Chapter 1 - You Ruined My Nap
The decision hadn’t been loud.
There were no screaming matches. No final doors slammed or plates shattered or vows ripped apart in rage. No, it came quietly spoken in a late-night living room, lit only by the faint blue glow of the television neither of them had been watching.
“We need to take a break,” Nova had said, her voice steady but empty. “From this whatever we’ve turned it into.”
And Haesoo, jaw tight, hadn’t argued. He simply nodded, like he’d known it was coming. Like the love they’d built had been held together by tape too fragile to stretch any further.
But the break wasn’t physical. Neither of them moved out. That would have made it easier. Instead, they agreed to continue living in the same house, just… differently.
Nova didn’t check in anymore.
Didn’t answer texts asking when she’d be home.
Didn’t explain why she left before dawn or why she sometimes didn’t return for a day or two.
Didn’t justify the bruises or the bloodied hands she cleaned in the middle of the night.
She wasn’t required to. That was the point. That was the distance.
Haesoo still cooked. Sometimes he’d set out a second plate for her in the hope she’d show. Most of the time, it went untouched. She ate when she felt like it. Slept when she remembered to. Laughed only when Asher visited or when her friends pulled her into music and games and reckless distraction.
Some nights, he’d hear the soft thud of her boots at 3 a.m., her body moving like a ghost through the house. Some mornings, she wasn’t there at all.
She was fading.
From him.
From the marriage.
From everything soft.
But Haesoo didn’t know how to reach for someone who’d already decided to vanish on her own terms.
And Nova? Nova wasn’t asking to be reached.
She was writing again.
Every room she walked into, a melody followed her. Every shadowed part of her soul bled onto paper. Songs started to form brutal, vulnerable, raw. Pieces of her mind that had been left too long in silence.
One morning, Haesoo passed by her closed studio door and paused. Faint notes of piano filtered out. Her voice followed low, mournful, devastating.
“I stayed for the promise. You stayed out of guilt.”
He didn’t knock.
He couldn’t.
Meanwhile, his own world spun on.
Haesoo was almost done with his solo album. It was his best work yet painful, polished, real. Each lyric carried the weight of everything he couldn’t say to her. Each note, a conversation they’d never finish.
He spent most days in the studio, headphones on, working until his back ached. But at night, when the world quieted, he’d wander into the living room and sometimes… she was there. Curled up in the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, staring blankly at whatever show was playing.
They didn’t say much.
Sometimes he’d offer her a drink, and she’d take it. Sometimes she’d press play on a movie and he’d sit beside her, just to sit. No touching. No talking. No explanations. But for those few minutes, it was enough. Her presence still grounded him reminded him she hadn’t disappeared entirely.
He held onto those moments like the last flickers of warmth from a dying flame.
And she… she let him.
The silence of the house had changed.
Not the cold kind not distant, not unfamiliar but the heavy kind that weighed between two people who once breathed in sync. Nova moved through it like smoke. Unseen. Untouched. While Haesoo spent his days at the company finishing his solo album, she disappeared into the soundproof walls of her private studio.
There, she poured her fire into five songs not for revenge, not even for release but because the words wouldn’t stop bleeding from her. Lyrics came in fragments at first. Then, all at once. Each verse a piece of her mind too sharp to speak aloud. Her fingers hovered over the trackpad, layering vocals, harmonies, subtle distortion. It was intimate and haunting a reflection of everything she refused to say out loud in their shared home.
The songs were finished quickly. Almost too quickly. But pain had a way of speeding things up.
She didn’t tell Haesoo what she was working on.
Didn’t offer a track list or ask for feedback.
He didn’t ask either.
Some nights, they still sat on opposite ends of the couch, a show playing between them, its plot forgotten. Haesoo sometimes glanced her way, trying to read her expression. But Nova never let him catch more than the outline of her profile. She stayed facing forward not cruel, not cold just quiet.
Because now, she didn’t owe him anything.
No explanations. No comfort. No softness.
Her album would be released under her own name.
Five tracks. No features.
A story written in fire, silence, and ash.
And when the world heard it, they’d feel what she’d lived through.
Even if he didn’t.
After Nova finished recording her songs for her album she recorded the music video for “I Set the Table”
The restaurant set was silent except for the faint hum of cameras resetting and distant murmurs from the crew. It was an elegant space marble floors, golden chandeliers, warm amber lighting. But the room wasn’t meant to shine. Not today.
At the center of it all, Nova sat alone.
She wore a long, black satin dress sleeveless, with a low back and soft folds that brushed her ankles. Her hair had been curled into perfect, glossy waves, pinned behind one ear with a delicate silver clip. There were no backup dancers. No choreography. No extravagant lighting tricks.
Just her.
Her table was set for two.
A crisp white cloth. A single lit candle flickering in the middle. Two wine glasses one untouched. One gently held in her fingers as she stared at the empty chair across from her.
Around her, the restaurant pulsed with life. Extras filled every other table, laughing, clinking glasses, sharing meals. Waiters moved effortlessly between them. A child at the back of the room blew bubbles into her soda. Lovers leaned across booths to whisper secrets. Friends toasted under soft lighting.
But none of them looked at Nova.
She was invisible. And it was intentional.
As the camera pulled in closer, the music swelled softly through the room her voice layered over the ambient noise.
“I set the table, folded the napkins
Lit a candle just to feel like it meant something…”
She didn’t lip-sync with energy. She whispered the lyrics like a prayer. Barely moving. Her eyes occasionally drifted to the empty seat across from her, but she never smiled. Never blinked long enough to seem lost. Just present painfully so.
The director called for silence again, resetting for the final wide shot. Nova didn’t move.
In that moment, with the candlelight catching the shimmer in her eyes and her chin ever so slightly tilted toward the glass of untouched wine, she wasn’t acting.
She was remembering.
Everything.
The last shot lingered wide and patient. Nova at her table. Surrounded by joy. Drowning in solitude. Singing the last line.
“I loved you loud, but you only… tolerated me.”
Cut.
The room paused.
But no one clapped.
Because everyone felt it.
Nova didn’t wait for praise. She rose, adjusted the hem of her dress, and left the empty chair behind.
Two days before his solo comeback.
The morning was quiet, like most had been lately. Haesoo had heard Nova leave early the soft click of the door, her footsteps fading down the hallway. She hadn’t said anything. She didn’t need to. That was the unspoken agreement now.
He stirred sugar into his coffee, the bitter scent filling the empty kitchen. He figured she’d be back before nightfall, like always.
At exactly 10:04 a.m., his phone buzzed.
A notification lit up the screen:
Nova Reyes has just released a new music video: “I Set the Table.”
His thumb hovered for a second. He hadn’t even known she’d been working on something. He thought maybe the album was just a rumor. Something she’d shelved.
But this wasn’t just a song.
It was this song.
He tapped the screen.
The video opened.
There she was.
Nova, seated alone in a softly lit restaurant. Hair curled, lips slightly parted, eyes staring across a table set for two but only one chair was filled. Around her, life bloomed. Laughter, couples, movement.
But she stayed still. Silent. Singing.
“I set the table, folded the napkins…”
The words hit harder than he expected. His fingers curled around the mug.
Her voice steady, calm, quiet. But beneath the calm was something brittle. Something tired. Like she’d waited too long to say any of it, and now it was pouring out through a song instead of her lips.
“I made myself small, so you’d have more space…”
Haesoo blinked, his throat dry. He hadn’t seen it that way. Not until now. But suddenly the late nights, the polite smiles, the way she stopped asking him to come to bed it all rewound in his mind like a slow unraveling.
He watched her sitting at that table, singing about a love she had buried beneath politeness and patience.
“I wore the dress you said you liked once
You didn’t even look up…”
He looked up from the screen and saw his own reflection in the darkened glass of the window. Still. Wordless.
Was she talking about him?
No.
He didn’t want to believe it.
But then the chorus came again rawer this time, her voice just slightly breaking.
“I gave you soft, I gave you gold
But you held it like it was stone…”
His chest tightened.
Every lyric it was her. But worse, it was them.
And for the first time, he saw her the way she must’ve felt: waiting beside someone who never fully reached back. Loving out loud while he stood silent. Dimming herself just to keep the peace.
“I loved you loud, but you only… tolerated me.”
He didn’t realize the video had ended until the screen faded to black.
Haesoo leaned forward, elbows on the kitchen counter, hands pressed together.
“Nova…” he whispered.
She had said everything and nothing for weeks.
And now he knew why.
She had been bleeding out in silence. And he’d let her.
He swallowed hard.
He didn’t know if she’d written that song as goodbye… but it sounded too much like one.
And the worst part?
He didn’t know if she’d ever want him to answer it.
Nova Reyes has released a new album.
No title. No warning. Just her name and five tracks.
The timing punched harder than it should have — right after the music video for “I Set the Table” had gone live and swallowed the internet whole.
Haesoo hadn’t even processed the ache in that first song yet. Now this?
He sat down on the edge of their shared bed, thumb hovering over the second track.
“Say My Name Like a Warning.”
He hesitated, heart ticking too fast.
And then he hit play.
“You loved me when I stayed in place
Polished smile, perfect face…”
The lyrics came in soft and sharp — a blade in a velvet sheath.
He flinched.
There had been a time when he did love that version of her. The one who waited. The one who never questioned where he was going or who he was becoming.
Now it sounded like an accusation.
“You wrote the rules and I obeyed
Until I learned to twist the blade…”
His breath caught in his throat.
That wasn’t just a lyric.
That was a message. Direct. Personal. Loaded.
“You built your kingdom on my spine…”
Haesoo dragged a hand down his face.
She had supported him from the shadows. Stepped back so he could shine. Let the spotlight eat her whole while the world praised him.
And he… never really asked how much that cost her.
“Now I’m the reason empires die…”
The line knocked the wind out of him.
He knew her power. He’d always known — but this was different.
This wasn’t just her stepping into the light. This was her setting the damn building on fire.
“Say my name like a warning…”
The chorus roared through the speakers like thunder.
Haesoo swallowed, eyes glued to the phone.
“You made me, now I’m haunting
All your deals, your little throne…”
It wasn’t just about him.
But it was about him.
“Say it slow, say it scared…”
He didn’t say anything.
But he felt it.
“You dressed me up in silk and shame
Then acted shocked when I broke the chain…”
Guilt curled in his chest like smoke.
He remembered moments like that. Her quiet elegance, the way she adapted to every room, every role always reading the air before speaking. Always perfect.
And him… basking in it, never asking what it cost.
“You said, ‘Be soft,’ I learned to snap…”
The second pre-chorus slammed into him.
“You made a girl into a ghost…”
Haesoo closed his eyes.
She had disappeared. Not physically she still came home, still slept in the same bed, still moved through the same rooms.
But she wasn’t there.
She’d become untouchable. Distant. Quiet in a way that didn’t ask for understanding anymore.
“Say my name like a warning…”
The chorus came back, louder this time.
She was reclaiming every piece they took every piece he didn’t notice vanish.
“I know where you buried faults…”
The lines didn’t just sting.
They shattered.
“I’m not your doll, I’m not your shame
I’m every god you tried to tame…”
He bit the inside of his cheek hard.
She’d tried to be soft for him. She had. And he didn’t realize how much she had to break to become that version.
Now he was hearing what rose from the ashes.
“You made a monster out of you…”
That line cut deepest.
Not her. Him.
“Say my name, say my name
Like a warning…”
The final words echoed long after the track ended.
Haesoo sat frozen, staring at the album screen no title, no promo, no explanation. Just five raw confessions in the form of songs.
And in all of them, he didn’t know whether he was the villain or the reason she had to become one.
He stood slowly, phone still in hand, and walked to the window.
Outside, the world moved on cars passing, birds flying, nothing special.
But for him?
It felt like Nova had just declared war.
And the worst part was…
He wasn’t even sure he didn’t deserve it.
The third track auto-played before he even realized it.
“Came Small, Left Smaller.”
The title alone hit like a warning shot.
And when the first verse came in, Haesoo sat up straighter, his chest already tight.
“You walked in like you were owed a throne
Mouth full of charm, heart made of stone…”
He blinked slowly.
It wasn’t about him. Not exactly.
But the shoe didn’t just fit — it kicked.
“Said you liked me wild, said you liked me free
Till you realized I was more than pretty…”
His jaw tightened.
She’d always been more than pretty. More than anyone in the room, really. But back then, when he first met her, when her silence felt like elegance and her fire was still tucked away…
He didn’t know how much of her she had been holding back.
“You called it love, I called it war
Every compliment came with a score…”
The line cut through the air like broken glass.
He remembered past conversations ones where he told her she was intense, where he’d asked her to let things go, to stop overthinking.
Now he heard it differently.
He’d mistaken her conviction for conflict.
“You told your friends I was too much…”
Haesoo exhaled sharply, eyes on the wall.
He never said those words out loud, but he remembered moments where he thought them. Flashes of frustration when she outmaneuvered everyone in a room. Times when her refusal to apologize for who she was made him feel… small.
“You couldn’t carry what I flew through…”
God.
That line.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, letting the words hit.
She wasn’t just singing about someone. She was shedding layers.
“You came small, left smaller…”
The chorus rose like a flare.
“Tried to tame me, tried to own her…”
He didn’t try to own her.
Did he?
He wanted to believe he hadn’t that he’d loved her for who she was. But now, under the weight of her voice, it felt murky.
“Built your ego out of doubt
Then ran when I called you out…”
He flinched.
That one felt too accurate.
“Told the world I was unkind
While you buried every line…”
He never tried to make her look bad.
But he didn’t speak up for her either. Not when people whispered. Not when others misunderstood her coldness for cruelty, her sharpness for arrogance.
He let her carry it alone.
“You couldn’t stand how high I stood
So you made me out to be the wound…”
His throat ached.
“But baby, I was the cure…”
Haesoo dragged his hand over his mouth.
He knew how much she had healed him not just his body, but his purpose. His drive. His ambition. And he’d convinced himself he could handle her strength.
But now he wasn’t so sure he ever did.
“I wore your shame like a wedding gown…”
He closed his eyes.
Nova had never said anything directly, never thrown it in his face.
But now?
Now she was singing with the kind of clarity only pain could carve.
“You said you loved a woman strong
But couldn’t stand it for too long…”
Haesoo felt like someone had peeled his chest open.
“You tried to cut me down to size
But kings don’t cry when angels rise…”
It was brutal.
Not angry precise.
Her voice didn’t waver. It didn’t beg. It didn’t even accuse.
It simply stated the truth.
And he didn’t know whether to apologize or disappear.
“You came small, left smaller…”
Each repetition hammered the title in deeper.
“Used my fire, then called it torture…”
He remembered their arguments. His tone. How he called her “too intense” or “too much.”
Now he saw what it looked like from her side.
She wasn’t burning him.
She was burning for him.
“Told your crew I was insane…”
He hadn’t done that.
But he had distanced himself from her when things got complicated when people looked at her sideways. When the world didn’t know what to do with a woman who didn’t shrink.
“But I still soared…”
That line rose with her voice light and unbothered.
“And now you’re nothing more…”
Ouch.
“I don’t hate you that would mean you mattered…”
He sat back like she’d slapped him.
“But you were just noise in the static chatter…”
His heart felt like it was being stripped bare.
“You were never worth the fall
You came small, left smaller
And I don’t think of you at all.”
The final line landed like the twist of a knife.
But it wasn’t rage.
It was detachment.
It was liberation.
It was Nova closing the door.
And for the first time in a long time, Haesoo realized something that scared him more than her silence, more than her fury, more than the sharp edges of her voice.
He wasn’t sure if she still loved him.
He didn’t think the songs could get more personal. More piercing.
But then “Heaven, If You’re Listening” started.
And suddenly, the house felt hollow.
Nova’s voice came in soft—so soft it made him hold his breath.
“I walked the world with open hands
Took the throne no one could stand…”
His eyes flicked to the screen. No visuals. Just lyrics and a blank cover where the album name should’ve been.
But the way she sang—like each word had weight, like they’d been sitting on her chest for years made the silence feel sacred.
“Still they called me too sharp to touch right…”
He closed his eyes.
He’d seen that firsthand. The way people looked at her—admiring, wary, too slow to embrace her as human.
He thought she didn’t care.
But now he wasn’t so sure.
“They prayed for strength and I arrived
But never as someone they’d hold at night…”
His heart clenched.
That line felt personal. Too personal.
“Just the storm to clear the air
Never the girl they’d dare to care…”
Nova had never asked him to save her.
Never demanded comfort or softness.
But maybe maybe she’d wanted it anyway.
Maybe she’d hoped someone would volunteer.
“And I’ve been good, haven’t I?
Tamed the dark, swallowed pride…”
The pain in her voice was quieter here. Less anger. More… grief.
Haesoo swallowed hard.
“So why does joy feel make-believe?”
He hated how familiar that line sounded coming from her.
Because he was part of that illusion.
He’d stood beside her, slept beside her, smiled in photos beside her…
But had he ever seen her?
Really seen her?
“Heaven, if you’re listening
Did you skip me by mistake?”
His throat tightened.
“Was I made to be the answer
But never the one who’s saved?”
He sat still, the question hanging heavy in the room.
He had seen her be the answer—for him, for her team, for the company, for the world she navigated like a ghost in silk.
But who had been there for her?
“They call me fate, they call me flame
But never by my real name…”
Haesoo blinked, eyes burning.
He remembered the first time she told him her name. Not “Nova Reyes,” but the softer one, whispered in bed, buried in trust.
No cameras. No bravado.
Just her.
And maybe that’s what this song was.
A call not to the world, not to the enemy, not even to him.
But to someone who might see the girl inside the force of nature.
“The stars were silent when I prayed
So I learned to love the war I waged…”
He didn’t know what hurt more: that she’d had to love a war… or that no one had ever taught her peace.
“They fear the girl who never cries
But no one ever asked me why…”
His chest felt too small.
She didn’t cry. Not even when she was bleeding. Not even when she was exhausted, her shoulders shaking under pressure no one else could understand.
And now, through the song, he saw it all clearly.
She wasn’t emotionless.
She was exhausted from pretending to be invincible.
“I’ve been strong, I’ve been right
But I go home alone each night…”
Haesoo looked around the room.
He lived in the same house. Slept down the hall. Passed her in the kitchen.
But still… he had left her alone.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
“Is there someone made for me?
Not to follow, not to fix
Just to stay and let me breathe…”
That part felt like it had been carved from her ribcage.
“I’ve been power, I’ve been steel
But I forgot how love should feel…”
His eyes welled up.
He hadn’t meant to forget.
But maybe in trying not to be crushed by her, he’d failed to hold her.
“They write me in their stories bold
But leave me out when nights get cold…”
He remembered every article, every headline.
Ice Queen. Visionary. Unshakeable. Ruthless.
But not one of them mentioned that she liked Coke Zero and slept with the window cracked open when it rained.
“I just want to be seen…”
The words broke him.
Because he hadn’t seen her.
Not fully.
Not until now.
“Maybe I was the prophecy
That even gods were scared to keep…”
His fingers dug into his knee, knuckles white.
How could someone so powerful sound so… abandoned?
“If I’m the myth they made me be
Then let someone believe in me…”
And he should’ve.
He still should.
“Just for the girl who won’t stay down…”
The final chorus faded, but its echo lingered.
She wasn’t asking to be worshipped.
She was begging softly, quietly to be known.
And Haesoo finally understood the difference.
The last track started with a slow inhale.
Not his. Hers.
Nova’s voice came in raw—no polish, no perfection. Just breath and bruises, spilling in waves through the speakers.
“Hands on the wheel, heart on the run
I kept the car warm in case you’d come…”
Haesoo froze.
He remembered nights like that.
Her waiting by the door, keys already in hand.
Saying she was fine, but never looking it.
“Laughed through the cracks, smiled in fear
Built a world where I disappeared…”
The lyrics didn’t try to dress up the pain.
They were blunt, plainspoken, devastating.
“You held me close like a loaded gun
I never knew when you’d come undone…”
His breath caught.
She had felt that unsafe?
With him?
“Every night, I’d brace the floor
Like love could walk right out the door…”
Haesoo’s fingers clenched the edge of his seat.
He didn’t remember raising his voice often. Didn’t remember cruelty.
But maybe it wasn’t the volume.
Maybe it was the way he withheld warmth.
The way he made her wonder.
“Never asked if I was enough
I just learned to not need much…”
His chest cracked at that.
She never did ask.
Nova, who carried empires and heartbreak in the same stride, had just shrunk herself instead.
“Were we ever safe? Or just pretending?”
The chorus stabbed straight through him.
Because he didn’t know the answer.
Not anymore.
“Every kiss felt like a dare
I held my breath — was danger there?”
She had kissed him like she meant it.
But maybe now he understood why she sometimes pulled away right after.
Why her smile occasionally looked like armor.
“Tried to trust, but I always knew
The crash was waiting past the view…”
His jaw tightened.
He remembered her hesitation. Her silences.
She always said she didn’t believe in forever.
Maybe it wasn’t cynicism.
Maybe it was survival.
“I folded small to make you stay
But fear made shadows every day…”
It hurt.
Because he hadn’t seen it then.
Hadn’t realized how much she had softened herself around him.
And maybe he’d mistaken that softness for strength.
“Put up walls then built you in
Until I couldn’t feel my skin…”
The lyric hit him like a slap.
Because she had let him in.
Even when she said nothing.
Even when she acted like she didn’t need anyone.
She still made space.
“If I screamed would you still run
Or say the damage had been done?”
Haesoo’s chest rose and fell, breath shaky.
He didn’t know what he would’ve done.
Maybe… maybe she’d known that too.
“Your arms were cold, your eyes were closed…”
He closed his eyes now.
He could picture it. Nights when he pulled away emotionally even as he held her.
Moments when she looked at him, searching for something she couldn’t find.
“I kissed you like you’d disappear
Because peace and you don’t come near…”
Tears burned the corners of his eyes.
She hadn’t said that out loud.
Not once.
But she’d lived it beside him.
Loved him while holding her breath.
“I wanted calm, you needed storms
I broke myself to keep you warm…”
That line broke him open.
Because she had tried.
She had made sacrifices.
And he hadn’t even seen the damage until it was already carved into her.
“But lightning love will always end
In ashes we can’t comprehend…”
His voice was a whisper. “Nova…”
He wasn’t sure if he was apologizing. Or begging. Or just saying her name because it felt like the only anchor in a world that was spinning too fast.
“We weren’t broken, we were dust
Because safe… was never us.”
The final line landed with silence.
No outro.
No fade.
Just an ache that filled the room like fog.
Haesoo sat still for a long time.
Hands in his lap.
Phone screen dark.
There were no credits. No album title. No photo of Nova smiling on the cover.
Just a collection of songs that sounded like goodbyes wrapped in memories.
And for the first time…
He didn’t know where they stood.
Not as friends. Not as whatever they were before.
Not after this.
He had always thought he knew her.
But now, all he could think was
He never once asked if she felt safe.
And that…
might have been the beginning of the end.
It was past noon, but Haesoo still hadn’t moved.
The album had dropped over two hours ago, and the music video before that. His solo comeback was in two days, yet all he could do was sit on the couch with his phone in hand, watching the world react to Nova Reyes like they were seeing her for the first time.
And maybe they were.
He tapped open the trending tab again.
#NovaReyes, #ISawHerSetTheTable, #ToleratedMe, #SayMyNameLikeAWarning — they were everywhere. Every platform. Every feed.
He scrolled.
“Nova Reyes just dropped an entire album with no name and no promo and somehow still slit our throats. I’m not okay.”
— @cryingcandlelight
“Why does ‘I Set the Table’ feel like a love letter to every person who’s ever begged for crumbs?”
— @girlwithashadow
“She didn’t write breakup songs. She wrote survival anthems.”
— @novasleftheel
Some posts had screenshots from the music video Nova sitting alone in a black dress, surrounded by couples and families at the restaurant. People eating, laughing, living. And there she was: still, silent, eyes glassy, lips moving like she was singing to no one and everyone at once.
One caption read:
“She set the table and nobody showed up. I’ve never felt so seen.”
Another clip played on loop — the part in “Tolerated Me” where her voice cracked slightly at “I loved you loud, but you only… tolerated me.”
Someone had zoomed in.
You could see the flicker in her eye — like it cost her something to say it out loud.
He clicked on the comments.
“She’s not just singing about a breakup. She’s singing about begging to be acknowledged.”
“It’s so much deeper than romance. It’s about invisible wounds. About never being enough for someone even when you gave everything.”
“The lyric ‘I asked for nothing, begged for less’ is now tattooed on my soul.”
His chest tightened again.
The comments on “Say My Name Like a Warning” were different louder. Fiercer.
“This isn’t heartbreak. This is revenge dressed in silk.”
“She didn’t just burn bridges. She built her own kingdom from the ashes.”
“You can tell someone tried to destroy her. And she made a career out of the ruins.”
One quote was circulating especially fast:
“You made me, now I’m haunting.”
And it was haunting because Haesoo didn’t know which version of himself she was singing about in these songs.
Maybe it wasn’t all about him.
Maybe some of it was.
But the guilt didn’t care about specifics. It crawled in anyway.
The comments under “Heaven, If You’re Listening” were more hushed reverent, even.
“This isn’t a song. This is a confession whispered into the dark.”
“She’s always been strong, but this is the first time she sounded tired of it.”
One fan posted:
“Nova Reyes asking if she was skipped over by heaven made me put my phone down and cry. She’s the strongest woman in the world and she still just wants someone to stand beside her.”
And then there was “Safe Was Never Us.”
It was the quietest one.
But it was also the most shared.
Duets. Covers. Fan art. Posts that just said “I don’t feel alone anymore.”
“If you’ve ever loved someone with your whole heart and still flinched when they walked in, this song is for you.”
“Nova didn’t write this to entertain us. She wrote this to bleed out in front of us.”
Haesoo swallowed hard, scrolling back up to a clip of the restaurant scene again.
She hadn’t spoken a word to him today.
Hadn’t messaged.
Hadn’t explained.
She didn’t need to.
The entire album was her explanation.
And now the whole world knew how much she had buried just to survive.
The music blared from the speakers, but Haesoo’s body wasn’t keeping up.
His movements were sharp — but off. His footwork was clean — but hollow. He kept missing the mark by half a beat, stuck somewhere between the lyrics in his head and the cold floor beneath him.
The track faded out. Again.
He dropped to his knees, sweat dripping down his neck, and stared at the mirrored wall like it might hold answers.
It didn’t.
The door creaked open behind him.
“Hyung,” came Dongmin’s voice. “You okay?”
Haesoo didn’t answer. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. The other members were with Dongmin — Taeyul, Jisung, even Minjae. None of them spoke at first. Just quiet footsteps and worried glances as they stepped into the room one by one.
Joon leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “We saw the video.”
Haesoo wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie but didn’t lift his head.
Taeyul sighed. “And the album. All five songs.”
Eunwoo crouched next to him. “You’ve been here since morning, haven’t you?”
Jisung sat down on the floor near him and looked away as he spoke. “She didn’t warn anyone.”
“I know,” Haesoo finally muttered. His voice was low. Hoarse. “I didn’t even know she left.”
Dongmin looked around awkwardly, then plopped down with a water bottle. “The whole internet’s losing it. Half of the fans are crying. The other half want to start a revolution.”
Haesoo gave a dry laugh but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Minjae knelt in front of him. “That last song… ‘Safe Was Never Us’…” He paused. “Is it about you?”
Haesoo didn’t flinch. But he didn’t answer either.
Taeyul said it softly, no teasing for once. “She looked like she’d already mourned it all before she even sang a word.”
Joon muttered, “She’s been through something. Whether it was you, or someone else before you… that album was grief with a melody.”
Haesoo looked up finally. “I’m not the only one she’s writing about. I know that.” He swallowed. “But I think I’m part of it.”
There was silence. Heavy. Then Eunwoo asked gently, “Have you talked to her?”
Haesoo shook his head. “No. She left early. I woke up, and she was gone. Then the MV dropped at ten. Album right after.”
Minjae stood. “You need to talk to her.”
“What am I supposed to say?” Haesoo asked quietly. “That I saw it? That I didn’t know she was carrying all that while I was…” He trailed off, voice cracking.
“While you were what?” Jisung pressed, finally looking up.
“While I was trying to figure out if I could keep up with her.” Haesoo let out a breath that sounded like defeat. “Turns out, she was never asking me to. She just wanted someone to stay.”
The silence shifted not uncomfortable now, just full of understanding.
“Then go,” Taeyul said, nodding toward the door. “If you don’t know what to say, just show up. That’s better than leaving her alone in whatever storm she’s walking through.”
Haesoo looked at all of them. His brothers. His team. The people who knew what he was really like underneath the stage lights and the charm.
They didn’t say anything more.
They didn’t have to.
Taeyul nodded toward the door. “If you don’t know what to say, just show up. That’s better than leaving her alone in whatever storm she’s walking through.”
Haesoo barely had time to respond when Dongmin looked down at his phone and blinked.
“…Wait,” he said, eyebrows lifting. “I just got a notification—she’s performing.”
Haesoo’s head snapped up. “What?”
Dongmin held his phone up, eyes scanning. “It’s a surprise appearance. Right now. Nova’s going live… performing ‘I Set the Table’.”
The room fell silent.
Even the speakers, long since muted, seemed to hum with tension.
Jisung stood quickly. “Which channel?”
“Streaming everywhere. She’s already on stage,” Dongmin said, shoving the phone toward Minjae, who clicked the volume up and mirrored it to the room’s screen.
In an instant, the mirror at the front of the studio faded into the soft light of the livestream.
The screen showed her.
Nova sat alone at a round table onstage, dressed in a fitted black dress, her hair curled and gently tucked behind one ear. A single candle flickered in front of her. The rest of the stage was dressed like a restaurant dim lighting, other tables filled with background actors laughing, talking, living.
She looked like a ghost among them.
Alive, but untouched.
Her eyes flicked up for only a second before the music began a soft piano, a hush of strings.
Then her voice broke the silence.
“I set the table, folded the napkins
Lit a candle just to feel like it meant something…”
The members didn’t speak. No one moved.
Haesoo stared, barely breathing.
The lyrics hit harder live. Her voice carried that quiet ache that the studio version smoothed over a rawness that cracked around the edges when she sang “You never asked, but I gave it anyway.”
The screen cut to a wide shot. She was utterly still, only her eyes shifting when she sang, “I bit my tongue and called it grace…”
Jisung whispered, “She’s not just performing. She’s bleeding.”
Haesoo swallowed hard, hands curling into fists at his sides.
Minjae glanced at him. “You need to go.”
“But she’s already”
“Then you better catch her after.”
Haesoo didn’t wait for the rest. He grabbed his jacket, slung it over one shoulder, and bolted for the door.
Behind him, the last words of the song drifted from the speakers:
“I gave you soft, I gave you gold
But I’m done being made of stone…”
“Say it now, don’t ask me why
I loved you loud, but you only…”
“Tolerated me.”
The room stayed silent.
But every single member knew: something had just broken wide open.
Haesoo pushed through the front doors of the KSJ building, ignoring the receptionist calling after him. His jacket clung to his shoulder, unbuttoned, one sleeve slipping as he stormed toward the elevators.
He didn’t even know where she’d performed. There hadn’t been an official venue listed just “live stream event.” But she wouldn’t have gone far. She never did when she didn’t want to be found… but part of him hoped she did.
The elevator felt painfully slow. He bounced on his feet as it rose, checking his phone again.
Nothing from her.
No text.
No update.
No trace.
As soon as the doors opened, he stepped into the broadcast level, catching a glimpse of staff packing up lighting rigs, the stage stripped back to nothing.
He approached one of the stage assistants, breath shallow. “Nova Reyes she performed here?”
The guy nodded. “Yeah. About fifteen minutes ago. You just missed her.”
Haesoo’s pulse spiked. “Where’d she go?”
The man shrugged, tapping an earpiece. “She left through the back lot. She didn’t want anyone following. Said not to hold press. Said she didn’t want photos.”
That sounded like her.
Running even when she was the one who lit the match.
Haesoo rushed down the stairs instead of waiting for another elevator, sprinting through the hall until the exit sign glowed red in the distance. The moment he shoved open the door, hot sunlight hit him like a wall.
The parking lot was nearly empty.
But he saw it the flash of a sleek black car turning the corner, tinted windows, disappearing into the city traffic like smoke curling away from fire.
He stopped running.
Breathing hard, hands on his hips.
He was too late.
Again.
The echo of her voice still rang in his ears I loved you loud, but you only tolerated me.
He’d never meant to.
He hadn’t known he was doing it.
That was the worst part.
The door behind him creaked as it closed slowly. The sound reminded him how alone he was in this moment. How much distance could grow between two people even when they shared a house.
Even when they still loved each other.
His phone buzzed.
A fan comment from her live performance.
“She looked like she was mourning something alive.”
Another one.
“If this is what she sings when she’s hurting, imagine what she writes when she’s done.”
Haesoo looked down the road again, but she was gone.
This time, she hadn’t waited to see if he’d chase her.
And that scared him more than anything.
The car was silent.
Nova sat in the backseat, legs crossed, her hands resting in her lap like she hadn’t just stripped her heart bare in front of millions. The live stream ended twenty minutes ago. Her mic was still in her bag. Her throat still ached.
But not from singing.
From everything she didn’t say.
The driver didn’t speak. He’d driven her enough times to know when to keep the silence untouched. She appreciated that. There was nothing anyone could say right now that wouldn’t feel like breaking glass underfoot.
Her phone buzzed nonstop.
Mentions. Comments. Journalists. Critics. Friends.
Haesoo hadn’t texted.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to.
Instead of going home, she leaned forward.
“Take me to the studio,” she said.
The driver nodded and turned toward the older building she rarely used one of the smaller soundproofed spaces on the edge of Seoul, the kind that didn’t invite fans or paparazzi. It was hers. Quiet. Forgotten. Perfect.
When they arrived, she stepped out without looking back, heels clicking against concrete, black coat fluttering behind her.
Inside, the lights were dim. She turned them on one by one. The recording booth. The console room. Her notes were still scattered from last week the last time she’d recorded “Heaven, If You’re Listening.”
She moved to the mirror in the corner, the one she hated, and stared at herself.
Hair curled. Eyes rimmed with liner. Dress still perfect from the performance.
But she looked… exhausted.
Not physically.
Just tired of being misunderstood.
Of writing truths and having them turned into poetry people applauded, but no one ever heard.
She blinked once, slowly. Then moved toward the mic.
Not to record.
Just to breathe.
She took a deep breath, let it fill her lungs, and stood there alone in the quiet letting the moment hold her.
She’d already set the table.
Now she was walking away from it.
It was almost 8 p.m. when the headlights swept across the driveway.
Haesoo glanced through the window from the living room, spotting Nova’s car pulling in. She hadn’t texted. Hadn’t called. As usual, she didn’t need to.
He stayed seated on the couch, one foot resting on the edge of the coffee table, the remote loosely in his hand. The television was on, playing a movie he wasn’t watching.
The music video. The album. The live performance.
All of it had played on repeat in his mind all day.
You never saw what I tried to be… I loved you loud, but you only… tolerated me.
The door opened quietly.
She stepped inside, heels in her hand, coat sliding off one shoulder. She hadn’t changed still in that same black dress, hair curled, eyes shadowed with tiredness and something deeper. Something distant.
She paused when she saw him.
Their eyes met, but neither spoke.
She dropped her heels gently by the entryway, walked into the living room, and stood a few feet away.
“I didn’t think you’d be home this early,” he said finally.
“I didn’t think you’d be waiting,” she replied.
“I wasn’t… waiting,” he lied. “I just didn’t leave.”
Nova gave a small nod like she didn’t believe him but she wasn’t going to argue either.
She looked around the room, at the untouched glass of water he’d poured, the discarded guitar leaning against the wall, the faint sound of dialogue from the TV. Then she walked over and lowered herself onto the couch beside him.
Not too close. But not far, either.
They sat like that for a moment. Just breathing in the quiet of their own house.
“You released the album,” Haesoo said. “No warning. No title.”
Nova looked at the screen, then down at her lap. “It didn’t need one.”
He glanced at her the way her fingers were still trembling slightly from the adrenaline. The gloss on her lips had faded, but the emotion in her eyes hadn’t.
“I listened to all of it.”
She turned to face him.
“And?”
“I think…” His voice caught. “I think you’ve never said so much to me without saying it to me.”
Nova didn’t respond.
She didn’t have to.
He let out a breath. “That song… the first one… was it about me?”
Her gaze flickered not hard, not sharp. Just tired. Honest.
“I set the table,” she said softly. “And you never showed up.”
Then she stood up, walking past him.
Haesoo remained seated, the echo of her words hanging in the air like smoke.
She didn’t go upstairs. She just went into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out a single bottle of water. The clink of glass was louder than it should’ve been.
And Haesoo… didn’t know if he should follow or not.
Because for the first time since they’d promised forever, he realized Nova wasn’t trying to be understood anymore.
She was simply being heard. And he was finally listening.
Haesoo sat still, eyes fixed on the dark screen of the television, but his attention was locked on the phone Nova had forgotten on the coffee table.
It lit up.
Incoming Call – HQ
He blinked.
Of course it would be them.
He didn’t reach for it, didn’t move but the device answered itself after two rings. Voice-activated. Typical Nova.
A crisp voice came through, calm but sharp, echoing from the speaker.
“Nova Reyes. Congratulations on the release.”
“The world needed to be reminded who you are.”
Haesoo’s jaw tensed.
There was a short pause, then the voice shifted colder, more possessive.
“You are our prodigy. Anyone who forgets that, anyone who makes you feel small, lesser, replaceable”
A beat passed.
“Tell us. We’ll get rid of them.”
Click.
The line went dead.
Haesoo stared at the phone, a chill settling under his skin.
Nova walked back into the living room holding her water, pausing when she saw his expression.
She followed his gaze to her phone.
Her face didn’t shift. No surprise. No panic. Just stillness the kind that came from someone used to living with power and its consequences.
“I didn’t mean to hear it,” Haesoo said, voice low.
“I know.”
He studied her. “They called you their prodigy.”
“They always have.”
“And… they meant it. What they said. About getting rid of people.”
She took a sip of water. “They meant it.”
Haesoo swallowed hard. “So… what do you do with that kind of loyalty?”
Nova walked past the coffee table, grabbed her phone, and turned the screen off without a word.
Then she looked at him.
Her voice was quiet. Honest.
“I use it when I have to. But never for me.”
And with that, she turned and walked toward the stairs leaving him with a truth that felt heavier than any silence between them.
He’d always known she was powerful.
But this?
This was something else entirely.
Haesoo was still sitting on the couch, mind reeling from the phone call, when he heard the soft creak of the stairs.
Nova reappeared her black dress gone, replaced with a pair of loose gray sweatpants and a faded long-sleeve tee. Her hair was damp, pushed back behind her ears, and her steps were light as she moved across the hardwood floors barefoot.
She went straight to the fridge, opened it, and pulled out a Coke Zero. The fizz cracked as she opened the can, and she took a sip without looking in his direction.
Haesoo’s eyes followed her, but not with his usual quiet admiration.
This time, he noticed.
Her frame was smaller. Too small. The way her shirt hung off her shoulder wasn’t just casual it was loose. Her sweatpants cinched tighter than they used to.
And it hit him no one was watching her now. No one reminding her to eat. No one teasing her for skipping meals or nudging a plate into her hands.
He used to do that. Without even realizing it.
She’d roll her eyes, pretend it annoyed her. But she’d eat.
Now… she didn’t bother pretending anymore.
She turned slightly, finally catching his gaze, and tilted her head. “What?”
He hesitated. Then shook his head.
“Nothing.”
Nova raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but didn’t press. She took another sip of her drink and leaned against the counter, staring out the window into the quiet street beyond.
Haesoo stood up slowly. “You don’t eat when no one’s around to remind you, do you?”
Nova’s lips twitched not a smile, more like the flicker of a reaction she’d tried to suppress.
“I eat when I want to.”
“That’s not the same.”
She shrugged. “It’s enough.”
“No, it’s not.”
He said it quietly, no anger behind it. Just tired worry.
She looked at him again. “You don’t get to worry about me right now, Haesoo.”
He nodded. “I know. Doesn’t stop me.”
Nova didn’t respond. She just looked away again, fingers curled around the can like it was the only thing anchoring her to the present.
And Haesoo he didn’t know how to fix any of this.
He just knew the girl who once ruled every room she entered now looked like she was quietly slipping through the cracks.
Haesoo stepped forward.
Nova didn’t flinch, but she didn’t meet his eyes either. She stood still, back against the counter, one hand curled around her Coke Zero, the other loosely at her side.
He paused in front of her not reaching, not assuming just waiting.
Then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around her.
Her body tensed for half a second, like she wasn’t sure what to do with the comfort. Then she let out the softest exhale barely audible and leaned into him, her forehead resting lightly against his shoulder.
“Let me just hold you for tonight,” he murmured into her hair.
Nova didn’t say anything. Didn’t promise or push him away. She just let it happen.
Her fingers, still cold from the can, found their way to the hem of his shirt, clutching lightly grounding herself.
Outside, the world still spun praise, rumors, reactions, headlines.
Inside this dimly lit kitchen, everything was quiet.
Just him, her, and all the things they couldn’t say yet.
But for tonight, that was enough.
Nova didn’t speak as she slipped her hand into his.
Haesoo followed wordlessly as she led him down the quiet hallway. The soft creak of the floor under their steps was the only sound between them. When they reached the bedroom, she let go of his hand only to pull back the covers, then turned to look at him, tired eyes unreadable.
She didn’t say “stay.”
She didn’t have to.
They both got into bed, facing each other. He didn’t reach for her again not until she shifted closer, pressed her forehead gently against his chest.
His arms wrapped around her like muscle memory.
No words.
No pressure.
Just breathing in sync.
Her hand rested flat against his back, his thumb brushing slow circles along the curve of her waist. It wasn’t about making things right or fixing the distance between them not tonight. Tonight was about warmth. About quiet. About finally letting someone stay close without having to explain why.
And as the room darkened around them, as sleep began to pull them under, one truth settled deep in the silence:
She didn’t need saving.
She just needed someone who wouldn’t let go.
The morning light filtered gently through the curtains, casting faint golden patterns across the sheets. The room was still, wrapped in the kind of silence that felt sacred.
Nova was still asleep, one hand tucked under her cheek, her breathing soft and even. A few strands of her hair fell across her face, and she didn’t stir when the sun rose higher or when a bird called faintly outside the window.
Haesoo was already awake.
He lay on his side, head resting on his hand, watching her. Not in a way that begged for answers or understanding just quietly, like trying to memorize a moment he didn’t want to forget.
Still, the faint shadows under her eyes and the hollowness in her cheeks didn’t escape him. She hadn’t been eating properly he’d noticed it last night, the way her collarbones stood out a little more, the way her wrist felt thinner when he held her.
He exhaled slowly, careful not to disturb her. There was nothing he could fix with words, not after everything she’d released into the world with that album. But maybe just maybe he could stay.
Even if she never asked him to.
So he kept watching her.
Because in a world that always wanted to control her, contain her, or change her he just wanted to see her.
Exactly like this.
Nova stirred beneath the covers, her brows twitching slightly as consciousness pulled her from sleep. She blinked slowly, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks before her eyes adjusted to the morning light.
Haesoo didn’t say anything. He just watched as she shifted onto her back, reaching lazily toward the nightstand.
Her fingers found her phone.
She unlocked it without looking at him, eyes scanning the lock screen multiple unread messages, a few missed calls, and new articles already circulating. Nova Reyes trending worldwide. Fan reactions, industry praise, sharp headlines. She skimmed past all of it until she paused on a message from HQ.
HQ: You shattered the industry. Our prodigy. We’ll clear out anyone who forgets who you are.
She didn’t smile. Didn’t react. She just locked the screen again and placed the phone face-down.
Haesoo finally spoke, his voice low and quiet. “Morning.”
Nova turned her head slightly toward him. “Morning.”
They stared at each other for a moment two people who knew each other too well and yet still had everything unspoken between them.
“You’ve been up long?” she asked, voice raspy.
He nodded. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
Nova didn’t reply. Instead, she reached out and gently ran her fingers along the crease of the pillow between them, like tracing a line she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross again.
“I’m fine,” she said, almost like a warning.
“You’re not,” Haesoo answered, just as soft.
She didn’t deny it.
Just let the silence fall again.
Nova let out a quiet breath, her fingers still resting lightly on the pillow between them. She turned onto her side, facing away from Haesoo as she pulled the blanket higher over her shoulder.
“I’m tired,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m going back to sleep.”
Haesoo didn’t move. He watched the curve of her back rise and fall with each breath, her hair slightly tangled against the pillow. She didn’t say it coldly just distantly. Like the weight of everything had finally caught up to her.
He wanted to say something. To ask if she’d eaten. If she was okay. If she needed anything.
But she’d already closed her eyes.
So instead, he adjusted the blanket around her, careful not to disturb her further, then stayed beside her, sitting in silence as the room filled with the soft sound of her breathing.
Just being close was enough for now.
Nova stirred again, the second time with less weight in her chest. The room was quiet, still draped in early morning gray, but her phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. She groaned, reaching for it without looking.
3 missed calls – Asher
1 new message:
Where is Haesoo? He has his solo showcase in 45 minutes.
Nova’s eyes snapped open. She sat up abruptly and looked over—Haesoo was still fast asleep beside her, one arm draped lazily over the blanket, hair tousled, lips slightly parted.
“Haesoo,” she said firmly, nudging his shoulder.
Nothing.
She leaned closer, voice sharper now. “Haesoo. Wake up. You’re late.”
He stirred, blinking slowly. “What…?”
Nova grabbed his wrist and shoved her phone into his hand. “Asher’s looking for you. Your solo showcase is in 45 minutes.”
That woke him up.
He shot upright, staring at the phone in disbelief. “What?!”
Nova was already climbing out of bed, tossing his jacket onto the chair. “You need to shower and move. I’ll get your stuff ready.”
Haesoo scrambled out of bed like the world was ending. “Why didn’t anyone wake me?”
Nova glanced back at him with a dry look. “You were in my bed. Everyone assumes I know where you are.”
He froze for a beat at the way she said my bed but now wasn’t the time to linger on it.
“I’ll be downstairs in five!” he called, already racing toward the bathroom.
Nova just rolled her eyes and headed for the closet to grab his change of clothes.
Nova moved fast, tossing Haesoo’s stage outfit, accessories, and backup shoes into a sleek black duffel bag while tugging on a clean pair of jeans and a cropped long-sleeve top. Her hair was still damp from the shower the night before, but she didn’t care. No time.
Downstairs, Haesoo bolted after her, his hoodie half-zipped and his shoes mismatched.
By the time they made it into the car, Nova tossed the duffel into the backseat and started the engine without a word. The Mercedes peeled out of the driveway, tires smooth against the pavement as the sun just barely began to rise.
Haesoo leaned back in the passenger seat, still trying to wake up. His heart was pounding. “Thanks for… everything.”
Nova didn’t glance at him. Her hands stayed firm on the wheel, jaw tight.
“I wasn’t even supposed to be up this early,” she muttered under her breath.
Haesoo turned toward her. “What?”
She finally looked over at him, eyes calm but laced with that familiar bite. “It was supposed to be my day off.”
He blinked, guilty, lips parted as he tried to come up with a response.
Nova just shook her head and looked forward again. “Hair and makeup’s gonna have to be on-site. I already texted Asher. They’ll be waiting when we pull in.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” he mumbled.
“You’re damn right you will,” she replied.
But her voice was lighter this time. She was still annoyed, but she showed up anyway.
Like always.
The black Mercedes pulled up behind the venue, sliding past a barricade where security waved them through the moment they recognized the plate. A handful of early fans had already gathered out front, unaware that inside the sleek, tinted car sat both Nova Reyes and the man of the hour.
Nova threw the gear shift into park just as the back entrance door opened. Staff members and stylists were waiting with clipboards, earpieces in, eyes flicking nervously toward the car.
Haesoo ran a hand through his messy hair and exhaled. “I look like I just crawled out of a coma.”
“You kind of did,” Nova replied dryly, grabbing the duffel bag and swinging open her door.
As soon as Haesoo stepped out, they were swarmed by staff rushed inside with Nova walking behind him, completely unbothered, Coke Zero in hand. Her long coat swayed as she moved, dark sunglasses hiding how little she’d slept.
One of the stylists looked breathless. “We’ll get him into hair and makeup immediately. He has about twenty minutes before the press arrives.”
“Then you have fifteen,” Nova said without stopping, tossing the duffel bag onto the dressing room couch.
Haesoo turned around once more before heading in. His eyes met hers, lingering.
“You’re staying, right?” he asked, voice low.
Nova shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “I already gave up my day off. Might as well see if it was worth it.”
He smiled faintly.
“Go,” she said, nodding toward the mirror-lined room. “You’ve got five songs to prove something.”
Backstage was a controlled storm cords running across the floor, stylists darting in and out, screens flickering with schedules and camera angles. Haesoo was led straight to a makeup chair, and Nova followed close behind, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorway.
Asher stood near the monitor setup, a headset hanging loose around his neck, tablet in hand. The moment he spotted them, he raised a brow.
“Where have you been?” he asked sharply. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago.”
Nova didn’t even blink. She took another sip of her Coke Zero before replying coolly, “It was my day off. Apparently, Haesoo needs a personal alarm clock now.”
Asher gave Haesoo a long look, unimpressed. “You had one job.”
Haesoo muttered under his breath as the stylist dabbed concealer beneath his eyes, “I said I was sorry.”
Nova sat down on the couch behind them, crossing her legs and scrolling through her phone like she wasn’t the only reason he made it here at all. “I packed his bag, got him dressed, and drove him. You’re lucky I didn’t charge overtime.”
Asher looked between the two of them, then smirked. “You two back together?”
Nova didn’t look up. “No.”
Haesoo opened his mouth, but the stylist snapped, “Stop moving.”
Asher turned away, muttering, “Could’ve fooled me.”
Nova leaned further back on the couch, one leg folded under her as she stared blankly at the ceiling. “My plans were ruined,” she said flatly, then let out a sigh that was more dramatic than necessary. “I was going to hibernate all day.”
Asher glanced over from the equipment table, unimpressed. “You? Hibernate?”
She didn’t look at him. “Yes. I had snacks ready. Playlist queued. Phone on silent. It was supposed to be a sacred day.”
Haesoo, halfway through hair styling, turned slightly in his seat. “You still came, though.”
Nova gave him a side-eye. “Because I felt bad for you. Don’t make it a habit.”
He gave a small smile, eyes softening. “You always show up.”
She didn’t reply right away. Just took another sip of her Coke Zero and mumbled, “I won’t next time.”
But the look on her face said otherwise.
Nova didn’t even flinch. She kept sipping her Coke Zero, her expression unreadable.
Haesoo smirked softly under the bright mirror lights. “He’s just mad you beat him to the ‘nagging me awake’ role.”
Asher, standing nearby with a clipboard and headset, raised a brow. “I can’t with both of you today,” he muttered, turning on his heel and walking off toward the production staff.
Nova watched him go, then leaned in toward Haesoo just enough to be heard over the backstage noise. “He says that at least three times a week.”
Haesoo chuckled. “Means we’re doing our job.”
“Or that he’s dangerously close to quitting.”
Nova shrugged. “Not my problem today. I’m on personal time.”
“You’re literally backstage at my showcase.”
She took another sip. “On my day off.”
Haesoo laughed under his breath, eyes locking with hers in the mirror. Despite everything, it felt good to have her there.
Haesoo nearly knocked over the bottle of hair spray trying to sit down in a rush. Nova, arms crossed and phone in hand, didn’t even blink.
“Make it quick,” she said flatly. “Or you’re walking home. I’m already behind schedule. I should be watching cat videos right now.”
He glanced at her, half-smiling. “Cat videos?”
“Yes. Alone. In bed. With no one needing anything from me.”
He hesitated. “You didn’t have to come.”
“I didn’t.” Her voice was even, unreadable. “But someone forgot they had a showcase.”
He looked away, jaw tight.
Nova’s tone softened barely. “Just… go do your thing. You worked hard for this.”
She turned to leave, then paused without facing him. “Don’t mess it up.”
Haesoo nodded once, quietly, watching her walk out of the dressing room. No warmth. No kiss on the cheek. Just distance heavy and familiar.
Haesoo rushed off the stage, bowing one last time to the fans and staff before sprinting to the back. He changed quickly, pulling his jacket on as he stepped out to find Nova waiting by the exit.
She didn’t look impressed.
“I was this close to leaving,” she said, holding up her fingers with barely any space between them.
“I know, I know,” he mumbled, breath still shallow from the adrenaline.
Without another word, she tossed him the keys. “You drive. I’m taking a nap.”
Haesoo blinked. “You sure?”
“I’m sure I didn’t get any sleep last night because someone forgot they had a showcase today.” She didn’t wait for a reply. Just turned toward the car. “And if you hit a pothole and wake me up, you’re walking the rest of the way.”
By the time he slid into the driver’s seat, Nova was already curled against the door, eyes closed, seat reclined. She didn’t say another word.
And yet… Haesoo couldn’t stop glancing at her through the mirror. Not even once.
The drive had been mostly quiet. Haesoo kept one hand on the wheel, the other gripping tighter than he realized. He hadn’t looked over at Nova since she shut her eyes her body curled slightly toward the window, breathing steady, features soft for the first time in days.
