Paradox of Being - Sukani's Return

I had the greatest week of my life. Seriously, it felt like nothing could go wrong. It was just me and Kimberly, everywhere, all the time. In class, we’d sit next to each other, whispering and passing notes when the teacher wasn’t looking.

In the library, we’d pretend to study, but mostly we’d just chat quietly, sharing earphones and watching random videos together.

The cafeteria? Same thing. It was like we were in our own little world, completely wrapped up in each other. And when we weren’t together, we were texting—non-stop.

There was one night when we kept texting until two in the morning. I could barely keep my eyes open, but I couldn’t stop. I had to write it down in my chronicle later—I was talking to Kimberley until 2 a.m. I mean, come on.

That’s practically legendary for me.

It felt like I’d crossed some invisible line, like I was finally getting to know her on a deeper level. And man, Kimberly was full of surprises.

Every time we talked, I discovered something new. Like how her favorite color is black, which totally threw me off at first because I always imagined she'd like something bright, like pink or yellow.

But no—black. It somehow suited her though, in a cool, mysterious way. Then there was her obsession with K-dramas. She could go on and on about her favorite shows and songs, her eyes lighting up whenever she talked about them.

And then there’s this little thing she does when she’s nervous or lost in thought—she runs her fingers through her hair, over and over, like she’s trying to smooth out some invisible tangle.

It’s kind of adorable, actually, like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.

I got to know Kimberly was obsessed with BTS—a group of seven ridiculously cute guys, as she called them, all with names I had to learn just from hearing her talk about them so much. Not just their real names, though, their stage names too.

RM, V, Jimin, Jin, Suga, J-Hope, and little JK—the one she insisted was the absolute cutest.

She'd light up whenever she mentioned them, like the whole world was suddenly brighter.

Eventually, I got curious enough to listen to some of their songs too. There was this one time in the library, we were sitting close, sharing a pair of headphones, and she played The Truth Untold.

The moment the soft, haunting melody filled my ears, something shifted.

I didn’t just fall for the song—I think I fell for her a little bit more right then.

It was like this perfect, quiet moment where everything felt connected—me, her, the music. And I realized something else: when Kimberly gets comfortable, she really starts talking—a lot. She’d open up about everything, like how her dad calls her "Kim" and how she loves Chinese food, especially Rameon, which she could eat every day if given the chance.

Then there was her biggest dream: to meet RM, her bias, in South Korea one day. She’d talk about it like it was a fact, like she was destined to meet him. I couldn’t help but admire her for it.

It was Friday, and we were in the cafeteria, but honestly, the food didn’t matter. It was more about being with her, the way we’d laugh, tease each other, and debate about the most random things.

That day, we were in the middle of an argument about literature, and Kimberly was fiercely defending her favorite author. She stabbed her fork into a piece of meat, her eyes narrowing playfully as she looked straight into mine. "Why isn’t Oswald the king of literature again?" she asked, her voice challenging but with a spark of humor behind it.

I paused, pretending to be deep in thought, though I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face.

Kimberly could get so passionate about the smallest things, and it was one of the many things I loved about her.

I sighed with a smile. "Come on, Mani wrote Book of Thoughts, for fuck’s sake. You love that book."

Kimberley pouted, her lips pushing out in that dramatic way she always did when she was teasing.

"I love Love in a Library even more," she said.

I raised an eyebrow. "I haven’t even read Love in a Library. It’s not even that popular," I argued.

She leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "It doesn’t have to be popular to be the best thing written on paper."

I fake-gasped, clutching my chest in mock betrayal. "So you’re leaving me now? You’re leaving the Mani fan club?" I asked, shaking my head as the distant chatter of students echoed around us.

She chuckled, her eyes twinkling. "I love Mani, but I’m afraid I have to stick with Oswald from now on."

I dramatically held my chest, shaking my head. "Traitor," I muttered.

Just as I was about to say something else, Alex stormed over to our table like some kind of towering beast, his face twisted in anger.

"It’s not funny anymore, Hart. Quit the act. What’s going on between you two?" he spat, glaring at me.

"Excuse you?" I exclaimed, taken aback, but before I could say anything more, Kimberly was already on her feet. She moved so fast, with this calm composure that made her look fearless. She locked eyes with Alex, standing her ground.

"I never knew you were as dumb as you look," she said coolly.

Alex gritted his teeth, his nostrils flaring in frustration. "Kimberly!" he yelled, his voice shaking with anger.

"You’ll regret this. You’ll regret not accepting to date me!"

Kimberly’s face twisted in disgust. "Alex, you’re such an irrelevant waste of human genetics. Do you know that?"

Her voice was sharp, controlled. "What part of ‘leave me alone’ do you not understand? Now, please use those two left legs and fuck off." She sat down, completely unbothered, while Alex stood there, speechless and humiliated. His face flushed red with anger, but I knew he couldn’t do anything. Kimberly had influence, and he knew it. One wrong move, and he could easily lose his admission or worse.

With a scowl, he turned and stomped away, his friends trailing behind him like a bunch of lost puppies.

The small group of students who had gathered to watch dispersed, whispering to each other as they left. I couldn’t stop staring at Kimberly.

I was almost in shock. "How did you... what just happened?" I stammered, still processing everything. She glanced at me, completely unfazed.

"You okay?" she asked, a small smile playing on her lips. I let out a nervous laugh. "I didn’t know pretty girls could, you know, talk like that."

She blushed, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. "What do you have against pretty girls?" she teased.

I shrugged, grinning. "Well, I’ve been running into one a lot these days."

Her blush deepened, and I smiled, feeling that warm, familiar feeling settle in my chest again.