trust?
Nayeon discovers that her girlfriend, Y/N, has been hiding a serious illness, leading to a painful confrontation that threatens to break their relationship apart.
tags :: angst, illness, arguments
wc :: 1,571
cast :: nayeon, y/n
song :: waiting room - pheobe bridgers
Nayeon stands in the kitchen, her hands moving with practiced ease as she prepares dinner. The familiar sounds of sizzling vegetables and the rhythmic chop of the knife do little to calm the growing unease in her chest. You’re late—again. It’s been happening more frequently, and Nayeon can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.
She glances at the clock, her worry deepening. Over an hour has passed since you were supposed to be home. Her phone sits silent on the counter, no response to the texts she’s sent. Anxiety gnaws at her, and she tries to push it down, telling herself that you’re just caught up at work, as usual. But a part of her knows that’s not the full truth.
Something has been off for months. She’s noticed it in the way you’ve been distant, the way your laughter doesn’t quite reach your eyes anymore. You’ve been coming home late, your face pale and tired, the dark circles under your eyes growing more prominent. Every time she tries to ask, you brush it off, claiming it’s just stress. But Nayeon knows you better than that.
The front door creaks open, and she feels a mix of relief and dread. She turns off the stove and moves to the entrance, forcing a smile as you step inside. You look exhausted, your shoulders slumped and your skin pale, as if all the life has been drained out of you.
“Hey, you’re home,” Nayeon says, trying to keep her voice light, though it trembles with worry. “I was starting to get worried.”
You offer a weak smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Sorry, got held up at work.”
Nayeon studies your face, her heart aching at how tired you look. She steps closer, reaching out to touch your cheek, hoping to offer some comfort, but you flinch away before she can make contact. The small movement stabs at her heart, a confirmation of the distance that’s grown between you.
“What’s going on?” Nayeon asks softly, her voice filled with concern.
“Nothing,” you reply quickly, too quickly, as you move past her towards the bedroom. “I just need to change.”
She follows you, her worry growing with every step. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks. You’re always tired, you’re late, and you never tell me where you’ve been. I’m worried about you.”
You pause in the doorway of the bedroom, your back to her. “I told you, I’m just stressed. Work’s been a lot.”
Nayeon hears the fatigue in your voice, but it doesn’t explain everything. “I know work is hard, but this feels different,” she says, her voice trembling. “I feel like you’re hiding something from me.”
You don’t respond, and the silence is deafening. Nayeon’s heart pounds in her chest as she waits, hoping for some kind of reassurance. But when you don’t say anything, the fear she’s been trying to suppress bubbles to the surface.
“Please, don’t shut me out,” she whispers, taking a step closer, her voice pleading.
Your shoulders tense, and for a moment, Nayeon thinks you might finally open up. But then you sigh, shaking your head.
“I’m not hiding anything,” you say, your voice flat. “I’m just tired, Nayeon. Can we drop it?”
Her heart sinks at your words. She wants to believe you, but the emptiness in your eyes tells her something else entirely. She nods slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat.
“Okay,” she murmurs, though it feels like a lie. “I’ll go finish dinner.”
You don’t say anything as you walk into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. Nayeon stands there for a moment, staring at the closed door, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between you.
As she turns to head back to the kitchen, something catches her eye. Your bag is lying on the floor, half-open, with a small bottle of pills peeking out. Nayeon hesitates, guilt pricking at her conscience as she considers going through your things. But the worry in her chest pushes her forward.
She kneels down and gently pulls the bag open, her breath catching when she sees the bottle of pills. Her hands tremble as she picks it up, turning it over to read the label. It’s a prescription she’s never seen before, and the name of the medication sends a chill down her spine.
She’s not a doctor, but she recognizes the name. The drug is used to treat a serious, chronic illness—something much more than just stress or fatigue. Her heart races as she tries to process what she’s seeing. You’ve been taking these pills, hiding them from her, hiding your illness.
“Y/N?” Nayeon calls out, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger.
The bedroom door opens, and you step out, your face going pale as you see the bottle in her hand.
“Nayeon, I can explain—”
“Explain?” Her voice shakes, tears welling up in her eyes. “Explain what? That you’ve been sick this whole time and didn’t tell me? That you’ve been hiding it from me?”
Your face crumples, guilt and regret etched in every line. “I didn’t want you to worry,” you say, your voice breaking. “I didn’t want to burden you with—”
“Burden me?” Nayeon’s voice rises, the anger taking over as she steps closer to you, her grip tightening on the pill bottle. “How could you think that? We’re supposed to be in this together. You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle. You don’t get to shut me out like this.”
Tears begin to stream down your face as you shake your head, looking more broken than she’s ever seen you. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want you to feel trapped, like you had to take care of me. I thought I could handle it on my own.”
“Well, you can’t!” The words burst out of her, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “You’re not handling it, Y/N. You’re falling apart, and I’m watching you slip away from me, and I don’t even know why!”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice so small, so full of pain. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t enough, Y/N.” Nayeon’s voice shakes, the hurt and betrayal cutting deep. “You lied to me. You made me feel like I was going crazy, like I was imagining things. And now... now I don’t even know if I can trust you.”
The room falls into a heavy silence, the air thick with the weight of her words. You look at her, your face crumpling as the reality of what you’ve done sinks in.
“Nayeon, please,” you beg, reaching out to her, desperate to bridge the gap between you. But she takes a step back, shaking her head, her heart breaking at the sight of you so vulnerable, so lost.
“No,” she says, her voice firm even as tears blur her vision. “You don’t get to ask me to forgive you right now. You don’t get to make this okay. Not after what you’ve done.”
Your hand falls back to your side, and you swallow hard, tears streaming down your face. “I... I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared.”
“We could have been scared together,” she whispers, her voice barely holding together. “But now... now I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
The words hit you like a physical blow, and you almost collapse under the weight of them. The room is suffocating, filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths and the unbearable tension hanging between you.
“I think you should go,” Nayeon finally says, her voice hollow, devoid of the love that once filled it. The words feel foreign on her tongue, but she can’t see another way out of the spiral you’re both trapped in.
Your breath hitches, your eyes widening with a fresh wave of panic. “Nayeon, please...”
“Just go,” she repeats, turning her back on you, unable to bear the sight of your shattered expression. “I need some time to think.”
You don’t move at first, as if frozen in place by the realization that you’ve truly hurt her, that you might have lost her. But then you take a shaky breath, forcing your legs to carry you toward the door. Each step is heavy, filled with regret and sorrow that you both know will linger long after tonight.
You reach the door, your hand grasping the handle as if it’s the only thing keeping you upright. You turn back one last time, hoping—praying—that she’ll stop you, that she’ll say something, anything, to make this right. But Nayeon stands with her back to you, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
With a sob of your own, you open the door and step out into the cold night. The door closes behind you, the sound echoing in your heart like the finality of something precious slipping away.
You walk away, the cool night air biting at your skin as tears stream down your face. You thought you were protecting her, sparing her the pain of knowing, but all you’ve done is push her away. The love of your life, the one person you thought you could protect by keeping your illness a secret, is now out of reach.
As you wander aimlessly, your thoughts a whirlwind of regret and anguish, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve lost
