If No One Stands for Me

It had been almost ten minutes since I left the principal's office, but my steps felt heavy, as if my feet refused to leave that place. The world around me spun, like I was walking through a thick fog that clouded my sense of direction.

My scholarship was revoked.

That one sentence echoed in my ears like a death knell. All my hard work, sleepless nights, and sacrifices—gone. Just like that. Without clear evidence. Without a chance to explain. The world felt so unfair.

"Am I really that terrible...?" I whispered, barely audible.

The school hallway was empty that afternoon. Maybe the students were in class, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to leave. I wanted to get out of here.

But as I turned toward the back staircase, something caught my eye. A pair of white shoes with black soles. Exactly like the ones I saw that day in the hallway after leaving the teachers’ room.

A faint pink stain on the right side of the shoe... still there. Faded, but clear enough to make my heart race.

The shoes belonged to a girl. I didn’t see her face, only her back as she walked away quickly with two friends. I wanted to call out to Hana, but a voice in my head said: What for? What’s the point? Isn’t it already over?

My body felt drained. My head throbbed. So I chose to stay silent and walk away.

I was suspended. Barred from attending class. Waiting for the school board’s decision. It made me feel like an outcast.

The sky outside grew cloudy. I walked through the back corridor I usually used to exit the school faster. But I froze when I heard faint laughter from behind the left wall of the corridor.

"Poor girl, who would've thought it’d be that easy," a girl’s voice whispered.

"I thought she’d fight back. But she just stood there when they accused her," another voice joined in, followed by a soft laugh that sent chills down my spine.

"I told you, as long as we had the right fake evidence, it was all set. All we had to do was sit back and watch the drama unfold."

That voice—I knew it. A voice too sweet for such cruel words.

Hye Mi.

Their laughter made my blood boil. I knew I should walk away. But I couldn’t. My legs moved on their own, carrying me toward them.

They fell silent when they saw me.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” Hye Mi said, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, that sly smile etched on her face.

“Were you talking about me?” My voice trembled, but it was loud enough.

“Me? Not at all,” Hye Mi replied casually. “If you feel like we were... maybe it’s because you feel guilty?”

“I didn’t steal the test papers,” I hissed. “And you know that.”

One of her friends let out a small laugh. “Wow, still believing in yourself? That’s kind of impressive.”

My anger exploded. “If it was you who framed me—”

“Framed?” Hye Mi cut me off with a mocking tone. “Don’t go throwing around accusations. Or should I report you for slander?”

She stepped closer, her face nearly touching mine.

“I know you’re weak, Narin. Everyone knows. So stop trying to be a hero. Who do you think will defend you now? Even your friends probably don’t believe you.”

She shoved my shoulder roughly. “Go. Before you embarrass yourself even more.”

But I didn’t back down. My fists clenched. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Oh really?” she said flatly. Then without warning, her hand slapped my face.

Smack!

The world paused for a moment.

I staggered. My vision blurred. Heat spread from my cheek to my entire body.

I tried to fight back, but my arms felt weak. I grabbed her wrist, but she shoved me hard against the wall. My shoulder hit the edge, and I collapsed onto the rough floor.

“If you tell anyone,” Hye Mi whispered sharply in my ear, “I’ll make sure you lose more than just your scholarship. I’ll ruin your reputation. What if I say you went hysterical because you were guilty? I’ve got plenty of witnesses.”

Her laughter was cold. Piercing.

“So stay quiet, Narin. You don’t have anyone on your side anyway.”

Their footsteps slowly faded. I remained on the floor, breath shaky, tears streaming down uncontrollably. I touched my cheek. Warm liquid.

Blood.

There was a cut on my temple—maybe from the fall, maybe from her blow. But more painful than any physical wound… was the feeling of being completely shattered inside.

I didn’t do anything wrong. Yet everything pointed as if I did.

I wanted to fight back. But I was alone.

That’s when my phone buzzed.

With trembling hands, I reached for it, hoping—desperately—for something to hold on to.

[Do Hwan: You’re not alone, Narin. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.]

The message was simple. Warm. But it cut deep.

I stared at the screen for a long time. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, almost typing a reply. But then I thought about everything—losing my scholarship, being hit, being accused, and now... not knowing who to trust.

I deleted the words I’d typed.

And slid the phone back into my bag. Without replying.

---

The sky grew darker. A light drizzle fell as I walked home, head bowed along the narrow sidewalk. My uniform was a little wrinkled. The wound on my temple had begun to dry, but it still stung when the wind hit it. Thankfully, it wasn’t too noticeable.

I opened the door quietly. Silence. Only the old fan humming from the living room.

I slipped off my shoes silently. But even my cautious steps couldn’t hide my presence.

Dad had just come out of his room. He wore a worn-out t-shirt and home pants, his hair messy like he’d just woken up from a long sleep.

“Narin?” he called softly.

I paused for just a second, glanced at him... then turned to head for my room.

“You’re home? What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice groggy with lingering exhaustion.

I didn’t answer. I kept walking. But he wasn’t done yet.

“Narin, is something wrong?” he asked again, gently but with worry in his tone.

Still, I stayed silent.

“Narin, what happened? I’ve been trying to call you.”

I inhaled sharply, holding back something about to burst from within me.

“You keep asking the same thing,” I muttered, almost growling.

“I’m worried,” he said softly, stepping closer. “I just wanted to ask if you were free to come with m—"

“Enough!” I snapped, turning with tearful eyes.

“Why does everyone keep asking what’s wrong, what’s wrong, what’s wrong?! Why can’t anyone just shut up and stop asking anything?!”

Dad froze.

I stared at him for a few seconds, then turned away. Walked into my room and—

SLAM!

Locked the door. Leaned my back against it, and slowly, my body slid to the floor.

The room suddenly felt too small.

Its walls closed in on me with crashing thoughts. Questions with no answers. Anger I couldn’t scream. Wounds I couldn’t explain.

I hugged my knees, and for the first time that day, I cried in silence. The quietest sobs... but also the most painful.

---

I didn’t know how long I cried, until my body grew tired on its own. The sobs faded, but the tightness remained. I still sat against the door, arms around my knees loosening. My eyelids grew heavy. Too heavy to keep open.

And without realizing it, I fell asleep.

---

In my dream, the sky was too white. No colors—only the sounds of honking and sirens echoing. I stood in the middle of the road, unable to move. My feet felt glued to the asphalt.

Then I saw her.

That figure—my mother. Rushing across the street. Her sling bag nearly slipped, and she looked back at me. Her eyes met mine, panicked... but also relieved. As if to say: Wait a moment, I’m coming.

But then came the light.

And the screech of brakes.

I screamed—but no sound came out. Everything moved too fast. Her body thrown into the air. The world went silent, and I could only stand there, watching her lie motionless... eyes wide open, empty.

I ran. I screamed. But no one heard.

---

I woke up, gasping for air. Cold sweat clung to my temples. My whole body trembled.

The room was still dark. The lights hadn’t been turned on. But I knew—that dream… wasn’t just a dream.

It was a wound. One that had never truly healed.

And now, it felt like everything was crashing down at once.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. But behind the tightness in my chest, one thought kept haunting me:

Why is all of this happening to me?

The pain I thought I had buried—thought I had moved on from—was just waiting for its turn to cut deeper. And tonight, it all came at once: the truth, the nightmare, the guilt, the anger, and the loneliness.

I clutched my chest, struggling to steady my breath. But it felt too tight—like the entire world was pressing in on me from all sides.

Outside the window, the rain began to fall harder. The drops tapped against the glass as if trying to say something, but I didn’t want to listen.

I just wanted… to stop feeling like this.

But I knew—it wouldn’t be that easy.

I remembered Do Hwan’s message. His words still echoed clearly, like a whisper in the dark: “You’re not alone.”

But is that really enough?

I glanced at the phone lying on the floor. The screen blinked for a moment—there was a message. But I was too tired to check it. Too scared that my hope would just shatter again, like everything else that had fallen apart today.

That night, I let myself close my eyes again—not because I wanted to sleep, but because the real world… felt more terrifying than any nightmare.

And deep in my heart, I made a promise:

If no one will stand up for me… then I’ll stand up for myself.

---