Yin Yin sat cross-legged on the couch, eyes fixed on a random cooking show playing on low volume. Beside her, Yu Yin was humming to herself while flipping through a photo album she didn't fully remember.
"Wow," Yu Yin whispered, holding up a picture of both of them in matching strawberry aprons, covered in flour. "Did we bake a cake or blow up the kitchen?"
Yin Yin let out a soft laugh. "Both."
Yu Yin laughed too, completely unaware of the hollow ache behind Yin Yin's smile.
They were here, together again. But the years that really mattered—the years that defined them, the years when they fought, cried, built dreams, pulled each other out of heartbreak, and laughed till dawn—were gone. Erased from Yu Yin's mind like chalk from a blackboard.
Yin Yin didn't blame her. She couldn't. But she hated how it made her feel like a stranger in her best friend's life.
"I think I'll nap," Yu Yin said, yawning and stretching.
"Go ahead," Yin Yin nodded.
As soon as Yu Yin disappeared into her room, Yin Yin stood up, biting her lower lip. Her hands trembled slightly as she picked up an empty glass from the center table and walked into the kitchen. She poured herself water, but didn't drink it. Instead, she stood frozen by the sink, staring at the glass.
"She really doesn't remember anything... nothing about the stupid handshake pact we made after our first heartbreak, or the ridiculous pink scooter rides, or that time we got locked inside a karaoke booth for three hours..." her voice cracked.
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. Then another.
Yin Yin put the glass down and quickly wiped her eyes. No one could see this. Especially not Yu Yin. She had to stay strong. Be chill. Like always.
She needed air.
Slipping on a hoodie, she left the house through the side door and made her way into the little garden courtyard. It was quiet. Peaceful. The late afternoon sun filtered through the bougainvillea vines, casting long shadows on the stone path.
She took a deep breath and exhaled shakily, hugging herself.
"You always cry when no one's looking."
Yin Yin turned around abruptly, eyes widening. "Mingze?"
Mingze stood by the gate, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone. His expression was calm, but his eyes—those warm brown eyes—were scanning her face intently.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, quickly wiping at her cheeks again.
"I came to get the flash drive I left the night Lu Chen and I had dinner here," he said. "Didn't expect to find you crying in the garden like a broken K-drama lead."
Yin Yin rolled her eyes, trying to scoff. "I wasn't crying."
"You weren't?" He stepped forward, casually leaning on the garden railing. "So the tear tracks and red nose are just... part of your skincare routine?"
Yin Yin looked away.
"I'm fine," she mumbled.
"Sure. And I'm secretly a giraffe."
That made her huff a quiet laugh, but she still didn't face him.
Mingze's tone softened. "She still doesn't remember?"
Yin Yin nodded slowly. "Not the important parts. Not the real stuff."
"You know it's not her fault, right?"
"Yeah, I know." Yin Yin's voice wavered. "It just... it feels like I lost her, even though she's standing right in front of me."
There was silence. Mingze didn't try to interrupt her.
"I keep telling myself to chill, to give her time. But she's smiling at me like we're new friends. She doesn't remember why we even called ourselves 'the Y-squared duo.' She doesn't remember how we carved our names into the library desk in middle school or—" her voice cracked again, and this time she gave up pretending. "Or how we promised to never forget each other."
Mingze stepped closer and gently pulled her into a hug. It was warm. Familiar. Safe. She hesitated for a second before resting her chin on his shoulder.
"You've always carried everyone else's emotions like a backpack full of rocks," he whispered. "When do you let someone carry yours?"
"I don't know how to."
He chuckled quietly. "You just did."
They stood there for a long moment, the rustling leaves filling the silence.
Yin Yin pulled back slowly, wiping her face again. "Don't tell Lu Chen, okay?"
"He already knows. He's the one who called me to check on you."
She blinked. "Wait... what?"
"He said, and I quote, 'She acts like nothing gets to her. That's when you should worry.'"
Yin Yin's lips parted, and she couldn't stop the surprised laugh that escaped her.
Typical Lu Chen.
Mingze gave her a half-smile. "Want me to go get you something sweet? Ice cream? Chocolate? Fried chicken?"
"I'm not a cartoon character," she teased.
He shrugged. "You kind of are. You cried in a garden and still look like you could be in a music video."
She punched his arm lightly. "Shut up."
He grinned and turned to go inside. "I'll grab that flash drive and leave you two alone. But seriously, don't bottle this up too much, Yin Yin."
"I won't," she whispered.
After he left, she looked up at the sky.
She missed her best friend.
But she was going to fight to get her back.
Even if it meant revisiting every memory they ever had.
Even if she had to walk Yu Yin through their story one step at a time.
Even if it broke her.
Because some friendships were worth that much.