#angstama

you had never questioned jaemin's faithfulness. not once in the eight years you had been together for you believed wholeheartedly that jaemin loved you. that no matter how cold he could be, no matter how harsh his words sometimes landed, he would never do anything deliberately to hurt you or jeopardise what you two had built together. you always told yourself that you could take the distance, the misunderstandings, the arguments that always seemed to circle back to all your insecurities.

you thought you could take it all.

but this time it felt different and what made it worse was the voice in your head that kept whispering doubt — maybe you're overreacting. maybe they really were just two old friends catching up. two people with shared memories grabbing bread and laughing about something insignificant. maybe the way he learned towards her meant nothing. maybe the ease between them was simply familiarity.

but another part of you refused to accept that. that undeniable sting of betrayal pressing into your chest because standing there watching them across the street had shifted something inside you in a way that you couldn't undo or comprehend.

more frustratedly, even though jaemin had been rightfully yours from the start, you still felt like the other woman watching the man she loved walk beside the person he truly belonged with.

the thought made your stomach churn.

was this how tinkerbell felt when peter pan chose wendy over her? was this what heartbreak felt like? the endless dropping sensation in your gut, the nausea that crept up your throat, the way your chest tightened until breathing felt like hard-work? heartbreak felt like your body was rejecting something it had trusted for far too long.

you turned back to mark, who had gone quiet beside you with a look of concern. “sorry,” you said softly, your voice thinner than you intended. “i should…i should probably head home.”

you tried to keep your composure, but the tears gathering in your eyes blurred the streetlights into soft halos. your hands trembled as you adjusted the strap of your bag, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

of course he did.

mark had only known you for less than twenty-four hours but even then he could see it—the way your hands were balled into fists, the way your gaze refused to return to the street behind you.

“are you okay?” he asked gently.

you nodded too quickly, looking away to hide your clearly red face.

“do you… need company?” he added, reaching out hesitantly, his fingers brushing your arm like he wasn’t sure if the gesture would be welcomed.

“i’m okay,” you forced a small smile, though the words didn’t feel true. “really.”

he studied your face for a moment longer, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t push. “alright,” he said quietly.

"have a safe trip!" you nodded once more, offering him a polite tight lipped goodbye before turning away.

mark remained where he was, watching as you walked off down the street—your steps unsteady, shoulders slightly hunched, like you were trying to hold yourself together piece by piece.

he didn’t know the full story.

but even from a distance, he could tell something inside you had just broken apart.

you went straight back to the shared apartment you had with jaemin, shutting the door behind you as you slid down against it, finally allowing your tears to fall. the feeling only grew worse now that you were in the very space where you once imagined starting a family with the love of your life.

you should've known. you should've caught the signs whenever jaemin tried to steer you towards the possibility of leaving this relationship. because no one who truly claims to love you would ever make leaving an option. leaving was never an option to you.

but it was clear as day that jaemin no longer valued the relationship the same way you did.

and perhaps that was why jaemin always dodged your questions about marriage. often saying, “that’s still far away,” or simply humming and laughing it off whenever your friends asked him when he was going to propose. of course, you never minded that jaemin was taking his time. you always believed marriage would be the natural end point for the two of you.

now it finally made sense why he was never keen on entertaining any of your thoughts about it.

that day, you sat on your shared bed hugging your legs tightly for a long time, staring into nothing but the emptiness slowly eating you away while time continue to pass painfully slow with no sign of jaemin.

you thought about what you would say when he came home. whether it was even worth the pain and exhaustion of fighting someone who would probably only defend himself, someone who might not even care about how deeply this situation had hurt you.

and in that moment, you realised something.

you had given up.

you were raising the white flag.

you couldn't do this anymore. your heart couldn't endure a hurt that never seemed to end, that this was the kind of wound that will never stop bleeding.

with half a heart, you pulled your luggage out from beneath the bed, the same one you had used on countless trips with jaemin and began packing your things one by one. you decided you were going to travel to rome to see it for yourself.

to see what was so special about rome that took jaemin’s heart away from you.

how long will you be gone for?

you didn’t know.

but you knew you had to leave this place.

away from jaemin.

away from this country that held far too many memories of him.

you were almost done packing when you heard the front door shut followed by the familiar sound of footsteps moving down the hallway that were unmistakably jaemin's.

you didn't turn around. instead, you continued folding the sweater in your hands, placing it carefully into the suitcase already half-filled on the bed. the zipper teeth glinted under the room's soft light, your belongings arranged in neat rows like you were trying to impose order on something that had completely unraveled.

it was then finally the door swung open slowly and there he was, jaemin standing int he doorway, one hand still resting on the knob. his presence filled the space so naturally it almost felt wrong that he looked like a stranger standing there.

your eyes met immediately and for a brief second, neither of you spoke. then his gaze dropped, travelling from your face to the bed, to the open suitcase and to the clothes stacked neatly inside. the movement was slow and deliberate like his brain was trying to process something it hadn't expected to see. which explains the confusion that was flashed across his features. and perhaps maybe, just for a split second, something close to panic though you could be entirely imagining it.

“what… are you doing?” he asked finally as he slowly stepped into to the room carefully, as if sudden gestures might make the situation worse. you kept your hands busy, folding another shirt even though you’d already folded it once. “i'm leaving,” you said simply, refusing to look at him in the eye.

the words hung in the air.

jaemin frowned, like the sentence didn’t quite register.

“…leaving?” he repeated.

you nodded, still not looking directly at him.

“what for?” he asked, confusion edging into his voice now. “where are you even going?”

you finally lifted your head. “i'm going to rome.” you answered honestly.

jaemin couldn’t believe his ears. a scoff slipped out of him immediately as he looked away, shaking his head in disbelief. “are you out of your mind?” he said, the laugh that followed sharp and incredulous. “i thought we agreed last night that nobody’s going to Rome.”

“i didn’t agree to it,” you replied with a small shrug. “you decided that on your own.”

“wow.” jaemin bit the inside of his cheek, his jaw tightening as he looked at you again. the coldness in your voice was unfamiliar, almost jarring and he wasn’t used to hearing it from you.

you were usually the one softening first. the one stepping back before things escalated. and something about the way you stood there now—calm and unmoving, irritated him more than he wanted to admit. for the first time, it sounded like you were talking to him without the fear of losing him.

“is this about saeron again?” he asked, pushing himself off the bed. he began pacing the room, hands shoved into his pockets like he was trying to contain the frustration building in his chest. “why can’t you just believe there’s nothing between us?”

when you didn’t answer, he dragged a hand through his hair and turned away, walking towards your cupboard as if the movement might shake off the tension in the room.

you grabbed another sweater from the hanger and folded it carefully before placing it into the suitcase. “didn’t seem like it earlier,” you muttered under your breath.

jaemin heard you. he stopped mid-step, running another hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into his voice. “god, we were just catching up, that’s all. you’re over-exaggerating it in your head again!” he threw his hands up in the air.

and suddenly—

you laughed.

the sound startled both of you.

it was the kind of laugh that wasn't in amusement but rather a hollow sharp sound like something inside you had finally snapped loose.

jaemin stared at you in surprise.

you shook your head slowly, the laughter fading as quickly as it came.“yeah,” you said, nodding. “i’m over-exaggerating this whole thing in my head again.” you turned to look at him fully now, meeting his gaze without hesitation.

“i’m the crazy one.” you admitted sarcastically.

“pardon me for being upset that my partner of eight years hid the existence of another woman from me for years.” jaemin opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him interrupt.

“pardon me for being upset that the love of my life had an entire exhibition about the things and people he loves…” your voice wavered just slightly, but you pushed through it. “…and somehow i’m not in it.”

the room fell quiet. “but one trip with that woman,” you finished softly, your eyes still locked on his, “and that makes it onto the wall.”

“so i just wanna understand,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less steady, “what about rome that is so damn great that it’s better than the relationship we have together?”

the question seemed to fall flat between the two of you, with you wide-eyed and glaring him down, breathing hard as jaemin took a step back to distance himself from you. a part of you winced at the space he had put between the two of you.

“i thought it was already clear enough that i love you.” Jaemin sighed. “i didn’t think you’d be the insecure type, but i guess that was wrong of my judgement.” he shook his head in disappointment as he calmly removed the watch from his wrist.

“i’ll admit… during that trip, i thought i didn’t want this relationship with you anymore,” he said, and a part of you broke from the honesty of it. “i needed that space to come back to you because you were suffocating me. i needed to be away, to meet different people… and saeron just happened to be there at the right time.”

jaemin’s words struck you like a massive slap to the face, a punch to the gut. everything you wished you weren’t was exactly what jaemin saw in you, and you began to wonder if he had only tolerated you all these years because you were always readily available for him.

did he pity you?

was he doing it out of kindness?

without saying a word, you walked over to your drawer and pulled out a small velvet blue box. you paused for a moment, staring at it before turning back to jaemin. inside the box was the very watch jaemin had been eyeing for years — the IWC portugieser perpetual calendar in a shade of deep blue.

you had bought it a year ago. you had skipped meals, passed on vacations, and quietly saved up for months just to afford it. it was meant to be an engagement piece for him. you wanted to propose to him with it. but arguments after arguments with jaemin had made you delay it, convincing yourself to wait until the right time.

but there wasn’t a right time.

and maybe there would never be one with jaemin.

“now that you said it…” you looked at him, your hand tightening around the velvet box. “have you ever seen a future with me?”

“wha—”

“do you ever see yourself being married to me?” you asked, your heart pounding painfully in your chest. whatever the answer was, you knew you had to ask it. you had already reached the point of no return and there was no going back now.

jaemin rubbed his face in frustration. “is marriage really that important to you?”

“if you never once saw yourself being married to me, then what are we even doing here in this relationship jaems?” you bit your lip, tears welling in your eyes as you looked at him desperately.

“i just don’t think it’s that big of a deal, that’s all,” he shrugged, his voice raising slightly in frustration.

and just like that, the words landed. it was enough to pull you back into reality. all these years, you had been in this relationship believing jaemin would be your forever person, your home. but he didn’t see it the same way.

you stared at him with glassy eyes, the hurt and disappointment clear on your face as his words slowly tore through you.

na Jaemin was indeed your greatest heartbreak.

you shook your head slowly before zipping up your luggage and lifting it off the shared bed. “i guess i must’ve mistaken our relationship all this while,” you said with a sad chuckle before grabbing his hand and placing the velvet box into his palm.

“i always thought that someday we would’ve been married,” you continued quietly. “i’m sorry i had a different idea of how we would’ve spent the rest of our lives together.” you turned and began walking away.

“c'mon y/n, you’re overreacting,” Jaemin said quickly, reaching out to grab your arm and you shrugged him off immediately.

“does it all have to end in marriage? is that your issue now?” he asked, frustration creeping into his voice.

“yes!” you raised your voice, startling even him with the force of it.

“i thought if two people were in love, they would want to spend the rest of their lives together, and that’s what marriage means to me!” you said, your chest heaving.

“and if you didn’t want that, then why are we even together?” you paused, the words finally spilling out. “if you lost feelings for me along the way, why couldn’t you have told me?” your voice cracked. “i would’ve rather you told me years ago before I gave you all these years of my commitment and effort than to be standing here at this age, stupidly waiting for something that was never going to happen.”

“all of this because of a ring?” jaemin scoffed.

“i told you already,” he continued, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “marriage isn’t that big of a deal to me. you’re the one turning it into some kind of ultimatum.”

“it’s not an ultimatum,” you shook your head, “it’s eight years of my life.”

“yeah, and i gave you eight years too!” jaemin shot back immediately.

you flinched slightly at the sharpness in his voice, but he didn’t stop “you act like i wasted your time,” he went on, pacing once across the room. “like i forced you to stay with me. no one asked you to wait around for some proposal you built up in your own head.”

the words landed heavier than he probably realised, but it was all too late to take it back now the moment it left his lips. he was on a roll to destroy you completely. “you created this whole future by yourself,” he added, his tone flat now. “that’s not on me.”

your fingers tightened around the handle of your suitcase until your knuckles turned white.

so that was it.

eight years together, reduced to a misunderstanding. you've always known that your relationship with jaemin wasn't by far any perfect. there were many times when being a good partner simply felt like it wasn't enough but you've come to loved the good and the bad that comes with the title of being someone's partner. and somewhere along the way, you failed to see the pieces of yourself being stripped away by na jaemin all these years all because you believed in a future with him.

you let out a quiet breath, nodding slowly as if accepting something you had been resisting for a long time. “okay,” you said.

jaemin frowned slightly, not expecting that response. you walked past him toward the door, pulling your luggage behind you, the wheels dragging softly against the wooden floor.

“you're seriously leaving for rome?” he asked, irritation creeping back into his voice but this time, you didn’t stop walking. “anywhere that isn’t here is good enough”

he scoffed again behind you. “fine, do whatever you want.”

you paused for a second at the doorway, your hand resting lightly against the frame before shutting the door behind you.

jaemin didn’t follow you afterwards.

neither did he call your name.

and somehow, that hurt more than anything he had said that night.

“i can’t believe you left for rome and didn’t even bother to text me about it!” donghyuck exclaimed through your phone speakers, his eyes wide in disbelief on the screen.

after thirteen hours of flying all the way to rome, you had finally arrived at the city that captured jaemin’s heart. and throughout the entire flight, all you could think about were jaemin’s words. you wished this was all just a bad dream. that by the time you woke up, jaemin would be beside you again—much less grumpy than usual.

you had forgotten when was the last time the two of you went a full week without arguing.

but there was a time when jaemin had been completely head over heels for you. he used to stop by after your classes just to walk you home. no matter the distance or time, jaemin always showed up, simply because he wanted to be around you.

there was a time when he was so careful with your heart that he swore never to bring up the idea of breaking up—because to him, even mentioning it meant opening the door to that possibility.

there were times when all jaemin could talk about was marrying you someday. about the life the two of you would build. the family you might start together.

and all of those things—

they were just words that never lasted as long as you hoped they would.

“i’m sorry, hyuck,” you said quietly, offering your best friend a small smile through the screen. “everything happened so quickly… i just didn’t have the capacity to reach out to anyone.”

“well, that’s fine. at least you’re alive,” he laughed, his expression softening slightly. “but does this mean it’s officially over?” he asked carefully. “you and jaemin?”

the two of you had never explicitly said the words break up. but after everything that happened, you weren’t even sure if jaemin still wanted anything to do with you.

not until you received a text from him earlier in the morning—sent in the quiet hours before sunrise.

jaems♡ : have you arrived safely in rome?

“i don’t know,” you admitted after a pause. “he texted me earlier this morning… asking if i arrived.” donghyuck immediately clasped his hands together, his eyes widening in horror. “please tell me you didn’t reply,” he pleaded. “oh my god.”

you sighed, shaking your head. “rest assured,” you said tiredly, “i did not.”

“thank god,” he breathed, slumping back in relief. then he pointed a finger toward the screen, his tone turning serious. “you better be sending me messages every hour okay? and call me,” donghyuck said firmly, though his voice softened at the end. “don’t go missing in action on me, yeah?” you nodded, feeling a small warmth settle in your chest despite everything. oh how lucky are you to still be surrounded by people who genuinely love you for who you are? “i won’t.”

rome was indeed as beautiful as jaemin had described. the cobblestone streets stretched endlessly beneath your feet, uneven and worn from centuries of footsteps that had come long before yours. every turn seemed to open into another narrow street lined with warm terracotta buildings, their shutters half open as morning light spilled gently into the city. the scent of freshly brewed coffee and buttery pastries drifting through the air from the cafés that dotted every corner. small round tables spilled out onto the sidewalks, locals lingering over tiny cups of espresso as if time moved slower here.

it was a breath of fresh air from home.

history was everywhere you looked. ancient stone walls stood beside modern storefronts like time had simply decided to coexist rather than move forward. crumbling ruins appeared casually between apartment buildings, their arches and pillars still standing proudly against the sky as if they had been watching the city grow for thousands of years.

truly, it was breathtaking. gorgeous in a way that almost felt unreal.

and yet, as beautiful as rome was, you couldn’t help but think about the countless times jaemin had spoken about this place, how his eyes used to light up whenever he described it.

how he once told you that rome was a city you had to experience at least once in your life but standing here now, surrounded by the beauty he had once painted so vividly for you, you realised something bittersweet settling quietly in your chest, the aching truth that you're never going to experience rome with jaemin in this lifetime.

you’ve been mostly going out and about, taking in the scenery you never seemed to have the time to stop for back in seoul.

today was no different and you decided to visit the trevi fountain in an attempt to tick off all the must see tourist spots as claimed by jaemin.

the sound of rushing water filled the piazza, louder than the chatter of the crowd gathered around it. sunlight bounced off the pale marble sculptures, making the entire fountain glow under the roman sky. tourists lined the edge of the fountain, some leaning over the railing for photos while others tossed coins over their shoulders, making quiet wishes before the coins disappeared into the clear water below.

you slowed to a stop, taking it in.

you had heard about this place countless times, seen it in movies and photographs, but standing here felt entirely different. the sculptures were grander than you imagined, the water brighter, the atmosphere almost theatrical.

for a moment, you simply stood there watching, letting yourself exist somewhere that wasn’t filled with memories of jaemin.

you reached into your pocket, pulling out a small coin the hotel receptionist had handed you earlier that morning.

make a wish, she had said with a cute smile. you turned slightly, preparing to toss the coin behind you the way you had seen everyone else do—

and walked straight into someone.

“oh—sorry!”

the coin slipped from your fingers, clinking softly against the stone before rolling to a stop near your shoe.

“it’s okay—”

the voice stopped abruptly as you stood frozen in place, eyes glued to floor before looking up.

the man in front of you blinked in what seemed like trying to piece something together, the two of you staring back at each other in disbelief . “…mark?” you said slowly.

his brows lifted in surprise before a familiar grin spread across his face, “well if it isn’t the girl with the terrible memory for names.”

you let out a breathless laugh, still a little stunned. “what are you doing here?” you asked. “i thought you were in florence!”

“i was,” mark said, glancing briefly at the fountain behind you before looking back at you. “came down to rome this morning.”

“for work?”

“not really,” he shook his head. “more like for a vacation,” you stared at him for a second longer before shaking your head in disbelief. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“what?”mark chuckled.

“out of all the places in this world…” you gestured vaguely around the crowded piazza, “… who would've known we'd run into each other again?”

he shrugged lightly, the corner of his mouth tilting upward. “guess the universe really wants us to remember each other’s names.”

you rolled your eyes, bending down to pick up the coin you had dropped earlier. mark watched you for a moment before nodding toward the fountain. “were you about to make a wish?”

“…i think so.” you straightened, the small coin resting in your palm.

“well,” he said, stepping slightly to the side to give you space, “don’t let me ruin it.”

for a brief moment, the noise of the crowd faded into the background again. you turned toward the fountain, tossing the coin over your shoulder. it disappeared into the water with a soft splash.

“what did you wish for?” mark asked curiously, already digging into his pocket as he pulled out a coin of his own.

“nuh-uh,” you pursed your lips, shaking your head. “i can’t tell you. it won’t come true if i do.”

mark huffed out a small laugh. “fair enough,” he said, stepping forward toward the edge of the fountain. “my turn.” he paused for a second, glancing down at the coin resting between his fingers as if actually considering it. then, with a small shrug, he tossed it over his shoulder.

the coin arced briefly through the air before disappearing into the water.

you tilted your head. “that's a great throw,”

“aw thanks, i learnt it from all the nba matches i was forced to watch with my friend chen le back in university,” he replied immediately.

“interesting,” you hummed in response. for a moment, the two of you simply stood there, watching the water rush endlessly over the marble sculptures.

mark glanced at you again, more curious now. “so… are you here alone?” he asked.

“yeah, unfortunately,” you chuckled.

“nothing unfortunate about that,” mark said with a small grin. “how long are you staying?”

“i’m not really sure yet,” you admitted. “i’ve been here for almost three days now. it was honestly a pretty spontaneous trip, and i haven’t even bought a return ticket yet… even though i should probably get one soon just to give my boss an answer.” you scratched the back of your head sheepishly.

mark hummed thoughtfully. “same here,” he said. “well—not the spontaneous trip part. but i’m alone too.”

“ah—you came alone?” you raised a brow. come to think of it, you didn’t actually know much about mark at all. you didn’t know if he had a partner waiting for him somewhere, or if someone back home expected daily calls and updates from him the way donghyuck did from you.

“yeah,” mark replied, squinting his eyes slightly as a sheepish smile spread across his face. “that’s pretty much how most of my trips go.”

you hummed softly, nodding. there was a brief pause between the two of you.

not uncomfortable exactly.

just maybe uncertain? the kind of pause where neither of you were quite sure what the next step in the conversation should be.

mark rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little less confident than before. the easy smile he’d been wearing faltered for a moment as he glanced towards the fountain, then back at you.

“uh—this might sound weird,” he started, glancing at you before quickly looking away again. “but since we keep running into each other…”

you waited, tilting your head slightly. “do you maybe wanna… join me?” he finished awkwardly. “like—just touring around. not in a weird way or anything,” he added quickly, a nervous laugh slipping out of him. “i just figured it might be less awkward than wandering around alone.”

he scratched lightly at the side of his neck, clearly aware of how it sounded. “you can absolutely say no, by the way,” he continued, lifting his hands slightly in surrender. “i promise i won’t take it personally.”

you looked at him for a moment, studying the hopeful expression he was trying so hard to hide. of all the people you expected to run into halfway across the world— mark had somehow become the only familiar face in the city.

and strangely, it didn’t feel uncomfortable.

if anything, it felt a little comforting.

“well,” you said slowly, glancing around the crowded piazza before looking back at him, “since the universe keeps throwing us into each other…”

mark looked at you again, the hope slipping through his expression despite his attempt to stay casual. “…i guess i could join you.”

“really?” his face immediately lit up.

you nodded, a small laugh escaping you.

“yeah. but if this turns out to be a scam and you’re secretly a terrible tour guide, i’m leaving.”

mark placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. “wow,” he said. “you wound me.” but the grin on his face gave him away.

just between you and the gods, you wished that one day, the world would feel like yours again and that the love you had given so freely for eight years hadn’t been meaningless but actually mean something even if not longer belonged to the future you had imagined.

and perhaps, this encounter was god's way of letting you know that they're listening.

// to be continued

"breathe, y/n, stay with me." jaemin’s voice cut through the heavy fog clouding your mind. his hand was wrapped tightly around yours, grounding you, his thumb brushing against your trembling knuckles. "donghyuck, file a report now," jaemin ordered, his tone sharp and urgent. donghyuck doesn't hesitate, already pulling out his phone, dialing the police with shaky fingers.

but you couldn’t move. your body refused to. the world felt muffled, far away. your thoughts ran wild, colliding, scattering. only one thing was clear—jun. your son. your baby. the only piece of love you had left in this godforsaken world.

"y/n!" jeno’s voice pierced through the chaos as he shoved past the crowd, eyes wide, heart pounding. he looked between you and jaemin, voice strained. "what’s going on?"

"she must’ve taken him away!" you screamed, the words tearing out of you like they had been clawing at your throat for hours. your glare found jeno, sharp, accusing, and desperate. he froze. confusion flashed, then realisation hit like a blow to his chest. he looked around—donghyuck whispering frantically into the phone, jaemin steadying your shaking form, and you… eyes wild with fear.

the “she” in question—he knew who it was.

his lover.

and “him”— his only son, jun.

the air around you shattered. anger, grief, panic—all tangled and suffocating. you stumbled forward, pushing against jaemin’s grip. "i have to find him," you said, your voice breaking.

"y/n, wait—" jaemin caught you by the arm, pulling you close, his voice low, trembling but firm. "listen to me, you can’t run around like this. you’re not thinking straight. i’ll get the car. just… just stay here, okay? please. i’ll be right back."

he squeezed your shoulders, searching your eyes until you nodded, barely holding it together. then he ran off toward the parking lot.

and then jeno appeared again. breathless. disheveled. guilt written all over his face. "where is she?" you shouted, stepping closer until he had to stumble back. "where did she take him? where did that bitch take my son?"

"y/n—" his voice cracked. his phone was in his hand, trembling, the screen showing soomin’s name flashing. "i’m calling her—i’m trying to—i swear, i don’t know!"

"don’t lie to me!" you shoved him hard in the chest. jeno staggered back, barely catching his balance. your vision blurred with tears and rage.

"you did this!" you screamed, your voice raw. "you brought her into our lives! you let her near him! everything i love—everything that mattered to me—is gone because of you!"

jeno’s lips parted, but no words came. only a broken sound—half sob, half breath. he looked at you like he’d been hit, eyes glassy, his chest heaving. "i didn’t know," he whispered, voice trembling. "y/n, i didn’t know she’d—"

"you never know, do you?" you spat, your tears finally spilling. "not until it’s too late."

silence hung heavy between you—shattered only by the sound of sirens in the distance, drawing closer. jeno’s hand was still on his phone, but it had slipped to his side, forgotten.

you turned away before he could say another word, your knees weak, your heart breaking all over again. jaemin’s car screeched to a stop nearby, "y/n!" he called out, practically jumping out of the care to get you.

you didn’t look back. you couldn’t. because if you did, you’d see the devastation in jeno’s eyes—the same kind that mirrored your own.

jeno’s heart stopped the second your front door slammed behind you and jaemin. at first, he tried to tell himself everything was fine—that you were just upset, that jaemin would calm you down, that this wasn’t the worst thing it looked like.

his mind shot straight to his son, to every worst-case scenario a parent should never have to imagine. if anything happened—if even one thing went wrong—he would never forgive himself. not now, not ever.

he shot to his feet, almost stumbling as he sprinted toward the parking lot. his fingers trembled around his phone, thumb slamming the call button over and over.

“pick up, damn it—”

but the ringing didn’t even last.

straight to voicemail.

“fuck!” he barked out, voice cracking with fear as he fumbled for his keys. his heartbeat was pounding in his ears, drowning out everything else as he ran to get his car.

meanwhile in jaemin’s car, time had lost all meaning.

you sat folded forward, elbows braced against your knees, hands buried in your hair as if you could physically hold your thoughts still. your breathing was shallow and uneven, each inhale scraping painfully against your chest.

the world outside the windshield moved in cruel slow motion. traffic lights lingered on red. cars crawled forward at an infuriating pace. every second stretched thin and taut, threatening to snap.

jun.

his face flashed behind your eyes, sleepy smiles, sticky hands, the way he called you mummy when he was scared. your chest tightened until it hurt, a sob lodging painfully in your throat. you pressed your palms harder against your temples, as if that might quiet the panic screaming inside your head.

jaemin noticed everything.

the way your shoulders shook.

the way your breaths stuttered.

the way you looked like you were barely holding yourself together.

his grip on the steering wheel tightened. he hesitated—because touching you felt like crossing a line he didn’t know if he was allowed to cross anymore. but then you let out a broken sound, halfway between a gasp and a sob, and instinct took over.

slowly, carefully, he reached out.

his hand settled on your arm lightly. the contact made your breath hitch violently. your teeth sank into your lower lip as tears finally spilled over, hot and uncontrollable. you tried to stop them—you really did—but fear had hollowed you out from the inside, and there was nothing left to hold it back.

“i shouldn’t have…” your voice cracked, barely audible. “i shouldn’t have pursued the case.”

the words fell out like a confession.

jaemin’s head snapped toward you, eyes dark with concern.

“if i didn’t—if i just kept my head down—jun would be home. he’d be safe.” your shoulders shook harder now. “i should’ve known better. i should’ve—”

“no.”

the word cut through the air, firm despite the tremor beneath it.

you shook your head, tears streaming freely now. “this is my fault—”

“it’s not,” jaemin said, voice stronger, urgent. his hand tightened just slightly, anchoring you. “listen to me. you did exactly what you were supposed to do.”

the car rolled forward another few feet. another red light loomed ahead like a cruel joke.

“you protected your son,” he continued, jaw clenched. “you fought for the better of this society so that he can have a good future. you didn’t stay quiet when something was wrong. that doesn’t make you responsible for this—it makes you a good mother.”

your breath shuddered, a sob tearing free as you covered your face.

jaemin swallowed hard. “i’m going to find him i promise,” he said, the promise heavy, unbreakable. “i swear to you. i don’t care what it takes or who i have to talk to—I will bring jun back to you safely.”

you looked at him then, eyes red and glassy, clinging to his words like they were the only solid thing left in the world. jaemin’s jaw tightened when your gaze met his, the fear there mirroring his own. “but i need you to stay strong too,” he said quietly, voice gentle despite the tension running through it. “you cannot collapse now.”

you nodded, even though your body felt like it was on the verge of giving out. your fingers reached for his hand almost instinctively, curling around it where it rested on your arm. the warmth of his skin seeped into yours, grounding in a way you hadn’t realized you desperately needed. your chest loosened just slightly, the crushing anxiety easing enough for you to draw a fuller breath.

you didn’t say thank you. you couldn’t. but jaemin seemed to understand anyway.

he traffic light flicked to green.

jaemin stepped on the accelerator without hesitation, the car surging forward. his mind was already racing ahead, mapping routes, possibilities, contingencies. first, he needed to get you home—somewhere safe, somewhere you could breathe, somewhere he could think clearly without watching you unravel beside him.

his phone buzzed.

then buzzed again.

and again.

each vibration felt like a warning.

jaemin glanced down briefly at the screen when traffic slowed, his grip tightening on the wheel as donghyuck’s name filled the display over and over. he opened the messages with a sinking feeling in his gut.

lee donghyuck: checked with the school.

lee donghyuck: cctv footage is gone.

lee donghyuck: teachers said jun was last seen at the sandbox.

lee donghyuck: alone.

the word alone hit like a punch to the chest.

jaemin swallowed hard, his jaw locking as his eyes flicked back to the road. the city suddenly felt too open, too exposed—every passing street another place where something could have gone wrong. his fingers flexed unconsciously around yours, grip firming as if to reassure both of you at once.

your breath caught when you noticed the shift in him. “what is it?” you whispered, voice fragile, afraid of the answer before it even came.

jaemin didn’t answer right away. he exhaled slowly through his nose, steadying himself—because he had just told you not to collapse, and the last thing you needed was to see him do the same.

“donghyuck checked with the school,” he said carefully. “the cctv tapes… they’re gone.”

your hand tightened around his.

“jun was last seen at the sandbox,” jaemin continued, his voice low, controlled. “he was alone.”

the words settled between you like something heavy and unforgiving.

your heart stuttered painfully in your chest, fear surging back up so fast it made you dizzy. the image of jun sitting by himself—small, vulnerable, unaware—flooded your mind, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from breaking apart again.

“alone?” you echoed faintly, like saying it out loud might make it less real.

jaemin tightened his hold on you, just slightly. grounding. “we don’t know how long,” he said carefully. “and we don’t know who saw him. but someone did. kids don’t just disappear without leaving a trace.”

your breathing started to spiral again, sharp inhales cutting short in your chest. “what if—” your voice broke. “what if he followed someone? he’s so trusting, jaemin. he talks to everyone.”

jaemin’s jaw clenched. the thought crossed his mind too—jun’s easy smiles, his curiosity, the way he believed the world was kind because the people who raised him tried so hard to make it so.

“hey,” jaemin said softly, glancing at you when traffic slowed. “look at me for a second.”

you did, reluctantly. your vision blurred, but you saw the resolve there. not panic. not doubt. resolve.

“we’re not going to spiral,” he said. “not yet. we’re going to do this properly.” he took a breath. “we’ll go home first. you need to sit down. the police are already on it and jisung's also driving around on a lookout. ”

your throat tightened. “and jeno?”

jaemin didn’t answer immediately. his grip on the wheel shifted, knuckles whitening.

“he’s probably already on the road,” jaemin said finally. “and panicking.” guilt twisted painfully in your chest. jeno’s face flashed in your mind—his fear, his desperation, the way his voice cracked when he said jun’s name earlier.

“this is my fault,” you whispered again, the words automatic, like a wound you kept pressing just to see if it still hurt.

jaemin shook his head sharply. “no no. stop.” his tone wasn’t harsh, but it left no room for argument. “nobody could've seen this coming."

the car turned into your street. familiar houses blurred past, looking wrong somehow—too normal, too untouched by the terror tearing through you.

when jaemin pulled into the driveway, he didn’t turn off the engine right away. he looked at you, really looked at you, like he was committing this moment to memory.

“you’re not alone in this,” he said. “do you hear me?”

your lips trembled. you nodded.

inside the house, everything felt frozen in time. jun’s sports shoes by the door. dino-chan that he loved so much sitting by the sofa. the silence was deafening.

the moment you stepped inside, your knees nearly gave out.

jaemin caught you immediately, steady hands on your arms. “sit,” he urged, guiding you to the couch. “just sit.” you did, curling inward, arms wrapping around yourself like that might hold you together.

jaemin pulled his phone out again. messages were still coming in. missed calls now—jeno’s name flashing across the screen.

he hesitated for half a second.

then he answered.

“jaemin,” jeno’s voice came through raw and frantic. “have you received any updates yet?” the question hung in the air and heavy.

jaemin closed his eyes briefly before replying. “we don’t know yet,” he said honestly. “but we’re working on it. the school’s cctv was wiped. last sighting was the sandbox.”

there was a sharp inhale on the other end. “how about y/n? is she okay?” jeno asked. even at times like this, jeno couldn't help but worry about you.

jaemin glanced across the room, catching sight of you hunched over the dining table, shoulders drawn inward like you were trying to disappear. “we’re back at her place,” he said quietly. “i’m trying to calm her down. you should come over.”

“no. she definitely doesn't want me around. i'm only going to make everything worse.” jeno said quietly, voice almost defeated.

“trust me, she needs you.” jaemin insisted. because if there's anything that he's learnt in the years of watching the two of you, it was that the two of you were each other's emotional pillars. you steadied one another in ways no one else could. and that's the very thing that jaemin was envious of since university days.

jeno doesn't answer and instead, the line went dead.

jaemin turned back to you. you were staring at nothing, eyes unfocused, like your mind had already gone somewhere dark. he crouched in front of you, lowering himself to your level. “jeno's on his way,” he said gently. “we’re all here now. we move together.”

your eyes finally filled again. “what if he’s scared?” you whispered. “what if he’s calling for me and i’m not there?”

that was the moment jaemin’s composure cracked—just a fraction.

he reached up, cupping your face, forcing you to look at him. “then we find him faster,” he said, voice thick. “because he has people who love him enough to tear the world apart if we have to.”

outside, a car screeched to a stop.

jeno had arrived.

jeno barely made it to the door before pounding on it. the sound cracked through the house like a gunshot, sharp and desperate. jaemin was already moving, opening it just as jeno stumbled inside, breath ragged, eyes wild like an animal caught in a trap.

“have we heard anything from the school other than what we know yet?” jeno demanded, voice breaking on the last word. his gaze swept the living room, the hallway, the stairs—every place jun should’ve been.

you stood up so fast the room spun. “we don’t know,” you said, and the words tasted like poison. “jeno, we don’t know yet.”

jeno’s knees nearly buckled at that. he dragged a hand down his face, pacing like he couldn’t stay still for even a second. “soomin won’t answer. she won’t pick up. i’ve been calling for an hour.” his chest heaved. “this isn’t like her. she wouldn’t—” he cut himself off, fear swallowing the rest.

the door opened again before anyone could respond.

chenle and renjun rushed in, coats half-on, expressions tight with worry. chenle didn’t even bother with greetings. “okay,” he said quickly, eyes scanning everyone. “tell us everything. from the beginning. no skipping.”

jaemin gestured for everyone to sit, though no one really did. you perched on the edge of the couch, fingers knotted together so tightly they hurt. jeno leaned against the wall like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“school,” jaemin started. “donghyuck checked. cctv’s wiped. jun was last seen at the sandbox. alone.”

renjun swore under his breath. “wiped how?”

“gone,” jaemin replied. “not malfunctioned. gone.”

silence fell heavy.

chenle ran a hand through his hair. “that means this was planned.”

“we believe soomin has intent to kidnap jun,” jaemin said, his voice controlled but grim. “if she’s expecting anything in return, she’ll reach out soon. but for now, we don’t know where she’s holding him.”

chenle frowned. “does the police have all of this?”

“yes,” jaemin replied. “they’re on alert. but her whereabouts are still unknown.”

renjun turned to jeno, his expression careful. “jeno, you know her—and her family—better than anyone here. is there anywhere they might take him?”

jeno shook his head slowly. “her family never fully trusted me. not until i married into them.” he let out a hollow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “and after i refused to ask y/n to drop the case in front of them… they were already guarded around me.” his eyes drifted to you without meaning to. the air shifted. it was a sore subject—one he never wanted to drag back into the light.

then, as if summoned by the tension itself, his phone rang.

unknown number.

everyone froze.

jeno answered immediately on loud speaker, his heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. “hello?”

“you betrayed me.”

soomin’s voice came through shaky, brittle, vibrating with something close to hysteria. every muscle in jeno’s body locked up.

“and now,” she continued, breath uneven, “i’m going to hurt the most important thing in your life.” in the house soomin had bought in quiet anticipation of building a future with jeno, jun sat bound to a chair. rope cut painfully into his small wrists. a strip of tape covered his mouth, muffling his sobs, a blindfold pulled tight over his eyes. tears streamed down his cheeks, soaking into the fabric. faint bruises marked his skin—evidence of rough hands, of fear, of a moment that never should have happened.

the school janitor—paid and bribed, was already long gone.

back in your house, jeno’s face drained of all color.

“soomin,” he choked, voice breaking as panic tore through him. “please. hurt me. do anything to me—just don’t hurt my son. please.”

the silence in the room turned suffocating.

jeno stood frozen, phone held tightly in his hand, his knuckles white as if gripping hard enough might keep the world from slipping any further out of his control. no one spoke. no one moved. even the air felt like it had stilled, waiting for soomin to breathe again on the other end of the line.

her laughter came instead.

it was soft—too soft. unsteady, brittle around the edges, like glass about to shatter.

“hurt you?” soomin repeated, almost thoughtfully. “jeno, you don’t get to decide that anymore.”

his throat closed. “please,” he whispered, the word tearing out of him. pride, anger, dignity—none of it mattered now. “he’s just a kid. he doesn’t understand any of this. this is between us.”

“between us?” her voice wavered, then sharpened. “you made it between everyone the moment you chose her. the moment you let everything that my family and i built burn into ashes today. the moment you left me to fend on my own.”

you felt your knees weaken.

jaemin was beside you instantly, steadying you with a hand at your back. chenle’s jaw was clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitching. renjun had already pulled out his phone, quietly dealing the primary investigator's number that donghyuck had sent over to him, his fingers moving fast but controlled.

jeno swallowed hard. “tell me where you are,” he said. “whatever you want—money, my shares—I’ll give it to you. just let him go.”

there was a pause. long enough for hope to flicker.

then soomin sighed. “see? this is all i wanted. for you to finally understand what you’re worth to me.”

your stomach dropped.

“you’ll do what i ask,” she continued. “you’ll make this right. and if you don’t—” her voice trembled, then steadied with resolve, “jun stays with me.”

jeno’s legs nearly gave out.

“he’s crying,” she added quietly. “he keeps calling for you.”

the sound that left jeno’s chest wasn’t quite a sob, not quite a scream. it was something broken and animal, ripped straight from fear. he dropped into the nearest chair, one hand braced against the table as if the ground itself had betrayed him.

“i’m begging you,” he said, voice hoarse. “don’t do this. he’s scared.”

on the other end of the call, jun whimpered.

it was faint—but unmistakable.

your hand flew to your mouth, a sob escaping before you could stop it. your vision blurred, the room tilting violently as your body reacted before your mind could catch up.

“that’s enough,” jaemin said suddenly, his voice cutting through the chaos like steel. he leaned closer to jeno, speaking loud enough for soomin to hear. “soomin, the police are involved. every second you stay on this call increases your sentence.”

soomin laughed again, breathless. “oh, jaemin. always the hero.”

jaemin’s eyes hardened. “you don’t want to do this. once you cross this line, there’s no coming back.”

“i crossed it the moment he left me,” she snapped. “and i won’t be the only one paying for it.”

the call ended.

just like that.

the dial tone echoed loudly through the living room.

for a second, no one moved.

then jeno slammed the phone onto the table so hard it skidded across the surface. he dragged both hands through his hair, breathing uneven, eyes unfocused. “this is my fault,” he kept repeating, over and over, like a punishment. “this is my fault. this is my fault.”

“she didn’t say where,” chenle muttered, rubbing his palms together like friction might spark an answer. “nothing. no hint.”

renjun was already pacing, steps short and restless. “the police checked her parents’ place. hotels near the school. jewel corp properties that are still active. nothing lines up.”

you sat frozen at the dining table, staring at the wood grain like it might rearrange itself into a map. jun’s cry—muffled, terrified—still echoed in your ears, replaying over and over until your chest hurt from the effort of breathing around it.

jeno hadn’t moved.

he was staring at nothing, eyes unfocused, lips parted like he was trying to remember how to breathe. his hands were clenched in his lap, knuckles white, veins standing out starkly against his skin.

“jeno,” you whispered, your voice barely there. “please—if there’s anything—”

he flinched, like the sound of his name dragged him back into his body.

“there’s… there’s one place,” he said slowly. his voice sounded wrong—flat, distant, as if it didn’t belong to him. everyone turned to look at him at once. “one place i didn’t think to check.”

chenle stepped closer. “what place?”

jeno swallowed hard. his throat bobbed. “she mentioned it once. months ago.” his brows knit together as he searched his memory, fingers pressing into his temples. “she said she bought it as a wedding gift. something about… starting fresh. somewhere quiet.”

your heart stuttered painfully. “a house?”

jeno nodded, breath uneven. “a coastal house.”

the room seemed to tilt.

renjun stopped pacing. “coastal how?”

“out of the city,” jeno continued, words coming faster now, urgency creeping in as the memory sharpened. “near the cliffs. private road. bad signal. she said that was the point—no distractions. just family.” his voice cracked on the last word.

jaemin straightened instantly. “address.”

jeno shook his head, panic flashing across his face. “i never went. she never took me.”

your hands curled into fists, nails biting into your palms. a coastal house. isolated. hidden. every instinct in you screamed that this was it.

“she said it was close enough for weekend trips,” jeno added, like he was afraid the thought would disappear if he didn’t hold onto it. “about two hours out. there’s a long driveway. cameras. she joked that it was impossible to find unless you knew where to look.”

jaemin was already pulling up maps on his phone, fingers moving fast. “there aren't any coastal properties purchased under her family name in the last two years,” he said to renjun. “we'll have to narrow it down by private access roads.”

"do you think... she could've bought it under your name jeno?" you slowly pieced it together through your hazy mind.

jeno's breath hitched, “what… what do you mean?” jeno finally asked, his voice barely audible. it wasn’t anger that colored his tone—it was fear. the kind that crept in quietly, already knowing the damage it would leave behind.

you looked at him, your chest tight, your fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. “you told us it was a wedding gift,” you said slowly, carefully, as if each word might shatter something fragile. “a surprise. something she wanted to give you once everything was… settled.”

jeno nodded faintly, eyes unfocused. he remembered soomin’s smile when she’d mentioned it—soft, almost shy. a place for us, she’d said. somewhere quiet. by the sea.

“she was obsessed with legitimacy,” you continued, your voice trembling now. “with making everything look right. secure. permanent. what if she bought it under your name so no one would question it? so it would look like it already belonged to you… to your family.”

chenle swore under his breath, pushing his chair back hard enough for it to scrape loudly against the floor. “that’s not just manipulation,” he muttered. “that’s premeditated.”

renjun, who had been silent until now, slowly turned his laptop toward jeno. his expression was tight, all humor gone. “jeno,” he said gently but firmly, “did you sign anything recently? contracts. ownership papers. trusts. anything she told you not to worry about?”

jeno’s head started to pound.

paperwork blurred through his mind—documents passed across polished tables, soomin’s fingers tapping impatiently, her parents’ eyes watching him from across the room. he remembered how tired he’d been. how badly he’d wanted the tension to stop.

“there was something,” he admitted, voice cracking. “she said it was about asset restructuring. pre-marital arrangements. i thought…” his throat closed. “i thought it was normal.”

jaemin exhaled slowly through his nose, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “it’s searchable,” he said. “if it exists, we can find it.”

as if summoned by his words, jeno’s phone vibrated violently on the table.

everyone froze.

jeno stared at it for a second too long, dread pooling in his stomach. then he picked it up with shaking hands.

a system notification glowed on the screen.

property registry accessed — gold coast residence ownership record located

his heart dropped.

“jeno,” you whispered, stepping closer.

his fingers trembled as he scrolled.

registered owner: lee jeno co-trustee: han soomin

the room seemed to tilt.

jeno staggered back a step, like the ground beneath him had given way. “she…” his voice broke. “she used my name.”

jaemin swore quietly, already grabbing his keys. “that’s where she took him.”

“it’s the only place,” renjun said, already pulling up maps. “remote. private. easy to disappear.”

jeno’s hands came up to his face, nails digging into his skin. guilt crushed his chest until it felt hard to breathe. “this is my fault,” he whispered. “if anything happens to him—”

you moved without thinking, standing directly in front of him, forcing his eyes up to meet yours. your own were wet, red-rimmed, but steady. “listen to me,” you said, voice shaking but unyielding. “she did this to you. but jun is still out there. and he needs his father standing, not blaming himself.”

jeno stared at you, lips trembling, then nodded once—sharp, desperate.

“take me there,” he said. “please.”

jaemin didn’t slow down.

the engine screamed as he pressed harder on the accelerator, tires skidding slightly as he cut between cars, horns blaring behind them like distant warnings he refused to heed. chenle barked directions from the front seat, voice clipped, eyes glued to the glowing gps screen.

“left here—no, tighter—don’t miss it.”

in the backseat, the world felt smaller.

jeno’s body shook beside you, uncontrollable, silent sobs wracking his chest as if his lungs were collapsing inward. without thinking, you pulled him toward you, his head falling against your shoulder like he had no strength left to hold himself upright. his breath came out uneven, broken.

“he’s going to be okay,” you whispered, fingers threading through his hair, voice barely louder than the hum of the car. you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince anymore.

jeno swallowed hard. “he’s going to be okay,” he echoed, clinging to your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

the road narrowed.

city lights faded behind them, replaced by darkness and the distant roar of waves crashing against rock. the gps guided them onto a single-lane road that twisted along the coast, sharp bends hugging the cliffside. there were no streetlights now—only headlights cutting through the dark, illuminating jagged stone and wild grass bending violently in the wind.

the closer they got, the heavier your chest felt.

“that’s it,” renjun said quietly from beside you. “that house.”

it appeared suddenly—perched dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, a modern structure half-swallowed by shadows. the ocean stretched endlessly behind it, black and unforgiving.

jaemin slammed on the brakes and everyone piled out at once.

the sound hit you first.

jun’s muffled crying.

your heart stopped.

she was already there.

soomin sat on the concrete steps leading up to the house, hair disheveled, eyes wild and red-rimmed. one arm was wrapped tightly around jun, fingers tangled violently in his hair, forcing his head back. he whimpered, small hands trembling as they clawed uselessly at her sleeve.

and pressed against his temple—

a gun.

"i knew you'll figure out." soomin let out a scoffed laugh. “soomin—” jeno choked, taking a step forward before jaemin grabbed his arm. “stop right there!” soomin screamed, voice cracking as she stood abruptly, dragging jun with her. the barrel shook in her hand, but it never left his head. “one more step and i swear i’ll do it.”

jeno’s face crumpled. “please,” he begged, tears streaming freely now. “he’s just a kid. he loved you."

"daddy!" jun sobbed, his little legs kicking up in hopes to release himself from soomin's tight grip.

soomin laughed hysterically, the sound sharp and broken. “you're fucking delusional jeno. your precious son hates me. you too. you chose her. you chose to let her continue with that case. you took everything from me.”

the wind howled around them, whipping her hair across her face. her grip tightened. jun cried out.

something in you snapped.

“it was me.”

all eyes turned to you.

you stepped forward slowly, hands raised, heart pounding so loudly you were sure everyone could hear it. “i’m the one you want,” you said, voice shaking but steady enough to stand. “i ruined your plans. i exposed jewel corporations. i didn’t back down.”

jeno turned to you in horror. “don’t—”

“leave him alone,” you continued, eyes never leaving soomin’s. “jun has nothing to do with this. hurt me. point the gun at me. if you need someone to blame, blame me.”

soomin’s eyes flickered.

for just a second, doubt cracked through the madness.

jaemin felt his heart slam violently against his ribs the moment you stepped forward.

“y/n stop.” he said, reaching out for you instinctively, fingers grazing the back of your sleeve before you slipped just out of reach. his voice wasn’t loud—but it was raw, stripped bare of composure. “don’t do this. please.”

you didn’t look back.

each step you took toward soomin felt heavier than the last, gravel crunching beneath your shoes, the wind clawing at your clothes as if trying to pull you away from the edge. jaemin followed half a step behind you, hand hovering uselessly in the air, afraid that touching you might startle her. afraid that not touching you would lose you entirely.

“y/n,” he said again, desperation bleeding into his tone now. “stop. this isn’t on you. you don’t have to carry this.”

you shook your head slightly, eyes never leaving jun. the gun trembled against his temple. he was crying quietly now, small shoulders shaking, too afraid to make a sound loud enough to anger her again.

“if she needs someone,” you murmured without turning, “let it be me.”

jaemin swallowed hard. “she’s unstable. you don’t know what she’ll do.”

“i do,” you whispered. “and that’s why i can’t let it be him.” you drew in a shaky breath, forcing your voice steady even as your hands trembled.

“if you want to hurt jeno badly,” you said, eyes never leaving hers, “kill me instead.” jeno broke behind you, a strangled sound tearing out of his chest, but you didn’t turn.

“that’ll hurt him for life,” you continued, each word deliberate, cruel in its honesty. “not just today. not just right now. forever.” your throat tightened, but you pushed through it. “i’ll be gone from your lives. and he’ll have to live with it.” you bit your lips.

“isn’t that what you want?” you asked softly. “to leave him with something he can never recover from?”

soomin’s grip on jun faltered—just slightly. the gun wavered, her breathing coming apart in sharp, uneven gasps.

jaemin’s voice cracked behind you. “y/n—please—”

you ignored him.

“let him keep his son,” you said, quieter now, almost pleading. “take me instead.”

the sound came faint at first—so distant it almost felt imagined.

sirens.

low, wailing, carried by the wind from somewhere far down the coast.

soomin stiffened.

her head snapped towards the sound, eyes blown wide, pupils trembling as reality finally caught up with her. whatever fantasy she’d been clinging to—control, revenge, leverage—it collapsed all at once.

“…there’s not much time left,” she whispered.

the words were soft, almost calm. that was what terrified you “soomin,” you breathed, stepping forward again, palms open. “please—”

the wind surged harder, ripping at hair and clothes, the ocean roaring beneath the cliff like it was waiting. soomin’s chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths. her grip on jun loosened just enough to be dangerous. her finger brushed the trigger—not pressing, not pulling—just grazing.

your heart dropped.

you didn’t think. your body surged forward on instinct alone. “jun!”the world exploded into motion—jeno shouting your name, jaemin swearing, chen le and renjun sprinting behind you. feet pounded against concrete, gravel skidding under shoes, the wind screaming in your ears. “y/n!” jaemin shouted behind you, panic tearing through his voice.

your shoes scraped violently against the concrete as you ran, lungs burning, vision tunnelling until there was nothing but jun’s small frame and the gun shaking beside his head.

soomin jerked in surprise as you lunged.

jeno reached him first. he crashed into soomin with the force of pure panic, tearing jun from her grasp as if nothing else in the world mattered. jun was yanked free, stumbling into renjun’s arms as chen le pulled him back, shielding him with his own body.

jaemin caught you instead. his arms locked around your waist, hauling you backward just as soomin shrieked, the sudden movement jerking her hand and then—

bang!

the sound ripped through the night. the sound was deafening, echoing violently off the cliffside, bouncing back at you in sharp, disorienting waves. your ears rang, the world blurring as the bullet tore upward into the sky, vanishing into nothing but darkness.

soomin screamed as the gun slipped from her hand, skidding across the concrete and her legs gave out beneath her. she collapsed hard onto the steps, sobbing uncontrollably, nails scraping against the ground as if she were trying to claw herself back from the edge she’d already fallen over.

sirens wailed closer now, lights flashing harshly across the scene—red, blue, red—casting fractured shadows across the house and the cliff.

renjun ran after the gun and jeno collapsed to his knees. jun was in his arms, shaking violently, face buried against his father’s chest. jeno sobbed openly, clutching him so tightly it bordered on desperation, rocking him back and forth as if afraid letting go would undo everything.

“it’s okay,” he choked, voice breaking completely. “you’re okay. daddy’s got you. you’re safe.”

you stood frozen, knees threatening to buckle, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. adrenaline drained from your body all at once, leaving nothing but shaking limbs and a hollow ache in your chest.

jaemin tightened his hold on you from behind, steady, grounding, his forehead pressing briefly against the side of your head as if to make sure you were still there. "she's alive... she's alive..." he gasped over and over again, anxiety high in body.

police cars screeched to a stop nearby. officers flooded the space, weapons drawn, shouting commands as they swarmed soomin, forcing her hands behind her back while she screamed and cried, her voice dissolving into the chaos.

the ocean roared below, endless and indifferent.

but above it—on the edge of everything—jun was alive.

and the night, brutal and unforgiving as it had been, finally began to loosen its grip.

the chaos around you—the flashing lights, the yelling officers, the screaming wind—faded into nothing as jun ran into your arms.

“mummy!” he cried, burying his face into your chest, tears streaking his small cheeks. you pressed your lips to the top of his head, holding him as tightly as you could, inhaling the sharp, salty smell of the ocean and the faint scent of gunpowder still lingering in the air.

jeno knelt beside you, wrapping his arms around both of you, a trembling, raw mixture of relief and exhaustion written across his face. “i’ve got you buddy,” he whispered, voice cracking. “i’m never letting you go again.”

you held him both, rocking back and forth gently, your heart pounding with a fierce, uncontainable mix of love and fear. on the side, jaemin leaned against a police car, arms crossed but loose, watching quietly. his gaze softened as he observed the reunion, his chest tight as he swallowed the lump in his throat. When your eyes inadvertently met his, he quickly looked away, shaking his head and taking a small step back, as though he weren’t allowed to be part of the scene.

but you didn’t care about rules tonight.

you pulled yourself from jeno and jun, brushing past officers and shouting, racing across the gravel to him.

“jaems,” you said softly, breathless, voice carrying over the roar of the ocean.

he froze, hand half-raised, stepping back instinctively.

“you should be with j—” you cut him off without thinking, crashing into him, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was raw, desperate, and demanding. your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, while his hand hesitated at your waist before finally settling, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

when you pulled back slightly, chest heaving, jaemin’s voice broke the silence, low and almost trembling.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, forehead resting briefly against yours. “i'm so, so fucking sorry.” you didn’t speak. you just let him hold you, letting the emotions spill.

“you’re the only one i’ve ever wanted,” he continued, voice breaking. “devastatingly… maddeningly… i tried to protect myself from losing you by pretending i didn’t care. by keeping you at a distance. i told myself you could never love me back… that i’d be safer if i let you go.”

he paused, swallowing hard, eyes glistening. “but i was wrong. every moment away from you, every second, it only made me want you more. i wanted to be with you, always, even if it destroyed me to admit it.”

he shook his head slightly, desperate, raw, as if saying it out loud could somehow cleanse years of self-inflicted pain.

“i should have fought,” he admitted, voice cracking with pain and regret. “i should have taken the chance, instead of locking myself away in my head. i was terrified… terrified that you’d never choose me. but all i’ve ever wanted was you.”

his lips hovered near yours again, eyes searching yours, trembling like a man who had carried his heart in pieces for far too long.

you reached up, cupping his face, brushing the tears from his cheeks.

“i love you, jaems,” you breathed, voice soft, trembling with everything you had kept inside for so long. his breath hitched. his chest heaved, heart pounding violently against his ribs, as if it might break free from the weight of his own longing. the words—your words—echoed inside him, loud and undeniable. “i love you too, y/n,” he choked out, voice rough, cracked with emotion. “i really… fucking do.”

for a heartbeat, he just stared at you, memorising your face, memorising the warmth of your touch, trying to convince himself this was real. after all these years of pining, of watching from the sidelines, of thinking that he had no chance against jeno, that he had lost you forever… now, finally, he heard the truth. you loved him too.

and that truth hit him harder than anything ever had. he pulled you into him with a force that nearly stole your breath, arms wrapping around you like he was trying to merge your bodies into one. you felt the tremor in his chest, the shaky rhythm of his breaths, the heat of the tears on his cheeks mingling with yours.

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for you to say that,” he whispered into your hair, voice thick, shaking. “i thought… i thought you’d never feel the same. that i’d have to watch you love him and be happy without me. and i—i couldn’t. i couldn’t stand it.”

you held him just as tightly, letting yourself feel the flood of his desperation, his relief, his love, all the emotions he had buried for so long.

“i'm sorry for making you wait so long,” you whispered. he buried his face into your neck, inhaling you as if he could commit your scent to memory, and murmured against your skin, “i’ll never let you go. not ever. not after tonight. not ever again.”

and for the first time in years, he allowed himself to fully, completely, unabashedly feel it—all the love, the longing, the ache that had consumed him—because finally, finally, you were his too.

jeno watched from a distance, jun still wrapped tightly in his arms. he saw the way jaemin pulled you close, the way your hands stayed curled into his shirt like you were afraid he might disappear if you let go. he saw the way jaemin bent into you, protective, reverent, like loving you was something sacred he never wanted to mishandle.

and for the first time that night, jeno smiled. it wasn’t bitter nor was it jealousy. it was soft and full of understanding. for so long, jeno had carried the weight of knowing he had failed you—failed to protect the love you once had, failed to be the man you needed when it mattered most. seeing you now, held so carefully, so fiercely, something in his chest finally loosened.

you’re safe, he thought. really safe.

jaemin wasn’t trying to own you or save himself through you. he loved you quietly, deeply, the way jeno once wished he had known how to. the way you had always deserved.

jeno pressed a kiss to jun’s hair, blinking back the sting in his eyes.

“that’s your mum,” he whispered softly, more to himself than to his son. “and she’s loved right.”

he looked back at you one last time—your smile, finally free of the hurt he’d helped carve into you.

and he let you go.

not with regret, but with relief that you had found someone who could love you the way he never learned how to.

and jeno knew without a doubt, that you deserved nothing less.

two years later, the sunlight poured through the grand stained-glass windows of the chapel, casting fractured rainbows across the polished floor. the air was warm, heavy with the scent of roses and lilacs, and the gentle murmur of family and friends filled the room with life.

jeno stood quietly to the side, shoulders slightly hunched but eyes steady, watching. he watched you—his heart giving a quiet, tender ache—as you walked down the aisle in your flowing gown. your hair shimmered in the light, eyes bright, cheeks flushed with happiness, and a smile tugged at your lips that seemed to radiate a calm joy he had never thought he’d see again.

and yet, beneath that joy, he could see the way your gaze lingered for just a second, long enough for only him to know, as if tracing every line of a past you had both survived.

after the ceremony, when the last guests had smiled and clapped, you found your way to him. your dress brushed softly against the floor, the train trailing like a gentle echo of the life you had lived, and when you reached him, your eyes softened.

“jeno…” you whispered, voice hushed and trembling slightly, you took a breath, eyes glistening with the faintest shimmer of tears, and reached out to rest a hand lightly on his arm. “i want you to know… i have no regrets. none at all. everything we went through—the heartbreak, the fear, the nights when we thought we’d lose everything—it all brought me to this moment. and even now, standing here, marrying jaemin, living my life… i love you deeply. always. in the way i know you’ll love me too, the way only we could understand each other.”

jeno’s throat tightened. the hollow ache from old wounds opened just enough to sting, but there was no bitterness, only a quiet, profound sorrow that seemed to settle in his chest. “you deserve all this happiness y/n. you really do.”

you released him gently, turning as jaemin appeared beside you, hand outstretched, a soft smile playing on his lips. your eyes met jaemin’s, a spark of laughter and comfort in them, and you slipped into his hand as if it were always where you belonged.

in the years that followed, you, jaemin, chenle, and renjun moved to canada, opening your very own law firm. it was a quiet, bustling life, filled with late nights in the office poring over case files, laughter echoing through open-plan meeting rooms, and the soft clamor of phone calls blending into a rhythm that felt like home.

jun thrived in the new life. he grew tall and curious, taking a strong liking towards the work that you and jaemin are doing. mornings were spent biking along quiet streets, afternoons at the local park or library, evenings at the dinner table with stories spilling between bites of food. weekends were for laughter, building forts in the living room or snowball fights in the garden during winter, and the house always smelled faintly of cookies and freshly brewed coffee.

every night, after tucking jun into bed with one of his favorite bedtime stories or a soft song, jaemin would hand the tablet to him. jun’s eyes would light up the moment jeno appeared on the screen.

“daddy!” he’d shout, waving frantically as jeno’s face filled the screen, smiling despite the distance. jeno’s voice was always warm, patient, filled with the same love he had poured into your lives long ago. “hey buddy! how was your day?”

the conversations were filled with laughter, teasing, homework help, and little victories jun wanted to share. and though miles separated them, the bond between father and son remained unbroken. every three months, jeno made the trip to canada, and those visits were filled with hugs so tight they took your breath away, afternoons at the park, and evenings telling stories while jun sat cross-legged between you and him, soaking up every word.

you watched those visits quietly, heart full, understanding that jeno had found his place too. not as a rival, not as a ghost from the past, but as someone who loved jun unconditionally and respected the life you had built. he had become a quiet, steady presence in your world—a man who had learned to love without possession, to care without expectations.

and as you stood beside jaemin one evening, watching jun play in the garden with jeno’s laugh echoing through the video call tablet at your feet, you realised how far you had all come.

the sun was setting, casting long amber shadows across your backyard. jaemin’s hand found yours, fingers intertwining naturally, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your temple.

“we did good,” he murmured, voice low and content.

you smiled, eyes tracing jun’s joyful movements on the screen, then looking at jaemin, your heart swelling with a quiet, unshakable peace.

“we did,” you replied. “and we’re still going to do good. together.”

the sound of distant waves, the laughter of your son, the soft murmur of life around you—it was imperfect, messy, and real. and finally, it was enough.

because love had survived heartbreak, distance, fear, and chaos. it had survived everything.

and in this moment, surrounded by the people who mattered most, your heart could rest.

this was home.

and it was everything you could ever wish for.

// the end

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relationship with jaemin isn’t hard, or at least you’d think that after eight long years together, you would’ve learned how to navigate the complications by now. yet some days, you can’t shake the feeling that the two of you have been speaking different languages all along, mistaking familiarity for understanding.

but that doesn’t mean your faith ever faltered. you gave him everything you had. you learned how to love him in ways that asked less of him and more of you, telling yourself that this was what commitment looked like. you believed that if you tried harder—if you just changed the way you dressed, chose your words carefully, gave in a little more, eventually he would meet you there. after all, love was something worth standing your ground for, even if it meant losing pieces of yourself along the way.

and that was how you went about your life with jaemin now. except perhaps, maybe you've been looking at it at the wrong way all along.

"please don't be late tonight babe, you know how important this is to me," jaemin clasped his hands together in a playful plea, kissing your cheek lightly before taking a bite of the sandwich you made for his breakfast. it was the morning of the opening day of jaemin’s first photography exhibition. you had witnessed the years of work he poured into muse—the late nights, the endless revisions, the time spent searching for the right space to finally house the collection he had been building so carefully. it only felt right to celebrate this milestone with him, and words couldn’t quite capture how ecstatic you were to finally see it all come together in front of you for the first time.

“you know i’ll be there on time, jaems,” you chuckled lightly pushing him. jaemin shrugged lightly, chugging down the banana milk. “i’m just saying, you’re always late,” he said with a grin, but you knew it wasn’t just light banter. jaemin meant it and he was just being nice about it.

“it was only two times!” you protested. he waved you off, already grabbing his backpack and heading for the door. “gotta go babe! see ya later!”

there was something about attending the work jaemin had curated so intently for years, titled muse, that made your chest feel tight with anticipation. you wondered if he would have at least one photograph of you among his vast collection from all those years together. surely, if the exhibition was called muse, it meant you had at least been a part of the driving force behind his creativity didn’t it?

the night you had been anxiously preparing for finally arrived as you slipped into the coffee brown satin dress jaemin had bought for you, the fabric catching the light softly as you moved. a small bow rested at the small of your back, delicate and almost easy to miss. you paired it with a black clutch and black high heels, just as he had reminded you—over and over again—not to wear anything else. at the time, the insistence had felt slightly hurtful, sharp in a way you couldn't quite place a finger on, but you chose to keep quiet about the hurt nonetheless. it was his big day after all, and you weren’t going to let something so trivial ruin everything he had worked so hard for.

you slowly made your way towards the entrance, one hand anxiously gripping onto the little black clutch like a lifeline, the other holding a bouquet of roses meant for jaemin as you carefully pushed past the crowd gathering around you, everyone moving with the same anticipation, the same sense of arrival.

the exhibition opened with a black and white mirror self portrait of eighteen year old jaemin with his first ever digital camera—the one he had been given at ten. you remembered how he used to say that camera was what sparked everything, the beginning of his love for photography, the first step into the world he had built for himself and it felt right that something so close to his heart would be the first thing people saw.

the space itself was thoughtfully curated, and you recognised it immediately that it was everything jaemin had ever talked about. a journey mapped through his photographs, leading visitors from moment to moment, experience to experience. it was envisioned to be a space where people who cared about the same kind of art gathered and sharing conversations about the work he had dedicated his entire youth into.

you spotted jaemin standing by the corner deep in conversation with a group of attendees. he was dressed in an oversized denim polo with his hair lightly swept up and a pair of his favourite silver-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. even from afar, he looked effortlessly handsome and seeing him in his professional space in his element sent a familiar rush of adoration through your beating heart. you didn’t interrupt him mid-conversation. instead choosing to drop him a brief message to let him know you had arrived before turning away to wander the space on your own.

the exhibition held everything jaemin loved about life. his friends. his family. even the elderly couple who were regulars at your favourite restaurant had been preserved in quiet frames along the walls. you moved slowly from photograph to photograph, your steps growing lighter, your hope thinning with each one you passed. nearing the end, you found yourself lingering, silently wishing the exhibition wouldn’t run out just yet—that there might be another wall, another corner, something you had simply missed.

but there wasn’t.

everything was there.

everything but, you.

you came face to face with the final photograph jaemin had chosen as the closing piece of his exhibition. it was a landscape of rome. you knew the image by heart—jaemin had once called it his favourite photograph, the best thing he had ever captured. it was taken during his graduation trip, a journey he went on alone. he had spoken about it endlessly afterwards, about how it was one of the best trips of his life, about how deeply he had fallen in love with the ancient city of love and you remembered how you wished you were with him then whenever he spoke about it.

your eyes drifted down to the title beneath the frame.

all roads lead to rome.

the memory settled heavily in your chest. that trip had happened not long after jaemin decided the two of you needed a break from each other, marking the longest break the two of you had taken in your relationship much to your opposition.

“i can’t keep doing this with you y/n.” jaemin let out an exasperated sigh for what felt like the nth time, running a hand through his hair in frustration. it was a familiar sight by now—his hardened expression, eyes cold as they sent daggers into you through the screen. on your end of the video call, your fists were clenched tightly in your lap from the crippling anxiety running through your veins.

final year had been brutal on jaemin, barely staying afloat as he struggled horribly with his dissertation. meanwhile, you were fresh out of graduation, working tirelessly as a lab assistant at a small research centre, trying to build a future that you thought you were both moving towards together. lately, it felt like everything you did only managed to upset him. arguments sparked easily, often over nothing at all, and they always ended the same way—unresolved, followed by an entire day of silence. and tonight was no different. the call had started with you simply wanting to hear about his day. but somehow, it had spiralled into another fight, this time about how you weren’t giving him enough space to focus on his work.

“i told you i’d be busy this semester, didn’t i?” he huffed, brows furrowed as he looked at you like you had failed to grasp something obvious. “everything is always about you and your needs. what about mine?” your chest tightened. you could feel it coming—the familiar threat that hovered over every argument, the line he always reached for when things went too far.

“i wasn’t trying to get you to hang out with me jaems,” you said carefully. “i just wanted to know if you had time this week. maybe for a meal.”

“god shut up,” he snapped. “i give you all my time, and you still want more?” he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, already closing himself off. and you stayed quiet, swallowing the words you hadn’t even finished forming, wondering when wanting a little space in his life had started to feel like asking for too much.

you stayed quiet, accepting his words as if you deserved them entirely. it wasn’t because you had nothing to say. it was because you had learned that saying the wrong thing—any thing—would only make it worse. besides, perhaps a part of you agreed with his words. maybe you had been too greedy. your mouth opened slightly, then closed again. you nodded once, even though he couldn’t see it clearly through the screen.

jaemin took your silence as permission. “you always do this,” he continued, voice tight with frustration. “you say you understand, but then you keep pushing. i don’t know why you can’t just listen to me for once.” he shook his head, scoffing softly, like the situation exhausted him. like you exhausted him.

your chest ached, each breath shallow and careful. you stared at his face on the screen, at how distant he already looked, like he had checked out long before the conversation even began. you wondered when your presence had started to feel like an inconvenience instead of comfort.

you wanted to tell him you were tired too. tired of walking on eggshells, of shrinking your needs until they fit neatly into the spaces he allowed you. tired of apologising for wanting to be close to the person you loved. but the words stayed lodged in your throat as words that will never reach jaemin's ears.

“i don’t have the energy for this anymore,” he said finally, rubbing his temples. his tone softened, but only slightly—like he was trying to be reasonable. “i just… i can’t keep doing this.”

the silence stretched between you, thick and unbearable.

and then he said it.

“i think we should take a break.”

a break.

it was better than the usual i think we should break up. but even then, it still hurt. maybe because he said it so easily, without hesitation, without a single emotion. the thought of walking out of jaemin’s life had never once crossed your mind—yet time and time again, he was the one loudly pointing you towards the door, reminding you how easy it would be to leave. how replaceable you were.

except you couldn’t let go. not this easily.

“jaems, please,” you pleaded softly, your voice barely holding together. “i’m sorry. i won’t ask for your time again.” the words tasted bitter even as you said them. you hated how quickly they came, how instinctively you folded. jaemin stayed quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable, like he was weighing something already decided. “that’s not the point,” he replied at last. “you always say that. and then nothing changes.”

your breath hitched as you nodded again, even though he couldn’t see it properly, even though every part of you was screaming. you wanted to tell him that you are trying your best. that you had been changing for years.

“i just need space,” he continued, firmer now. “this isn’t working. we’re going in circles.”

you pressed your lips together, forcing yourself to stay silent, afraid that one more word might push him further away. on the screen, he looked relieved—like the decision lifted something off his shoulders.

and you realised then how differently the break meant to the two of you.

for him, it was distance away from you.

for you, it was the possibility of losing him for good.

you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat burning as you forced yourself to nod. agreeing felt easier than fighting him on it, easier than watching him grow colder the longer you resisted. “okay,” you said softly. “if… if that’s what you think we need.”

jaemin let out a breath, almost relieved. “we do need it,” he replied, like it was a conclusion he had already reached long before the call. “i’m tired, y/n. i’m tired of fighting all the time. this isn’t healthy for either of us.” he paused, then added, quieter, “maybe we just need time to evaluate things. to figure out if this relationship even works anymore.”

each word screamed public relations coded, reasonable. like he was explaining something obvious to someone who should have known better. you nodded again, even as your heart burned, even as every instinct in you wanted to reach through the screen and hold on.

“yeah,” you murmured. “i understand.” it wasn’t entirely true—but you said it anyway.

“good,” he said, already glancing away, fingers tapping restlessly against his desk. “we’ll talk later, okay?”

before you could respond, before you could ask how long or what this really meant, the screen went dark.

the call ending just like that.

and you sat there, staring at your reflection in the blackened screen, realising that even in agreeing to the break, you were the only one still holding on.

it took jaemin eighty-five days to decide he wanted to continue the relationship with you. eighty-five days of distance, justified as “space,” of silence dressed up as reflection. all it took was a backpacking trip across italy to change his mind.

while he wandered through cities and coastlines, you stayed where you were, nights stretching endlessly as you lay awake with your thoughts screaming into the dark. every day followed the same routine—waiting, checking your phone, counting the hours. five texts. that was all. just enough to let you know he was alive, doing well, still there. never enough to quiet the fear that he might decide not to come back at all.

you told yourself this was what patience looked like. that love meant enduring the waiting, swallowing the uncertainty, trusting that he would return once he was done finding clarity. you never said how lonely it felt, how each day without him chipped away at something inside you. you only answered when he messaged, careful not to say too much, afraid that needing him too loudly would push him away again.

by the time jaemin finally came back to you, he sounded lighter. certain. as if the distance had given him something it had only taken from you.

and you welcomed him back anyway much to your best friend, lee donghyuck's dismay.

“excuse me, miss?” a voice cut through your thoughts, gentle but concerned. “sorry—i just wanted to say,” he continued, not pushing, not stepping any closer, “i’ve been standing here for a while and you're kinda in the way." you jumped slightly, startled, as a hand waved lightly in front of your face.

and that was what finally pulled you back.

you blinked, slow, like you were surfacing from underwater, and glanced at him briefly before looking back at the photo. “oh—i’m sorry,” you said quickly, snapping out of your daze. you stepped aside instinctively, bowing slightly in apology, “i didn’t realise i was in the way.”

“hey no worries,” the stranger chuckled, shaking his head. “it’s a pretty mesmerising picture.”

you turned back to the framed photograph, following his gaze. all roads lead to rome. you nodded, half-heartedly. it was mesmerising—at least, it could have been, if not for the repressed memories clinging to it. “yeah,” you murmured. “it is.”

there was a brief pause, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. instead, the stranger shifted slightly beside you, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he studied the photo again, this time more intently.

“did you know what the phrase all roads lead to rome means?” the stranger asked, his voice low. “not really.” you shook your head slightly.

he studied the photograph for a moment before speaking. “historically, it meant that every road in the roman empire eventually led back to rome. it was the centre of everything.” he paused before continuing again, “but i often think when it comes to people, it means something else.”

you didn’t rush him.

“i think everyone has a ‘rome,’” he continued. “someone—or somewhere—they keep circling back to. not because it’s perfect, but because it’s familiar. because it’s where they first learned how to love, even if it hurt.” he mused, a small smile resting on his lips.

“romance gets framed as choice,” he said gently. “like love is always about choosing the right person. but sometimes it’s about inevitability. about walking different paths, meeting different people, and still ending up pulled toward the same place.”

the stranger finally turned to look at you. “the question is whether that place is where you’re meant to stay?” he said quietly, “or just somewhere you were meant to pass through?”

the words struck deeper than you expected as if he had seen past you. they settled in your system like something you had been circling yourself without realising it. your lips parted slightly, then closed it again, unsure where you would even begin.

you didn’t know the answer. you weren’t sure you ever had.

instead, you looked back at the photograph, at the road stretching endlessly forward, you exhaled softly. “i don’t know,” you admitted at last.

jaemin had been looking for you. his gaze moved restlessly across the room until it finally landed on you—standing near the far wall, angled towards another man. something unreadable flickered across his expression before he lifted a hand and called your name.

“y/n.” he called out, catching your attention easily with his soothing voice. you turned immediately and he flashed a wide grin, waving enthusiastically for you to join him by his side.

you gave him a small smile, nodding as you took a step back.

“i should go,” you said to the man beside you, glancing briefly in jaemin’s direction. “thank you—for talking with me.” you hesitated, a half-smile tugging at your lips. “i’m sorry, i didn’t catch your—

“mark,” he chuckled softly. “it’s mark.”

“thank you, mark,” you replied, the name feeling unfamiliar but grounding all the same.

he opened his mouth, like he was about to ask something—then seemed to think better of it. you didn’t stay long enough to find out.

you turned away, weaving through the crowd towards jaemin, not noticing the way mark remained where he was, watching you disappear into the familiar pull of someone else’s gravity.

and behind you, the photograph of rome stayed exactly where it was—waiting.

jaemin didn’t seem to notice. he smiled easily, already shifting into his professional ease. “come on,” he said, guiding you gently by the elbow. “there are a few people i want you to meet. some potential clients.”

you followed him through the space, nodding politely as he exchanged greetings, his hand occasionally resting at your back—familiar, reassuring, practiced. you listened as he spoke about his work, watched the way people leaned in when he talked, impressed, engaged. this was his world. you had always known that.

“jaemin!”

the voice cut through the noise, bright and unmistakable.

you turned before he did.

the owner of the voice was standing just beyond the crowd, effortless in a way that felt cinematic. tall, poised, hair falling softly around her shoulders like it had been styled without trying. her dress hugged her frame perfectly, elegant without being loud, the kind of beauty that didn’t ask for attention because it already had it. when she smiled, it felt like the room shifted slightly in her favour.

jaemin’s face lit up. “saeron! hey!” he said, warmth rushing into his voice as he stepped towards her without hesitation.

he pulled her into a hug that seemed too friendly to your liking if you were being honest. her arms wrapped around him just as naturally, her laughter soft against his shoulder. you stood a few steps away, watching, your hands folded neatly in front of you like you suddenly didn’t know where else to put them.

“i didn’t think you'll actually come!” jaemin said as he pulled back, still smiling. “i wouldn’t miss this,” she replied, eyes bright. then her gaze flicked to you, curious, assessing—but kind.

you wondered, briefly, how long they’d known each other. how much of his world she already occupied. and suddenly, standing beside him, you felt the familiar sensation return—the one you’d grown used to over the years.

present.

but slightly out of place.

“oh—right,” jaemin said, glancing back at you as if remembering himself. “this is y/n.” he said your name easily, familiarly, like it explained everything. except it didn't. not even an introduction as his partner but simply as y/n.

you stepped forward, offering a polite smile. “nice to meet you.”

“saeron,” she replied, returning it just as smoothly. up close, she was even more striking—features soft but defined, eyes bright with a confidence that felt earned. the kind of beauty that looked comfortable in any city, any room.

“saeron’s a photographer,” jaemin added, pride threading through his voice. “we met in rome.”

ah, rome.

the word landed heavier than it should have.

“yeah,” saeron said lightly. “we ran into each other by chance. and turns out mr na jaemin here is a photographer! so we talked about our favourite shots, lenses we swear by and the next thing i know—”

“—we ended up travelling together for a bit. just exploring, taking photos, getting lost. it was nice.”jaemin laughed.

oh that's nice.

you kept your expression neutral, nodding along like this wasn’t the first time you were hearing any of this. like this story hadn’t been quietly unfolding without you, somewhere far away, while you were counting days and unanswered questions.

“rome has that effect,” saeron continued, oblivious. “it makes everything feel possible.”

you wondered when exactly this had happened. how many moments there had been—shared meals, long walks, conversations you were never part of. how easily he said we.

“you didn't tell me you were in the country?” jaemin said to her, still smiling.

“well i wanted to see the exhibition,” she replied. “and you.”

you felt it then—that subtle shift. not overt, not intentional. just enough to make you aware of where you stood.

this was the first time you had heard her name. the first time you knew she existed at all.

and yet, listening to them speak, it felt like you were arriving late to a story that had already been written—one you hadn’t even known you were missing.

you tightened your grip on your clutch, the satin of your dress catching the light as you stood there beside them, wondering how many roads had led him to rome.

and how many of them hadn’t led back to you at all during then.

jaemin kept talking, the conversation flowing easily between him and saeron—neither of them acknowledging you even the slightest, as if trapped in their own world. you nodded when you were meant to, smiled when it felt appropriate, let your body stay present even as something inside you drifted further away.

at some point, jaemin excused himself to greet someone else. saeron followed soon after, swept into another conversation just as effortlessly as she had entered yours. you were left standing there alone, the noise of the gallery swelling back around you.

and all you could do was watch your lover parading around the room with some other woman as if she was his partner instead.

// to be continued

is it cowardly to pack your bags one day and disappear halfway across the world, leaving behind everything that’s been crushing you?

is it selfish to pull your child away from the only life he’s ever known—from his father—just for your own escape?

leaving was never an option for you.

not until now. not until you found yourself watching jun’s peaceful silhouette as he slept, arms wrapped tightly around dino-chan as if the plush could anchor him in a storm. you had been so consumed by the war between you and jeno, and by your desperate attempts to build something better with jaemin, that you hadn’t stopped to consider what any of this looked like through jun’s eyes.

quietly, you padded into the living room. chen le and renjun looked up the moment you entered, sensing the heavy presence you carried.

“you okay?” renjun asked gently, slipping an arm around your shoulders. “yeah… i’m okay,” you mumbled.

chenle reached for your hand, his grip firm and warm. “we’ll always be here, you know that, right?”

those words hit you harder than you expected. you hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear them until now—how much you’d leaned on them all along. in this chaos, they had been your constants. your pillars. your proof that you weren’t alone. that everything will be okay eventually.

“i think…” your voice cracked slightly. “i think it’s time i move away.”

silence engulfed the room as soon as you dropped the thought on your best friends. for a minute, nobody said anything. you refused to look at either of them, eyes trained on your fingers tapping nervously on the table.

“move away? like… leave this place?” renjun’s brows furrowed.

“yes.” you nodded, the weight of it settling on your chest.

chen le didn’t even hesitate. “that’s okay,” he said, his tone unusually calm. you blinked at him, surprised that he was handling the news without a fight. “th-that’s okay?”

“yeah,” chen le replied, more firmly this time. “it’s obvious this place isn’t good for you anymore. you should go. start fresh somewhere new, live the life you’ve always dreamt of. you’re a damn good lawyer, y/n. don’t waste yourself here.”

renjun squeezed your shoulder, nodding in agreement. “chen le’s right. you’ll succeed anywhere you go. and jun’s a smart kid—he’ll adapt. he’ll thrive. you’ve got nothing to lose.”

chenle grinned suddenly, breaking the heaviness. “heck, i’ll move with you.” renjun chuckled, raising his hand in solidarity. “me too.”

“you guys really think this is the right decision?” you asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer. deep down, even you weren’t sure. the idea of moving felt heavy, uncertain. but chenle and renjun carried it so easily, as if the choice had already been made.

“i can’t promise it’s the right decision,” chenle admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. “but it’s a leap of faith. one you have to take and trust. it’ll be okay—we’ll be here with you. so after this case ends, let’s leave this place behind.” he pulled you into a hug, warm and steady, and renjun wrapped around the both of you with eager certainty.

“have you spoken to jeno about it?” renjun asked softly.

jeno. the very name that still made you turn around in a heartbeat. the thought of asking him—of asking for his blessing to take jun and go—felt like breaking yourself in two. you loved him. a part of you would always love him. but would he ever let you go? would he let you take jun away?

your gaze dropped, heavy with sadness, and renjun understood without another word. “it’s okay,” he murmured, patting your head gently. “that’s a conversation you’ll have at your own pace.”

the courthouse was quiet that morning, unusually so. you had arrived early, binder in hand, donghyuck by your side as the two of you made your way towards the briefing room to review notes and settle the final strategy. it felt almost unreal with the warm sunlight streaming through the tall windows, ignorant of the chaos that was about to fall in a few hour's time.

but you weren’t the only one early. jaemin, who rarely ever arrives before the designated trial's time, had already made his way inside the courthouse. part of him had wanted the head start—to prepare and anticipate your moves even though he already had an idea of what it was. the other, far less logical part, wanted to see you. to speak to you. maybe just for a moment.

as you and donghyuck rounded the corner towards the briefing room, your steps faltered when you see a familiar figure ahead of you. there he was—jaemin—walking towards you in a calm and precise manner, but his presence almost electric.

you stopped in your tracks, eyes widening. for a fraction of a second, it felt like the world had narrowed to the three of you. jaemin’s lips parted, like he wanted to speak, to say something, but the words caught somewhere between thought and breath.

and then you did the unthinkable—you turned and walked away, straight past him, leaving jaemin frozen in place, dumbfounded.

donghyuck, equally surprised, glanced between the two of you, his eyebrows lifting. “you okay?” he whispered, catching your subtle pause, but you kept walking. donghyuck looked back, making a subtle bow towards jaemin in acknowledgment of the morning’s tension and respect, before following you into the briefing room.

jaemin’s gaze followed you, a mix of frustration and something softer flickering in his eyes. he didn’t move, didn’t speak as he watched as you disappeared down the hall. he knew this was bound to happen, after all, he did pushed you away and labelled your entire relationship as false. so yes, he deserved your cold shoulder. he deserved every single bit of it.

jaemin’s fingers itched at the binder in his hand, the tension between strategy and personal stake knotting tightly in his chest. he had come here for many reasons today, but none had prepared him for this: seeing you and feeling… unsettled. though, jaemin was never one to mix his professionalism and personal issues together.

“i hope you know jaemin must’ve been backed into a corner to take this case. it’s not because he has any personal vendetta against you,” donghyuck said, pulling a chair out for you. you mouthed a soft thank you, settling down as you started spreading the court-mandated documents across the table, lining them up with meticulous precision. “i know,” you replied simply, eyes never leaving the papers.

“he’d never go behind your back. that’s not the kind of person he is,” donghyuck pressed, his voice gentler this time.

you shut your eyes, exhaling a weary sigh before turning to face him. “it doesn’t matter what kind of person he is. all i care about now is winning this case. and he’s opposing counsel. so i’m going to win it exactly the way i know how.” donghyuck doesn't continue, only nodding at your statement and you were grateful that he doesn't continue pressing on.

fifteen minutes before trial, you finally stepped out of the briefing room. the air in the courthouse was heavy, humming with nerves and low murmurs, but your focus was on the simple act of adjusting the hem of your blouse, grounding yourself before walking into war. donghyuck had gone ahead to grab coffee, leaving you a brief moment alone in the corridor.

“y/n!” your eyes shot up at the sound of your name, the voice so familiar and etched at the back of your head that you'd never forget. you turned, and there he was—jeno.

for a moment, all the nerves fell away. the sterile courthouse hallway, the weight of your case, even the storm brewing inside you—it all blurred into background noise. all you could see was him.

“oh, hey.” you managed a small smile, though your breath hitched. you knew why he was here. you had prepared yourself for it even after the last few exchanges the two of your shared. and yet, no amount of rehearsing will ever soften the truth: that you had lost him. that soon, he would be someone else’s husband. a father to a child that wasn’t yours.

jeno looked nervous, scratching the back of his neck in that old, familiar way. “i, uh… wanted to give you this.” he reached into his pocket and pressed something into your palm. you opened your hand slowly. “an omamori?”

the charm was blue, delicate stitching spelling out luck.

“i went to the temple this morning,” jeno smiled sheepishly.

you stared at the charm, but what you really saw was a thousand mornings ago—jeno slipping charms into your hand before every trial, back when he was still your pillar of support. back when you thought you had forever.

it had been your ritual. his ritual. he’d rise before dawn, drive across the city to the temple, and come back with an omamori, pressing it into your palm with that same sheepish smile. you hadn’t believed in talismans or blessings, not really. but you believed in him. and accepting those charms had been your way of accepting his love.

you still had them all, every single one, kept in a wooden box jun had decorated with glitter and paint for mother’s day. a collection of jeno’s love, spanning years.

your voice came out softer than you meant it to. “what about your girlfriend?” jeno’s pursed his lips, his eyes flickering. “i’m here in person, am i not?” he hummed, the corners of his mouth tilting into something between a smile and a confession.

you stared at him, your throat tightening. he hadn’t changed. he was still so pure. that side of jeno who showed that he is still the man who loved quietly, steadily, wholly. and that was what hurt the most.

“you should head in now,” he said gently, nodding toward the courtroom doors. “yeah. i should.” your voice wavered, but you managed another smile, tucking the omamori into your pocket as though it was a lifeline.

you turned away, steps slow, but every fiber of you screamed to look back. and when you almost did, his voice found you again. “break a leg!” you froze, the words echoing down the hall, the same words he’d always said before every trial you ever fought.

your chuckled softly, shaking your head to yourself with the charm heavy in your pocket, memory heavy in your heart. because no matter how far you’d come, no matter how much you tried to move on, some loves weren’t meant to be forgotten. they lived on—in the hundreds of omamoris, in hellos and byes, in echoes of voices calling your name. jeno had been your great love. and losing him would always feel like losing a part of yourself.

jaemin’s eyes tracked you the instant you entered, as if the rest of the room ceased to exist. every inch closer you came sent his pulse racing, heat curling in his chest in a way he hated admitting even to himself. then, just for a second, your eyes found his. one heartbeat. two. enough to remind him of everything that had been there before. and then you broke it, gaze sliding away, deliberately shutting him out. he felt the sting of it, sharp and quiet.

the heavy doors opened again, and soomin swept in. her heels struck the floor in confident rhythm, each step echoing like punctuation. her head was high, her expression carved into poise — the kind of practiced confidence meant to command a room. she walked as though the verdict had already been written in her favor, as if this courtroom existed solely to prove her right.

the courtroom was electric, every seat filled. reporters lined the back row, pens scratching as if they were documenting history in real time. the people in the gallery weren’t just spectators—they were victims. families whose lives had been shattered by the chemicals jewel corp had dumped into their water supply.

you rose, binder in hand, the weight of their eyes pressing into your spine. “your honor, this case isn’t about balance sheets or compliance parameters. it’s about people. thousands of families poisoned because jewel corporations valued profit over human life. children born with defects. parents diagnosed with cancers that could have been prevented. the evidence will show that jewel corp knew exactly what it was doing—and did it anyway.”

your voice didn’t crack. you wouldn’t let it. but your throat burned with the fury of holding back.

jaemin stood up, his chair gliding back with quiet precision. his presence alone shifted the energy in the room—calm, commanding and sharp with intent. “objection to counsel’s opening—this is a closing argument dressed up as fact,” he said coolly. “the evidence will show that jewel corp adhered to environmental regulations. the plaintiff’s claims rely on correlation, not causation. tragedies, yes—but tragedies that cannot be tied to my client’s actions without speculation.”

he turned, locking eyes with you as he added, “and speculation has no place in this courtroom.” the judge gave a curt nod. “objection noted. proceed with facts, counsel.”

you didn't flinch at jaemin's attempt to poke you. you knew he would've came for you like that. instead, you called your first witness—a mother from the town downstream of jewel corp’s facility. her hands shook as she swore the oath.

“mrs. choi,” you said gently, “can you tell the court what happened to your family after jewel corp began operations near your home?”

she clutched the microphone, voice trembling. “my son… he was only five when he was diagnosed with leukemia. the doctors said it was rare, that they’d never seen something like this in a child so young. our well water smelled like metal, but we had no choice—we had to drink it. months later, more people in the neighborhood got sick. some… some didn’t survive.”

the gallery stirred, a low wave of murmurs and muffled sobs.

before you could continue, jaemin was on his feet. “objection, your honor. this is hearsay, emotional testimony without scientific backing.”

you snapped back immediately. “this is firsthand testimony, your honor. the human cost of jewel corp’s negligence cannot be dismissed as irrelevant just because it’s inconvenient for the defense.”

the judge raised a hand. “the testimony will stand. mr. na, you’ll have your chance on cross.”

jaemin’s jaw tightened, but he smoothed it over with that infuriating composure you knew too well.

when cross-examination began, he walked toward mrs. choi with deliberate calm. “mrs. choi, i’m truly sorry for what your family has endured,” he said, his tone measured, respectful—but every word laced with strategy. “but you’re not a scientist, are you?”

she hesitated. “no…”

“so when you say the water from your well caused your son’s illness, that’s not your medical opinion. that’s an assumption, correct?”

you were already on your feet. “objection—badgering the witness.”

“overruled,” the judge said.

jaemin pressed on. “and your son’s doctors—did they ever confirm, definitively, that jewel corp’s facility was the cause of his illness?”

“they… they said it was possible,” she whispered.

“possible,” jaemin repeated softly, almost kindly. “but not certain.”

the words hung in the air like poison.

you clenched your fists, heart hammering as mrs. choi shrank under his gaze. this was jaemin at his most lethal—the man who could dismantle anyone, even with sympathy in his voice.

but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

when he returned to his seat, you stood again, fire in your veins. “mrs. choi, one last question,” you said, your voice steady but searing. “before jewel corp began operations, had your family—your son—ever experienced anything like this?”

she shook her head, tears streaming. “never.”

you nodded softly. “thank you. no further questions.”

the trial stretched on to the next hour.

you were presenting a damning report from an environmental scientist, one that tied jewel corp’s chemical waste directly to carcinogenic compounds found in the town’s groundwater. it was a win—at least it felt like one.

until jaemin rose for his cross.

he didn’t rush. he never did. instead, he walked with that deliberate calm, every step measured, every movement designed to remind everyone in the room that he was in control.

“dr. lee,” jaemin said smoothly, addressing the expert, “your report indicates that the chemical compounds found in the water supply are consistent with those used in jewel corp’s facility, correct?”

“correct,” the scientist replied.

“but consistent doesn’t mean exclusive, does it? those compounds could, in theory, have come from other industrial sources in the region?”

the expert hesitated. “it’s possible, but highly unlikely.”

jaemin pounced. “possible, though. that’s all i need.”

the courtroom was silent, the kind of silence that presses in like a living thing. every spectator leaned forward, every pen poised, every breath held. jaemin’s gaze never left you, calculating, waiting—but you had the weapon you’d been holding all along.

“your honor,” you said, standing, voice calm but sharp, “i’d like to introduce exhibit 82: the internal audit report that jewel corp attempted to bury.”

papers snapped open like the roar of a lion as you laid exhibit 82 before the judge—every shipment, every chemical, every town affected. jaemin’s eyes narrowed, but you didn’t care. the judge raised an eyebrow. “and this report is…?”

“an exhaustive document detailing every chemical waste shipment from jewel corp’s facilities over the past five years. it names the compounds, the quantities, the locations, and the timing. it is direct proof of negligence and concealment.”

you slid the thick folder across the lectern. papers fanned out like a tide of accountability, the gallery murmuring at the sheer weight of it.

jaemin’s lips tightened, but he didn’t move. he knew, as did everyone else in the room, that this was precise, damning evidence.

“mr. park,” you said, turning toward the witness—an environmental compliance officer—“can you confirm that these shipments contained chemicals banned for disposal in residential areas?”

the officer’s voice trembled slightly. “yes. in every case listed here, the disposal violated local environmental laws.”

“and were these violations reported to the authorities at the time?”

“no.”

“so jewel corp knowingly and illegally disposed of hazardous chemicals where thousands of people live?”

the officer nodded.

you turned sharply to jaemin, letting your voice carry over the murmurs of the gallery.

you then lifted exhibit 102—a series of internal emails, shipment logs, and whistleblower testimonies that left no room for doubt. “this isn’t speculation. this isn’t conjecture. this is jewel corp admitting, in writing, that they were aware of every chemical disposal, every violation, every person harmed. and yet they did it anyway.”

you flicked through the binder, letting the weight of each page land like a hammer. “open this to any page, your honor, any page, and name you every victim, every town affected, every life ruined. these are not numbers. these are not collateral damage. these are real people. and i care about each and every one of them. more than jewel corp’s lawyers, more than jewel corp’s executives, and yes… more than some might dare to assume.”

the gallery stirred, whispers rising. even jaemin felt it—the shift in momentum, the undeniable authority radiating off you.

he rose, jaw tight, masking a flicker of unease. “counsel, these documents—”

“are admissions,” you cut in sharply, stepping forward, every movement deliberate. “admissions that will hold up under scrutiny, admissions that even your logic can’t twist. because this isn’t opinion. this is fact. jewel corp poisoned families. they lied. they hid. and now the truth is here, in front of you, undeniable.”

jaemin’s eyes flickered to you, just for a second—the only crack in his composure. he opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him a chance.

“your honor,” you continued, your voice ringing like a bell, impossible to ignore, “i didn’t come here to perform. i didn’t come here to posture. i came here to make sure justice is served. i fight, i win, and i don’t stop until the people who were silenced are finally heard. and anyone, anyone,” you said, eyes locking on jaemin, “who tries to stand in the way of that, will not walk out of this courtroom with pride intact.”

the gavel came down hard, but it barely mattered. the jury, the gallery, the judge—everyone had seen it. you weren’t just representing victims. you were the weapon of justice.

the foreperson stood, clearing her throat. “your honor,” she said, “we, the jury, find the defendant, jewel corporation, guilty of willful and knowing environmental contamination, gross corporate negligence resulting in serious bodily harm, conspiracy to conceal hazardous waste disposal, and obstruction of regulatory oversight. we find that the defendant’s actions directly caused widespread toxic exposure to the communities named in the plaintiffs’ filings.”

a stunned silence crashed through the room. in the gallery victims wept openly; some clutched each other and laughed in between sobs. reporters scribbled frantically. the judge’s face was unreadable for a beat, then composed into a poker face.

“based on the jury’s findings,” the judge intoned, voice steady, “this court orders the following relief and sanctions: first, immediate injunctive relief requiring jewel corp to cease all operations and transfer control of its facilities and assets to a court-appointed receiver for the purposes of comprehensive environmental remediation and medical restitution. second, the dissolution of jewel corporation as a going concern once the receiver inventories assets and ensures a restitution fund sufficient to compensate victims for past and future medical care, lost income, relocation costs, and punitive damages meant to deter similar corporate misconduct. third, criminal referrals for prosecution of senior corporate officers and managers implicated in the conspiracy and concealment, including charges of criminal negligence causing bodily harm, willful environmental contamination, and obstruction of justice. the court also imposes substantial civil fines and orders immediate funding for an independent, long-term health monitoring program for affected communities.”

the judge paused, letting the verdict breathe in the room, then added quietly, “this court refers evidence of corporate criminality to the state and federal prosecutors with a recommendation of felony charges where appropriate. further hearings will be scheduled to determine the scale of restitution, the method of corporate dissolution, and the placement of surviving assets into a victim-compensation trust.”

the room erupted. whispers, gasps, and soft cries of relief filled the gallery. victims clasped hands, tears streaming. years of fear, silence, and suffering were validated in that moment.

you sat back for the briefest second, letting it sink in. you hadn’t celebrated yet—not here, not now. there was still the war in the room: jaemin.

he remained composed—almost impossibly so—but you saw it. a flicker of respect, a subtle acknowledgment that you had not just played the game… you had owned it the way he knew you would.

your eyes flicked to soomin, catching the sharp twist of her expression just before she stood, chair screeching against the floor. frustration radiated off her as she turned away, refusing to meet your gaze.

“you did it!” donghyuck’s voice cut through the charged silence, warm and bright as he wrapped you into a side hug.

you let out a shaky laugh, the weight of the trial finally slipping off your shoulders. “no, we did it,” you corrected, smiling up at him. “none of this would’ve been possible without your findings, your filings… every piece you brought to the table. this was ours.”

your phone buzzed in your bag. you barely noticed at first, fumbling as you gathered your notes, the omamori jeno had given you tucked securely beside your files. finally, you glanced at the caller id.

 ms solar (jun’s homeroom teacher)

you answered immediately, a faint smile tugging at your lips. the voice on the other end was tight, strained. “ms. y/l/n? this is ms solar, jun’s homeroom teacher.”

the way she said your name made your chest seize. “yes? what’s wrong?”

there was a pause — too long, too heavy. then: “jun… we can’t find him.”

your blood ran cold. “what do you mean, you can’t find him?” your voice came out sharper than you intended, trembling underneath.

“we noticed after lunch. we’ve checked the grounds, the gym, the library — everywhere. his friends haven’t seen him since recess. we were hoping maybe he went home, or that someone came to pick him up—”

“no.” your throat closed. “no one was supposed to pick him up. i—i was going to after court.”

your hands shook as you pressed the phone tighter to your ear, heart pounding so loud it drowned out the rest of her words. all the noise of the courtroom — the applause, the chatter — evaporated. all that existed was the silence after those words: we can’t find him.

donghyuck must have seen your face drain of color, because suddenly his hand was on your arm. “y/n? what happened?”

“jun…” your voice cracked. “jun’s missing.”

the papers slipped from your hands, scattering across the courtroom floor in a storm of pages and ink. jaemin’s head snapped towards you, instincts overriding everything as he crossed the room in seconds. “y/n!” his voice cut through the chaos. “what’s wrong?”

you barely registered him until his hands were steadying you, grounding you. chenle and renjun rushed in from the gallery, their faces pale with alarm.

donghyuck’s voice broke the silence, low but devastating. “jun’s missing.”

the words hollowed out the room. your heart stopped. the victory, the verdict, the cheers — all of it vanished into static.

and in that suspended moment, with everyone’s eyes on you, the weight of an entirely different war crashed down.

// to be continued

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the routine had always been there to keep you in check. wake up at four in the morning, early morning studies, attend classes, be the best, fix some cars and study again. it was a cycle you had perfected—one that kept the scholarships arriving at your doorstep year after year, as if success itself had learned your address by heart. school was never particularly difficult. or at least, that was what you believed, with the neat rows of ‘A’s lining your semester transcript in triumph.

the new semester after the long summer vacation break felt just like any other day. students flooded the corridors in restless waves, voices overlapping in bright chatter about holidays and fleeting freedoms with sounds of faint tunes from the arts faculty across your block and a beaming chen le waiting for you by the auditorium door for you with a bag pack slung over one shoulder as if he had been waiting there all morning just for you.

“y/n, you are not going to believe this!” he practically bounced at the sight of you, earning a handful of curious stares from passing students. you winced, lifting a hand to cover your face as you hurried toward him. “you’re embarrassing me,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing his sleeve and tugging him along with you.

chen le straightens himself out, grinning right back at you. "i hear say that there's a new kid on the block that's a genius," he says as the two of you settled down to your usual seats by middle of the hall. you lazily pulled out your laptop and placed it calmly in front of you, "and?" you raised a brow, unfazed by chen le's revelation.

"and?! did you not hear the part where i said, said kid is a genius?" he gawked at your nonchalance. "it'll be good to have some competition." you shrugged, "i've been bored out of mind these days," you said as you opened up the lesson notes for the day.

it was true in many ways that you've been meaning to find some thrill in the academics that you loved you so much. no matter how great this student was, you were sure that there's no way they could've topped your achievements.

or at least that's what you thought.

"good morning class, sorry i'm late." professor lee entered hurriedly, face flustered from the late summer heat outside the classrooms. "attendance will be based on today's equation, solve the question and you'll be marked present." he announced, earning low groans around the room.

"he always does this!" chen le muttered under his breath, slumping in his seat. "you can copy mine," you chuckled, shaking your head. “and this,” he said, leaning dramatically against your shoulder, “is why i love you.” you nudged him off, though a faint smile tugged at your lips.

“today we’ll be looking at multi degree of freedom systems specifically coupled oscillations and how we analyse them using matrix methods.” professor kim started, scrambling onto the giant board in front of the lecture hall.

Mx¨+Kx=0Mx¨+Kx=0

you didn't bother to look up at all, already working out the question for your attendance. it wasn't anything new for you, in fact, you've already taught yourself it in high school. not to brag though.

“to solve this,” professor lee continued, writing as he spoke, “we assume a harmonic solution and transform the system into—”

“—an eigenvalue problem.” a voice came from the back, catching everyone by surprise at how it slipped in so naturally that it didn’t even sound like an interruption.

your head shot up, curiosity getting the better of you. there, at the back, someone sat reclined in his chair without a care in the world like he belonged nowhere and everywhere at once. a pair of sunglasses rested low on his nose, catching the light just enough to obscure his expression.

you couldn’t see his face clearly. though something about this man made you sit up in alarm at the level of his confidence something about that quiet, unbothered certainty in the way he carried himself had rubbed you in an annoying way.

“which allows us to decouple the system into independent modal coordinates,” he continued in an even tone, almost absent-minded. “each with its own natural frequency.”

he's correct.

“that is… correct,” professor lee said slowly, turning towards the unfamiliar voice. you watched as recognition settled across your professor’s face, his expression shifting into something almost amused “huh. lee jeno… welcome back to school.”

lee jeno. where have you of that name before?

who is he?

thoughts of jeno swarmed your mind as you made your way towards the workshop. it wasn’t that you were obsessed, you're definitely not. you were merely... intrigued. yes, that was the word for it. intrigued.

meanwhile chen le was already nose deep in some amateur detective work, scrolling through the student registry until a name finally caught his eye. "aha! found him!" he punched the air in a silent victory. "apparently, he was class of 2024 but took a leave of absence two years ago." he paused, scanning the digital files again. "lee jeno was on the dean’s list—top of the cohort in his year." chen le whistled low, glancing at you over his shoulder. "damn, it’s like reading your own resume."

you couldn't help but leaned over to look, your eyes skimming a list of achievements that seemed to stretch on longer than your own. "there’s no way he’s like me," you huffed, turning away in an attempt to hide your own distasteful emotions at jeno's seemingly promising character.

"you’re right," chen le snorted, knowing exactly which buttons to push. "if anything, he's probably better than you." you whipped around, staring at him with a look of mock betrayal that didn't quite hide the sting. "very funny chen," you replied, your voice dripping with a sarcasm that was as sharp as it was defensive, rolling your eyes. "nobody’s better than me. keep dreaming."

but the banter died the moment you stepped into the workshop.

you stopped dead, both feet planted firmly on the cold floor as your heart skipped a beat—not out of excitement, but out of pure, unadulterated outrage. the whiteboard that had once held your pride and joy—the intricate engine design you’d laboured over during the last session—had been wiped clean. in its place was a new model, a chaotic sprawl of designs that were definitely not yours. the lines were frantic, almost messy, lacking the disciplined precision you took pride in.

your gaze raced across the board, tracing the path of the hand still holding the marker. your vision climbed up a steady arm until it landed on a familiar silhouette sitting right in front of your ruined work. even from the back, that leather jacket was unmistakable.

"what the fuck?"

the words tore from your throat in a burst of disbelief, the volume of your voice echoing off the workshop walls. the figure jumped, shoulders snapping tight in a startle as the marker screeched against the board.

the air in the workshop seemed to thin as the figure turned, a casual, sheepish half-smile playing on his lips. " oh hey," he said, the voice instantly clicking into place in your mind—smooth, somewhat cocky, and entirely too calm for someone who had just committed academic sacrilege.

"oooh noo~" chen le sang under his breath. the words were a warning, but his expression was a betrayal; he looked like someone who had just secured front-row seats to a long-awaited title fight. he shifted his weight, crossing his arms with an expectant grin, fully aware that he was about to witness a collision between the two brightest stars in the university's orbit.

chen le knew you better than anyone. he knew that to you, this isn't merely some whiteboard, in fact, it was a sanctuary. this was your designated research space, a hard-won territory granted by the club, and seeing your intricate engine designs scrubbed away was like watching a masterpiece be painted over with a toddler's finger-paints.

he could practically see the sparks flying off you, the sheer mechanical fury radiating from your stance. chen le didn't move to intervene. instead, he leaned back against the doorframe, his eyes darting between your trembling indignation and jeno’s infuriatingly relaxed posture.

"where is my work?" you asked, voice low. you took a step towards him, the distance between you shrinking as your patience evaporated into the heated air of the workshop. "i made it better," he said simply like he was stating the obvious. he didn't even have the grace to look guilty, speaking with the flat, effortless confidence of someone stating that the sky was blue.

"you made it... better?" you repeated them in a hollowed-out tone of pure disbelief. "i spent three months on that. three months calculating tolerances and perfecting the intake for the competition car." you took another step, now firmly in his personal space. "you have no right to be in here. and you certainly have no right to touch a single ink stroke of my work without asking."

the fury was vibrating in your fingertips now, especially as you watched him remained maddeningly nonchalant, leaning back against the board as if he owned the room, the marker dangling carelessly from his hand.

"you worked on this for three months and this was the subpar standard you came up with?" jeno let out a short, airy laugh that grated against your nerves like sandpaper. "that's so cute of you," he cooed, his eyes crinkling with a patronising warmth that made your blood run cold.

"subpar?" you stepped even closer, your chest tightening until it felt like your heart might burst. "that design was optimised for fuel efficiency and peak torque. you didn't 'better' it jeno. you trashed it with these... these erratic, half-finished scribbles." you gestured wildly at the whiteboard, your voice rising sharply.

"well, these half-finished scribbles," jeno countered, his voice dropping an octave as he mirrored your movement, leaning in until you could see the dark, mocking depth of his eyes, "are the improved versions of your poorly designed wings."

he gestured sarcastically towards the whiteboard with the marker, the tip clicking rhythmically against the plastic. "you were so obsessed with peak torque that you completely ignored the drag coefficient at high speeds. your original wing pitch was too aggressive—it would have created a massive pocket of turbulent air right over the rear axle."

he stepped to the side, allowing you a full view of his 'messy' lines, tracing a finger along a jagged calculation near the base of the design. "i re-profiled the camber and shifted the mounting points five centimeters inward. it reduces the weight on the struts and smooths out the airflow. it’s not just efficient now," he added, a smug tilt to his head, "it’s actually fast."

your eyes darted to the board, your technical mind reflexively beginning to crunch the numbers he’d scrawled in the margins. you followed the curve of his 'messy' lines, tracing the airflow logic in your head. the math was unconventional, bordering on reckless, but as you reached the final equation, the realisation hit you like a physical weight.

he was right.

by shifting the pressure distribution, he hadn’t just fixed the drag; he’d found a way to stabilize the entire chassis through the corners. the "subpar" design you’d spent three months perfecting looked suddenly, painfully amateur next to the frantic, brilliant logic of his corrections. the heat of your anger didn't vanish, but it was joined by a cold, sinking stone of recognition.

"you’re the chief of research and design for the formula club?" jeno’s voice was a low, mocking drawl that made your face flush a deeper shade of red. he looked at you with a tilted head, his gaze sweeping over you as if he were reassessing your title. "they must have lowered the barrier for entry while i was away."

before you could snap back, the heavy double doors of the workshop swung open. the usual evening rush of club members began to trickle in, the air filling with the sounds of dropping bags and shifting chairs. but the noise died down the moment people caught sight of the figure standing at your desk.

mark, your lead aerodynamicist and one of your most trusted team members, drifted towards your station, a cup of freshly brewed coffee in one hand. he stopped dead in front of the whiteboard, his eyes widening as he scanned the frantic new geometry. "whoa," mark muttered, leaning in so close his nose almost touched the board. he ignored the tension radiating between you and jeno, his finger tracing the new mounting points. "this... this actually lowkey makes sense. if we run the simulation with this camber, the downforce would be insane."

"mark, not now," you hissed, but the room went suddenly quiet as a familiar, heavy footfall echoed from the entrance.

professor han stepped into the light of the workshop, his spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. he didn't head for his office right away. instead, he walked straight towards your table, "i see some of you have already met our returning talent," the professor announced.

he placed a hand on jeno’s shoulder, a gesture of respect he rarely afforded anyone. "for those who joined us in the last two years, i’d like to introduce lee jeno. before his hiatus, he held the very seat you occupy now—chief of R&D." professor han looked at you.

a collective murmur rippled through the club. your heart sank into your stomach as you glanced towards the back of the workshop. there, gleaming under the spotlight, sat the pride of the university: the FS-22 championship car. it was a masterpiece of engineering, the vehicle that had put the school on the map by dominating the formula student circuit.

"the FS-22 was jeno’s brainchild," professor Han continued, his eyes reflecting a hint of pride. "which brings me to some truly monumental news for all of you." he beamed, clapping his hands together to catch everyone's attention

"as you’re all aware," professor han began, his eyes gleaming behind his spectacles, "MIDI is currently in the works of developing their first ever F1 car and they're looking for one of you to be a part of the core development team."

everyone knew professor han wasn't just an academic; he was a veteran engineer from MIDI, the powerhouse firm that had just sent shockwaves through the industry by securing a spot on the formula one grid.

the room exploded into excitements before jisung shouted over the noise, "it’s going to be between those two, isn't it?" he pointed between you and jeno.

nods of agreement rippled through the crowd. despite jeno’s legendary status, nobody could deny what you had accomplished. in the two years he’d been gone, you had dragged the club into a new era, introducing computational fluid dynamics and carbon-composite techniques that had broken every school record.

"it’s a toss-up," mark added, looking between the two of you with a pained expression.

professor han raised a hand to quiet the room. "the consensus is correct. but i won't choose based on your past achievements." he declared. "we have the formula student competition in six months. the rules are simple: i will split the club into two development tracks. You will each lead a team to build a prototype. whoever's car clocks the fastest lap by testing day will get the position. fair?"

you felt a cold weight settle in your chest, your mind racing to process the gravity of his words. a position on a core formula one design team?it was the dream you’d been chasing since you first picked up a wrench. you had poured your soul into this club, earned the trophies, and brought the research department to new heights. by every right, that seat should have been yours on merit alone. the fact that it was suddenly a gamble—and against a ghost from the past—felt like a physical blow.

"fair enough. i like the sound of a challenge," jeno grinned stuffing his hands into his pockets casually that made your teeth clench. he looked over at you, his eyes gleaming with a challenge. "after all, we both know who the better engineer is here."

you rolled your eyes, though your heart was thundering against your ribs. "don't talk too early," you snapped, crossing your arms to hide the slight tremor of adrenaline in your hands. "for all we know, you might end up losing badly to a woman like me."

"oh no, honey," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with confidence. "i definitely will not lose."

// to be continued