debut day isa, aespa's 5th member
The day had come. ISA, the main dancer and lead vocalist of aespa, stood backstage, the sound of the crowd roaring just beyond the curtains. Her heartbeat raced, pounding in her chest, but she could barely feel it over the deafening buzz in her ears. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face painted perfectly, her hair styled to perfection, but her eyes... they didn't match the image staring back at her.
She had spent years dreaming of this moment, of standing in front of thousands of fans, hearing their cheers, and feeling the spotlight's warmth. But tonight, something felt different. She couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was missing.
"ISA, you've got this," her manager's voice broke through her thoughts, a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She nodded, forcing a smile, but the weight in her chest remained.
She had made it. She was standing on the edge of everything she had worked for. But was it enough?
As the lights dimmed, and the first notes of their song began to play, Isa took a deep breath. The curtains pulled back, and she stepped out into the stage, her body moving on instinct, the choreography flowing through her like second nature. The crowd erupted into screams, their excitement palpable, but all Isa could hear was the pounding of her own heart.
"This is it," she thought, "This is what I've worked for. This is everything."
But as the performance continued, Isa's mind drifted to the past. To the days she spent with the girls, her friends who had shared the same dream. The ones who had promised they would debut together, and yet, now, Isa was here alone. The empty space in her heart echoed louder than the applause.
The celebrations that followed their debut stage were nothing short of grand, she decided to meet up with her friends- the friends she was supposed to debut with Koeun, Hana, Haerin and Lami.
The café was warm, its cozy ambiance a sharp contrast to the cold winter evening outside. The scent of coffee beans and pastries filled the air, mingling with the gentle hum of conversations from scattered tables. Isa sat by the window, nervously adjusting her outfit, her fingers drumming lightly on the edge of her cup. She had promised herself she wouldn't cry today, not in front of them, not after everything she'd achieved.
She heard the door open and turned, her heart leaping as Koeun walked in. Her smile was wide, the kind that instantly made Saeri feel at home. There was something familiar about it, even though years had passed. Koeun's long, straight hair framed her face, her eyes sparkling with warmth as she waved enthusiastically.
"Hana's just around the corner. She said she saw a new boutique," Koeun explained as she slid into the seat across from her. There was a slight edge to her words, a hint of hesitation, but it was gone before she could question it.
"I'm so glad we could all meet like this," Isa said softly, her fingers playing with the rim of her cup.
"Of course," Koeun responded, leaning back in her chair. "I've missed this... missed you."
Before Isa could respond, the door swung open again, and Hana breezed in, her energy filling the room like a spark igniting a fire. "I'm here! Sorry I'm late!" she laughed, her voice the same as it had been years ago playful, teasing, full of life.
It wasn't long before the rest of the group arrived. Haerin, with her soft demeanor but fierce determination behind her eyes, and Lami, who had grown more poised over the years but still held that mischievous glint in her eyes. They all sat down, their reunion filling the café with easy laughter and the comforting sound of shared memories.
But despite the laughter, Isa could feel something subtle in the air, a difference, something unsaid. Her eyes darted over each of them, watching their reactions, their smiles that didn't quite reach their eyes. She had expected this. She had known the moment would come, where she would be sitting across from them, successful and alone in a way they had never imagined.
The conversation shifted quickly to light-hearted topics: their favorite memories of their time together at SM, the ridiculous training sessions, and the bizarre, late-night practice routines. But as Saeri listened, her mind drifted back to the days when they had all been trainees together. She remembered the first time they met, the rawness in their eyes, the shared sense of desperation and hope that had bound them.
The first day at SM, Isa was only twelve, her nerves so palpable she thought they could be heard from across the room. But the girls had been there for her, easing her fears in ways no one else could.
"You're going to be fine," Haerin had told her, her voice quiet but reassuring. Isa had always admired how calm Haerin was, how she seemed to have everything under control.
That night, they had all gathered in the practice room, their sweat-slicked bodies moving in sync to a routine they had only learned hours before. The choreography had been brutal, but their spirits remained high. They had all promised each other—no matter what, they would debut together. No one would be left behind.
But as the months passed, the reality of the entertainment industry began to sink in. The pressure mounted, the evaluations became more intense, and the line between success and failure grew thinner. One by one, the girls had been told that they might not make it—audition after audition, evaluation after evaluation.
Koeun was the first to show cracks in her confidence. Despite her talent and leadership, she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't enough. Hana was always the loudest, the most energetic, but even she had moments where she doubted whether the dream was worth the sacrifices.
And then, there was Isa. She had always been the perfectionist, the one who demanded the most from herself. She had tried harder, practiced longer, and yet, as the years passed, she began to understand that only a few of them would get the chance to debut.
One night, after another grueling practice session, Saeri found herself sitting alone in the dark, the hum of the practice room's air conditioning the only sound. Her tears had been silent at first, but then they came in waves, a torrent of frustration, disappointment, and confusion. Why was she still here? Why was she the only one still fighting for this dream?
That night, it was Lami who found her. The youngest of the group, Lami's eyes had always been filled with a quiet kind of wisdom. "You'll make it," she had said, her voice soft but firm. "And when you do, you have to remember us. We'll all be cheering for you, no matter what."
And Isa had promised. "We'll debut together. No matter what"
Back in the café, Isa's mind snapped back to the present, but the pang of nostalgia still lingered. The group was now sharing stories of their lives post-trainee years, trying to ease the tension that had crept into the air.
"I saw your fancam trending," Hana said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "You were amazing, Isa. Teach me how to have that kind of stage presence!"
Isa laughed, trying to deflect the attention. "It's all about confidence, I guess. But you all should know, I learned from the best," she said, glancing around at the table.
Lami smiled, though her eyes were clouded with something Isa couldn't quite place. "I still watch your performances, even though I've moved on. You make it look effortless," she said quietly, the words carrying an unspoken weight.
But Isa felt a tightness in her chest. Why does it feel like they're all congratulating me out of obligation? she wondered, even though she knew deep down they were proud.
Koeun's voice broke through her thoughts. "You've really made it, Isa," she said softly, her gaze steady, but there was something behind her eyes—something sad, perhaps even resentful.
Later that evening, Isa found herself walking home alone, her footsteps echoing in the empty streets. The night was quiet, and she was grateful for the solitude.
"You're living our dream for all of us."
Koeun's words from earlier repeated in her mind, and she clenched her fists as a sob broke free from her chest. She didn't want to cry, not in front of them, not in front of anyone. But here, alone in the cold, she let the tears fall.
When she finally reached her apartment, she didn't bother turning on the lights. The darkness was familiar, comforting. She kicked off her shoes and walked straight to the kitchen, placing the bouquet of flowers on the counter, then dropping her bag to the floor. She stared at the flowers, the bright colors stark against the dullness of the apartment.
Isa's tears came suddenly, without warning, as if the floodgates had opened the moment she stepped inside. The grief was overwhelming—grief for herself, for her friends, for the dream that was no longer shared.
She curled up on the couch, clutching her phone in her hands, scrolling through the photos from earlier. There it was—the group photo. Her heart sank as she gazed at the faces of the girls she once promised to stand beside. She remembered all the late-night talks, the shared dreams, the laughter. It all seemed so distant now.
"I wish we could've all made it," she whispered into the silence, her voice trembling with the weight of the words.
She felt the guilt washing over her—guilt for being the one to succeed, for making it when they hadn't.
