The response was overwhelming.
Minjojo had just ended the regular live and was now constantly checking social media. The moment the song dropped, it crossed millions within minutes. The numbers kept rising like a tide that refused to slow down.
"It crossed another million," Minjo updated casually, though the glow on his face gave away his excitement.
It was 3 a.m.
The studio lights were dim, screens still glowing softly. Everyone was in relaxed mode — scattered across the room. Some were lying down, some sitting against the wall, some half-asleep on the couch.
Jeon.J lay on one of the mattresses placed on the floor. His eyes were closed.
But he wasn't asleep.
He was awake — just resting his eyes, listening.
Yomin looked at him and said, "Jeon.J… the lines are really good. Honestly, this is the first time we've released a full English song. Usually, there's always Korean or some other language mixed in."
He paused, then added softly, "And today it's fully English… and RAMY's response is amazing too."
Jeon.J didn't respond.
Behind his closed eyes, a different scene was playing.
The moment he had pulled that letter from Bamson's sweater.
He had opened it carefully. The writing was in a language he couldn't recognize. But at the end, a few lines were written in English.
He read the poem.
It was about spring.
Even without understanding every word, he felt it.
He had quietly placed the letter inside his locker, planning to translate it later. But work swallowed him whole. They left for the Run TBS shoots. Schedules piled up.
For a while… he forgot. Until that day at DMC.
When Minji had casually asked, "Do we have any song planned for Easter? For TBS?"
But her words unlocked something.
Spring.
The letter.
The poem.
Jeon.J had copied the poem from the letter and shared it with Kim Joon. Hosu and Yomin worked on the music. And Seven Soul poured life into it — turning those quiet written words into something that reached millions of hearts.
But Jeon.J believed something else.
He believed this song had awakened someone.
A small smile formed on his lips.
You can hide as much as you want…
Yomin's voice pulled him back.
"Jeon.J."
He opened his eyes this time and looked at him lazily.
"Go to sleep," Jeon.J muttered. "You should sleep too."
He turned to the other side.
"Why are you always sleeping?" Yomin teased. "Anywhere you find space, you just collapse."
"Correct your line," Hosu laughed. "He doesn't fall anywhere and sleeps. He can complete his sleep even while sitting."
Soft laughter filled the room.
One by one, they all lay down. No one went home tonight. They had dinner in the studio and decided to sleep there. Everyone was relaxed — lighter than usual.
After a few minutes, Teahun lifted his head, resting it on his palm as he turned slightly.
"I shouldn't have gone with Minji today…" he murmured dramatically.
"Not now," Minjo replied immediately. "Absolutely no energy to hear your story. Tomorrow morning."
"My pain… no one ever sees my pain."
"Even your pain can't see your pain," Jinhun said dryly. "Now sleep."
But Teahun wasn't done.
"I waited for them outside because the girls' section wouldn't let them in quickly. When they finally came out, they went straight to the food area. Everyone ordered what they liked — and I had to eat the same thing! I felt really bored."
He ignored everyone and continued narrating his tragic tale.
Hosu, eyes still closed, said lazily," By the way… what did Zoya say when you tried to teach her manners?"
A few suppressed chuckles escaped.
"I think Teahun wasn't even invited today," Jihan added, smirking. "Minji told me he invited himself. And also made sure no one else came along."
Teahun immediately sat up and glared at him.
"Wasn't Zoya the one who was supposed to be your full entertainment?" Yomin added mischievously. "Actually… I think you were her entertainment."
Jeon.J's eyes slowly opened again.
He stared at the ceiling.
Waiting.
Teahun's answer mattered more than he would ever admit.
"She didn't betray me," Teahun said with a pout. "She started a job at Ji-ho's restaurant."
Silence.
"Will you all sleep or not?" Kim Joon's calm but firm voice cut through the room.
Instant quiet.
No one dared argue.
One by one, the voices faded.
They left Teahun to his dramatic heartbreak — because his "pain" never disappeared that quickly.
The studio fell into silence.
Only the faint hum of machines remained.
And somewhere in the dark—
Jeon.J was still awake.
....
It felt like everything was at peace.
The night itself seemed calm. Even the air carried a quiet stillness. Outside, a drizzle was falling — soft rain tapping gently against the windows.
Zoya had just completed her night salah.
She didn't go to bed immediately. Instead, she sat on the couch placed near the window. Something about that corner felt comforting tonight.
She pulled her knees close, wrapping her arms around them, resting her head gently against them as she tried to look outside.
But the raindrops blurred the glass.
The world beyond the window looked distant, softened, almost unreachable.
She couldn't open the window. If she did, the cold air would wake the sleeping souls in the room — and she didn't want her quiet moment to disturb anyone.
She glanced back at her sleeping friends.
A small smile appeared on her face.
Then she returned to her earlier position.
As she stared at the rain again, something suddenly tightened inside her chest.
Her heart remembered.
And quietly, the sadness returned.
In a whisper only the night could hear, the words echoed inside her:
He lives in the sunlight,
while I whisper to the moon.
Our clocks may never match,
our skies may never touch—
And yet my heart still beatsin the rhythm of his name.
He is far behind in time,
by language,
by age,
by state,
by culture,
by appearance,
by living,
by city,
by religion, but soul...?
But he lives in my prayersas if he never left.
And maybe…in a quiet second between his smiles, a small breeze of my longingwill reach him.
Her eyes filled before she even realized it.
She lowered her head quickly — hiding her face, just in case someone suddenly woke up. She didn't want anyone to see her tears.
Very softly, barely moving her lips, she whispered:
"Allah… I pray to You for him. You are the One who listens. You know the secrets of hearts. I beg You… please don't let me grow tired. Don't let my heart stop praying. Even when I try to stop myself… I cannot stop making dua for him. So please… keep giving me the strength to pray."
Her voice trembled.
Then she turned her face back toward the window.
She closed her eyes.
And in the silence of the rain—
She began to make dua again.
اللَّهُمَّ اهْدِهِ وَاغْفِرْ لَهُ وَارْحَمْهُ وَاجْعَلِ الإِيمَانَ فِي قَلْبِهِ نُورًا وَهُدًى
Allāhumma ihdihi waghfir lahu warḥamhu waj'alil-īmāna fī qalbihi nūran wa hudā.
O Allah, guide him, forgive him, have mercy on him, and place in his heart the light and guidance of faith.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just quietly.
Like someone who loves from a distance…but loves her with her whole soul.
To be continued....
Regards
ZK💌