Chapter 1 - No Signal Between Us
The plane touched down at Incheon just past noon, the air outside dense with monsoon humidity and the hum of cicadas that never seemed to stop. Seoul shimmered in the distance through the airport glass, all glass towers and mid-summer glare.
Nova stood first, tugging her hoodie off her head and glancing down the aisle. “Alright,” she said, voice sharp but tired, the kind of exhaustion that came from too many cities and too many nights pretending the stage lights didn’t burn. “You get two weeks off to rest. Do whatever you want. Don’t text me or Asher. Don’t get into scandals.”
Dongmin groaned dramatically, slumping against the seat. “That sounds like a challenge.”
Nova’s eyes cut toward him. “It’s not.”
Asher, standing behind her with a folder of arrival clearances, didn’t even look up. “She means it,” he murmured.
Haesoo sat quiet near the window, head resting against the glass. Seoul looked familiar and foreign all at once, like home seen through someone else’s eyes. The tour felt like a dream dissolving at the edges, and now the city waited with all its noise, its cameras, its endless reminders of what they left behind in Mexico City.
Taeyul stretched his arms. “So, what are you gonna do, boss?”
Nova adjusted her bag, half-smile forming. “Sleep. Eat something that isn’t room service. Pretend none of you exist until I have to see you again.”
Jisung laughed softly. “Fair.”
Outside, black SUVs idled in the arrival lane. The boys moved through the terminal like ghosts of themselves, ball caps low, masks on, fans already whispering their names in the distance. Nova walked ahead with Asher, her tone low as she planned post-tour logistics, but even she paused for a moment before stepping into the sunlight.
Two weeks. Just enough time to rest, to miss each other, to pretend they weren’t all thinking about her.
The dorm door clicked open, spilling a wash of warm light into the entryway. It smelled faintly of detergent and the sweetness of the air freshener they always forgot to replace. Everyone filed in one by one, shoes scattering near the rack, the soft thud of luggage against the floor breaking the hush.
Dongmin dropped his duffel with a groan. “Home sweet home,” he muttered, stretching until his back cracked. “I’m never flying again.”
Eunwoo laughed weakly. “You say that after every flight.”
Haesoo didn’t answer. He slipped past them, head down, mask still on. Without a word, he headed straight down the hall. The soft sound of his door closing, click then silence, hung heavier than any exhaustion in the room.
Dongmin blinked after him. “Uh, did he even say hi to the apartment?”
Taeyul tossed his cap onto the couch. “Nope. That’s our emotional wall walking away.”
Jisung sank into the armchair, pulling his hoodie over his head. “Can you blame him? Mexico ended rough.”
Eunwoo sighed, opening the fridge and staring at its emptiness like it offended him. “You think it’s about her?”
“Of course it’s about her,” Taeyul said quietly. “When isn’t it?”
Minjae, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke, his tone even but thoughtful. “Let him breathe. He’ll talk when he’s ready. He always does.”
Dongmin flopped onto the couch, flipping a cushion over his face. “Yeah, but if he’s gonna mope, can he at least do it where it’s less depressing? The vibe in here just died.”
Taeyul shot him a look. “Dongmin.”
“What? I’m serious. The guy’s heartbroken, not terminal.”
Eunwoo closed the fridge, turning back with a faint smile. “That’s how it starts though. You ever seen Haesoo quiet for this long?”
Minjae leaned against the counter, arms folded. “He’s not quiet. He’s thinking.”
Taeyul frowned. “Thinking about what?”
Minjae’s gaze lingered down the hall where the closed door stood like a wall between them. “How to fix something he can’t reach anymore.”
No one answered after that. The dorm settled into its familiar hum, the faint buzz of the fridge, the soft patter of summer rain starting against the balcony glass. Somewhere behind that closed door, Haesoo lay awake, the silence pressing in like the echo of a world he wasn’t sure he could put back together.
Haesoo lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, the sound of rain tapping lightly against the window. The dorm was quiet now, only the occasional creak of the building settling in the humid afternoon. He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over her name before he finally pressed call.
The line went straight to silence. No ring, no tone, just the dull click of failure. He tried again. Same thing.
He sat up slowly, frowning. Maybe her phone was off. Maybe she was still on the plane. He opened their old message thread, scrolling through the last thing she ever sent him before she left. It was short, polite, distant. Have a safe flight back.
He tried calling again. Nothing. This time, the realization settled in his chest like a weight. No tone meant no signal between them at all.
He stared at the screen, the truth creeping in like cold water. She hadn’t just ignored him. She’d made sure he couldn’t reach her.
Haesoo’s jaw tightened. He tried sending a text anyway—Luly, please, just talk to me—but it failed instantly, the red exclamation mark flashing back at him.
He dropped the phone beside him, rubbing both hands over his face. The ceiling blurred as his thoughts tangled. She didn’t want to be found.
For a long moment he just sat there, the phone glowing dimly beside him, mocking him with every unread message he’d ever sent. Outside, thunder rolled somewhere distant, the kind that rumbled long after it passed.
Haesoo leaned back, whispering to the empty room, “You really meant it.”
The rain grew louder, blurring the city lights outside his window as if the world itself had decided to hide her too.
By the next afternoon, the dorm felt heavier than usual. The air conditioning hummed low, the television played quietly with no one really watching, and Haesoo’s door at the end of the hall stayed closed, untouched since yesterday.
Dongmin tossed a chip into his mouth from where he sat on the couch. “You think he’s alive in there?”
Eunwoo gave him a look. “Not funny.”
“I’m just saying,” Dongmin muttered, stretching out. “He hasn’t come out since we got home. That’s concerning.”
Taeyul glanced toward the hallway. “He’s not answering messages either. I knocked twice this morning. Nothing.”
Jisung, who’d been silent up to that point, closed his notebook and looked around. “Someone needs to go talk to him.”
The room went still. No one volunteered.
Minjae sighed from his spot at the table. “He’ll talk when he’s ready.”
Jisung shook his head. “He’s not brooding. He’s shutting down. There’s a difference.”
Dongmin raised his hand lazily. “Not it.”
Taeyul frowned. “You’re the closest to him. Why not you?”
Dongmin sat up. “Exactly. That’s why not me. If I go in there, I’ll say something stupid like ‘cheer up’ and he’ll throw a pillow at my face.”
Eunwoo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “He didn’t eat dinner last night. Or breakfast today.”
Minjae rubbed his temple, thinking. “Then we should bring him something. Even if he doesn’t talk, he should at least eat.”
Taeyul crossed his arms. “So who’s knocking?”
The silence stretched again. Then Jisung stood, quiet but certain. “I’ll go.”
Dongmin blinked. “You? You barely talk half the time.”
Jisung grabbed a bottle of water from the counter. “Exactly. He won’t feel pressured to talk back.”
Minjae nodded approvingly. “Good call. Keep it simple.”
As Jisung walked down the hall, the others leaned over the back of the couch like curious kids watching a slow-motion disaster. Dongmin whispered, “If he doesn’t come out, I’m calling Nova.”
Taeyul elbowed him. “Do that and she’ll make all of us run laps.”
At the end of the hall, Jisung stopped outside Haesoo’s door. He knocked softly once, then again. “Haesoo?”
No answer.
He waited a few seconds, then said quietly, “I’m leaving water here. You don’t have to talk, but… we’re here, okay?”
He set the bottle on the floor and turned to go. Before he reached the corner, the faint click of a door unlocking stopped him.
Haesoo stood in the doorway, eyes tired, hair messy, wearing the same hoodie from yesterday. He looked at Jisung, then at the bottle. “Thanks.”
Jisung nodded once. “You don’t have to thank me. Just… don’t disappear in your head.”
Haesoo gave a faint, humorless smile. “Too late for that.”
Jisung looked at him for a moment longer, then said softly, “She’s not gone forever.”
Haesoo’s jaw tightened. “Feels like she is.”
“Then prove yourself wrong,” Jisung said simply, turning back toward the living room.
The others pretended to be watching TV when he came back. Dongmin leaned over. “So? Did he say anything?”
Jisung sank into the chair, grabbing a chip. “He’s breathing. That’s a start.”
Eunwoo nodded quietly. “Good. Let him rest a little longer. When he’s ready, we’ll bring him back.”
Dongmin looked down the hall again, frowning slightly. “Yeah. Just hope he finds something to hold onto before he burns out.”
The rain had stopped outside, but the air still felt heavy, like the city was holding its breath with them.
By the next morning, the dorm had gone quiet again, too quiet for comfort. The smell of reheated takeout drifted from the kitchen, but the door at the end of the hall stayed closed, the same way it had for two days straight.
Eunwoo set a bowl of rice on the counter and frowned. “He still hasn’t eaten?”
Taeyul shook his head. “Not even water. The bottles I left are still sitting by his door.”
Dongmin sighed, sprawled on the couch. “He’s gonna end up fainting in there. Should we call Nova?”
“No,” Minjae said immediately, voice calm but firm. “He doesn’t need her scolding him right now.”
Jisung closed his notebook with a soft thud. “Then you go talk to him.”
Minjae looked up, surprised. “Me?”
“You’re the leader,” Jisung said evenly. “He listens to you.”
Dongmin muttered, “Yeah, and if he doesn’t, you’re strong enough to drag him out.”
Taeyul smirked faintly. “That’s one way to lead.”
Minjae sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. But if he throws something at me, I’m blaming all of you.”
Eunwoo smiled softly. “We’ll save you some food.”
Minjae stood and walked down the hall, the others’ quiet laughter fading behind him. He stopped outside Haesoo’s door and knocked twice. No answer. He tried again, a little louder. “Haesoo. It’s me.”
Nothing.
Minjae exhaled slowly. “I know you’re in there. You don’t have to talk, but you can’t keep this up. You haven’t eaten in two days.”
Silence again, then the faint rustle of movement inside. After a few seconds, the lock clicked. The door cracked open just enough for Minjae to see Haesoo’s face—pale, eyes hollow, hair sticking up from sleep that didn’t look restful.
“What do you want?” Haesoo said quietly, voice rough.
Minjae leaned against the doorframe. “To make sure you’re still standing.”
“I’m fine,” Haesoo muttered.
“You look like you’re lying,” Minjae said softly. “Come out. Eat something. You don’t have to pretend nothing happened, but starving yourself won’t fix it.”
Haesoo stared at the floor. “It’s not about food.”
“I know,” Minjae said, his tone gentle but steady. “But it starts there. You stop eating, you stop sleeping, and then it’s harder to think. She wouldn’t want you like this.”
Haesoo’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know what she wants.”
Minjae didn’t flinch. “Maybe not. But I know what you need. You need to breathe again.”
For a moment, Haesoo looked like he might argue. Then his shoulders sagged, the fight leaving him all at once.
Minjae nodded toward the kitchen. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting. Just sit with us for a while. You don’t even have to talk.”
Haesoo hesitated, then opened the door wider. “I’m not hungry.”
Minjae offered a faint smile. “Then just drink something. One step at a time.”
They walked back together, the others pretending not to stare when Haesoo finally appeared. Dongmin immediately pushed a bowl toward him. “You’re alive. Good. Eat before we start planning your funeral.”
Haesoo gave a small, tired laugh and shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
Eunwoo smiled. “He talks. That’s progress.”
Jisung said quietly, “Welcome back.”
Minjae sat across from him, meeting his eyes for a brief second. No words, just quiet understanding.
For the first time in days, Haesoo picked up a spoon. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for everyone to breathe again.
Haesoo pushed the half-empty bowl away and stood slowly. “I’ll finish later,” he murmured, though everyone knew he wouldn’t. The quiet click of his bedroom door echoed through the dorm, and the sound seemed to linger longer than it should have.
Dongmin slumped back on the couch, running a hand through his hair. “They dated for five months,” he said, shaking his head. “Five. Why’s he acting like it’s the end of the world?”
Taeyul shot him a look. “Because maybe it is.”
Dongmin frowned. “Five months isn’t forever.”
Jisung glanced up from where he sat by the window. “You think love waits for a timeline?” His voice was calm, steady, but sharp enough to make Dongmin pause. “It doesn’t matter if it was five months or five years. What matters is what it meant to him.”
Eunwoo leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You didn’t see the way he looked at her, Dongmin. He wasn’t just in love. He was certain. That’s what makes it worse.”
Minjae nodded slowly. “And when someone like Haesoo believes in something, he gives all of himself to it. That kind of loss doesn’t go away just because time says it should.”
Dongmin sighed, the edge in his tone fading. “Yeah, I get it. I just… hate seeing him like that. It’s weird without him laughing or arguing about something stupid.”
Taeyul gave a small smile. “You miss him.”
Dongmin groaned. “Don’t make it sound sentimental.”
Eunwoo chuckled softly. “Too late.”
The dorm quieted again, only the low hum of the rain against the windows filling the space.
Minjae glanced down the hall toward Haesoo’s door. “Let him grieve. He loved her like she was permanent. Losing that kind of faith takes time.”
Jisung closed his notebook, his voice low but certain. “Yeah. And when he’s ready, he’ll come out. But until then… we just make sure he knows he’s not alone.”
Dongmin nodded faintly, guilt written across his face. “Alright. No more stupid comments.”
Taeyul smirked. “That’s impossible for you, but it’s a nice thought.”
Laughter broke the tension for a moment, light and short-lived, but enough to remind them that not everything was broken. Only waiting to heal.
Days slipped by like slow-moving rain. The sun rose and fell, but inside the dorm, time felt still. Haesoo’s door stayed closed from morning until night. Sometimes the faint sound of music came through the wall, low and muffled, but never his voice.
Plates of food collected quietly outside his room untouched most days. Eunwoo started leaving smaller portions, hoping he’d at least take a bite, but they always came back the same. Cold.
Dongmin sat on the couch one night, remote in hand but not really watching anything. “He’s barely eaten in three days,” he muttered. “Not even instant noodles. You’d think hunger would eventually win.”
Taeyul sighed from the other end of the couch. “When you’re that lost, hunger doesn’t even register.”
Jisung closed his laptop with a quiet click. “He’s drowning in it. It’s not just about her leaving—it’s that she didn’t say goodbye. He’s stuck between being angry and hoping she’ll walk back in.”
Minjae leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “I’ve seen heartbreak before, but this… he’s shutting down.”
Eunwoo nodded softly. “He doesn’t even answer when I knock anymore. I tried playing music outside his door this morning. Nothing.”
Dongmin frowned. “It’s like he doesn’t want to get better.”
“No,” Minjae said quietly. “He just doesn’t know how.”
The room went still after that.
Outside, thunder rolled over Seoul, and the rain began to fall harder, tapping steady against the windows. It sounded almost like the world was breathing for him because he couldn’t.
Taeyul finally stood, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe we should call Nova. She’d know what to do.”
Jisung shook his head. “Not yet. He’d hate that. Let’s give him one more day.”
Dongmin muttered, “Feels like we’ve been saying that all week.”
Minjae didn’t answer. His gaze lingered on the hallway, on the door that hadn’t opened in days. “When he’s ready,” he said finally, “we’ll be here. Until then… we keep the lights on.”
So they did. They kept the dorm warm, the TV on low, the table set like someone was coming to eat. Even if he never did.
The conference room felt tense the moment they walked in. The air outside was thick with the first heat of July, but inside it was colder, quieter. Only Nova, Asher, and the members filled the space.
Nova stood at the front, arms crossed, expression sharp. “Why is he running late?” she asked, glancing at the clock. “I don’t have all day.”
No one answered. The empty chair at the end of the table said enough.
“Is he even coming?” she said, her voice cutting through the silence. “Minjae, you’re the leader. Where is he?”
Minjae exhaled, eyes low. “He hasn’t been doing good since the breakup.”
Nova’s laugh was short and bitter. “Bullshit. He played with my cousin’s feelings, and now he’s depressed?”
The words hung in the air like a slap.
Taeyul frowned. “Nova, that’s not fair.”
Nova turned toward him. “Not fair? You mean what happened in San Francisco wasn’t fair. She walked in and saw another girl hanging off his arm, and he didn’t even move. Didn’t stop her. Didn’t say a word.”
Dongmin shifted uncomfortably. “He froze, Nova. You know how he is. He didn’t mean—”
She cut him off, her tone sharp. “He didn’t mean to stand there and make my cousin feel like she was nothing?”
Jisung, quiet until now, spoke without looking up. “He’s been punishing himself for that every day since.”
Nova scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “Good. Maybe he should. She flew home crying, alone, because of him. She didn’t even finish the tour. You think I care that he feels guilty now?”
Minjae sat forward, calm but steady. “He didn’t cheat on her, Nova. You know that. He just didn’t react fast enough, and she saw it as betrayal.”
Nova’s tone cracked slightly. “She warned him. She told him what would happen if he let something like that happen again. She meant it, and he still did it.”
Eunwoo spoke softly. “He’s not proud of it. He hasn’t been the same since. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t even come to practice.”
Nova shook her head. “He should’ve thought about all that before he broke her heart.”
Asher finally spoke, voice calm but heavy. “And you should remember she loved him. She wouldn’t want you tearing him apart like this. She’d want him to stand back up and fix what’s left.”
Nova looked at him, her expression caught between anger and exhaustion. “And what if there’s nothing left to fix?”
Minjae’s voice was quiet. “Then he’ll still try.”
Silence settled again. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioning.
Nova stared at the empty chair for a moment, then sighed. “He’s got fifteen minutes. After that, we start without him.”
No one spoke.
Outside, the sky rumbled faintly with thunder, the first sign of an incoming storm. Somewhere across Seoul, Haesoo’s phone buzzed on his desk. He saw Nova’s name flash on the screen, stared for a long moment, and let it ring until it stopped.
The meeting started without him. The empty chair at the end of the table stayed untouched, its silence louder than any voice in the room.
Nova stood at the front beside Asher, tablet in hand, her tone brisk and clipped. “Alright,” she began, eyes sweeping over the boys. “We have a comeback planned for November. New concept, new image, full album. Preparation starts next month.”
The members exchanged uncertain glances. No one wanted to ask the question sitting in all their minds, but the empty seat made it impossible to ignore.
Dongmin finally spoke. “What about Haesoo?”
Nova’s gaze didn’t waver. “If he doesn’t show up, I’ll remove him from the group.” Her voice was cold, final. “I will not have anyone drag SOL7 down. Not after everything we’ve built.”
The air went still. Even Asher looked at her briefly, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.
Taeyul frowned. “Nova, come on. He’s not trying to drag anyone down.”
Nova turned to him. “Then he needs to act like it. I’m not babysitting someone who disappears every time he feels sorry for himself.”
Eunwoo leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but firm. “He’s not disappearing. He’s trying to breathe. You’ve seen what this did to him.”
Nova shook her head. “You don’t understand what Luly went through. He had her trust and threw it away in front of cameras. You think he gets sympathy for that?”
Jisung’s tone stayed even, quiet but sure. “This isn’t about sympathy. It’s about being human. You can’t force him back into a spotlight he can’t stand in yet.”
Minjae rubbed his temples, finally speaking. “Nova, I’ll talk to him again. Just give me a little more time.”
Nova’s expression hardened. “You’ve had time. He’s had time. Everyone else managed to show up.”
Dongmin muttered under his breath, “Because the rest of us aren’t in love with someone we can’t reach.”
Nova heard it. Her gaze cut toward him, sharp as glass, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she turned back to Minjae. “You tell him this: if he’s not in this building by the end of the week, he’s done. I don’t care what excuse he has. This group moves forward with or without him.”
The room fell silent again.
Asher lowered his tablet slightly, his voice low. “Nova.”
She didn’t look at him. “No,” she said quietly. “No more waiting.”
The meeting ended soon after, but no one stood right away. The boys sat still, the weight of her words settling in.
Taeyul finally broke the silence. “She’s serious.”
Minjae nodded slowly, staring at the door. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “And if we don’t get him back soon, we might lose him for good.”
Outside the building, the sky had turned gray again, the smell of rain thick in the air like Seoul itself was holding its breath, waiting for someone who never came.
That night, the dorm was dim except for the soft glow of the city bleeding through the blinds. The others had gone quiet hours ago, their doors closed, the air heavy with what Nova had said.
Minjae stood outside Haesoo’s room for a long time before knocking. Once. Then again, quieter. “It’s me,” he said.
There was a faint sound from inside—movement, then nothing.
Minjae sighed and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. “She gave me a deadline,” he said. “End of the week. If you don’t show up to the company, she’s cutting you out.”
Silence.
He tried again, his voice softer this time. “You don’t have to talk, but you can’t keep hiding in here. Nova’s serious. And honestly… she’s not wrong about one thing. The group can’t pause forever.”
After a long pause, the door creaked open. Haesoo stood there, hair messy, dark circles under his eyes, a sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
“She can kick me out,” he said quietly. “I don’t care.”
Minjae stared at him. “You don’t mean that.”
Haesoo’s voice cracked, low and raw. “I do. Everything I touch turns to shit. I hurt her, I let the group down. Maybe it’s better if I just stop showing up.”
Minjae stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The room was dim, cluttered with empty water bottles, his guitar leaning in the corner untouched. He sat on the edge of the bed across from Haesoo.
“You didn’t ruin everything,” he said quietly. “You made a mistake. One moment, that’s all it was. You froze, she saw something else, and now both of you are paying for it.”
Haesoo let out a bitter laugh. “A mistake? She looked at me like she didn’t even know me. Do you know what that felt like?”
“Yeah,” Minjae said softly. “Because I watched it happen.”
Haesoo looked up, eyes dull. “Then you know why I can’t face her name. Every time someone says ‘Luly,’ I can’t even breathe.”
Minjae nodded slowly. “Then don’t think about facing her right now. Just face us. Face the group. You don’t have to be perfect—you just have to show up. That’s all I’m asking.”
Haesoo ran a hand through his hair, staring at the floor. “She won’t forgive me.”
“Maybe not today,” Minjae said. “But if you disappear, she’ll think she was right about you. Don’t let that be the last thing she remembers.”
For a long moment, Haesoo didn’t speak. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “Nova hates me.”
“She’s angry,” Minjae corrected. “Angry because she saw Luly fall apart. But even Nova knows you didn’t mean to hurt her. She just doesn’t want to see you waste everything because of it.”
Haesoo leaned back, exhaling shakily. “I don’t know if I can go back there.”
Minjae stood, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder. “You don’t have to know. You just have to try. Come tomorrow. Sit in that chair. Even if you don’t say a word, at least show them you’re still part of us.”
Haesoo looked up at him, eyes tired. “And if she really removes me?”
“Then we’ll fight for you,” Minjae said simply. “But we can’t do that if you don’t show up.”
Haesoo stared at him for a moment longer, then gave the smallest nod. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I wanted to hear.” Minjae turned toward the door, pausing once before he left. “And Haesoo?”
“Yeah?”
“Luly might not be watching you right now,” Minjae said quietly, “but she’s still listening. Don’t give her silence.”
The door closed softly behind him.
Haesoo sat there for a long time afterward, the sound of the city whispering through the rain. He looked at his phone still face-down on the table then slowly turned it over, staring at her name on the screen.
The call button glowed faintly, waiting.
The next morning, the sky over Seoul was pale and washed out, the kind of gray that matched the mood inside the van. None of the members spoke on the ride to the company. Even Dongmin, usually the loudest, just scrolled silently through his phone.
Haesoo sat by the window, hood pulled up, watching raindrops slide down the glass as the city blurred past. His reflection looked as tired as he felt. He didn’t know what he would say to Nova, or if she’d even let him stay long enough to speak. But Minjae’s words from last night stayed in his head: Don’t give her silence.
When they walked into the company building, Nova was already in the practice room with Asher, a tablet in hand and coffee on the table. She didn’t look up when the door opened.
“You’re late,” she said evenly.
Minjae opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when she finally glanced up—her gaze landing directly on Haesoo. The silence that followed was cold, sharp, and heavy.
At last, she said, “Sit.”
They obeyed.
Nova set the tablet down. “The label approved a November comeback,” she said, tone brisk. “We’re writing the album ourselves this time. Six tracks. You’ll each start drafting lyrics today. No excuses, no delays.”
Everyone nodded quietly.
She continued, eyes sweeping over them. “This comeback isn’t about image. It’s about identity. I want to know what’s left of SOL7 when the noise dies down. What’s real. What hurts.”
Dongmin raised his hand hesitantly. “Are we writing individually or in pairs?”
Nova glanced at Asher, who was checking notes beside her, then said, “Start alone. You’ll share drafts later.”
Her eyes flicked back to Haesoo. “That includes you.”
He nodded once, barely lifting his gaze.
The group spread out across the room, notebooks opening, pens clicking, papers shuffling. The sound of rain against the windows filled the silence where conversation usually lived.
Taeyul leaned close to Jisung, whispering, “She’s watching him.”
Jisung didn’t look up. “I know.”
Haesoo sat apart from the others, hunched over a blank page. His pen hovered but didn’t move. He could feel Nova’s presence like a weight behind him, but she didn’t say anything else. Maybe she wanted him to feel it to understand how close he’d come to losing everything.
Minjae glanced at him occasionally, keeping his expression neutral, silently guarding him from across the room.
An hour passed. The others scribbled, crossed things out, murmured ideas. Haesoo hadn’t written a single line.
Nova noticed. “If you’re stuck,” she said, “write about something you can’t say out loud.”
Her voice was calm, but it cut through the quiet like a blade. Everyone looked up for a second, then quickly back down.
Haesoo didn’t answer. He lowered his eyes and wrote two words on the page, small and uneven.
“I’m sorry.”
That was all he had.
He sat there, staring at the words, the ink bleeding slightly into the paper, and for the first time since the breakup, he realized how much he still loved her.
Nova saw it from across the room, her expression unreadable. For a moment, she almost softened. Then she looked away and said flatly, “Keep writing.”
The sound of pens filled the room again, but no one spoke. The silence between them wasn’t anger anymore it was something heavier. Something waiting.
Haesoo kept showing up at the company every morning before anyone else. The staff at the front desk had stopped greeting him after realizing he didn’t answer anyway. He’d head straight for the practice room, lights still off, the air stale from the night before.
Every day looked the same. He’d sit at the piano, open his notebook, and drown himself in lyrics that never felt right. The pages piled up crossed-out lines, torn corners, words that didn’t match the ache inside him.
Nova saw him once through the glass wall, sitting alone in the corner studio. She didn’t go in. She just watched for a few seconds, arms folded, her expression unreadable. Asher stood beside her, quiet.
“He’s been here every day since Monday,” Asher said.
“I know,” Nova replied. Her tone was flat, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. “He’s not writing. He’s punishing himself.”
Inside, Haesoo’s pen scratched across the paper, his voice low as he whispered lines under his breath. If love had rules, I broke them all. He scribbled over it, started again. If silence was mercy, she gave me too much.
He stopped, pressing his palms over his eyes. The dark circles under them had deepened. His hair stuck to his forehead. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept more than an hour at a time.
Minjae brought him food every day—sandwiches, rice bowls, even snacks he used to like—but most of it went untouched. Sometimes Haesoo would mumble “later” and forget. Sometimes he’d just shake his head.
By evening, when the building emptied out, he stayed. The lights dimmed automatically, leaving him in the glow of his phone screen and the faint hum of the air conditioner. He’d try to write again, the pen slipping from his tired fingers.
Dongmin stopped by once late at night and leaned in the doorway. “You’re gonna pass out one of these days.”
Haesoo didn’t look up. “Maybe that’s what it takes to finish a song worth hearing.”
Dongmin frowned. “That’s not how it works, hyung.”
Haesoo gave a weak laugh. “It’s the only thing that does.”
When Dongmin left, Haesoo stayed where he was, staring at the empty chair across from him the one Luly used to sit in when she’d visit, teasing him about his handwriting, stealing his pen.
Now it was just him, the paper, and the echo of a voice that wouldn’t leave his head.
He pressed his forehead to the piano keys, whispering, “I’m sorry,” to no one and to her all at once.
And still, he came back the next day.
By the beginning of August, SOL7 was back in full rehearsals. The air in the practice room was thick with heat and exhaustion, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor blending with the steady rhythm of their new comeback track. Nova and Asher stood by the mirrored wall, both watching closely, arms crossed in identical focus.
It had been a month since Haesoo started spiraling—showing up early, staying late, barely speaking, working like he could bury his guilt under choreography and sweat. His movements were sharp, precise, but his eyes stayed empty.
When the door opened, everyone turned.
Luly stepped in like a breeze cutting through the stale air.
Her long straight black hair fell loose beneath a black baseball cap, giving her that effortless coastal look. The spaghetti-strap black mini dress she wore swayed lightly as she moved, paired with white socks and sneakers that made her look both relaxed and radiant. Her lips had that soft coral tint that caught the light when she spoke.
Nova blinked, startled for the first time in weeks. “You’re back?”
Luly sighed, dropping her bag onto the nearest chair. “And I already regret it. Why is it so hot in here?”
She crossed the room and went straight to the control panel, pressing the AC button. The hum of cold air kicked in instantly.
Dongmin threw his hands up. “Finally! Nova wouldn’t let us turn it on!”
Nova shot him a glare. “Because every time we do, someone gets sick.”
Luly looked over her shoulder, smirking faintly. “They look like they’re melting, Nova. I think the real sickness here is heatstroke.”
Taeyul grinned. “See, that’s why we missed you. Logic.”
Eunwoo added, smiling, “And mercy.”
Luly turned, leaning lightly against the wall, arms crossed. “You’re all dramatic. It’s air, not a miracle.”
Dongmin pointed at her like she’d saved their lives. “No, that’s a miracle.”
Even Jisung, who rarely smiled, cracked a quiet laugh under his breath.
Nova shook her head, trying not to smile. “You weren’t supposed to be back for another week.”
Luly shrugged. “Plans changed. I got bored of being away.”
Her gaze flicked briefly to Haesoo across the room. He had frozen mid-step when she entered, sweat still clinging to his jaw, eyes wide but unreadable. For a second, no one existed but her.
Then she turned back to Nova like nothing had happened. “Alright, what are we working on?”
Nova cleared her throat, regaining composure. “The new choreography. You might as well stay and see what a month of hell looks like.”
Luly smiled slightly. “Perfect. I could use a little chaos.”
Asher caught the faintest hint of amusement on her face, but his eyes shifted to Haesoo who still hadn’t moved.
Minjae nudged him quietly. “Focus, man.”
Haesoo blinked, looked away, and forced himself back into position. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Focus.”
But no one missed how his voice cracked when he said it.
By the beginning of August, the studio was alive with sound and movement. Music echoed off the mirrored walls, sneakers squeaked on polished wood, and every breath came out in rhythm. Nova and Asher stood at the back of the room, observing quietly while the group rehearsed.
Haesoo was there, but barely. He moved like a machine, every step perfect, every spin sharp, but his focus was somewhere else. The exhaustion in his eyes said more than his silence ever could.
Then the studio door opened.
The music faded as everyone turned.
Luly stepped inside.
Her long straight black hair fell loose beneath a black baseball cap, sunlight glinting off the strands. She wore a black spaghetti strap mini dress with white socks and sneakers, her soft coral lips and warm skin tone making her look effortlessly alive.
And she wasn’t alone.
A man followed her in, tall and composed, with the quiet kind of confidence that drew attention without effort.
Jeong Gu Won stood at one eighty three centimeters, posture relaxed but refined. His dark hair fell in light waves around his face, his cream shirt tucked neatly into black trousers. He looked every bit the professional influencer that he was, camera bag over one shoulder and presence steady.
Nova raised a brow. “You’re back?”
Luly sighed, already fanning herself. “And I already regret it. Why is it so hot in here?”
She crossed the room and flicked on the AC.
Dongmin stretched out his arms dramatically. “Finally! I thought we were being slow cooked.”
Nova gave him a look. “You can leave if you prefer the cold outside.”
Luly grinned. “Don’t be mad, I just saved your team from heat exhaustion.”
Eunwoo smiled. “Welcome back, Luly.”
“Thanks,” she said, brushing hair from her shoulder. “I brought someone with me.”
Nova’s gaze turned toward the man beside her. “And who’s this?”
“This is Jeong Gu Won,” Luly said. “He’s a friend. We’re collaborating together on content. Mostly vlogs and creative shoots for his channel and mine.”
Gu Won offered a polite bow. “It’s great to meet you. I’ve been a fan of your work for a while.”
Dongmin grinned. “You model, right? I’ve seen your stuff online.”
Gu Won nodded. “That’s right. Luly reached out to do something a little different. We’re combining travel, style, and storytelling for the series.”
Nova tilted her head. “So you’re working together on influencer content.”
Luly smiled. “Exactly. I needed something to clear my head, and he’s good at what he does. We’re just shooting lifestyle and creative pieces. Nothing heavy, nothing dramatic.”
Taeyul whispered to Jisung, “Except the entrance.”
Jisung smirked. “Yeah, that was pretty cinematic.”
Luly rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”
She glanced toward Gu Won. “We’re just stopping by to test some lighting and angles for one of the indoor videos. He wanted to see the setup here.”
Gu Won scanned the mirrors, nodding. “This place has great natural depth. Good for slow-motion shots.”
Nova crossed her arms. “Fine, as long as you stay out of the rehearsal area.”
“Promise,” Luly said, smiling.
Haesoo hadn’t moved since she entered. His chest felt tight as he watched her laugh softly with Gu Won while showing him something on her phone. The casual closeness between them looked natural, comfortable. Too comfortable.
Minjae walked past him and spoke quietly. “Don’t overthink it.”
Haesoo didn’t look up. “I’m not.”
But he was.
Nova caught the tension instantly. She muttered under her breath, “Perfect. Just what we needed.”
Asher gave her a quiet look. “At least she’s smiling again.”
“Yeah,” Nova said, her tone flat. “Not everyone else is.”
Haesoo’s reflection in the mirror showed him everything he didn’t want to admit the distance in her eyes, the easy comfort she had with someone new.
And for the first time since she left, he realized how quickly a month could turn into forever.
Luly glanced at the group once more, her tone even and polite. “We’re leaving,” she said simply, grabbing her phone from the speaker ledge. “I just came to check in.”
No one moved for a moment.
Gu Won gave a courteous nod to the room, then followed her out without a word, his calm footsteps echoing after hers.
The door closed softly behind them, and silence stretched through the studio.
Dongmin was the first to exhale. “Well… that was fast.”
Taeyul leaned on his knee, eyes still on the door. “Did anyone else feel like we all got caught in a scene we weren’t invited to?”
Eunwoo gave a low whistle. “She didn’t even glance back.”
Minjae set down his water bottle. “She didn’t have to. She said what she came to say.”
Nova crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. “If that was a check-in, I don’t want to see what a confrontation looks like.”
Asher shook his head slightly. “She looked calm. Too calm.”
Dongmin frowned. “He followed her without saying anything. Just walked out like he knew what to do.”
Taeyul muttered, “That’s the part that got me. He didn’t even ask where they were going.”
Nova’s tone was sharp. “Because he already knew. That’s what trust looks like.”
The words hit harder than she meant them to.
Haesoo stayed silent in the corner, towel hanging loosely in his hand. His eyes were still fixed on the door like it might open again if he just waited long enough.
Jisung looked over at him carefully. “You good?”
Haesoo’s jaw tightened. “Yeah.”
Dongmin raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You haven’t said more than two words since she walked in.”
He didn’t answer.
Nova let out a sigh, rubbing her temple. “Alright, break’s over. We’re not pausing rehearsals for heartbreak.”
Haesoo finally moved, picking up his mic and stepping back into position. His voice was steady when he spoke, but empty. “Play it from the top.”
The music started again, but this time, everyone could feel it the ghost of her presence still lingering in the air she’d left behind.
They had just finished a long morning rehearsal when Nova suggested grabbing lunch. The August heat pressed against the sidewalks of Gangnam, sunlight bouncing off car roofs and glass storefronts. Asher walked beside her, scrolling through his phone for a quiet café, while the boys followed behind in casual caps and masks, trying to blend into the afternoon crowd.
They were crossing near the corner when Dongmin suddenly stopped mid-step. “Wait. Is that—”
Everyone turned.
Across the street, Luly walked along the shaded side of the avenue, her hair loose under a beige cap, a soft cream tank top tucked into denim shorts. Beside her—always half a step behind—was Jeong Gu Won. He carried her iced drink in one hand and her small camera bag in the other, eyes scanning the street with quiet ease.
Nova froze for half a second, then smirked faintly. “Oh, I see. Walk him like a dog.”
Taeyul choked back a laugh. “Nova!”
Asher looked up from his phone, brow raised. “You’re not serious.”
“Oh, I’m very serious,” she said, crossing her arms. “Look at him. He’s following her like she’s gravity.”
Eunwoo grinned. “He’s literally holding her stuff. That’s dedication.”
Dongmin tilted his head. “Or survival instinct.”
Minjae frowned a little, though even he couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his mouth. “Come on. He’s being polite.”
Nova hummed under her breath, clearly amused. “Polite doesn’t look like that. That looks like submission.”
Jisung, quietly watching, muttered, “He’s doing better than Haesoo did.”
The words made the group fall silent for a moment.
Haesoo stood a few steps behind, his gaze fixed on the scene across the street. Luly was laughing at something Gu Won said, her hand brushing his arm as they walked. Her expression was soft, free of any weight. It wasn’t a performance—it was peace.
Dongmin glanced at him nervously. “Hey… you okay?”
Haesoo didn’t answer right away. “She looks happy,” he said finally, voice quiet enough to almost vanish under the noise of the city.
Nova watched him for a second, her expression unreadable. “Good,” she said at last, tone cool. “That’s what she deserves.”
Eunwoo sighed softly. “Come on. Let’s go eat before someone recognizes us.”
They crossed the street in the opposite direction, the chatter picking up again, but the mood quieter than before.
As they disappeared into the noise of Gangnam, Haesoo turned for one last glance over his shoulder. Luly’s laughter carried faintly through the summer air, light and unbothered, and it hit him harder than any silence ever had.
The morning sun poured through the glass walls of the company lobby, painting reflections across the marble floor. The air smelled faintly of perfume and freshly cleaned tile, the low murmur of staff filling the background as the elevator doors opened.
The members walked in together, chatting quietly about the schedule ahead. Haesoo followed behind, quiet as always, earbuds in but no music playing.
Then the atmosphere shifted.
Luly entered through the main doors.
Her long black hair was styled in soft curls, the wide pink headband gleaming under the light. Her makeup was soft and fresh—rosy cheeks, glossy pink lips, and long lashes that made her eyes shine. The pink and white gingham halter dress with its bow-tie front and flared skirt moved gracefully with each step. White knee-high stockings and pointed heels gave her a delicate, doll-like charm, completed by a pearl handbag at her wrist that caught the sunlight as she walked.
And right behind her was Jeong Gu Won, tall and composed, carrying her tablet in one hand and a can of soda in the other, condensation glistening on the metal. He followed at a comfortable distance, perfectly in sync with her pace.
The entire group froze.
Dongmin blinked. “Okay… is anyone else seeing this, or did I skip breakfast too fast?”
Taeyul gave a low whistle. “She just turned the lobby into a runway.”
Eunwoo chuckled. “And he’s her stage assistant, apparently.”
Nova stepped in from the side entrance with Asher, taking in the sight before anyone else could react. “Oh, she brought him here too,” she said dryly.
Asher kept his voice calm. “Looks like they’re working closely.”
Nova smirked faintly. “Working? She’s got him carrying her drink. That’s devotion.”
Jisung whispered under his breath, “That’s intimidation dressed as elegance.”
Luly walked past without breaking stride, her perfume leaving a soft trail of strawberries and warmth behind her. She didn’t glance at Haesoo once. Her steps were measured, confident, not hurried.
Gu Won stayed just a few steps behind, greeting a staff member politely before following her into the elevator. The doors closed with a quiet chime.
Silence hung for a long moment.
Dongmin finally exhaled. “She didn’t even look at us.”
Taeyul muttered, “She didn’t have to. We’re already gossip.”
Eunwoo crossed his arms. “That guy really follows her everywhere now, huh?”
Nova tilted her head slightly. “You’d follow her too if she asked.”
Asher gave her a look. “You’re enjoying this.”
Nova smiled. “Maybe a little.”
Haesoo stood frozen near the glass doors, eyes fixed on the elevator that had just swallowed her and Gu Won. His throat felt tight. He hadn’t seen her smile like that in months.
Nova glanced at him. “If that bothers you, fix it. Because from where I’m standing, she’s already moved on.”
Haesoo didn’t answer. He just turned toward the hallway, his footsteps slow, as the others watched in uneasy silence.
The elevator doors slid open to the ground floor, sunlight spilling through the glass as Nova, Asher, and the members stepped out, ready for lunch after a long morning of meetings. The air outside was warm, the kind of golden afternoon that made Seoul feel alive.
They were halfway across the lobby when Nova stopped abruptly. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Everyone turned.
Luly was walking toward the exit, sunglasses perched on her head, her pearl handbag in hand. Her curls shimmered under the light, the pink headband still in place from earlier. And right behind her, like always, was Jeong Gu Won—tall, calm, carrying a small camera bag and a soda in one hand.
Nova folded her arms. “Where are you going?”
Luly paused, looking entirely unbothered. “Home.”
Nova tilted her head slightly, her tone dry. “You mean his hotel, right?”
Luly turned to face her fully, one eyebrow arching with quiet amusement. “No. He’s staying at my place.”
The words landed like a dropped glass.
Dongmin’s jaw fell open. “Wait, what?”
Taeyul blinked. “Your place? As in—your house?”
Eunwoo glanced between them. “Like, same roof, same house?”
Jisung muttered under his breath, “Oh, that’s bold.”
Asher’s expression stayed neutral, though his eyes flicked briefly to Nova, waiting for the inevitable reaction.
Nova let out a short, sharp laugh. “You’re kidding.”
Luly smiled faintly. “I’m not. He needed somewhere quiet to stay while we finish our filming schedule. My place has room. Problem solved.”
Nova crossed her arms tighter. “You couldn’t find him a hotel? Seoul has plenty.”
“He’s my guest, not my project,” Luly said evenly. “It’s simpler this way. We’re working late on edits anyway.”
Dongmin whispered to Minjae, “She said that too calmly. I’m scared.”
Minjae whispered back, “Yeah, I think she meant it.”
Nova’s jaw tensed. “You really don’t care what this looks like, do you?”
Luly shrugged. “I don’t live my life for optics.” Her gaze stayed steady, voice calm but firm. “Besides, it’s not your concern who stays under my roof.”
Haesoo stood a few feet back, silent but rigid, every word hitting him like static. His hand tightened around the strap of his bag, and when he spoke, his voice was low. “You trust him that much?”
Luly turned her head slightly, meeting his eyes for the first time in weeks. “I trust people who give me a reason to.”
That silenced everyone.
Nova’s tone softened slightly but stayed clipped. “Just don’t let this turn into another headline.”
Luly smiled faintly. “If it does, it’ll be a flattering one.”
She turned, pushing open the glass door as Gu Won followed behind her without a word, holding the car keys out before she could even reach for them.
The group stood in stunned silence as they watched the doors close behind them.
Taeyul was the first to speak. “Did she just say he’s staying with her?”
Dongmin rubbed his temples. “She didn’t just say it. She owned it.”
Eunwoo nodded slowly. “That guy’s either fearless or stupid.”
Nova exhaled through her nose. “No. He’s smart enough to know she doesn’t let anyone that close unless she wants them there.”
Haesoo looked toward the glass doors again, the reflection of the street outside flickering across his eyes. He didn’t say a word.
Asher glanced at Nova quietly. “You’re not going to stop her?”
Nova shook her head. “No one stops Luly Reyes. They just watch what happens next.”
They found a quiet restaurant tucked away from the main street, the kind of place Nova preferred—dim lighting, low chatter, nothing that drew attention. The group slid into a long booth, menus handed out, the hum of the air conditioning steady over the silence that followed them from the lobby.
Nova set down her phone. “Eat something. You all look like extras in a zombie movie.”
Dongmin gave a tired laugh. “We’ll eat if someone else orders first.”
Eunwoo waved the waiter over and started ordering for everyone, trying to lighten the mood. “Two bulgogi sets, one spicy pork, four rice bowls—”
Nova interrupted, “Make it five. Haesoo needs to eat.”
Haesoo didn’t respond. He sat at the end of the table, elbows on the wood, staring at the condensation sliding down his water glass. His untouched soda sat beside it, the ice already melting.
Taeyul leaned toward him. “You okay?”
Haesoo nodded once but didn’t look up. “Yeah.”
Dongmin frowned. “That’s a lie. You’ve been quiet since we got here.”
Minjae spoke gently, his tone calm but pointed. “You haven’t eaten since morning. Don’t make this another habit.”
Haesoo gave a small shrug. “I’m not hungry.”
Eunwoo exchanged a look with Taeyul, both clearly worried but unsure what to say. The silence pressed heavier.
Nova finally leaned back, her voice steady but sharp. “So, you’re going to starve yourself over her now? That’s your plan?”
Haesoo’s head lifted slightly, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t say that.”
“No,” Nova replied coolly, “but you’re doing it.”
Dongmin shifted uncomfortably. “Nova…”
“No, he needs to hear it,” she said, not taking her eyes off Haesoo. “You had your chance, and you blew it. Now she’s got someone who actually respects her time. Sitting here refusing to eat isn’t going to rewind anything.”
Haesoo’s jaw tensed. “You think I don’t know that?”
“Then prove it,” Nova said simply. “Eat. Move forward. Or keep sitting there letting everyone watch you fall apart over a woman who’s already moving on.”
The table went quiet. Even Asher, who usually stayed neutral, looked uneasy.
Eunwoo broke the silence softly. “Come on, hyung. Just eat a little. We can figure the rest out later.”
Haesoo stared at his plate as the food arrived. The smell should’ve been enough to wake his appetite, but his stomach turned instead. After a long pause, he picked up his chopsticks, pushed the rice around once, then set them back down.
Minjae sighed. “Haesoo…”
“I said I’m not hungry,” he said quietly.
Nova shook her head, frustration written all over her face. “You’re not starving because you’re heartbroken, you’re starving because you’re punishing yourself. And she’s not watching anymore.”
Haesoo didn’t answer. He just looked down at the glass in front of him, the reflection of the restaurant lights flickering in his eyes, as the others fell back into uneasy silence.
Outside, laughter from another table drifted through the air, bright and distant. Inside, the sound of clinking dishes filled the space between them a noise that felt too loud against how quiet he’d become.
The plates had barely settled on the table when the silence thickened again. Everyone pretended to eat, but their eyes kept drifting toward Haesoo at the end of the booth. He hadn’t touched his food. The soda beside him had gone flat.
He was staring down at his hands, jaw tight, shoulders trembling just enough for Minjae to notice.
“Haesoo,” Minjae said quietly. “You don’t have to force yourself, but talk to us. Say something.”
Haesoo didn’t respond. He blinked fast, once, then again, and when he finally exhaled, his breath came out shaky.
Dongmin frowned, lowering his chopsticks. “Hey, you good?”
Haesoo’s voice cracked before the words even formed. “She’s really done with me.”
The sound of it made everyone stop.
Eunwoo looked up slowly. Taeyul’s eyes widened. Even Nova’s hand froze halfway to her drink.
Haesoo pressed his palms together in front of his mouth, trying to steady himself, but his voice was barely holding. “She looked right at me, and it was like I wasn’t even there. She’s letting him stay at her place, Nova. She didn’t even hesitate. It’s only been a month.”
Dongmin’s expression softened. “Haesoo…”
Haesoo shook his head, tears finally spilling down his face despite how hard he tried to hide them. His voice trembled. “I know it’s my fault. I messed up, I hesitated, I let her walk away. But watching her with him it’s like she erased me overnight.”
His words broke into a sharp breath. “She used to text me every morning. Now I can’t even call her. She blocked me. And I keep waiting like an idiot thinking maybe she’ll”
“Haesoo,” Nova cut in sharply, her tone low but firm. “Not here.”
Her eyes softened only slightly as she leaned forward. “You don’t get to fall apart in public. Cameras are everywhere. Control it.”
He swallowed hard, trying to wipe his face, but his hands were shaking too much. “I’m trying, Nova,” he whispered. “I really am.”
Asher placed a hand gently on his shoulder, grounding him without a word. The others looked down, uncomfortable but heartbroken, none of them sure what to do.
Nova sighed quietly, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “You can break down later, but not here, not now. You’re still in public. You still have to be him the Haesoo everyone sees.”
Haesoo nodded weakly, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes until the tears stopped falling. His voice came out hoarse. “Yeah. I got it.”
Nova leaned back, her tone softening, barely audible. “I know you love her. But you can’t let that destroy you where the world can see.”
He didn’t answer, just turned toward the window. The sunlight caught the reflection of his eyes still wet, still raw and for a moment, everyone at the table fell silent, realizing they weren’t watching an idol anymore.
They were watching someone trying not to drown in the middle of a crowded restaurant.
