The night after the photos dropped, Seoul didn't sleep. Neither did Soojin.
Her phone buzzed until the battery nearly died. Fans dissected every angle of Jae and Mina's smile, every rumor grew a hundred heads, every gossip outlet fed on speculation. She tried to shut it out, bury herself under her blankets, but the glow of her phone screen seemed to pull her eyes no matter how much she hated herself for looking.
Jae's silence remained. That silence screamed louder than any headline.
When morning came, Soojin dragged herself to the set, concealer thick under her eyes, her smile stitched together with willpower alone. Crew members threw her sympathetic glances but didn't comment. Whispers carried through the air like smoke, always just behind her back.
Her manager leaned close during a break. "Don't react. Don't post. Just let it pass."
Pass.
As if her marriage wasn't suffocating under every retweet, every meme, every fan cam of Mina and Jae together.
She nodded anyway, swallowing her bitterness. She'd learned long ago that in this industry, silence wasn't just golden — it was survival.
---
Meanwhile, oceans away, Jae sat in the conference room of his hotel suite. His agency team filled the space, laptops glowing, charts projected onto the wall.
At the head of the table, Daniel Jung's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "This is an opportunity, not a crisis. Do you all understand that? We don't deny, we don't confirm — we redirect. Keep feeding the narrative of 'power visuals,' 'international synergy.' If the press asks, we say they're just colleagues, but"—his smirk sharpened—"don't say it too firmly. Leave the door cracked. Ambiguity sells."
Jae's jaw clenched. He wanted to argue, to tell Daniel and the room full of strategists that this wasn't a game, that every article was tearing Soojin apart piece by piece. But when he glanced at the faces around him, all he saw was calculation. They weren't people in this room—they were investors of an image.
Daniel's gaze locked on him. "Jae, you'll need to post tonight. A casual shot. Something vague, nothing denying, nothing confirming. Just a photo that fuels curiosity."
"I don't want to," Jae muttered.
"You don't have to want to," Daniel replied smoothly. "You just have to do it. Global deals are on the line. Do you understand the scale of this? Hollywood agencies are watching. Brand directors are watching. You're standing on the edge of the international stage, and this 'romance' is your ticket."
A bitter laugh escaped Jae before he could stop it. "A ticket built on lies."
The room went quiet.
Daniel leaned forward, voice dropping low enough to make the silence feel like a trap. "You think idols in this business get to build on truth? Don't be naïve. This is how it works. Mina's team is already on board. She's playing her part. You'd better play yours."
Something in Jae's chest twisted. Mina, smiling in those photos, graceful under the headlines, letting the rumors bloom unchecked. Did she even care about the chaos it caused? Or was she simply better than him at playing the game?
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't need to look to know who it wasn't. Soojin still hadn't reached out. Or maybe she had, and he hadn't dared to check.
Daniel straightened, satisfied with Jae's silence. "Good. We'll draft the post. You'll put it up tonight."
---
Back in Seoul, Soojin sat in the makeup chair, scrolling against her better judgment. Every article bled into the next.
Then she saw it.
Jae's Instagram post.
A dimly lit photo of a wine glass set against a Los Angeles skyline. No caption. Just the city lights and the faint reflection of someone in the glass — blurred, feminine, almost certainly Mina.
The comments section erupted instantly.
"MINA????"
"HE'S SO SOFT WHEN HE'S IN LOVE OMG."
"Stop playing coy, just admit it already!"
Her chest constricted. She couldn't breathe.
The makeup artist fussed with her eyeliner, tsking. "Stay still, unni."
Stay still. Pretend nothing's wrong. Pretend the world isn't watching your husband court another woman in plain sight.
She bit her lip so hard the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
---
That night, after filming wrapped, she sat in her van, the city's neon lights flickering outside. Her phone buzzed again — a call this time.
Her breath hitched when she saw the name.
Jae.
Her finger hovered before she finally answered, her voice a whisper. "Hello?"
Static filled the line, then his voice — tired, low, strained. "Soojin."
Her throat closed. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them felt heavier than words.
Finally, she forced herself to say, "I saw the pictures."
Jae's exhale shuddered through the speaker. "It's not real."
"Then why aren't you saying that to the world?"
He flinched, even through the phone. "Daniel—my agency—they won't let me. They want me to play along. Just for now."
Soojin's hand shook. "And me? What am I supposed to do while the world ships you with her? While I'm erased?"
He had no answer. Only silence, thick and suffocating.
Her voice cracked. "You told me once you'd protect me. Was that a lie too?"
"Soojin…" His voice broke, softer than she'd ever heard it. "Please, just trust me. This won't last forever. I just need to get through it."
Her laugh was bitter, humorless. "You're asking me to bleed quietly while you hold someone else's hand in public."
"Soojin—"
She cut the call before he could finish, lowering the phone slowly, her chest hollow.
Outside, the fans still screamed his name.
---
The PR storm only grew.
Morning shows replayed Mina and Jae's "couple moments" on loop, pundits analyzing body language, journalists interviewing "insiders." Mina gave coy smiles in interviews, deflecting questions with practiced grace, never confirming, never denying.
Soojin's dramas trended briefly, but only because fans pointed out how ironic it was that her character — lonely, overlooked — mirrored her real life.
Articles popped up with cruel speculation. "Is Soojin Jeon Jealous of Jae and Mina's Chemistry?" "Why Soojin's Career Can't Compete with Mina's Hollywood Rise."
The words burned, but she swallowed them. She smiled on set, posed for photos, laughed in interviews. But each night, she returned to her empty apartment and stared at her phone, waiting for a message that never came again.
---
Meanwhile, Jae obeyed. He let himself be led through the choreography of the lie. Public dinners with Mina. Side-by-side interviews where they dodged questions with laughter. Photoshoots where his hand brushed hers, and the world roared.
Behind every smile, his mind drifted to Soojin. Her silence. The sharp edge in her voice when she asked if he'd lied.
Every time he posted a photo, his thumb hovered over her name in his contacts. But he never pressed.
The machine had swallowed him whole.
---
One night, weeks into the storm, Soojin was scrolling again when she stumbled across a fan thread dissecting the timeline of Jae and Mina's "romance."
And there, buried among the analysis, was a grainy shot of her.
A paparazzi photo — her leaving a building late at night, face tired, phone clutched tightly. The caption read: "Jae's ex-girlfriend Soojin Jeon looks gloomy amid dating news. Poor girl can't compare."
Her vision blurred. Not only was her marriage invisible, but to the world, she was nothing more than an ex — a discarded chapter in his perfect love story with someone else.
She threw the phone onto the bed, curling into herself. Silent sobs racked her chest until exhaustion pulled her under.
---
Daniel sat across from Jae the next day, grinning like a man who'd won a war. "We're trending in both Korea and the States. Brands are calling daily. Mina's team is thrilled. You're unstoppable now."
Jae didn't answer. He couldn't. Every word tasted like betrayal.
Daniel leaned back, smug. "Just keep this up. A few more months, maybe a year, and you'll both be legends."
A year.
The words echoed like a death sentence.
---
Soojin stared at her reflection in the mirror of her dressing room, makeup perfect, hair flawless. The mask of an idol. But inside, she was breaking.
She pressed her phone to her chest, whispering to the silence.
"How much more can I take?"
Her phone buzzed. Her heart leapt — but it was only Nari, texting updates about tomorrow's schedule.
Still no Jae.
The storm raged on. And she was drowning.