Chapter 1 - Cracks in the Spotlight
Nova and Haesoo allowed themselves only a couple of days of rest before the world came knocking again. Haesoo’s phone lit up with endless messages from KSJ Entertainment, each one more pressing than the last. By the end of the week, he was back at the company, and Nova was at home, balancing Noa on her hip while running HQ briefings from her laptop.
The first push was his solo album. The second came just as quickly variety shows, interviews, appearances to boost his image before release. KSJ wanted him everywhere. Nova knew how the industry worked, but knowing didn’t make it easier.
Soon, Haesoo had secured a position as a host on a popular variety program. His schedule tightened until he was gone from morning to night. More often than not, when he came home, Nova and Noa were already asleep. And when he slipped out in the early mornings, they were still wrapped in dreams, unaware he’d even been there.
The house felt quieter without him. Too quiet. Nova never complained her life had been built on silence but the loneliness pressed at her in ways missions never had. She worked through HQ’s reports, fed and bathed Noa, and tucked her into the playpen every night. And when the baby slept, she scrolled through her phone, half-distracted until a notification cut sharper than any mission report.
Clips. Tagged posts. Fans gossiping. If that was my husband, I’d be furious. They paired Haesoo with his co-host another idol, glossy and polished, always smiling at his side. The comments weren’t cruel, but they didn’t have to be.
Nova tried to ignore them. Tried to remind herself she had survived worse, seen worse, endured worse. But jealousy was a different kind of wound one she couldn’t rationalize or heal.
She swallowed it down, burying the sharp edges under a cool mask. But even as she tucked Noa against her chest and whispered her to sleep, the question lingered in her mind like poison: What if they’re right?
Nova drowned herself in work. If her mind was spinning, if her chest burned with thoughts she didn’t want to entertain, she forced her attention back to HQ. Reports, data feeds, coded exchanges—anything to bury the ache. She stretched her days so long that by the time Haesoo finally slipped through the door at night, exhaustion had already knocked her under. She made sure of it.
It became routine. Noa asleep, Nova asleep, Haesoo slipping into bed beside her without a word exchanged. And when morning came, he was gone again before either of them stirred. Days blurred. The distance thickened.
But distance wasn’t the hardest part it was what filled it.
Clips kept finding her. Tagged posts. Fans whispering in glossy edits. Screenshots of Haesoo laughing with actresses, leaning close to idol co-hosts. Every photo, every video cut deeper than the last.
What burned most wasn’t just the sight of him with them it was the unfairness of it all. She had always lived under the weight of his possessiveness, his jealousy, his need for her to keep boundaries so no one would ever mistake her attention. She had obeyed, not because she was weak, but because she understood the fire in his chest.
But now?
Now she watched him smile and laugh with women who weren’t her, and the rules bent only one way.
The jealousy twisted with anger, hot and bitter. She bit down on it until her teeth hurt, pretending she didn’t care. Pretending she didn’t notice. But every night, as she sat at her desk until her vision blurred and her body gave out, she knew the truth.
She was jealous. She was mad. And the silence between them was becoming unbearable.
If Haesoo could bury himself in work and the spotlight, Nova decided she would bury herself in empire building. She had no intention of sitting home stewing over jealousy when she had the means to expand her power.
So she started attending dinners, galas, quiet meetings with CEOs who knew her name carried weight. She closed deals and opened doors, sketching the framework of something bigger than HQ ever intended for her—a legacy that was hers alone. When she was gone, Asher stayed behind with Noa, babysitting with a grim sort of patience, though even he raised a brow at how often she was slipping out.
The photos came next. Candid shots leaked online—Nova stepping out of black cars in tailored dresses, shaking hands with men twice her age, sitting at dinner tables where the wine glasses gleamed and her expression gave nothing away.
And those photos didn’t stay hidden. They found their way into Haesoo’s feed, just as the ones of him had found their way into hers.
He froze the first time he saw them. Nova, radiant, untouchable, framed by CEOs in sleek suits, her face unreadable, her hair catching light like it belonged on a magazine cover. Comment sections filled with speculation. Who is she meeting with? Why is she always with powerful men? Some said she was networking. Others, less kind, implied more.
The knot in Haesoo’s chest tightened until it hurt.
At the studio, surrounded by staff and cameras, he shoved the phone back into his pocket, but the image wouldn’t leave him. His thoughts ran wild in the silence between recordings. He hated the way it felt jealousy crawling under his skin, ugly and consuming.
Because for years, Nova had obeyed his jealousy. She had stayed away from situations that would even look questionable. And now, when it was her turn to play by different rules, she didn’t hesitate.
And for the first time, Haesoo wondered if the distance wasn’t just physical if she was slipping away in ways he couldn’t pull her back from.
The house was dim when Nova returned, heels clicking against the hardwood as she slipped inside. Asher was on the couch, scrolling through something on his phone while Noa slept upstairs. He looked up when she walked in, arching a brow at the hour.
“Well?” he asked.
Nova dropped her bag onto the chair, tugging her hair loose from its pins. “Closed it. Finally.”
Asher leaned back, arms crossed. “Really? Took a long time.”
She shrugged, grabbing a Coke Zero from the counter and cracking it open. “I was meeting with multiple CEOs. Needed to see which company was worth the investment. Tonight made it clear this one will pay off.”
Asher gave a small nod, the faintest trace of a smile. “I was thinking the same thing. Good call.”
For a moment, they shared that rare kind of mutual understanding the kind that came from both seeing the world in numbers and leverage. But then his eyes flicked toward the stairs, toward the silence in the house.
“And Haesoo?” he asked.
Nova stilled, her Coke Zero halfway to her lips. Then she took a sip, expression flat. “I don’t know. Probably at work.”
She said it too quickly, too cleanly, as if the words weren’t laced with anything else. But Asher caught the edge anyway. He didn’t push he never did when she looked like this. Still, the silence that followed carried more weight than either of them admitted.
Asher stretched, sliding his phone into his pocket as he stood. “Well, I’m leaving. You’re back now.”
Nova gave him a nod, leaning against the counter with her Coke Zero in hand. “Thank you for watching her. I just needed to close this deal.”
He studied her for a moment, like he wanted to say more, but chose not to. Instead, he shrugged into his jacket and headed for the door. “Don’t mention it. Just… don’t burn yourself out, Reyes.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Nova in the quiet house. She exhaled slowly, the Coke can still cool against her palm, her eyes drifting toward the baby monitor’s faint glow.
Noa slept soundly upstairs, blissfully unaware. Haesoo was somewhere under studio lights, smiling for cameras. And Nova, alone in her kitchen, pretended the knot in her chest wasn’t jealousy twisting deeper with every passing night.
The days blurred. With Poppy away in California and Haesoo buried in his schedules, there was no one left to notice the little things about Nova. No one to nag her into eating. No one to push a plate toward her when she got lost in work.
So she stopped bothering. Meals felt pointless when it was just her. Cooking for one had never been her style. Instead, she survived on Coke Zero and the occasional bite grabbed between calls, her frame thinning without her even caring.
The mirror showed it, though—her cheekbones sharper, her waist leaner—but Nova looked past her reflection like it was someone else entirely.
At night, she’d tuck Noa into her playpen, check another report for HQ, and scroll through more clips of Haesoo smiling beside other women. The fans loved it, the company fed it, and Nova told herself she didn’t care. But in the silence of the kitchen, with an untouched pan on the stove and her chest burning with something sharp, she knew the truth.
She was jealous. And she was alone.
Nova should have known better than to click, but the tags were impossible to ignore. Fans had started cutting together clips of Haesoo with his co-host—a younger idol with the kind of polished charm the industry adored.
Look how perfect they are.
He deserves someone normal, not her.
Leave her, Haesoo. This is the couple we want.
The comments hit harder than she expected. She could stomach gossip about herself, rumors about missions, speculation about power. But this—people openly wishing Haesoo would leave her—this scraped straight through the armor she’d spent years building.
She shut the laptop, but the words burned in her head long after the screen went dark.
Because wasn’t that the truth she had always feared? That Haesoo wanted something simple family dinners, easy laughter, a life without shadows clawing at the edges. A life she could never give him.
Nova had given him love, loyalty, and every piece of her soul, but she had never been normal. And maybe one day, when the lights of the stage burned too bright and the comments grew too loud, he’d finally see what everyone else already whispered: she wasn’t enough.
She sat in the dim light of the living room, Coke Zero sweating in her hand, staring at nothing. For all the battles she had won, all the missions she had survived, this was the one thing that could break her jealousy twisting into doubt, convincing her that maybe she was right all along.
She would never be good enough for him.
The front door clicked open, breaking the silence. Haesoo stepped in, shoulders heavy with the weight of another long day. He spotted Nova on the couch, Coke Zero balanced on the table beside her, her posture too still.
“You eat already?” he asked gently, setting his bag down.
“Yes,” Nova said without looking up. Her voice was even, but it was a lie. She hadn’t touched a thing all day.
He didn’t press it. Just nodded and went to the kitchen, pulling out leftovers and moving around with the ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times. The sound of the microwave hummed faintly against the walls.
When he came back, plate in hand, Nova had slipped her earbuds in, a soft flicker of sound leaking through some science lecture she was pretending to focus on. She adjusted the volume, her eyes fixed on the glowing screen in her lap.
Haesoo sat down across from her, trying to catch her eye. “How was your day?”
No answer. Just the faint shift of her shoulders, her whole body angled away as if she could disappear into the headphones.
He tried again, softer this time. “Nova…”
But she didn’t look up. And whether it was because she couldn’t hear him or because she didn’t want to Haesoo felt the same sting in his chest either way.
So he ate quietly, watching her from across the room, wondering when she had started feeling so far away.
Nova kept her eyes fixed on the video, but her mind wasn’t really there. The lecture was just background noise, something to drown out the thoughts clawing at her chest.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. She slipped one earbud out and answered without thinking.
“Reyes,” a familiar voice teased, low and excited. “We’re riding tonight. Found a stretch outside the city empty roads, no heat. You in?”
Nova’s lips curved, the first flicker of something alive all day. “Yeah,” she said, her voice sharper, more certain than it had been in weeks. “Text me the address. I’ll be there in a bit.”
She ended the call quickly, tucking the phone back into her lap, as if saying the words out loud had already lit a fuse under her skin.
Across the room, Haesoo looked up from his plate, eyes narrowing slightly. “Who was that?”
Nova only slipped her earbud back in, leaning deeper into the couch. “No one,” she murmured, her voice flat, detached.
But in her chest, her pulse was already racing not from the science lecture, not from the silence pressing between them, but from the promise of escape.
Nova pulled her earbuds out, stood, and grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair. “I’m going out,” she said evenly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Noa’s sleeping already.”
Haesoo froze mid-bite, his fork hovering above the plate. His eyes flicked toward the baby monitor glowing faintly on the counter, then back at her.
“Out? At this hour?” His voice wasn’t loud, but there was an edge in it, that familiar thread of worry and possessiveness.
Nova didn’t pause. She slipped her arms into the jacket, zipped it up. “I won’t be long.”
“Nova…” he started, but she was already slipping her keys into her hand, Coke Zero still unfinished on the table behind her.
Her tone was final, leaving no room for argument. “Go to sleep, Haesoo. I’ll be back.”
And just like that, she was out the door, leaving him staring after her with a sick twist in his gut.
The first light of dawn leaked through the curtains when the sound of muffled laughter carried into the quiet house. The front door clicked, followed by Nova’s voice, low and teasing.
“Shhh,” she whispered, stifling another laugh. “You’re going to wake them up.”
Haesoo stirred upstairs, his eyes snapping open at the unfamiliar sound. His chest tightened instantly. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, heart pounding as the voices floated up again—Nova’s and another man’s.
From the stairwell, he could see them. Nova, hair wind-tossed, still in her riding jacket, leading Armando down the hall. She motioned toward the guest room, keeping her voice low. “Crash here. You’re too wired to drive back.”
Armando grinned, murmured a thanks, and slipped inside. Nova shut the door softly behind him, her laughter fading into a tired sigh.
When she turned toward the stairs, she froze—because Haesoo was there, standing in the shadows of the upper landing, eyes sharp, jaw tight.
For a moment, neither spoke. The weight of the night clung to her like smoke, and the questions in his gaze were louder than any words.
Nova broke it first, her voice cool, steady. “You’re awake.”
But Haesoo didn’t answer. Not yet.
Nova met his eyes for only a heartbeat before looking away, brushing past him like he was just another shadow in the hall. “Go back to bed, Jeon. It’s too early for this.”
But Haesoo caught her wrist, not rough, just enough to stop her from slipping out of reach. His voice was low, tight, like he was holding back more than he wanted to say.
“Who is he?”
Nova tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “A friend. That’s all.”
“You brought him here,” Haesoo said, disbelief flickering in his voice. “In our house. While Noa’s upstairs sleeping.”
She pulled her wrist free, her jaw tightening. “He’s in the guest room. He’s not a threat. Don’t make it into something it’s not.”
Haesoo’s chest rose and fell too fast. He wanted to believe her, but the night stretching between them, the laughter he’d heard, the images already burned into his mind—it all twisted into doubt.
“You disappear all night, come home at dawn, laughing with another man, and you expect me not to say anything?” His words cracked sharper than he meant them to.
Nova’s eyes finally snapped to his, sharp and cold. “I expect you to trust me. The same way I’ve trusted you while you’ve been smiling with every actress and idol on screen.”
The silence that followed was heavy, each of them staring at the other, jealousy and hurt standing between them like a wall neither wanted to admit was there.
Without another word, she turned from Haesoo and walked into their bedroom. She slipped off her jacket, tossed it over the chair, and crawled into bed like nothing had happened, like she hadn’t just walked through the door at dawn with another man trailing behind her.
Haesoo stood in the hall a moment longer, his fists curling and uncurling at his sides. He wanted to shout, demand more answers, break the cold wall she’d thrown up between them but Noa was sleeping. The thought of waking her stopped him cold.
So he followed instead.
When he entered the room, Nova was already lying on her side, her back to him, her breaths slow and even as if sleep had already claimed her. Haesoo climbed in quietly, settling on his own side of the bed. The space between them felt wider than it had in months, an invisible line neither dared to cross.
Noa shifted softly in her playpen, and for a moment both their eyes darted toward her. Then silence again heavy, unbroken.
Haesoo stared at the ceiling. Nova shut her eyes tighter. Neither of them slept easily.
Noa’s soft fussing pulled Nova from a restless sleep. She got up instantly, scooping her daughter into her arms just as Haesoo was buttoning his shirt, already half-dressed for the day. They exchanged a brief glance no words, just the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air.
Nova kissed the top of Noa’s head, carrying her into the bathroom while she splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth one-handed, her reflection pale and sharp in the mirror. By the time she padded downstairs with Noa balanced against her hip, Armando was stretched out on the living room couch.
“Breakfast?” Nova asked lightly, masking her exhaustion.
Armando glanced toward the kitchen, then back at her with a half-smirk. “Nah. Honestly, you shouldn’t be eating any of that processed stuff anyway. You’ll just gain weight.”
The words landed like glass shattering. For a moment, the only sound was Noa babbling softly, tugging at her mother’s shirt.
From the staircase, Haesoo’s voice cut in, cold and sharp. “What did you just say?”
Armando blinked, caught off guard, before raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, man. I was just joking.” He stood, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. “Anyway, thanks for letting me crash. I’m heading out.”
He brushed past Haesoo on his way to the door, but Haesoo didn’t move, his jaw clenched tight, eyes still fixed on Nova as the door shut behind Armando.
Nova shifted Noa in her arms, expression unreadable. The silence between her and Haesoo stretched again this time heavy with something sharper than jealousy.
The door clicked shut behind Armando, leaving the house too quiet. Nova adjusted Noa in her arms, brushing her daughter’s soft hair back as if the silence didn’t bother her.
But Haesoo didn’t move from the stairs. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on her like he was trying to hold the words back—and failing.
“You brought him here,” Haesoo said at last, his voice low but heavy. “Into our home. With Noa sleeping upstairs.”
Nova didn’t flinch, only shifted her weight and kissed the top of Noa’s head. “He needed a place to crash. It wasn’t that deep.”
“Not that deep?” Haesoo stepped closer, every word edged. “Do you even hear yourself? You came home at dawn with another man, laughing like—like none of this mattered. And now he’s sitting in our living room, telling you how to eat? Like he belongs here?”
Her gaze flicked to his, cold and steady. “You think I don’t notice the clips of you smiling with actresses? With idols? The comments saying you should leave me? If I can live with that, you can live with a guest in the spare room.”
Haesoo froze, the breath catching in his chest. For a moment, neither of them spoke Noa babbled softly in the crook of Nova’s arm, the only sound between them.
Finally, Haesoo’s voice cracked softer, but still raw. “You’re mine, Nova. And I can’t stand seeing you like that with him. With anyone else.”
Nova’s expression softened just a fraction, but she didn’t answer. She just turned toward the kitchen, her grip on Noa a little tighter than before.
Nova walked into the kitchen without looking at him, pulled a cold can from the fridge, and cracked it open. The sharp hiss filled the silence as she took a long drink, the carbonation burning her throat just enough to ground her.
She set the can down and bent to place Noa on the floor, inside the secured play area she had set up weeks ago. Noa immediately grabbed at her toys, babbling happily, oblivious to the tension hanging thick in the air.
Haesoo followed slowly, leaning against the doorway as he watched her. “Do you want breakfast?” he asked, his voice quieter now, trying to bridge the gap.
Nova didn’t look up. “No.”
The word was sharp, final. She sat on the edge of the couch, Coke can in hand, and watched Noa play like she was the only thing that mattered. Haesoo lingered a moment longer, caught between anger and worry, but the wall she’d built was too solid to crack just yet.
So he said nothing else, turning away, the silence between them growing heavier with every passing second.
Haesoo moved into the kitchen, the sound of pans and utensils filling the silence that Nova refused to break. He cooked quietly, stealing glances at her every now and then at the way she sat sipping her soda, eyes fixed on Noa as if he wasn’t even in the room.
When he finally sat down to eat, the tension pressed on him until he couldn’t hold it anymore. “I’ll try to come home early tonight,” he said, voice careful, almost an olive branch.
Nova didn’t even look at him. She took another sip from her can, her tone flat. “Don’t bother.”
The words landed heavier than any shout could have.
Haesoo’s fork stilled midair, his chest tightening like she’d just pulled the floor out from under him. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but nothing came.
From the floor, Noa laughed at one of her toys, the bright sound cutting through the thick silence like a cruel reminder that life moved on, even when the two of them stood stuck on opposite sides of an unspoken war.
Haesoo pushed the food around his plate, appetite gone, while Nova leaned back on the couch, refusing to give him even her eyes.
When Haesoo finished, he set his dishes in the sink without a word and grabbed his bag. Noa was still playing, her laughter bright and sweet. He knelt down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
“Appa will be back later,” he murmured softly, his hand brushing over her hair before he stood again.
Nova was still on the couch, Coke can beside her, eyes glued to her phone. The sound of funny videos played low, muffled laughter and skits filling the air.
Haesoo stepped close, leaned down slightly, and tried to kiss her goodbye like he always did.
But Nova didn’t look up. Didn’t pause the video. Didn’t move.
His lips hovered over the crown of her head before he pulled back, the rejection sharp even in its silence. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at her profile lit by the screen. Then he tightened his grip on his bag and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
The house was quiet again, except for Noa’s babbling and the faint sound of strangers laughing through Nova’s phone.
The hours slipped by in silence, Nova half-watching Noa play while scrolling through her phone. The doorbell rang just as the afternoon light slanted across the living room.
Asher stepped inside, glancing between Nova’s tired face and the playpen where Noa kicked happily. He didn’t waste time. “HQ wants you to record a song and film a music video. They’ll cover everything, but it stays on the down low. No one needs to know—it’ll be their call when to drop it.”
Nova set her phone aside and leaned back, expression calm, almost relieved to have something concrete to focus on. “Okay. I already have a track recorded. All I need is the video.”
“I’ll babysit Noa,” Asher offered easily, his tone making it clear there’d be no argument.
“Good,” Nova said with a faint nod. “I’ll finish it by the end of the week.”
And she did. She worked through the quiet days, focused and detached, throwing herself into preparation the way she always did. When the cameras rolled, she gave nothing less than flawless—sharp, breathtaking, untouchable. By week’s end, the final cut of the music video was already in her hands.
She sent the file straight to HQ, her message clipped and professional: Done.
No fanfare. No announcement. Just a piece of herself sealed away until HQ decided the world could see it.
A few days later The office was buzzing with excitement—Haesoo’s solo album and music video had just dropped that morning. Staff were gathered around screens, monitoring views and comments, the company ready to push the momentum.
But the energy shifted when the CEO walked in, his phone lit up with notifications, his brow furrowed.
“Haesoo,” he said, voice tight, “didn’t Nova know your release date?”
Haesoo, still riding the high of seeing his name trend, looked up, confused. “Why?”
The CEO turned the phone toward him. The trending charts glowed back Nova’s new song and video sitting at #1, already dominating every platform. Streams were climbing by the second, drowning out everything else.
“She dropped a track this morning. Out of nowhere,” the CEO said. “My daughter’s texting me about it, the media’s already calling. And the problem is… it completely eclipsed your launch.”
Haesoo stared at the numbers side by side: his views climbing steadily—but Nova’s skyrocketing, the gap widening in real time. His chest tightened, the buzz of excitement hollowing out in an instant.
“She didn’t even tell you?” the CEO asked, incredulous. “This was supposed to be your day, Haesoo. Now all anyone’s talking about is her.”
Haesoo’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, eyes locked on the screen. Nova’s face filled it magnetic, flawless, every move perfectly calculated. And she hadn’t said a word to him.
The CEO sighed, lowering the phone. “You need to talk to her. We can’t afford her overshadowing you like this.”
Haesoo sat frozen, the taste of betrayal sharp on his tongue. His music, his video, his moment all swallowed whole the second Nova stepped into the light.
The CEO didn’t wait for Haesoo to answer. He tapped his screen, and suddenly the speakers in the office filled with the first whisper:
“Turn the lights out… Game over.”
The room went still.
On screen, Nova’s face cut through a glitching cityscape, black leather trench coat flashing with silver embroidery. Neon signs flickered, rival idols’ faces dissolving into static as her voice slid over the beat. The office staff who a moment ago had been huddled over Haesoo’s numbers turned, transfixed.
Each verse landed like a blade: billboards collapsing, holograms of trophies glitching out of existence, the words GAME OVER burning in neon red across skyscrapers. The rap section hit, her voice commanding, cocky, devastating:
“Heavy hitter, no filler, I deliver the kill,
Every chart’s just a weapon, bend it under my will…”
The CEO whistled low, setting the phone down on the table. “Well… that answers the question. It’s good. Too good. She just wiped the floor with everyone and she didn’t even announce it.”
Haesoo sat frozen, his jaw tight, watching his wife dominate every frame, every lyric, every beat of the video. His own release his album, his carefully planned music video wasn’t even trending in the top five anymore.
All anyone was talking about was Nova.
His producer glanced nervously between him and the CEO, but no one said what they were all thinking: Nova’s drop had turned his release day into an afterthought.
Haesoo clenched his fists under the table, his chest twisting between pride and a sharp, bitter jealousy. She hadn’t told him. She hadn’t warned him. And yet here she was number one again, while his moment slipped through her shadow.
The last beat of “Game Over” faded, the final whisper “Turn the lights out… Game over” hanging heavy in the office. No one spoke, the silence broken only when the door pushed open and Asher stepped inside, a folder in his hand.
He stopped dead when he saw the CEO’s phone still playing the video on loop. His brows furrowed. “How did you get access to that already?”
The CEO blinked. “What do you mean? Access? Nova dropped it this morning. It’s everywhere number one already.”
Asher’s expression hardened instantly, eyes narrowing. “No. She didn’t.”
The producer glanced between them, confused. “What are you talking about? It’s public, Asher. The video’s trending worldwide. She’s blowing everything else out of the water.”
But Asher’s jaw set, his voice low and certain. “I was the one who forwarded it to HQ. Nova was clear this was supposed to stay locked until HQ decided when to release it. She didn’t drop it.”
The CEO frowned, his grip on the phone tightening. “Then who the hell did?”
Haesoo sat rigid, his stomach turning cold. If Nova hadn’t dropped it, then someone else had and that meant she hadn’t betrayed him. But the hurt lingered all the same, twisting deeper with the realization that Nova’s control over her own work had been stripped from her.
And worse, her storm had landed right on his release day.
Asher’s tone cut through the office, calm but firm. “Well… there’s nothing we can do anymore. It’s already out.” He crossed his arms, glancing at the stunned faces around him. “I doubt even Nova knows it’s public yet.”
The CEO exhaled hard, sinking into a chair. “Perfect. Just perfect. Her release is cannibalizing Haesoo’s rollout, and if she didn’t even authorize it” He stopped himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Damage control’s going to be a nightmare.”
Haesoo barely heard them. His chest ached, jealousy and confusion twisting until he could hardly breathe. He should’ve been angry at whoever leaked it, furious at HQ for losing control of her work but all he could think about was the image of Nova dominating every frame, her voice crushing everything in its path, while his album his first real solo was pushed into her shadow.
Asher’s voice softened, though his eyes flicked toward Haesoo knowingly. “This isn’t on her. Don’t take it out on her.”
Haesoo didn’t answer. His fists clenched at his sides, the words burning in his throat, too raw to let loose here. All he could do was stand, jaw tight, and leave the room before he said something he couldn’t take back.
Asher leaned against the edge of the conference table, arms folded, his voice steady but edged with bluntness. “Honestly, this isn’t Nova’s fault. Even if she had released it herself, she shouldn’t have to tiptoe around Haesoo. If the album was good enough, it should’ve held its ground against hers.”
The room went still. The CEO stiffened, but Asher didn’t flinch, his gaze cool and unwavering. “And let’s not forget Nova isn’t even an idol. She’s not playing the same game. She doesn’t chase comebacks or fanservice. She drops when she wants, how she wants, and the world stops to watch. That’s not on her that’s on us for acting like her shadow is something we didn’t already know was there.”
The words cut deep, and Haesoo felt them like a weight pressing harder against his chest. A part of him wanted to snap back, to defend himself, but another part the one he didn’t want to admit knew Asher was right.
His album hadn’t beaten hers. His moment hadn’t survived her storm.
And worse, she hadn’t even needed to try.
The silence in the office was suffocating until the CEO cleared his throat. “Enough. What’s done is done. Haesoo, focus on your promotions. Asher, keep Nova quiet for now. We’ll manage the narrative.”
But Haesoo didn’t move, his jaw tight, his thoughts spiraling. Nova had taken the world by accident and he was left wondering if he’d ever measure up beside her.
Asher’s tone shifted, sharper than before, his presence filling the room. “Sorry, but I can’t tell Nova to keep quiet,” he said flatly, eyes locked on the CEO. “You’re not her CEO. She does what she wants, when she wants. That’s the reality, and you all know it.”
The CEO bristled, opening his mouth to argue, but Asher stepped closer, voice dropping lower, cutting through the air like a blade. “And one more thing next time you tell me to muzzle her, make sure you can stand your ground. Because I don’t play fair.”
The room froze. Staff exchanged uneasy glances, no one daring to interrupt.
Asher straightened his jacket and picked up his folder, his expression calm again but his words still hanging heavy. “Now, you’ve got Haesoo’s promotions to manage. Focus on that. Nova doesn’t answer to you.”
The CEO swallowed hard, nodding slightly, but Asher was already heading for the door.
Haesoo stayed seated, staring down at his own hands. He wasn’t sure what burned more Asher’s words defending Nova so fiercely, or the truth laced in them.
When Asher finally got back to the house, Nova was in the living room with Noa sprawled on her lap, scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. She looked up when he came in, reading his expression immediately.
“What happened?” she asked, already bracing.
Asher dropped the folder on the table and sat across from her. “The CEO tried to tell me to keep you quiet. Said you need to stay out of the spotlight because it’s hurting Haesoo’s promotions.”
Nova’s jaw tightened instantly. She set her phone aside, her free hand clenching against the couch cushion. “Who does he think he is to tell me to shut up and not say anything about my own song?”
Her voice was low, sharp, dangerous.
Asher raised a brow, leaning back in his chair. “That’s exactly what I told him. You don’t belong to him. You don’t belong to KSJ. You move when you want, how you want. And I made sure he understood I’m not the one he should be trying to play with.”
Nova let out a humorless laugh, brushing her fingers through Noa’s hair. “They forget too easily. I don’t need them. They need me.”
Her eyes glinted, cold and certain. “If they think I’m going to sit back and stay quiet, they’re out of their minds.”
Asher smirked faintly. “That’s what I figured you’d say.
Nova shifted Noa carefully onto her playmat and stood, her expression carved sharp with resolve. “Book me for promotions,” she said, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. “If they want me quiet, I’ll do the opposite. Let’s see if they still think they can tell me what to do.”
Asher tilted his head, a slow grin tugging at his lips. “That’s the Nova I know. You want me to line up radio, variety, music shows?”
“Everything,” Nova said, already pacing, fire in her eyes. “I’ll flood the damn market. Let them watch me break their rules in real time.”
Asher chuckled, pulling out his phone. “Alright. But don’t say I didn’t warn you—you’re about to start a storm.”
Nova smirked, crossing her arms. “Good. Let them choke on it.”
From the corner of the room, Noa babbled happily on the mat, her little hands smacking a toy, oblivious to the storm her mother was preparing to unleash.
The front door clicked open just as Asher scrolled through his contacts, already lining up calls. Haesoo stepped inside, shoulders heavy from the long day, but the sound of Nova’s voice stopped him cold.
“Book me for everything. Radio, variety, music shows I don’t care. If they think they can tell me to stay quiet, I’ll bury the entire conversation in my promotions.”
Haesoo froze in the doorway, watching her pace the living room like she owned it, fire in her eyes, her words slicing through the air. Asher leaned back casually, phone in hand, smirking like he’d been waiting for this.
Haesoo’s chest tightened, jealousy clawing at him before he could stop it. His album, his moment, already eclipsed by her surprise release now she was talking about taking over the stage, too.
“Nova,” he said finally, his voice quieter but strained, “what are you doing?”
She turned to him, her arms crossed, gaze unflinching. “Taking back what’s mine.”
The air between them sharpened instantly, the weight of her defiance colliding with the knot of his jealousy.
Haesoo dropped his bag by the door, his voice rising before he could stop himself. “So that’s it? You’re just going to stomp all over my promotions because you’re pissed at the CEO?”
Nova’s eyes narrowed, her arms still crossed. “This isn’t about you, Haesoo. This is about them thinking they can control me.”
He took a step closer, his chest tight. “Not about me? Nova, my album dropped today. My music video dropped today. And all anyone’s talking about is you. Do you even realize what that feels like?”
Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t look away. “I didn’t even release it myself. HQ did. Don’t twist this like I tried to sabotage you.”
“Does it matter?” Haesoo shot back. “The result’s the same. I worked my ass off for months, and one video from you wipes it all out. And now now you’re talking about promotions? About taking over every stage?” His voice cracked with the weight of it. “Do you even care what that does to me?”
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut. Asher stayed still, unreadable, but his eyes flicked between them like he knew this was a fight only the two of them could finish.
Nova’s lips parted, her breath steady but her gaze steel. “Don’t ever mistake me fighting for myself as me not caring about you.”
Nova’s chest rose and fell sharply, her eyes glinting as she jabbed a finger toward the floor, every word hitting like steel. “Stupid CEO. I took him out of poverty. I’m the reason KSJ even has a company to run and he thinks he can tell me what to do?”
Her voice climbed, venom laced with cold laughter. “He wouldn’t even have an office to sit in if it wasn’t for me. No SOL7, no building, no staff. Nothing. And he has the audacity to say I should keep quiet? He should be on his knees thanking me every day he still has a company.”
Haesoo stood rigid, his anger now tangled with something else shock, maybe even guilt. He knew she wasn’t wrong.
Nova turned back to him, fire still burning in her tone. “Don’t you dare confuse me shutting him down with me trying to hurt you. I built everything you’re standing on, Haesoo. And I’ll burn it all down if anyone tries to tell me to be silent.”
The room felt like it was vibrating from the force of her words, Asher watching silently, the tension thick enough to choke.
The silence stretched heavy until Asher finally spoke, his voice calm but razor-sharp. “That man has no idea who he’s talking to,” he said, leaning back in his chair like he owned the room. “If you want, I can kick him out tomorrow. I’ve got leverage on him. Enough to ruin his career in one move.”
Haesoo blinked, startled by how casually Asher said it, like it was just another option on the table.
Nova’s lips curled into a small, humorless smirk. “Of course you do.”
Asher shrugged. “I’m just saying one word from you, and he’ll be lucky to get a desk job again. He thinks he can control you? He doesn’t even realize you’re the only reason his name means anything in this industry.”
The weight of it hung in the air, Haesoo caught between his jealousy and the sharp reminder of just how much power Nova really had power that even CEOs couldn’t contain.
Nova threw her hands up, exasperated. “I work for HQ. How the hell is it my fault my song did better? They’re the ones who dropped it, not me. And guess what? HQ lets me do whatever I want—they don’t need my permission to release a track. You want me to tell them off for dropping it today?”
Her tone cracked like thunder, eyes locking onto Haesoo’s with steel. “Think about what you’re saying. You’re mad at me for doing my job better than anyone else. For being good enough that a surprise release blows up without a whisper of promo. How is that my crime?”
Asher smirked faintly, watching Haesoo’s silence stretch too long.
Nova’s voice dropped lower, steady but dangerous. “Don’t put their screw-up on me. I didn’t sabotage you. I don’t need to.”
Nova muttered under her breath, sharp and bitter, “Supongo que coquetear con todas esas chicas en televisión no ayudó en nada a su álbum.”
(“I guess flirting with all those girls on TV didn’t help his album at all.”)
Asher’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Nova,” he said firmly, almost like a warning.
Nova didn’t even blink. Her voice dropped colder. “Es la verdad.”
(“It’s the truth.”)
Nova’s glare didn’t waver. She turned fully toward Asher, her voice low but sharp as glass.
“Tú piensas lo mismo, solo que no lo dices en voz alta. Yo no tengo que ser una puta para que mis canciones tengan éxito.”
(“You’re thinking the same thing, you just don’t say it out loud. I don’t have to be a whore for my songs to do well.”)
Asher’s jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek twitching. “Nova…” His tone was half warning, half disbelief.
Nova’s arms stayed folded, her chin tilting up defiantly. “Lo digo porque es cierto.”
(“I’m saying it because it’s true.”)
Haesoo stood stiffly, watching them volley words in a language he couldn’t understand, but the weight of her tone and the tension in Asher’s response were unmistakable. He knew whatever she was saying, it was about him.
Asher exhaled, the edge in his posture softening as he finally gave in. His voice was low, resigned, spoken in Spanish.
“La verdad… me sorprende que todavía no lo hayas jodido.”
(“Honestly… I’m surprised you haven’t fucked him up yet.”)
Nova’s lips curved into a humorless smirk, her reply sharp as a blade. “Todavía puedo.”
(“I still can.”)
Asher leaned back against the table, eyes fixed on Nova, his tone flat but weighted.
“He visto los posts. Pero si hubieras sido tú, ya habría hecho un infierno. Pero claro… con él las reglas nunca aplican. Siempre ha sido así.”
(“I’ve seen the posts. But if it were you, he would’ve started hell already. But with him, the rules never apply. It’s always been that way.”)
Nova’s jaw tightened, but she gave the faintest nod, like his words only confirmed what she already knew.
Haesoo stood on the outside of it all, his chest burning. He couldn’t understand the Spanish, but he could feel the weight of what Asher was saying, the way Nova’s silence carried agreement.
And that silence cut sharper than any translation could.
Asher pushed off the table, straightening his jacket like he was done carrying the weight of the conversation. His voice switched cleanly back to English, cool and even.
“Well, I’m leaving.”
Nova didn’t stop him. She just crossed her arms, her expression still sharp, still burning from everything unsaid.
Haesoo stood tense, watching Asher walk out, the echo of the door closing leaving the house too quiet. His chest tightened, not from what was spoken but from everything that hadn’t been, everything in a language he couldn’t touch.
“What the hell were you saying to him?” he demanded, stepping closer. “Don’t act like I didn’t notice you shut me out, spoke in Spanish, and the two of you went back and forth like I wasn’t even here.”
Nova lifted her chin, arms still crossed. “Because you wouldn’t have liked what I said.”
“That’s not the point!” Haesoo’s voice cracked, jealousy and hurt spilling over. “You talk about me behind my back, in front of my face, in a language I don’t even understand. Do you know what that feels like? To watch you and Asher trade looks and words and know it’s about me?”
Her stare didn’t waver, calm in a way that only made him angrier.
“Tell me,” Haesoo pressed, his chest heaving. “Tell me what you said. Or do you think I don’t deserve to know?”
Nova’s eyes flicked to him, steady and sharp, her arms still folded. “You don’t want to know,” she said flatly.
Haesoo’s breath hitched, his fists tightening. “Don’t tell me what I want.”
She exhaled through her nose, slow and dismissive, then turned away to pick up her phone from the couch. “Go to bed, Haesoo. You’ve got early schedules. I’m not doing this with you.”
The coldness in her tone was worse than a shout, worse than an insult it was a wall he couldn’t break through.
Haesoo stood frozen, the weight of her dismissal cutting deep. “So that’s it? You shut me out. Again.”
Nova didn’t answer. She only sank back onto the couch, her eyes locked on the glow of her phone screen, shutting him out completely.
The silence that followed felt louder than any fight.
Haesoo’s jaw clenched so tight it hurt. The quiet dismissal in her voice, the way she buried herself in her phone like he wasn’t even there—it was too much.
“Fine,” he bit out, his voice shaking with anger and hurt. “If that’s how it is, stay in your world, Nova. I’m done talking to a wall.”
He grabbed his jacket from the chair, the sound sharp in the still room, and stormed toward the door. The slam echoed through the house as it shut behind him, leaving Nova alone in the heavy silence.
On the couch, she didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Her eyes stayed fixed on her phone screen, but her grip had tightened just enough to make the device creak in her hand.
Noa stirred faintly upstairs, her soft sounds the only break in the suffocating quiet.
The echo of the slammed door still rattled in the air as Noa’s soft fussing drifted down from upstairs. Nova set her phone aside and rose without hesitation, her footsteps steady as she climbed the stairs.
In the nursery, Noa was kicking against her blanket, eyes watery from being startled awake. Nova scooped her up gently, pressing her close to her chest. “Shh… it’s okay, baby. He didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered, her voice softer than it had been all night.
She swayed slowly by the crib, Noa’s tiny hand clutching at the fabric of her shirt. Nova kissed the top of her head, her jaw tightening against the burn in her chest. Whatever storm raged downstairs between her and Haesoo—Noa would never feel it.
“Go back to sleep, princesa,” she murmured, rocking her carefully until her fussing eased into quiet little sighs.
When Noa finally drifted back down, Nova laid her back in the crib, brushing her cheek with her thumb. “I’ll protect you from all of it,” she whispered, more to herself than to Noa.
Nova slipped into the bedroom after settling Noa back down, pulling the blanket over her shoulders as she sat on the edge of the bed. The door creaked open minutes later Haesoo had come back, still tense, his breath uneven.
She didn’t even look up at first, just let the words cut sharp through the air. “Next time you leave, don’t slam the door. You woke up my daughter.”
Haesoo froze in the doorway, guilt flickering across his face before pride stiffened his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to,” he muttered, his voice lower, defensive.
Nova finally turned her head, her eyes cool but steady. “Intent doesn’t matter when she’s the one crying at midnight because of it.”
The weight of her words landed heavy, and for a moment, neither of them moved the air charged with all the things they weren’t saying.
Nova didn’t wait for his answer. She lay down on her side, pulling the blanket over her shoulder, her back turned toward him. Within minutes, her breathing slowed, exhaustion pulling her under.
Haesoo stood in the doorway a moment longer, jaw tight, before heading to the bathroom. The sound of the shower filled the silence, water beating against tile, washing away the anger clinging to his skin.
When he finally returned, hair damp, dressed in clean clothes, Nova was already asleep. He slipped into bed quietly, careful not to disturb her. Lying on his back, he stared at the ceiling, the gap between them on the mattress feeling wider than ever.
He turned his head once, just enough to look at her her face softened in sleep, her hand curled under her cheek. His chest ached with everything he wanted to say, everything he couldn’t.
He closed his eyes, but rest didn’t come easily.
The morning light barely crept through the curtains when Haesoo stirred awake to the sound of Noa’s cries. He slipped out of bed quickly, padding to the nursery and lifting her from the crib, rocking her gently in his arms.
“Shh, baby… it’s okay, daddy’s here,” he whispered, trying to soothe her. But the wails only grew sharper, her tiny fists clenching against his shirt.
Nova appeared in the doorway, her hair tousled from sleep, eyes still heavy. She crossed the room without a word and reached for Noa. The second she was in her mother’s arms, the cries melted into soft whimpers, Noa pressing her face into Nova’s chest.
Nova sighed, kissing the top of her daughter’s head. “You missed mommy, didn’t you?” she murmured, her tone softer than anything she’d given Haesoo the night before.
Haesoo stood there, hands empty, watching the ease with which Nova calmed her. The ache in his chest deepened not just from jealousy, but from the quiet realization of how much distance there was between them now.
Nova was still rocking Noa when Asher appeared in the doorway, his tone brisk but easy. “Nova, I got you a spot today on the show. They kicked out someone else to put you in. Go shower and get ready I’ll handle Noa.”
Before Nova could argue, he stepped forward and held out his arms. She hesitated only a second before passing Noa to him.
To Haesoo’s surprise, Noa didn’t fuss, didn’t cry. She curled easily against Asher’s chest, her tiny hands gripping his shirt as he adjusted her with practiced ease.
Nova brushed her hair out of her face, already turning toward the bathroom. “Text me the details.”
Haesoo stood there, his stomach tightening as the image burned into him Noa calm in Asher’s arms, not in his. The silence he carried suddenly felt heavier than ever.
Haesoo’s voice came out rougher than he meant, the words slipping before he could stop them. “Funny how she doesn’t cry with you but won’t even calm down with me.”
Asher looked up from where Noa was nestled against him, his expression turning cold, sharp. “Well, you’re never here,” he shot back. “Of course Noa doesn’t look for you anymore. Nova and I are the ones who take care of her.”
The words landed like a slap. Haesoo’s chest tightened, anger mixing with guilt he didn’t want to acknowledge. His eyes flicked toward Nova, but she was already walking toward the bathroom, her back to both of them, refusing to step into it.
Noa cooed softly against Asher’s chest, the sound cutting Haesoo deeper than the argument itself.
Haesoo’s fists curled tight at his sides. “Don’t talk like you know what it’s like being me”
Asher cut him off, his voice sharper, low enough that it stung more. “Funny how you’re the one who pushed Nova to leave missions, to ‘be a family’ but look at you now.”
Haesoo froze, his throat tightening, no comeback ready.
Asher shifted Noa against his shoulder, her little hands gripping his hoodie, completely at ease. His gaze stayed locked on Haesoo, unflinching. “You wanted her here. You wanted this life. But when it’s your turn to show up, you’re gone. Don’t get angry at me because she doesn’t cry in my arms.”
The words hit Haesoo harder than he’d admit.
From the bathroom doorway, the sound of water running masked Nova’s silence but her absence in the fight was its own answer.
The bathroom door swung open, steam curling behind her as Nova came down the stairs, dressed sharp and ready, Noa’s diaper bag slung over one arm. Her hair was still damp, but her presence filled the room with a finality that ended the argument cold.
“Let’s go, Asher,” she said, her tone clipped but confident. “Let’s show these amateurs how it’s done.”
Asher didn’t miss a beat. He shifted Noa in his arms and grabbed the bag from her shoulder with his free hand, nodding like they’d already discussed this before.
Haesoo’s jaw tightened, watching them move in perfect sync. The words Asher had thrown at him still rang in his head, louder now as he stood rooted to the spot.
Nova didn’t look at him. She just opened the front door and walked out, her heels clicking against the floor, leaving the air heavy behind her.
Haesoo arrived at the venue a few minutes later, his schedule already heavy with rehearsals and prep. Backstage was buzzing with staff, lights, and the hum of idols waiting their turn.
That’s when he saw her.
Nova stood at the far end of the corridor, hair gleaming under the overheads, her outfit sharp and commanding. She was calm, collected—like she’d done this a thousand times, even though it wasn’t supposed to be her world. Around her, a small cluster of idols lingered, their eyes locked on her as if drawn by gravity. They laughed too easily at whatever she said, hung on her presence like moths to a flame.
Haesoo’s stomach knotted.
Then her name was called. Nova walked past the others and onto the stage without hesitation, heels clicking like a countdown.
From the shadows backstage, Haesoo watched as the opening notes of Game Over dropped, the giant screens glitching to life, the crowd’s screams rising to match her arrival.
It was supposed to be his moment. But all eyes, all voices, all energy belonged to her.
From backstage, Haesoo couldn’t pull his eyes away.
Nova moved like the stage was built for her every step precise, every glance commanding. The crowd roared her name, and the massive screens behind her glitched with the words GAME OVER in bold red letters.
But it wasn’t just the stage that burned Haesoo. It was the way those idols had looked at her before she went out the way they leaned in too close, their smiles lingering, like she was theirs to admire. His fists clenched at the memory, jealousy burning hot and ugly in his chest.
Now, watching her own the stage, a different fear took hold. Her presence swallowed everything. It didn’t matter that his album was the one the company had pushed for months she had stepped in, and the spotlight bent to her like it always did.
Jealousy twisted into dread as he realized: she didn’t even have to try to eclipse him. She just existed, and the world turned to her.
And he didn’t know if he could stand in that shadow.
Haesoo kept his eyes locked on the stage, his jaw tight, when a voice cut through the noise beside him.
“She’s something else, huh?”
Haesoo turned to see one of the idols who’d been lingering around Nova earlier. The guy smirked, his arms crossed as he watched her command the crowd like it was nothing.
“First time seeing her perform up close,” the idol continued, shaking his head with a low laugh. “I get why everyone’s obsessed. She’s not even an idol, and look at her. Honestly? She’s stealing the whole show.”
Haesoo’s chest burned, the words slamming into the exact insecurities he was trying to choke down. His fists curled so tight his nails dug into his palms.
The idol leaned a little closer, tone almost teasing. “Man, if she was in the industry full-time, the rest of us might as well quit.”
Haesoo’s teeth ground together. He didn’t trust himself to speak. His eyes snapped back to the stage, to Nova glowing under the lights, and every muscle in his body screamed with jealousy, love, and fear all tangled into something he couldn’t control.
The lights dimmed, the crowd still screaming as Nova stepped offstage, her chest rising and falling with the rush of performance. Sweat glistened against her skin, but she looked untouchable—like the stage had only fueled her instead of draining her.
Haesoo stood at the edge of the curtains, waiting for his cue. His heart was pounding, but not from nerves about his own performance.
As she passed him, Nova slowed just enough to meet his eyes. A smirk curved her lips, sharp and knowing. “The stage is all yours,” she murmured, her tone laced with teasing confidence.
She brushed past him without waiting for a response, her scent still lingering as the staff waved him forward.
The roar of the crowd swelled again but in Haesoo’s head, it was already drowned out by the echo of her words, that smirk, and the sight of the idols who had been watching her like she was theirs.
Now it was his turn but all he could feel was the weight of her shadow.
The lights snapped on, and the crowd roared his name—but Haesoo felt nothing but static in his chest.
He stepped into the spotlight, mic in hand, but his head was still backstage—Nova’s smirk carved into his mind, the way those idols had looked at her, the way the audience had screamed louder for her than for anyone else.
The track kicked in. His voice rose automatically, years of training carrying him, but his focus fractured. His timing faltered once, then again, his moves just a beat behind.
The crowd didn’t notice at first they were too swept up in the lights and music. But Haesoo felt it. He knew it.
Every mistake pressed heavier against his ribs. Every lyric felt like it slipped further out of his grasp. His eyes caught the monitors on the side stage, still replaying flashes of Nova’s performance, her face larger than life.
It hit him like a cruel reminder: she had walked out there and owned the world without even trying. And here he was, unraveling on the same stage.
The more he tried to claw his way back into rhythm, the more his voice cracked under the weight of it all.
From the wings, Nova’s sharp gaze locked onto him. She could see the slip the falter in his steps, the slight crack in his voice. The crowd hadn’t caught it yet, but she knew.
She moved closer to the edge of the stage, just enough so he could see her between the lights. When his eyes darted that way, frantic and unfocused, she lifted her hand and pointed two fingers at her eyes, then at him.
“Focus,” she mouthed, firm and unshakable.
Her expression wasn’t mocking this time no smirk, no tease. Just steady, grounding, as if her voice was threading through the noise straight into him.
Haesoo’s breath caught, his chest tight, but something in the way she looked at him cut through the spiral. He forced air into his lungs, gripped the mic tighter, and locked his eyes forward again.
The next beat landed, and he grabbed onto it like a lifeline. His voice steadied, the slip smoothing over.
Backstage, Nova didn’t move. She stood there with her arms crossed, watching him like a lifeline he didn’t want but needed anyway.
Once he locked eyes forward again, the haze began to lift. Haesoo pulled his voice back under control, every note sharper, every step more deliberate. He poured himself into the song not flawless, not effortless like Nova’s performance, but raw. His heart pounded in rhythm with the beat, and this time, he stayed with it.
The crowd, oblivious to the earlier cracks, surged with energy, chanting his name. The wave of it carried him, pushing him to hit the high notes with more grit, more force than before. By the time the last chorus rang out, sweat streaked down his temple, his chest heaving but he had steadied himself.
The final note hit clean. The audience erupted.
Backstage, Nova gave him the smallest nod, her expression unreadable, but the look told him everything you pulled it back.
Haesoo lowered his mic, trying to catch his breath, but inside, the storm still swirled. Because even though he’d recovered, the truth lingered in the back of his mind: he’d needed her. And he hated himself for it.
The crowd’s cheers still echoed through the venue when Haesoo came offstage, sweat clinging to his skin, adrenaline burning through his veins. Staff congratulated him in passing, but he barely registered their words. His eyes were already on her.
Nova leaned casually against a flight case near the wings, arms crossed, Noa’s blanket draped loosely over one shoulder. She looked like she hadn’t moved since his set began, her expression calm—too calm.
“You almost lost it out there,” she said evenly, her voice low so only he could hear. “I had to remind you where you were.”
Haesoo’s chest tightened, his pride stung raw. “You think I didn’t know?” he snapped, his voice harsher than he intended. “I didn’t need you out there treating me like a trainee who can’t hold it together.”
Nova tilted her head slightly, her gaze cutting right through him. “If I hadn’t, you would’ve crashed. The crowd would’ve seen it. The press would’ve eaten you alive.”
Her tone wasn’t cruel it was matter-of-fact, the truth laid bare. But it only made his chest ache more.
Haesoo dragged a hand through his damp hair, his voice breaking against his frustration. “Do you even realize what it feels like to always be standing in your shadow? To need you just to make it through my own damn stage?”
For a moment, the noise backstage seemed to fade around them, the weight of his words hanging heavy between them.
Nova’s arms uncrossed slowly, her gaze narrowing. “So now it’s my fault you can’t do your job correctly?” Her voice was low, edged like glass.
Haesoo flinched, but she didn’t give him the space to respond. She pushed past him, the faint scent of her perfume brushing against his shoulder.
“I’m leaving before you scare Noa again,” she added, calm but final, every syllable like a slammed door.
Without waiting for his reaction, she walked toward Asher, already reaching for Noa’s blanket. Her stride was steady, her posture unbending as if the argument had already been decided and nothing he could say would change it.
Haesoo stood there in the noise and bustle of backstage, rooted to the spot while the chaos of staff and idols swirled around him. For the first time in a long time, the stage lights felt cold.
The car hummed softly as it pulled away from the venue, city lights flashing across the windows. Noa was strapped snugly in her car seat, finally calm, clutching the edge of her blanket in her tiny fists.
Asher sat in the front passenger seat, glancing back at Nova. “Alright,” he said carefully, “what happened back there?”
Nova leaned her head against the window, her voice clipped but steady. “He was fucking up his stage. I told him to focus, he pulled it together, finished good and now he’s blaming me. Said I was treating him like a trainee.” She scoffed under her breath, shaking her head. “I told him it isn’t my fault he can’t do his job.”
Asher exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Figures…”
The silence that followed was only broken by the soft sound of Noa’s breathing in the back seat, a small reminder of the weight pressing down on all of them.
Asher let out a dry laugh, no sympathy in it. “Typical. He screws up, you save him, and suddenly you’re the problem? Please.”
Nova didn’t answer right away, just stared out the window at the blur of streetlights, her jaw tight.
Asher twisted in his seat enough to glance at her, his tone firm. “You’re not wrong, Nova. If you hadn’t pulled him back, he would’ve crashed in front of everyone. You did what needed to be done. That’s not treating him like a trainee that’s keeping his ass from burning his own career down.”
Her lips pressed into the faintest smirk, but her eyes stayed cold. “He’ll never see it that way.”
“Then that’s his problem,” Asher said flatly. “You’ve carried bigger missions than this. Don’t waste your energy feeling guilty for being better at what you do.”
In the backseat, Noa stirred softly in her car seat, but quickly settled again, the quiet settling heavy in the car.
The car rolled to a stop in front of Nova’s house. She unbuckled Noa’s car seat, carefully lifting her out while Asher handed her the diaper bag.
Before she could step out, Asher leaned slightly toward her, his voice low and sharp. “If he keeps being like this, you can stay at my place. Either way, he won’t notice you know why?” His eyes flicked toward the house. “Because he’s never here.”
Nova met his gaze, unreadable for a moment. Then she gave the faintest nod, pressing Noa closer against her chest as if anchoring herself.
“Thanks, Asher,” she said quietly, though her tone carried more steel than gratitude.
He leaned back in his seat, expression hard. “Just remember, you don’t owe anyone an apology for being the only one actually showing up.”
Nova stepped out into the night, her silhouette sharp against the glow of the porch light as the car pulled away, leaving her with the weight of his words echoing in her head.
Inside, the house was quiet. Nova carried Noa upstairs, changed her into a fresh onesie, and laid her down in the playpen beside the bed. Noa fussed for a moment before drifting off, her tiny breaths evening out.
Nova slipped into the bathroom, letting the hot water wash over her, rinsing away the sweat and the weight of the day. By the time she stepped out, her hair damp and skin flushed, the house was still empty Haesoo nowhere in sight.
She moved through her routines anyway, balancing her laptop on the counter while folding laundry, sending quick replies to HQ, and adjusting schedules with one hand while holding Noa with the other. Hours blurred until the evening set in.
Finally, with Noa asleep for the night, Nova stretched out on the bed, her body sinking into the sheets. The house was still silent, the kind that made the emptiness louder.
She glanced at the clock once before closing her eyes, exhaustion swallowing her whole.
The glow of her phone was the only light in the dark room. Nova rubbed her tired eyes when she saw the clock 1:03 a.m. and the empty space beside her in the bed.
With a frown, she unlocked her screen, scrolling without thinking until the notifications hit her.
Photos. Videos. Clips already circulating online. Haesoo with the variety cast, drinks in hand, laughter frozen in bright camera flashes. And there again too close, too comfortable with her. The idol everyone kept shipping him with. Their smiles looked like something rehearsed, something easy. Something that wasn’t hers.
Her chest tightened until it was hard to breathe. She set the phone down, then picked it back up again, torturing herself with one more glance, one more headline, one more comment thread she knew she shouldn’t read.
For the first time in years, tears slipped past her defenses. Quiet, hot, relentless. She curled toward the empty side of the bed, her hand clutching the sheets where he should have been.
Nova buried her face against the pillow, her body shaking silently as the phone screen dimmed and went black.
And for the first time she cried herself to sleep.
It was nearly four in the morning when the door creaked open. Haesoo stumbled in, reeking of alcohol, his steps uneven. Nova was fast asleep, her face still damp from the tears she hadn’t meant to shed.
The mattress dipped as he collapsed beside her, arms suddenly wrapping around her waist. Nova jolted awake, her body tensing in panic.
“Haesoo” her voice was rough, strained, “you scared me. Let me sleep.”
But he clung tighter, mumbling her name against her shoulder, refusing to let go.
Her chest tightened not just from his weight, but from everything she had seen, everything she had felt. “Stop,” she said sharply, twisting to get free. “Just let me go.”
She shoved against him, harder this time, and scrambled to slip away from the bed. Her foot caught in the sheets, sending her crashing to the floor.
The pain was instant. White-hot, shooting through her side as she hit the ground. Nova gasped, clutching her ribs. Then the wet warmth spread too quickly beneath her fingers.
Her breath hitched. “Shit”
She dragged herself up against the side of the bed, vision blurring, the panic clawing up her throat. She grabbed for her phone with trembling hands, pressing Asher’s name.
It rang once. Twice. Then his voice, groggy but alert the second he heard hers.
“Asher—” Nova’s voice cracked, shaking. “Something’s wrong. I fell—I think I broke a rib it punctured something I’m bleeding.”
She pressed harder against her side, crimson soaking through her shirt. “Please just get here. Hurry.”
The bedroom was chaos. Nova was on the floor, doubled over, vomiting blood into a towel, her body shaking violently.
Asher burst in, dropping to his knees beside her, one arm bracing her upright as more blood spilled down her chin. “Nova—fuck—why aren’t you healing?”
Nova clutched her side, eyes wide with panic, tears streaking her cheeks. “I—I don’t know what to heal,” she choked, blood bubbling up again. “Inside—too much—I can’t find it.”
Her body lurched, another wet cough tearing through her chest.
Behind them, Haesoo staggered in, the reek of alcohol heavy on him, his face pale as he took in the sight. “N–Nova—” he slurred, reaching out, but his steps faltered. He grabbed the wall for balance, his eyes glassy, useless.
Asher’s glare snapped to him, voice sharp and venomous. “You’re fucking drunk.” He pulled Nova closer, steadying her as she coughed blood onto his sleeve. “Look at her! She’s bleeding out and you can’t even stand up straight.”
Nova’s trembling hand fumbled for Asher’s wrist, her voice weak, broken. “Please… just get me out of here.”
Asher tightened his hold, jaw set. “I’ve got you. Stay awake, Rey. I’ve got you.”
Haesoo slid down against the doorframe, horror on his face but paralyzed by the weight of his own choices, forced to watch as the person he loved fought for her life and he couldn’t do a damn thing.
Asher’s grip on her tightened, his voice firm but low, forcing control into the panic. “Nova, listen to me. We can’t take you to a hospital—they’ll notice everything about you the second you walk in. You have to do this yourself. Concentrate.”
She shook her head weakly, blood staining her lips. “I can’t—I don’t know where it is—”
“Yes, you can.” His tone cut sharp, the kind that never left room for refusal. He braced her face in his hands, forcing her bleary eyes to lock onto his. “Start with every organ. One by one. Search until you find what’s wrong.”
Nova’s body trembled, sweat slicking her skin. She tried to breathe through the agony as she pressed her palms to her ribcage. Her powers stirred, flickering in uneven bursts, each attempt making her gasp as more blood spilled down her chin.
“That’s it,” Asher pushed, steady as a rock beside her. “Lungs first. Heart next. Don’t stop until you feel where it’s broken.”
She cried out, her body arching, hands shaking violently as her cells screamed in confusion—regenerating too much, too fast, until she almost collapsed.
“Stay with me, Rey!” Asher barked, shaking her lightly to snap her back. “You’ve survived worse. Focus and find it.”
Behind them, Haesoo pressed against the wall, pale and useless, his drunken haze mixing with horror as he whispered her name over and over, voice cracking.
Nova’s whole body trembled, her breaths shallow, broken with wet gurgles. She pressed harder into her ribs, eyes squeezing shut, and then—suddenly—she gasped.
“There—” her voice cracked, blood streaking her lips. “Lung. Left side.”
Asher gripped her wrist, steadying her hand over the wound. “Good. Now hold it. Don’t let go until it’s sealed.”
Her power flared in jagged pulses, wild at first, then narrowing, like a flame caught in the wind finally finding its shape. Pain lanced through her chest, sharp and blinding, as torn tissue began knitting back together.
She screamed, body jerking, but Asher held her steady, his voice cutting through the haze. “Don’t stop! Push through it!”
Her hands glowed faintly with the surge of her regeneration. The bleeding slowed, her coughing eased, until finally, her chest rose deeper, fuller, without the wet rattle.
Nova collapsed against him, exhausted, her skin clammy, but the worst of it was over.
“I—I closed it,” she whispered, voice ragged.
Asher exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, pulling her against him. “That’s my girl. You’re safe.”
Behind them, Haesoo slid to the floor, face buried in his shaking hands, his voice hoarse. He had never felt so useless, watching the woman who always saved everyone else nearly die in her own blood while he could do nothing.
Nova slumped against the side of the bed, her breathing ragged but steady now. Asher kept a firm hold on her, scanning her face for any sign of another collapse.
“What happened?” he demanded, his voice hard, clipped.
Nova’s eyes flicked toward Haesoo, who was still slumped against the wall, pale and useless, before she turned back to Asher. Her voice came out low, flat, edged with exhaustion. “He was trying to hug me. Drunk. Wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried getting out of bed and I tripped.”
Asher’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightening as he processed. His gaze cut like a blade toward Haesoo. “So you mean to tell me, she’s bleeding out on the floor because you couldn’t keep your shit together for one night?”
Haesoo’s throat worked, but no words came just a broken, strangled sound.
Nova closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her ribs as though anchoring herself. “Asher… not now.”
But her tone wasn’t defending Haesoo it was weary, pleading for the argument to wait until she could breathe again.
Asher leaned back slightly, still holding her steady, but his glare stayed locked on Haesoo. “We’ll come back to this. Believe me.”
The room went heavy with silence, broken only by the soft whimper from Noa’s crib, as if even she felt the storm pressing down.
Asher eased Nova carefully onto the bed, tucking the blanket over her as she leaned into the pillow, still pale and shaky but breathing easier now. He straightened, his gaze snapping to Haesoo.
“Guest room,” Asher said flatly, his voice low but sharp as a blade. “You’re not staying in here. Not near her. Not near Noa.”
Haesoo’s eyes widened, his face flushing red under the weight of his shame. “Asher”
“No.” Asher cut him off, his tone final. “You came home drunk, scared her half to death, and she almost bled out because of it. You’ve lost the right to be in this room tonight.”
Haesoo’s fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t argue. He looked once at Nova her eyes already closed, body trembling under the effort of healing and dropped his gaze. Without another word, he turned and walked out, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him heavy in the silence.
Asher sat back down at the edge of the bed, his hand brushing over Noa’s tiny form in the crib. He glanced at Nova, his voice softer now. “You sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
