshie, spill it," Tamara teases. "Did you dump your ex, or did she dump you?"

I glance across the table—instinct, maybe. Haeri's looking straight at me. Not pushing, not smiling. Just... waiting. And I hate how much that makes me care about the answer I give.

"Uh," I clear my throat. "I got dumped too."

It's true. About the most recent one, at least. Nobody asks which ex they mean, so I leave it at that. I don't mention the one before her—the one I walked away from because not only was she a gold-digger, but she also turned everything I said into a reason to fight. Doesn't matter now.

But even as I talk, I keep flicking glances at Haeri, watching her face. Her expression doesn't change much. But her eyes—there's something in them. Curiosity, maybe. Or caution, like she's trying to read something between my words. 

Our eyes meet. For a moment, the others blur out like static fading in the background. It feels like we're having a quiet exchange—one layered with unspoken things. I wonder what she's thinking.

Past relationships aren't a crime, but I don't like laying mine out in front of the one person I'm trying not to scare away.

So before it drifts anywhere uncomfortable, I pivot.

"What about you, Tam?" I ask, shifting the spotlight, "Any tragic exes we should know about?"

She doesn't hesitate—talking before she can think, as usual. "Oh please. None of us here even had real exes. Chloe and I just crushed on athletes and k-drama leads who never even looked our way—"

Chloe nods reflexively, sipping her drink. "Same. Fantasy is safe."

"—except for Haeri," Tamara finishes. "The only one who actually had something real."

 The table goes still.

Haeri's head snaps up. "It didn't even start," she says, voice tight.

Tamara opens her mouth, then hesitates. "But... it was still something real, wasn't it?" She trails off, suddenly aware of all the eyes on her—including mine. And Taeho's.

Even Taeho's off his phone now, clearly invested. Chloe's wide-eyed. Everyone's watching Haeri like they're waiting for her to react—and she does, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.

Then Yegi, bless her timing, pipes up like nothing happened, "Okay, but this grilled rib? Holy crap. Ten out of ten."

Chloe immediately joins in with a comment about the sauce. Tamara jumps on the food train a little too fast to be casual, while Taeho smothers a laugh behind his cup, but the smirk on his face says that was fun.

I'm still glancing at Haeri, watching the way she shifts in her seat, lips pressed tight. 

I wonder what would've happened if Tamara hadn't said anything at all. 

But now she's... different. Guarded. Like someone yanked a curtain shut.

She said it didn't even start—like it wasn't real enough to count.
And if it wasn't a thing, why did Tamara bring it up like everyone knew?
And then everyone gets uncomfortable, like it's taboo.

I don't know what to make of that. I'm not mad. I don't think she owes me anything.
We've barely started figuring out what this is—whatever this even is.

But I guess part of me thought she was... like me.
Careful. Quiet until it mattered.

I told the truth, because it wasn't a big deal. Just a breakup. Nothing I'm hiding.
But her silence feels different. Not protective—defensive.

And I don't know if that means she's not ready, or if someone made her feel like she had to be.

A name she doesn't say.
A version of her that exists in someone else's memory. 

Either way... I think I want to know.

Eventually.