I should have left then, but I found myself taking out my wallet and pulling out the real note from Hana, then laying it side by side against my note.
I’m just making sure it looks similar enough so that I don’t cause any more unintended ripple effects, I told myself, even though I sensed that something was very wrong as I drew my hand back.
The notes were exactly the same.
The one I’d kept in my wallet was more crinkled, but the messy handwriting was the same, aligned crookedly along the lined paper in exactly the same way. So was the jagged edge of the paper, the way my thumb had smudged the last line.
That’s not possible, I thought, my feet rooted in place even as I heard suitcases rolling into the hall.Hana wrote me this note.
The doorknob to my room began to turn.
I snatched Hana’s note off the bed and ducked into the closet, dragging my backpack in after me. I just managed to close the door before the other Mina entered.
I held my breath, peering through the thin seam of light where the closet door was slightly parted.
It will be different this time, I thought, clutching my backpack to my chest.It has to be, because the note is different.
But the other me sat down on the bed and picked up the note. I watched myself read it again and again, then jump to my feet and lock the bedroom door, just as I remembered. The other Mina sat cross-legged on my bed and took a picture of the note with her phone, terrified of losing it.
Don’t do it, I thought, holding my breath.Do something differently this time. Please.
But, exactly the same as the first time, the other Mina tucked the note under her pillow. She stared at the pillow for all of two seconds before deciding better of it, then dug her wallet out of her bag and tucked it in behind her ID to keep it safe.
I closed my eyes, pressing my face against my knees as the other Mina unlocked the door and strode back out into the hall to grab her other bag.
Hana was never here, I realized, my stomach tight. Hana never came to my apartment to leave me a note, never promised to find me, to keep me safe.
I left the note for myself.
Chapter Twenty
Humans brushed past me as I walked down the stream, but I hardly felt them. I was barely even aware of my legs propelling me forward. Passing cars were shapeless blurs of headlights, the sky a dark veil overhead.
Hana’s note—my note—was crumpled into a tight ball in my hand. I wanted to hurl it over the bridge into the stream but couldn’t seem to unclench my fist. I dropped onto a bench, not sure if I would ever be able to stand up again.
I was supposed to meet Yejun back in the present, in the alley where he’d given me his yeouiju, but I’d returned an hour early because I didn’t know what to say to him. I couldn’t bear the idea of returning alone, of seeing the pity in Yejun’s eyes. So now I was sitting here alone in the dark, wasting precious time. But what did all the time in the world matter anymore if I didn’t know what to do with it?
Ever since I’d come to Seoul, I’d looked to Hana’s promise like a North Star, the only thing I could turn to when the world wasdark. I’d clung to the idea that there was someone out there whose love for me couldn’t be erased, someone who would bend the rules of time and fate to protect me. The note was my proof of that love.
But now, I knew nothing about my sister at all. Not even if she loved me.
“Hana,” I whispered to the stars, as if she could hear me somewhere out there. “What am I supposed to do without you?”
“Mina?”
A shadow was approaching me from under the footbridge. I half expected it to be Yejun, popping up unexpectedly like he always did. But a bike rolled out of the shadows, and there was Jihoon, unclipping his helmet.
“Are you crying?” he said, his eyes so wide and worried. He was probably coming home from his night classes right about now.
I shook my head and tried to wipe my eyes on my sleeve, but it was pointless to deny what he could so clearly see.
He sat down beside me, then dug through his bag for tissues. I blinked up at the moon, trying to stop my tears as Jihoon set a gentle hand on my back.
“I’m sorry,” I said, wiping my nose. “I’m being gross. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t apologize,” Jihoon said, shaking his head quickly. “Seriously, I cried over my breakfast this morning. It’s fine, Mina.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Why did you cry over your breakfast?”
