RED STRING || 1

Chapter fifteen.

IRENE RUSHED TO Seulgi as soon as she heard the faint, almost inaudible sound of her name escape Seulgi's lips. The room felt heavy, thick with the kind of silence that one could only experience after a great deal of pain had been endured. The fact that Seulgi was speaking — even just saying her name — was like a delicate but miraculous sign of life returning to her after months of darkness. Irene could feel the warmth of tears forming in her eyes as she cupped Seulgi's face gently, as though she feared that even a small movement would cause her to break.

“Seulgi,” Irene whispered, the sound of her name on her lips feeling foreign but beautiful. “You said my name…”

Seulgi blinked slowly, her gaze unfocused but still, there was a faint light in her eyes. Irene smiled through her tears, feeling a soft, fragile hope bloom within her chest. For so long, Seulgi had been caught in her own mind, locked in a place that Irene could not reach, unable to speak, to cry, to even express her own needs. And now — now Seulgi had said her name.

Irene leaned in, pulling Seulgi into a tight embrace, feeling the trembling of her body as if Seulgi was holding on for dear life. Seulgi’s arms slowly wrapped around Irene in response, an automatic gesture that spoke volumes about the familiarity, the comfort, that Irene offered to her. But even in the warmth of the hug, Irene could feel it — the tension, the fear, the lingering shadows of what Seulgi had been through.

The echoes of that night haunted Seulgi, lingering like a stain on her soul. Even now, her mind would wander, and her body would tremble, as if recalling the things she couldn't — or wouldn’t — speak of. The hugs, the comfort, the solace Irene tried to give — they helped, but they didn’t erase the scars.

“Head hurts…” Seulgi said, her voice soft and distant, pointing at her head as if the physical pain could serve as a distraction from the emotional turmoil she felt.

Irene's heart clenched. She moved slowly, cautiously, as if the world would shatter if she moved too quickly. She placed her hands on Seulgi’s forehead, brushing back the stray hairs that clung to her skin, and leaned in to kiss her forehead gently, a silent promise of care. “It’s okay,” Irene murmured, her lips lingering a second longer than usual. “I’m here.”

Most nights, this was the rhythm of their life. Seulgi would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming and gasping for air, her body trembling violently as if she was caught in the throes of an inescapable nightmare. Irene would wake, her heart racing, her body on alert as she rushed to Seulgi's side. There would be no words — only the quiet, steady rhythm of Irene rubbing Seulgi's back, her gentle hands offering comfort, a reminder that Seulgi was safe now, in her arms. She would whisper soft words of reassurance until Seulgi fell back into an uneasy sleep, her sobs quieting with each passing minute.

“Just rest,” Irene said softly as she stepped back, trying to keep the sadness from her voice, trying to maintain the warmth and tenderness in her presence. “I’ll get something downstairs. Do you want anything?”

Seulgi's eyes, though clouded with confusion, drifted around the room as if searching for something. For a long moment, her gaze was unfocused, not meeting Irene’s. But Irene waited patiently, knowing that Seulgi's mind worked slowly, that every decision felt like a mountain to climb. Then, finally, Seulgi spoke again, her voice uncertain, her eyes flicking to Irene.

“Strawberry ice cream?” Seulgi asked, her tone hesitant, as if she was unsure whether that was what she truly craved.

Irene smiled softly, the small, tentative request breaking through the storm of worry in her heart. “Okay. I’ll have them buy it for you. Anything else?”

Seulgi shook her head slightly, her face softening with a quiet relief, and Irene knew that this was enough. This small piece of normalcy, this moment of care, was enough.