The hotel room was dark except for the faint glow spilling from the city below. Jae Kang sat hunched on the edge of the bed, his shirt half-unbuttoned, his fingers tangled in his hair. The argument with Soojin replayed in his mind in brutal flashes—her trembling voice, her eyes glistening with betrayal, the slam of the door as she left. Each memory cut deeper, like shards of glass lodged under his skin.
He picked up his phone, thumb hovering over her contact. He wanted—no, needed—to call her, to tell her he hadn't meant it, that the words had come out sharper than his heart intended. But the screen lit up with a different name: Daniel Jung. His manager. His handler. His jailer.
Jae clenched his jaw and answered.
"Where the hell are you?" Daniel's voice was sharp, brittle with the kind of control that came from keeping crises from turning into disasters.
"In my room," Jae muttered. "Why?"
"You tell me. Photos are flooding in. You stormed out of rehearsal, you were seen with Soojin near the back entrance. Do you have any idea how reckless that was?"
The mention of her name made Jae's chest tighten. He pressed his palm against his thigh, grounding himself. "We weren't—" He stopped, the lie catching in his throat. Daniel knew. He always knew.
"Listen carefully," Daniel said, voice lowering into the tone of command. "You're headlining the biggest showcase of your career. Every eye is on you. You cannot afford… slip-ups. Do you understand me? Whatever's going on with her—bury it. Now."
Jae laughed bitterly. "Bury it? That's what you've been telling me for two years. Keep my marriage buried. Keep my life buried. Maybe I should bury myself too while I'm at it."
There was silence on the line, then a weary sigh. "You think you're the only one with something to lose? This industry doesn't forgive. Not idols. Not actors. And especially not idols who lie. Do you want to throw Soojin to the wolves? Because if this gets out, she'll be torn apart before you even blink."
The words hit Jae in the gut. Daniel knew exactly where to strike. His anger fizzled into something heavier—guilt, suffocating and relentless.
"Get some rest," Daniel said curtly. "And stay in your room. No more stunts."
The call ended. Jae dropped the phone onto the bed and buried his face in his hands. Sleep was impossible. The silence of the hotel pressed against his eardrums until it roared. He thought of Soojin—her trembling shoulders as she walked away, her voice breaking when she said, 'You chose them over me again.'
---
The night air was sharp as Soojin pulled her coat tighter around herself. Her heels clicked against the pavement, fast and uneven, as if she could outrun the storm churning in her chest. She had left Jae's hotel room with anger searing her veins, but now, blocks away, that anger had cooled into something worse: despair.
Her phone buzzed—her co-star Hwan Lee's name lit up the screen. She ignored it. She couldn't handle his easy banter tonight, not when her marriage felt like a cage instead of a refuge.
She slipped into a quiet side street, trying to calm her breathing. The city was alive with neon lights and distant laughter, but all she felt was the ache of loneliness. She thought of the girl she once was, before the fame, before Jae, before the secrecy. A girl who believed love meant safety, not exile.
A flash burst nearby. Soojin froze. Another click followed, sharp and unmistakable. Paparazzi. Her stomach plummeted. She pulled her hood over her head, ducking quickly into a narrow alley.
"Over there! Did you see?" a voice hissed behind her.
Her pulse thundered as she darted past trash bins and fire escapes, the shadows swallowing her whole. She emerged onto another street, breathless, and hailed the first taxi she saw. The driver barely glanced at her as she slid inside, whispering her address with shaky lips.
She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window, heart still pounding. That was too close. If they had gotten a clear shot—if someone had recognized her near Jae's hotel—everything could have unraveled.
As the car sped away, she closed her eyes and whispered to herself, "How much longer can I keep living like this?"
---
Back in the hotel, Jae paced. He couldn't sit still, couldn't breathe. His gaze flicked to the bottle of whiskey on the counter. He poured a glass, took a long swallow, and felt nothing but burn. He wanted to call Soojin, but what would he say? I'm sorry? The words felt too small for the damage done.
His phone buzzed again—this time a notification. A gossip site headline blared across the screen:
"Jae Kang & Mina Choi: Late-Night Rendezvous or PR Gold?"
A photo followed: Jae and Mina leaving a studio together earlier that week, her hand brushing his arm. The caption screamed of chemistry, of sparks flying.
Jae's stomach turned. Mina. The Hollywood darling. The agency's golden ticket. He hadn't asked for her, hadn't asked for the fake narrative, but now it was being painted in broad strokes for the world to consume. And for Soojin to see.
He imagined her scrolling through her phone, those headlines cutting into her. His chest tightened until he couldn't breathe.
---
The taxi pulled up to her apartment. Soojin slipped inside, the silence of the place greeting her like an unwelcome guest. She dropped her bag on the floor and leaned against the door, closing her eyes.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't Hwan.
Veronica Seo.
Her blood ran cold. The journalist. The woman whose name had begun surfacing in hushed whispers—the one digging for dirt, the one unafraid of burning bridges for the truth.
The message was simple, but laced with threat:
"I know why you're hurting tonight. We should talk."
Soojin's breath caught. Her fingers hovered over the screen, trembling. She should delete it, block the number, pretend it never happened. But her instincts screamed: Veronica knew. Somehow, some way, she knew.
The walls of her apartment suddenly felt too thin, too fragile to contain the secret pressing against them. She slid down to the floor, her phone still glowing in her hand, her heart hammering with fear and dread.
---
Meanwhile, Jae sat on the balcony of his hotel room, staring out at the glittering skyline. The city looked endless, but all he felt was trapped. He thought of Soojin—alone, hurting, maybe even doubting everything they had fought to protect.
He whispered into the night, "Soojin… I'm sorry."
But the city swallowed his words whole.
---
Her phone buzzed again—another message from Veronica:
"Meet me tomorrow. Noon. Café Mirae. If you don't, the story runs without your side."
Soojin's stomach dropped. Her hands shook as she read the words again and again. The story. Their story. The one they had sacrificed everything to protect.
For the first time, the truth wasn't just a shadow lurking in the distance. It was at her doorstep, demanding to be let in.
---
Soojin curled her knees to her chest, staring at the message, knowing that when the sun rose, nothing would ever be the same.