Papisushisu @papikakashikanh - Tumblr Blog

Blurred Lines - Chapter 38

Date: 07/02/25

PROLOUGE|Chp 1|Chp 2|Chp 3|Chp 4|Chp 5|Chp 6|Chp 7| Chp 8|Chp 9|Chp 10|Chp 12|Chp 13|Chp 14|Chp 15|Chp 16|Chp 17|Chp 18|Chp 19|Chp 20|Chp 21|Chp 22|Chp 23||Chp 25|Chp 26|Chp 27|Chp28|Chp31|Chp32|Chp34 | Chp39

GUYS, IM SORRY THIS WAS 2 WEEKS LATE BUT HERE IT IS, OKAY??????? But that last chapter was really spicy so I hope that kept yall satisfied for a bit. And this is actually 1/3 chapters left. We'll have this chapter, one more, and an epilogue. And then afterwards I think I'll take oneshot requests (my idea is this is the background for those oneshots, but also so that if anyone finds them it'll make sense).

I wanted this originally to be one chapter, and then an epilogue. This part was done, but I was struggling to finish the second half of it. I thought I'd get the entire thing out by this past Sunday but i'm gonna be so real... I got my wisdom teeth taken out last Friday. I thought it would give me a chance to finish my writting cause i'm in the house bored as hell all the free time in the world, but I am just not in any romantic, sexy, happy mindest AT ALL, so I could not get myself to write it. I've been miserable in the house bored af, headache and everything. Squid Games came out at the perfect time fr because I watched it THAT day (0/10 btw). I finished Unknown Seoul, Jinyoung was AMAZING as always, hes getting better and better each role, i'd love to see him in something closer to his real personality tho and more action related. BUT anyways, I decided it would be better to give yall something now rather than make you wait. So here goes nothing. Lets be happy that we have two more chapters together!

He tilted his head down and drew her in, wrapping her gently against his chest as he kissed her—slowly, softly—in the kind of silence that only followed something unspoken finally said with bodies instead of words. She kissed him back with just as much care, moving against the warmth of his skin, her fingers lightly tracing his ribs like she was trying to memorize the feeling.

He brushed a hand through her hair, his palm coming to rest at the back of her head. He kept her there, holding her against him.

But staring up at him now, and the way he was looking down at her like this, she had to ask...

“What’s happens tomorrow?” she asked, eyes wavering over his face searching for the answer.

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at her, then down at where their hands lay against him. The silence was long, heavy—but not cold.

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly.

A silent wave of discontent spread over the two of them.

She bit down, chest aching at the elusiveness of it all.

"All I know is I want to be yours tonight." he admitted, causing another glance from Y/N.

“Is that okay?" he asked, quietly.

"Yes.” she whispered back. With that, she kissed him again, slow and tentative, but there was something behind it—like they were trying to savor this.

Then, softly against his mouth she had to ask, “Did you mean what you said earlier… about all the women you’ve been with?”.

He pulled back slightly to see her face, an ever-so-slight smile tugging at his lips.

“No,” he said quietly, brushing her hair behind her ear like it was second nature.

“Then why would you say that?” she asked, her brows drawing together in frustration, and she didn't mind if he noticed.

“What happened to you only caring about being one of them?” he teased.

“Answer the question,” she ordered.

He tilted his chin down to look at her again. “You’re not as unbothered as you pretend to be, are you?” he grinned.

She didn’t answer, she was too focused on the annoyance sitting in her chest.

“Did it bother you?” he pressed intrigued.

“Should it!?” she replied snippy.

He smiled again. “I'd hope so. That was the point.”

She sat up slightly, took aback. “Why would that be the point?”

“You know why,” he replied calmy, flashing his eyebrows at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I was just giving you a taste of your own medicine." he continued.

"Are you talking about Hwan?" she scoffed.

He grimaced at the name. "Do you have to say his name while you're laying on me?" he squinted in annoyance.

"I haven't done anything with-." she noticed him flinch again before she said the name. "-him." she finished.

He unscrunched his face at this and relaxed. They shared a moment of staring at one another, silently content.

He stared up at her, a look in his eyes. "Why not?" he asked.

She jerked back at the bluntness of the question.

"Why not??" she repeated, almost about to laugh.

"You heard me. Why not?" he asked, curious.

She stifled a laugh. "Jinyoung, you and I were together five months and we haven't had sex until now. What makes you think that'd be any different with somebody else?" she asked.

He sighed. "I didn't mean... that... I just meant..." he trailed off at the end.

"No go on, what did you mean?" she instigated curious.

"Anything? You haven't done anything with him?" he prodded.

"Not that its your business anymore, but no." she replied.

He narrowed his eyes at her tone.

Her eyes moved over his body and then back up to his. “What about you? Have you and Roh Jeong.... ever...?”

"No." he shut her down immediately.

"You've never been curious?" she asked, partially sick for the answer.

He narrowed his eyes at her further.

"Never have never will." he responded curtly.

"You sound so sure of yourself." she smirked.

"Because I am."

"And why's that?" she roused.

He adjusted her so she was tighter against him.

"Because there's only really one thing that’ll satisfied me." he explained, flashing his eyebrows at her.

She glanced at him with a smirk, searching. “Then why the headlines?”

He gave her a look. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Tushae.

"To give someone a taste of their own medicine... plus he's good company." she toyed with him.

Jinyoung's smile fell as he turned so they were on their side now, pulling Y/N closer as if that was any punishment for her comments, evoking a laugh out of her.

Once she caught her breath, she laid her hand lower on his chest and onto his abdomen.

"But that's all he is. No matter how nice he is to look at, I’m too stuck on something else to notice." she explained, looking into his eyes to see he had smiled a little. It was very classic of him to farce annoyance.

She let her fingers trace circles on his skin. “So you really didn’t mean anything you said?” She asked again, for confirmation.

“No.” He paused, then kissed her again—slow, reverent. “Except one thing.” He muttered into her lips.

“What’s that?”

He brushed her hair off her shoulder and let his lips hover just above her skin.

“That you feel… incredible,” he whispered into her ear before kissing alongside it.

She tensed at the sound of it.

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes again.

"That, I meant." he confirmed, playing with her hair.

“What about the part where you said that you wanted to do this since the first time you saw me?” she teased.

“I meant that too,” he replied.

“And how pretty I look when I suck you off?” she smirked, pushing the envelope.

“Can you remind me?” he returned, looking down at her with hooded eyes, fingers gripping her back.

She raised her eyebrows at his tone.

“What? We waited this long and you thought I’d want you only once?” he scoffed.

“Can you give me some motivation?” she asked, looking from his lips to his eyes, indicating the best way to motivate her.

He leaned in and gave her what she wanted. He kissed her slowly, and reverantly as if the were together, as if they hadn't had a month apart, as if this wouldn't be awkward tommrow.

He leaned over her now, Y/N running her hands up his back.

"Words of encouragement work too." she noted aloud in between kisses.

He pulled back ever so slightly. “Remind me how pretty you can suck me and I’ll tell you things I do mean.” he whispered, eyes taking her in.

Satisfied, and excited, she brought her lips back to his, this time needy. Her hands started feeling up his body again, and before they knew it, when they gave in to each other again, it wasn’t angry. It was slow. Intentional. Like they didn't have anything to forget anything or prove - only something to feel.

-

The sun was already slipping through the curtains when Y/N stirred in her sheets.

Her hand reached out instinctively - but all she felt was the faint indentation where her last night's lover had been.

Gone.

Her eyes opened slowly, dread settling low in her chest.

Of course.

Of course he’d left.

For all the things they said, all the ways they touched and looked at each other last night like they meant it—it still wasn’t permanent.

Her throat tightened. Her stomach turned. She hated this feeling.

She sat up slowly, wrapping her sheets around her bare shoulders. The room still smelled like him. She smelled like him. And her body was still sore. So it definitely wasn't a dream.

Maybe it just… didn’t mean the same thing to him. Maybe it really was just one night.

Y/N stood, legs a little shaky, and opened her bedroom door. Her apartment was still dim, but the faint clatter of dishes came from the kitchen.

She froze.

Then padded forward, heart stuttering.

Rounding the corner, she saw him there.

In her kitchen, stood Jinyoung, hair a mess, sleeves rolled up as he poked gently at something sizzling in a pan.

Oh

Despite her betterment, a waive of something resembling relief washed over her. He turned when he heard her, startled for only a second—then his face softened.

“Hey,” he said, voice husky with sleep, the tone slightly off.

She blinked, unsure of what to do next. “... Hey.” she replied, walking into the kitchen cautiously.

He returned his focus to cooking.

Cooking?

And just like that, the breath she didn’t know she was holding escaped her lungs.

She was watching him move around like he belonged there. Like he chose to be there.

She cleared her throat before trying to make conversation as if this wasn't the most awkward moment of her life. It was moments like these she actually wished he did leave, because now she didn't know what to say or do. “I'm surprised you found anything to cook with, I thought I packed all that stuff away.” she let out a laugh.

After all, almost everything was packed into a box, she wasn’t sure there were any plates or forks left to use.

He shrugged, remaining silent.

Well that's some great banter right there. It’s almost as if he wasn't saying the most unthinkably wild things in her ear less than 6 hours ago.

“Did you… sleep?” she asked softly.

He shrugged, flipping whatever was in the pan. “I did yeah. Then figured I could do something useful before you woke up.”

She cleared her throat. “I thought you left.” she admitted.

He only passed her a glance over his shoulder, as if to say, I didn’t, but eventually I will.

And suddenly, last night wasn’t a mistake. But even so, it wasn’t a reconciliation either.

She forced a smiled and walked over to the table and took a seat, looking up at his back which was turned to her.

Say something. Anything.Tell me last night meant something. Tell me I wasn’t the only one losing it.

No? Fine. I won’t be the one to break.

As Y/N was in her head, soon Jinyoung came over and gave her the singular piece of french toast he had cooked her on a plate.

Why only one piece? Is he not eating?

Y/N sat at the kitchen table, furrowing her eyebrows, overthinking why he had cooked just one. Nevertheless, she eventually picked up her fork and knife he had laid out for her and started eating to give her an excuse not to do anymore talking.

Jinyoung sat across from her, with a cup coffee, sleeves pushed up, hair still slightly damp from what seemed a shower.

So he had the time to take a shower too... why had he taken a shower? Did he feel dirty or something? He should for all the deviant things he said last night.

Y/N looked up from her thoughts to see he looked calm. Too calm.

Like nothing had happened.

Like they hadn't just—

“So do you have everything packed?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She nodded, keeping her eyes on her plate. “Movers are coming at seven.”

What the fuck was this? Are they friends? Are they friends with benefits? What is this.

He hummed. “You have help?”

“Sihoon offered,” she replied quickly.

If the sex wasn't so good she'd be entirely regretting this unknown aftermath it had caused them.

He nodded again, slow and unreadable. “You trust her to carry fragile things?” he asked with a certain undertone of sarcasm to it.

Another silence. That question felt more pointed than she cared to answer.

The kind that wasn’t empty, but full. Like holding your breath.

She picked at the crust of her french toast refusing to answer.

When she looked up, she noticed he glanced at the clock on the wall behind her.

At this, she slammed her fork down. “Do you have somewhere better to be or something?” she asked offended.

His head jerked slightly, surprised. “What?” his attention turned back to her.

She shook her head, trying to calm herself. “Never mind.” she muttered.

“No, say it,” he said, setting his mug down.

She swallowed.

“You’re really going to pretend last night didn’t happen?”

“How am I pretending Y/N? I'm sitting right here?” he replied confused.

“Cooking breakfast Jinyoung? Really? Just feels a lot like pretending. to me”

"This is not the first time I've made you breakfast Y/N." Jinyoung huffed.

After sex it was.

"The first time you hadn't made yourself any..." she muttered.

He didn't feel the need to respond. She glanced up at him. “Just give me the contract, I’ll sign it and you can leave. I don't want to take up any more of your time having you play nice.”

Jinyoung scrunched his nose, thrown off. “What?”

"You heard me." she stared at the table.

“What do you want me to do Y/N? Just get up and leave? Would that make you happy?” he asked bothered.

“Maybe! That would’ve been easier than whatever the hell this is, you act like you still care making breakfast for me only to be watching the clock out of the corner of your eye like you got better places to be!” she replied.

“I made you french toast!" he exclaimed offended.

“What is that supposed to mean Jinyoung?" she bobbed her head.

"What do you want it mean!?" he whined.

She grit her teeth and looked elsewhere. “I don’t know! Something! Anything!” she cried out, voice wavering.

"You want it to mean we're together?" he asked, unsure.

"I didn't say that??? But why do you make it sound like such an unfathomable thing Jinyoung?" she asked.

"Because its not that easy Y/N! What do you want me to say?! Everything's fine again? I mean - its not, you know its not. I'm hurt- you're hurt... Is there even a 'we' anymore?” he asked dumbfounded.

She blinked hard, forcing herself not to get emotional.

“You really love having your cake and eating it too, don't you? You show up, make a night of it, and then we sign and move on like none of this mattered.” she set her utensils down again in frustration.

“Here we go." he shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "Is it really always the same narrative with you? You really think I came here just for that?” he asked stunned.

"What do you expect me to think?" she asked.

"I'm not saying this to upset you, but seriously Y/N, is one good night supposed to make up for everything? You were hurt, I was hurt. People know about the contract-"

"Oh so this is all my fault that we're like this? You think I leaked the postcard so fuck what I feel about you leading me on?" she exclaimed, tears now running down her face.

He swallowed to get past the fact that she was crying. "Did I say you leaked it just now?" he asked.

"You didn't have to." she snipped.

“You know what - this is why we broke up in the first place. How could I forget?” Jinyoung rubbed his hands over his face in disbelief.

Her blood ran hot at that comment.

"Great decision might I add." she remarked.

He sighed before removing his hands from his face.

"See. We're just the same as we were a month ago, we still think the same. Nothing has changed, only now we've slept together. That's it. Thats the only difference. And you still want to get back together?" he asked.

Another tear slipped on her face.

She shook her head. “I didn't even say I want that!"

"Then tell me what you want!

"Why? So you can list all the ways its not possible just to kiss me afterwards!? You know what? Forget I even asked." she snapped, about to push back her chair, until Jinyoung pressed his foot against it so it wouldn't move.

"You don't get to walk away in the middle of the covnersation when it gets hard. Right now, we're speaking. You don't just get to ask me all the questions and then leave me to deal with finding the answers alone. Sit here and talk to me even when the conversation includes things you don't like." he scolded.

She crossed her arms, trying to concentrate on anything but him.

"Help me understand what you're thinking." he asked.

“You want to know? Fine. Here it is. I woke up and you weren’t there and for a second I thought that's all it was to you. And then I come into my kitchen and you’re making me f-french fucking toast, avoiding talking about last night. You’re confusing me!”

“I’m confusing YOU?!!!?” he exclaimed, astounded.

"Well what do you expect me to be? Certain? Clear-headed? We were together for five months and you pick until after we’ve broken up to sleep with me?” she shrugged.

“We only slept together because YOU said it was now or never!?” he retorted.

"Well I wish it was never." she added.

Jinyoung’s heart hurt. At this point, he couldn't be level headed anymore.

"You wish we never slept together!????" he scoffed. "I can’t believe I slept with someone who has me blocked!!! I mean seriously, how pathetic does that makes me? You're so insistent I'm using you and I want nothing more from this than sex when in reality its a struggle not to come here every day despite everything you've put me through. I know we’re not good for each other. I know we probably shouldn’t be doing this. But no matter how much I try to pull away… I can’t. After everything we’ve been through—I still find myself coming back. So I'm sorry its leading you on, but its leading me on too!” he yelled out enamored.

She paused.

Despite the rather telling confession he gave her just now… she was unable to move on past one word.

“Blocked?” she deadpanned, furrowing her eyebrows. “What are you talking about?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“What do you mean what am I talking about Y/N, you blocked me !” he continued.

“... No I didn’t?” she replied as confused as before.

“You don’t have to avoid talking about it, it only makes me feel more awkward…” he sighed, opening his phone. When it pulled up their chat, he slid the phone to her.

“My message was never delivered,” he clarified coldly.

Her eyes stared down at the phone. He wasn’t lying, according to his phone, she had him blocked? But that should be impossible, not even on her drunkest night could she have mustered the ability to block him and forget about it? The amount of nights she slept by her phone, wishing, praying and hoping he’d call… she never had it in her to block him.

“You sent this after those headlines with Hwan I’m assuming?” She looked up from his phone to him, referencing the message that passive aggressively mentioned she had replaced him and they need to just sign this contract to get it over with.

“Well I called you the night before and it went to voicemail… and then the next day I saw the two of you… so I texted you but it never went through. I figured you heard my voicemail and blocked me.” He huffed.

“… You left me a voicemail???” She was even more concerned.

“You heard it, didn’t you?” He asked.

“No.” She replied rather quietly.

He leaned forward, grabbing his phone and going to his call log quickly.

Then he slid the phone back to her. “See, three weeks ago I called you.” He clarified.

And once again, there it was, a stamp that he called when he said he did.

“And it rang?” She asked.

“Yeah but you didn’t answer, and the next morning I was blocked…” he clarified.

She looked completely lost, and so he had to ask.

“So you didn't listen to it…?” He wondered.

“Jinyoung if you had called me I would’ve…” she muttered off at the end. She grabbed her phone and opened her call log.

No voicemails from him.

She scrolled to the day he was talking about.

No calls either.

She held out her phone to display this to him, and he shot her a look.

“If you didn’t block me then who did…?” He questioned.

She stared at her phone, trying to think.

The night before she saw Hwan, she was crying over the headlines of Jinyoung and his co-star… crying to…

They exchanged a long, silent look—one that spoke of all the missed connections and manipulation hanging between them. Just as Y/N opened her mouth to say more, a knock came at the door. Sharp. Too early.

Y/N stood cautiously, walking over and peeking through the peephole.

She froze.

Speak of the devil and she shall come

She spun around to look at Jinyoung.

He tilted his head at her and mouthed 'who is it?' silently.

'Sihoon…' she worded back.

Jinyoung didn’t move, but his posture shifted.

Y/N opened the door.

Sihoon stood there, hair tucked back with precision. But her composure wavered—only slightly—when she saw who was behind Y/N.

Her smile flickered for a moment. “Oh,” she said, clearly surprised at seeing them together, so early in the morning.

”I just came by to drop off your revised contract…” she said unsure.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder toward Jinyoung. “Actually, Jinyo—”

“Perfect timing, then,” Jinyoung interrupted, voice calm but clipped. His tone held a warning edge—subtle but unmistakable as he walked to the door and reached out for the manila folder tucked under her arm. His tone made it clear, don’t say anything yet.

Sihoon raised a brow, then slowly slid the manila folder to him. “Of course.”

Jinyoung wandered back towards the counter as he opened the folder. His eyes scanned the document.

Y/N watched him carefully.

Suddenly, Jinyoung’s phone buzzed on the table.

He glanced down, turning it over, frowning slightly at the number.

“I have to take this” he announced, stepping away toward the hallway, away from Y/N and Sihoon.

He picked up.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Mr. Park? Just a quick heads-up—we have some mail for you whenever you’re ready to pick it up.”

He didn’t think much of it, as he was too focused on reading over the contract in his hands. His eyes darted over the lines—then stopped at one clause.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll come pick it up today.” He was about to hang up before the front desk added, “Or will your assistant come pick it up?”

His brows knit together.

“My assistant?” he repeated.

“Yes— I forgot her name… you know, skinny, short hair, very professional, she usually comes once a week, but she hasn’t come this week that's why we called you instead” the clerk replied.

Jinyoung said nothing for a beat, before looking down the hallway at Sihoon, his heart picking up pace.

“I'll pick this one up myself, thanks.”

As he hung up, he stared down the hall at the two of them talking.

Sihoon was standing closer to the couch now, casually remarking on Y/N’s half-packed boxes, her tone light—too light. The morning sun threw pale light across the apartment floor, but everything felt shadowed now.

He stepped back into the living room, his jaw was locked, his eyes unreadable—but they flicked immediately to Y/N.

Something had changed.

“I’d like to review this with Y/N privately before we sign anything,” he said evenly.

Sihoon blinked, trying to sound casual. “Oh. Sure—go ahead,” she said brightly.

Jinyoung didn’t look at her again. He turned, and with a small nod to Y/N, they disappeared into her room. Y/N followed him, pulse hammering.

As soon as the bedroom door clicked shut, Y/N turned on him like a dam bursting.

“I was with Sihoon,” she whispered out. “The night you called me. I was upset and I feel asleep and… I think she blocked you from my phone.”

Jinyoung tensed.

Her words hung heavy between them.

His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. Only a slow exhale, like the air had been punched from his lungs.

“I just got a call from my building,” he finally said, voice low and grim. “The front desk asked if my assistant would be picking up my mail.”

Y/N blinked.

Neither of them said anything.

But Y/N was already backing away, wounded, blinking fast to clear the tears and failing.

“You didn’t believe me,” she broke, her voice splitting mid-sentence. “You really thought I would do that to you.”

Jinyoung’s chest caved in watching her cry. His heart felt like it was collapsing inside him.

“Y/N—” he stepped toward her.

She swiped a tear from her cheek, and pushed him back ever so slightly.

He didn’t flinch at her push.

“I told you I’d never do that to you. I told you—even when I wanted to hate you—I wouldn’t go that low,” she whispered, voice shaking. “But you still thought I would.”

“I’m sorry.” The words spilled out of him—quiet but desperate.

He watched as her head bowed, and a pang of guilt tore through his chest, especially when he remembered how cold he'd been to her earlier at the kitchen table about their relationship.

“I didn’t believe it,” he said, voice hollow. “Not deep down. But everyone around me had me second-guessing, and I—”

“Second guessing me?” she cut in, wounded and sharp.

He opened his mouth, then shut it. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t sound pitiful.

“Maybe you were right,” she said, brushing a tear off her cheek roughly. “We aren’t good together if we’re so easily pulled apart by what everyone else thinks.”

Jinyoung stepped closer, tentative, like she might disappear if he moved too fast.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

She turned her face away, refusing.

“Y/N,” he pleaded, voice soft and wrecked. “Look at me.”

She turned her head back toward him—but wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, slower this time. “You were right. I didn’t fight for you the way I should’ve. I let people make me forget what I already knew about you, and I’m sorry.” He took a breath. “But the person who sold me that lie is standing outside that door.”

Her shoulders rose and fell unevenly, like she couldn’t catch her breath.

“What are we even supposed to do, Jinyoung? It’s too late. The damage is already done.”

Without a word, Jinyoung opened the manila folder and flipped to the final page like he’d memorized it.

“This isn’t the updated version,” he said flatly. “She printed the old one. The fake dating clause is still in here.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. Her mouth parted, stunned.

“She controlled the story,” he said, gaze steady. “But she doesn’t have to control the ending.”

She stared at him, voice low. “So what now? We just tell her we know everything she did?”

He looked up, eyes burning with something that hadn’t been there before—resolve.

“Not until we have evidence.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking toward the door, frustration and disbelief crawling up her spine.

“I know..." he muttered. "...You don’t trust me. And I know I gave you reasons not to. But I’m standing here asking you anyway—for one last time. Let me fix this.”

“How?” she breathed, her voice breaking on the word.

“I’m going back to my apartment,” he said. “If she took the postcard, there’ll be footage from the mailroom. We catch her on camera—it’s over. We’ll have everything we need.”

Her heart slammed in her chest.

“You’re leaving me here with her?”

“You said she was helping you pack,” he said gently. “If we both leave, she’ll know something’s off. She’s watching us, Y/N. She wants to see us fall apart.”

Y/N scoffed under her breath. “Jinyoung, I might actually kill her.”

His lips twitched—just slightly.

“Do you want to get mad,” he asked softly, “or do you want to get even?”

Her fists clenched at her sides.

“Tell me,” he said, stepping just close enough that she could feel the quiet urgency in his voice. “Do you still trust me enough to let me fix this?”

Her eyes welled again, and it took everything in her not to break.

“How can I rely on you now?” she whispered.

The question hit him square in the chest. It made his throat tighten.

“This is the last time I’ll ask you to trust me,” he said, steady despite everything in him shaking. “I got you into this. I want to be the one to get you out.”

Y/N stared at him, breath unsteady.

“Two hours,” she said. “Or I sign her version without you.”

He nodded once, jaw set.

Then he turned and walked out first—back straight, face blank, eyes cold.

And Y/N followed, heartbeat hammering as she stepped back into the apartment where the woman who tore them apart still waited.

Sihoon turned from the kitchen island, smiling faintly as if nothing had happened. “All set?”

Jinyoung held up the manila folder.

“We won’t be signing this,” he said calmly.

Sihoon blinked. “Sorry?”

“This isn’t the revised contract.” His tone was clipped now, bordering sharp. “It’s the original version—with the PR clause still included. That’s not what we agreed on.”

A beat of silence.

Sihoon’s smile faltered. “Oh? That’s strange. I must’ve grabbed the wrong one.”

“I’ll handle it with the legal team directly,” he said flatly, then turned to Y/N—just for a second. His eyes lingered on hers. “Let's meet at the company to sign it, two hours?” he asked.

She gave a small nod.

With that, Jinyoung turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

Silence settled like dust in the room.

Sihoon turned slowly.

“So,” she said unsure. “you and Jinyoung.”

Y/N didn’t answer, instead she moved to a box she had laying on a chair like she hadn’t heard.

Sihoon’s voice tightened slightly, like a disappointed mother. “You slept together? After everything?” she asked.

Y/N’s hand stilled for a moment, then resumed closing the box, concentrating on not placing her hands around Sihoon's neck for the sake of evidence.

“It's my life Sihoon, what does it matter?” she asked aloud.

“I thought you were smarter than that.”

Y/N finally looked up. Calm. A touch of irony in her voice.

“Did you?”

-

3:16 PM.

The automatic doors slid open, and Jinyoung stepped into the lobby with sharp, purposeful strides. Rain clung to the edges of his blazer, hair still damp from the sprint from the car. The air inside the building felt colder than usual—or maybe it was just the storm inside him.

His heart pounded like a drum, echoing in his ears. He had less than two hours before the meeting at the agency. Less than two hours to undo weeks of betrayal and set things right.

He approached the front desk, voice tight but composed.

“I just got a call,” he said quickly. “You said you have my mail?”

The receptionist looked up, startled by the urgency in his tone. “Ah—Mr. Park. Yes, we called earlier. One moment…”

The man turned, shuffling through a bin behind the counter, before emerging with a modest stack of envelopes and magazines. Sitting at the top was the one that stopped Jinyoung’s breath short.

Cream paper. A postmark from Jeju. A handwriting he knew better than his own.

Y/N’s postcard.

He stared at it, the corners slightly curled, the ink slightly smudged from travel. It must have got lost in the mail arriving this late.

“I need to ask,” Jinyoung said, eyes still on the stack. “You mentioned someone picked up my mail two weeks ago. Said they were my assistant?”

The receptionist nodded. “Yes, she checked in at the front desk.”

Jinyoung looked up slowly.

“I don’t have an assistant.”

A long pause.

The man’s expression faltered, eyes darting nervously toward the logbook.

Jinyoung didn’t give him time to scramble for a response. “I need access to the security footage from that day. The morning she came.”

“I… Yes, of course, sir.”

Jinyoung stepped back, running a hand down his face. He couldn’t afford to panic. Not now. Not when Y/N was still sitting in that apartment, packing up her life away because of him, with the help of a person who had manipulated them both for weeks.

His fists clenched.

3:21 PM.

One hour and thirty-nine minutes until the meeting.

One hour and thirty-nine minutes to fix everything.

-

In Y/N’s apartment, everything felt wrong.

The room was deceptively calm. The soft crinkle of bubble wrap and the dull clink of ceramic mugs echoing faintly. Sihoon crouched near a stack of moving supplies, methodically wrapping framed photos in tissue, as if she hadn’t just upended Y/N’s life.

As if none of this—this discreet way of packing up a life she ruin and moving her off —was anything more than friendly.

Y/N sat across the room on the hardwood floor, folding sweaters into a suitcase with mechanical care. Her phone lay screen-down beside her, quietly recording everything. She didn’t dare move it. She didn’t dare even glance at it.

She had to play this exactly right.

“You sure you’re taking all of these?” Sihoon asked conversationally, like this was just another afternoon between friends.

Y/N hummed in response, noncommittal. She couldn’t trust her voice to be steady.

Then she heard the pause—the kind of silence that made your skin prickle.

Sihoon had picked something up.

Y/N looked up just as the woman turned a photo over in her hands.

A framed picture. From Jeju.

A lighthouse, sharp against the overcast sky. The sea frothing behind it like something alive. Jinyoung had taken that photo.

Sihoon tilted her head at it. “Oh—is this the same one from the postcard?” she asked lightly.

Y/N paused mid-fold.

Her fingers curled into the wool of her sweater.

“What?” she asked, slowly.

Sihoon gave a little smile, eyes still on the frame. “The one you mailed Jinyoung. That lighthouse. Looks the same.”

Y/N went still.

There it was.

Every sound in the room dulled to a low, thudding silence.

Because even if everyone had known what the postcard had said, only Y/N and Jinyoung knew what the cover looked like.

Y/N’s eyes flicked to her phone, still face-down, still recording. Her thumb inched closer.

Don’t react. Don’t say anything. Don’t give her a reason to catch on.

But inside, she was screaming.

A chill crept up her spine. Her gaze locked on Sihoon, suddenly seeing everything clearly for the first time—like a lens had finally clicked into place.

Y/N’s hands shook as she picked up her phone, angling it subtly. She opened their message thread with Jinyoung which hadn't been touched in a month. Her fingers moved fast.

She just mentioned what the front of the postcard looked like. I never showed it to her. I have the recording. Can we meet sooner?

She hit send.

Nothing happened.

She blinked.

Then hit send again.

Still—nothing.

The message remained unsent.

Her chest tightened.

He still had her blocked.

Of course he did.

Because she was the villain in the story Sihoon had so carefully scripted. Because Sihoon had rigged the whole thing, then smiled in her face as she helped wrap the pieces of her life into cardboard boxes.

The realization was so cruel it almost knocked the air from her lungs.

“Y/N?” Sihoon’s voice called casually from the other room, as if nothing had happened.

As if she hadn’t just confirmed everything.

Y/N stood slowly. Quietly. She smoothed her sweater down, phone clutched in one hand like a weapon. She didn’t answer.

She didn’t need to.

Because Sihoon had just made the mistake of thinking she’d already won.

-

3:57.

Jinyoung’s fingers drummed restlessly against the security desk, the beat uneven, jittery, betraying the storm inside him. He leaned over the monitor, eyes scanning every pixel of the slowed-down footage. His breathing had grown shallow. The soft hum of the building's lobby, the distant ringing of an elevator bell, all faded behind the single pounding thought:

Please let me be right.

Then, the date flicked to the week before they returned from Jeju—three weeks ago to the day—his heart dropped.

There she was.

Jinyoung’s breath hitched, body going cold as the grainy footage flickered. She entered the lobby briskly, hair tucked behind her ears, a polished beige trench coat wrapped tight around her. She offered a polite nod to the front desk attendant and was handed a bundle of mail.

Clutched casually in the crook of her arm.

Jinyoung stared at the screen like it had betrayed him.

“There.” His voice cracked through the quiet. “Pause it.”

The guard clicked the mouse. The image froze.

In her hand, unmistakably, was a slim white postcard—half-tucked, half-exposed—peeking out from between a flyer and a few envelopes. His chest burned.

She never was supposed to be there that day. And yet, there she was. Calm. Poised. Holding a piece of vulnerable confession that would inevitably be used against them.

He didn’t even realize he’d clenched both fists until his nails dug into his palms.

“Where does she go?” he asked aloud.

The guard clicked a few times, slow, methodical. Jinyoung wanted to scream.

The footage resumed. Sihoon walked calmly to the elevator. Hit his floor. Waited. Doors opened.

She stepped in.

Disappeared.

The timestamp moved forward.

Eleven minutes later, she returned to the lobby—empty-handed.

Jinyoung didn’t breathe.

Not a single piece of mail in sight.

She spoke briefly to the front desk again—laughing at something, smooth as silk—and walked out. Like she hadn’t just planted a bomb and committed a crime.

Like she hadn’t just twisted a knife in Y/N’s back.

Jinyoung’s throat tightened.

She didn’t just lie to me. She targeted her. She hurt her.

He blinked hard, trying to stay focused. “Show me my floor cameras. Inside the hallway.”

The guard obliged, pulling up what Sihoon was doing in those 11 minutes.

There.

Footage of Sihoon outside his door. Typing.

His security keypad lit up.

Six digits.

Entered without hesitation.

The door clicked open.

She disappeared inside.

Jinyoung’s blood ran cold.

She knew the code.

And he knew what she had done from there. She’d read it, taken a photo, and sent it to Dispatch, but not only that, she’d left it out, raw and exposed for Y/N to find, for her to have in her hands when Jinyoung came home.

For Y/N to be blamed.

He leaned closer to the screen, heart hammering. He remembered the moment he ripped it up, swearing he didn’t mean one word of it anyways. It was all too familiar.

He could still remember her asking him that day to write something for her eyes only - something he’s never said aloud before. And he did. When he stared at her as he wrote, every word came easily, deliberately. He’d written slowly, carefully, because he had meant all of it. Every line. Every feeling. It wasn’t a task—it was a confession. One he never stepped up to admit.

Jinyoung stepped back from the monitor like it burned him. His vision blurred with fury, grief, and something else—guilt.

And in the end he believed it. Even just for a moment. He’d believed Y/N might’ve done it, when he should’ve known better.

That alone weighed heavier than anything.

Jinyoung swallowed hard. “I need a copy.”

The man inserted the flash drive. The download started.

And time… slowed.

10%. 23%. 44%.

4:01

59 minutes left to make it across the city. To get to the company. To stop Y/N from signing something she never should’ve had to read. To finally, finally fix what had been broken.

He tapped his foot, rubbed his eyes, begged the progress bar to move faster.

The drive dinged at 100%.

Jinyoung grabbed it like it was life itself, tossed out a breathless thank-you, and sprinted for the elevator—mind racing ahead of him.

She manipulated him. She manipulated Y/N.

But not anymore.

Because this time, he had the truth.

And no one—not Sihoon, not the contract, not the silence—was going to take this away from them again.

-

The elevator doors opened with a sterile chime, slicing through Y/N's nerves like a knife.

She stepped out first, shoulders squared, but her insides ached with unease. Sihoon trailed behind her—polished, calm, unreadable. Y/N’s heartbeat thrummed in her ears, louder with every step they took down the corridor. The hall outside the conference room felt colder than she remembered, as if even the air knew what was about to happen.

He said two hours.

She checked her phone again—screen blank. No calls. No texts. No Jinyoung.

Maybe she’d been stupid to believe he’d come through. Maybe it was all false hope and desperate clinging. Maybe he wanted her to sign it the way Sihoon had prepared and he just didn't have the heart tot ell her. If he didn't come, did she still have any merit of reporting Sihoon with a voice recording regarding the front of the postcard? Would it be enough for her to be believed?

She swallowed hard.

Sihoon moved ahead to open the door to the confrence room, but before she could reach for the handle—

Another elevator dinged across the hall.

Y/N turned sharply, breath caught mid-throat.

Jinyoung stepped out.

Alone.

His black button up clung to him, the collar still damp from rain. His hair was mussed like he’d run a hand through it too many times. His eyes scanned the corridor—then landed on her.

He paused when he saw her. She did too.

Their eyes met—just a moment—but something passed between them. Not apology. Not anger. Understanding.

They walked in from opposite ends, arriving at the conference room doors almost simultaneously. No greeting. Just a quiet inhale as they entered together.

The company lawyer and some other PR reps were already inside, preparing the contracts. Sihoon took a place at the far end, still pretending this was any other meeting.

Y/N sat first. Jinyoung took the seat beside her, careful not to let their shoulders brush. Their silence spoke louder than anything.

The lawyer slid the printed contracts across the table.

"Thank you for coming. These are your final copies. Once you both sign, we’ll process the dissolution paperwork, and that’ll be the end of it. No further obligations, no follow-up appearances. You’ll both be free to move forward—separately, cleanly. Like none of this ever happened." the lawyer narrated.

Y/N’s hand hovered above the pen. Her eyes flicked to Jinyoung, finally, searching his face.

But he was already leaning back, folding his hands—voice even, but loaded.

“I just have one question before we begin.” he said, voice casual but cool. “Legally speaking, what are the consequences of going through someone else’s mail?”

The lawyer blinked. “I… I’m sorry?”

“Tampering with mail,” Jinyoung repeated. “Opening something that was never addressed to you. Using it. Passing it on. That sort of thing.”

A silence fell over the room.

Sihoon stiffened in her seat, eyes darting toward him—then quickly away.

“Well, that would depend,” the lawyer answered cautiously. “But generally speaking, unauthorized access to someone’s mail is a federal offense. Especially if it’s used for personal or professional leverage.”

“I thought so,” Jinyoung said, sitting up straighter now.

“What about breaking and entering?” he added.

Then he reached into his jacket pocket and slid a slim USB across the table.

“This is footage from the mailroom security system at my apartment. Three weeks ago, someone entered the building, claimed to be my assistant—though I don’t have one—and picked up my mail while I was in Jeju.”

He looked directly at Sihoon now who was frozen. His tone was still smooth, but there was fire behind it.

“She also used my private door code to access my apartment, access she was never given.”

“Don’t believe me? See it for yourself.” He nodded to the USB.

The lawyer hesitantly inserted the USB into her computer, pulling up a dated, grainy black-and-white footage. Sihoon could be seen signing in at the front desk, giving Jinyoung’s name. She smiled, confident, collected, lifting the small stack of mail into her tote bag. A minute later, she was punching in his apartment code with practiced ease.

Y/N didn’t say anything at first. Her eyes were glued to the screen, watching the moment the door opened. Watching Sihoon step inside Jinyoung’s apartment.

“Not to mention, earlier today,” Y/N said evenly, “that same person who did all this mentioned the design on a private postcard Jinyoung mailed me—one that was in that stack of mail she stole.”

Y/N jaw was tight. “It’s enough to press charges." she clarified.

"And thats just the criminal offenses." Jinyoung noted. "If I remember correctly, you told me I could sue her for breach of contract—she violated the NDA the moment she leaked it. Breach of confidentiality, since the relationship was protected company information. Tortious interference, because she knowingly disrupted brand deals tied to my image. Misappropriation of company materials, if she shared internal documents. And false light—because the way it all came out made me and the company look like a scandal.” he smirked, repeating the lawyers previous scolding.

"You know, I bet that applies to the company too since their liable for their employee, am I right?" Y/N asked, turning her head from Jinyoung to the lawyer and PR team.

“We could go on. But you get the point." he exhaled an entertained huff.

“So before we sign anything, I’d just like to know… how much of this contract was passed through the same hands?” Y/N asked.

A silence rang throught out the room, as all eyes turned to a very frozen Sihoon.

“The only thing we'll be signing today is a release from the agency. She acted under your company’s name. On your clock. She breached legal boundaries and violated client trust. If I press charges, this doesn’t end with her—it ends with all of you. I’m gonna give you two options. Either you fire her immediately, and cooperate fully with my legal team to terminate my contract—no press, no delays, no strings—or I go public with what she did. All of it.”

The air in the room was taut.

"...Consider yourselves released." The lawyer closed her laptops.

Satisfied, Y/N didn’t wait for the room to catch up. She pushed back from the table, her face unreadable, and rose to her feet with purpose.

Jinyoung watched her as she exited the room.

Jinyoung stood, about to follow, when the lawyer’s voice cut through the tension, calm but firm.

“Mr. Park, please, you need to stay if you wish to press charges.”

He hesitated, eyes flicking toward the doorway.

Inevitably, he sank back down.

Sihoon rushed out into the hallway after her.

The door had barely clicked shut behind them when Y/N felt Sihoon at her heels.

“Y/N—wait, just let me explain—”

She didn’t get the chance.

Y/N stopped walking.

She turned.

And in one clean, unflinching motion, she raised her hand—

smack

The slap rang out so loud it startled even Y/N. It sliced through the silence like lightning through glass.

Sihoon recoiled, hand flying to her cheek, lips parted in stunned disbelief.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t need to.

Sihoon backed up as if burned.

“You were supposed to be my friend Sihoon,” Y/N said, voice low, steady. Too calm. “You sat in my home. You packed my life. You let me cry on your shoulder.”

Her voice wavered now, rising—not to shout, but like grief was dragging it out of her throat whether she wanted it to or not.

“You told me I wasn’t alone. You said you were looking out for me.” She paused, chest shaking with the effort to hold herself upright. “But you were never looking out for me. You were watching me. Waiting. Planning. For this.”

Sihoon’s face crumpled. “That’s not true—”

“You read a letter that wasn’t yours. You stole a moment meant only for me. You fed the media. You handed them the match and poured the gasoline. And you let him—” her voice broke, hard and sharp. “You let him believe I was capable of that.”

Silence stretched between them. It was devastating.

“I loved him,” Y/N whispered.

And there it was.

The words she hadn’t let herself say.

The words that made Sihoon’s face falter in a whole new way.

“I loved him,” Y/N said again, firmer now. “And you let him think I was using him. You let him think I would hurt him.”

A beat.

“Why?” she asked. It wasn’t rhetorical. She wanted an answer now, no matter how ugly. "Why would you do this to me?" she asked, heartbroken.

Sihoon’s voice was a whisper. “I thought if I could just… break this off fast enough, it wouldn’t break you later. I wanted to protect you.”

Y/N stared at her.

It was worse than she thought.

“You didn’t break it to protect me,” she said. “You broke it because you couldn’t stand that it was mine.” Y/N stood firm.

"I lost everything… my life, my apartment, Jinyoung... and now I've lost you too." she finished.

Sihoon said nothing. She just stood there, tears falling—but Y/N didn’t feel sorry for her anymore. That part of her had died in Jeju.

Y/N turned and walked away without a single glance back.

The slap might’ve been loud.

But the silence she left behind?

That was deafening.

-

Jinyoung sat in the conference room. His fingers were laced in front of him, white-knuckled. His jaw was locked tight, teeth clenched. His knee bounced restlessly under the table—not out of nerves, but fury.

Sihoon’s betrayal hadn’t just been reckless. It had been plotted. Planned. Executed. Intentional.

And Y/N— Y/N had gotten the worst of it.

He rubbed his thumb against the edge of the table, trying to calm his pulse. But he couldn’t.

Not when he remembered Y/N’s voice catching on the word love right before she said it to him that night. Not when he pictured the moment he ripped up his confession because he gave into his insecurities.

He should have been with her. But instead, he was still here, making sure something happened for everything he’d put her through.

So when the lawyer finally asked, “Mr. Park, what would you like to do moving forward?”— He answered without hesitation.

“I want her fired immediately. I want her name removed from every piece of paperwork that ever had me and Y/N's name on it. And I want the company’s full cooperation with my legal team because I’m pressing charges.”

The lawyer stammered, “And… if we comply?”

“I walk. Quietly,” Jinyoung replied. “But if you don’t? I go public. And you won’t have another client again.”

-

The conference room had emptied.

Papers still littered the table. The USB was gone. Chairs stood crooked, pushed back in the chaos of what had just unfolded.

It was still poruing outside, and Y/N was probably already moving out of her apartment.

But Jinyoung hadn’t moved.

He sat alone, staring down at the envelope in his hands. Her postcard from Jeju.

He brought the mail with him to the company, for one because he didn't have time, for another he didn't have any faith to leave it at his front desk frankly.

Of course it arrived now—three weeks late of all times. Too late to mean something. Too early to forget. His had shown up right on time for fate. Hers had gotten lost somewhere in the shuffle for him to read now. It felt cruel, almost cinematic, how it turned up now. Like fate was mocking him.

He shook his head, fingers tightening around the envelope.

He thought taking action, demanding consequences, might fix something. That maybe by holding someone accountable, he could piece back what they lost. But something still felt missing. And maybe it was in this envelope.

Maybe this was all a mistake. The contract. The feelings. Last night.

Maybe if he had just picked anyone else for the job, he nor Y/N wouldn’t have had to go through the wreckage of something that barely had the chance to begin.

There wouldn’t be a postcard in his hands right now.

But there was. And that was the problem.

Part of him didn’t want to open it.

Even now, with it right there, he wasn’t sure he could open it. He already knew what it would feel like— Salt in a wound.

A wound which's bandaid was "We're not good for each other, we're not mature enough for each other. We misunderstood each other. We didn't trust each other. We didn't really know each other." Thats the excuses he used to explain away why they couldn't be together. Thats what he told Y/N this morning.

But was that the truth anymore?

All those excuses rested on the idea that - what they were - was all they could be. Instead, they found out what they "were" and "could be" were sabotaged by a 3rd party, the influence of which they didn't really realize until today.

So where did the truth really lie? Did they ever really have a chance to see the real version of their relationship without that influence? No. Would they have worked out if all their insecurities and fears weren't being weaponized against them?

But then again... isn't that the case for every couple? Even for relationships without Sihoons, aren't there always going to be outside influences that bring out the worst in every relationship, Sihoon or not?

And so, who fault was it really when two people break up? Was it the two people for their problems alone? Was it for having being affected by outside influence? Or was it the outside influences alone? Or could all things be true?

Either way, after everything, it felt wrong to open the envelope, and open the wound he band aided off for both himself and Y/N.

Part of him wanted to let it sit there forever, sealed and untouched, so she could at least move on without the weight of his response. Because he knew—once he opened it, there would be a response. And the wound would open again.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder.

What if he did rip off the bandaid, and there were no more excuses as to why they didn't work out. Whad gone unsaid? What had she wanted to tell him before everything fell apart?

This postcard… It was a timestamp from another life. A relic from when things were still soft between them. Still possible. When they were happy. And who could blame him for wanting, even for a second, to go back to that version of them?

So, against his better judgment— Against the ache in his chest— He opened the envelope.

The image on the front made his heart clench. The rocky shore they had walked along that second day in Jeju. The one where he taught her how to skim rocks and they climbed steps out of breath.

Foreshadowing, maybe. Of what they’d become—beautiful, but jagged.

He flipped it over, already knowing what he’d find. Her handwriting. Slanted, familiar. Like her voice in ink.

He inhaled slowly. Then began to read.

“Hi Jinyoung. I don’t know what you’re doing as you’re reading this. All I know is that right now, as I’m writing this, we’re on our “work” trip in Jeju—if that’s what you’d call it. And you’re leaning against the lighthouse, completely focused on your own postcard. You haven’t looked up in a while. I wonder what I’m going to read when this arrives.”

Unknowingly, a smile came to his mouth as remembered that moment. The heat of the sun on his head. She was hunched over by a bench, sneaking glances at him and pretending she wasn’t. He’d been trying to focus on what to write.

“Anyway, I should probably use this space to say something I haven’t told you before. So here it goes. I like you. A lot. Even more than a lot…”

The words blurred for a second as his eyes filled. His throat tightened, and he pressed his lips together. There it was. The thing she never got to say out loud.

“I know we promised each other that wouldn’t happen, but… I’ll be honest… I wasn’t able to hold up my end of the promise.”

He let out a soft, strangled sound—half-laugh, half-sob. Of course she didn’t. Neither had he. And yet they danced around it like it wasn’t already happening.

“I’ve never felt this out of control before—not with my emotions, not like this. And maybe that’s how I know what this is. Because I’ve never felt it before. But even now, I’m scared to say it. Scared you might not feel the same. Scared it might change everything. I have so many questions. What happens when this is all over—Jeju, the contract? What happens to us? Do we just end? Was this only temporary? Are you just as scared as I am?

The more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I feel like I’ve learned about myself, too— And most of all, what it looks like when I feel one very specific thing. There’s so many things I don’t know. All I do know is... I don’t want to imagine my life without you now that you’re in it.

Jinyoung’s throat closed. His fingers curled around the postcard, not crushing it, but holding it like something breakable. Like something sacred.

“So tell me, future Jinyoung… do you think we could try something real this time?

His eyes shut. The weight of her question hit harder than anything said aloud. And it came too late. Or maybe—maybe not, if he moved now.

“I know we’re different. But I think if we try, we could make even more memories together. Unscripted ones. I hope you feel what I feel. I hope I was brave enough to say this in person. And I hope by the time you read this—you’ll still want to tell me the same. Love, Y/N.”

A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it. He didn’t wipe it away. He didn’t move at all. Just sat there, holding her words like an answer to a question he hadn’t known how to ask until it was almost too late.

He read it again. And again.

His throat burned.

The wound opened.

He had no idea how long he sat there taking it in.

Jinyoung stared at the postcard, like if he read it enough times, it might take him back to that lighthouse.

To her.

To the moment she wrote this—when she was still waiting for a sign that he felt the same.

She had been terrified. And still, she wrote it. Still, she dared to name something she had never felt before—something big and unfamiliar and vulnerable.

And she had felt it for him.

God.

She had been right there, on the edge of saying it out loud. That night on the beach—her voice catching, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, the stars reflected in her eyes. She was gathering the courage to tell him she loved him. For the first time in her life she was in love, and it was him.

But then he remembered the way her face changed when she saw the paparazzi. The moment she looked at him like he was a stranger. Like she hated him for proving her fears right. He had watched her heart close in real time—and he had done nothing.

Then when the dust settled, when everything fell apart, he thought the same of her. That she never cared. That it had all been performance. That he was stupid to believe she ever meant any of it.

But this letter- A letter which got to him by the grace of god- proved they had never even gotten the chance to say what they really wanted.

They were in love… and walked away because they were scared.

She had been so brave. Braver than him. Brave enough to write it down even when it made her hands shake. Brave enough to want something real from him.

And all she asked in return - was that if he felt the same- to tell her so.

And so he did.

-> Chapter 39

Ahhhhh that took forever for absolutley no reason. I missed yall alot <3

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