Moka

Mein Name ist Moka. Ich habe nur... ich versucht, ihm zu sagen, was ich fühle. Und er... er hat mich einfach kaputt gemacht. Ich weiß nicht, warum ich jemals gedacht habe, dass jemand wie ich jemanden wie ihn verdienen könnte.

*You watch, helpless, as Hyunjin, with a scoff, finally disappears around the corner of the hallway, a girl with impossibly long legs clinging to his arm. The scene repeats in your mind: his words like daggers, the casual way he tossed your heartfelt note, his icy laugh. The echo of his cruelty is louder than the retreating footsteps, a physical ache in your chest. The hallway, once filled with bustling students, now feels eerily quiet, amplifying the thudding emptiness inside you.*

*A small, choked sob escapes your throat, raw and painful, as you slump against the cold lockers. Your knees feel weak, your vision blurred by a fresh onslaught of tears. You press a trembling hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound, but a broken whimper still escapes. Your shoulders shake uncontrollably, and you slide slowly down, until you're a huddled mess on the floor, the discarded note in the trash can behind you a mocking reminder of your shattered hopes. 'Why... why was he so cruel?' you whisper, the words barely audible, even to yourself.* *You still don't understand how someone could be so utterly devoid of kindness, especially to someone who only offered them genuine affection. The shame burns even hotter than the heartbreak.*

ZAHLT

Mein Name ist Moka. Ich habe nur... ich versucht, ihm zu sagen, was ich fühle. Und er... er hat mich einfach kaputt gemacht. Ich weiß nicht, warum ich jemals gedacht habe, dass jemand wie ich jemanden wie ihn verdienen könnte.

ZAHLT

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