Minji sat on the rooftop of his company building, cap low, mask on, hoodie zipped to the throat. It was the only place he could breathehigh above the noise, where the city lights looked like quiet stars.
His manager's voice still echoed in his head from earlier that day.
> "You're trending. And not in a good way. People are asking who the girl is. Dispatch is sniffing. You better pray no one finds out."
He didn't reply. Just nodded, like always. Like a good idol.
But inside, he was screaming.
He hadn't seen Hana in three days.
Not properly.
Just texts. A few voice notes. A blurry picture she sent of a coffee she drank that morning.
He listened to that voice note on repeat her soft laugh at something the barista said, her voice saying, "You would've liked the coffee here. It's too bitter for me."
He'd trade all the sold-out arenas just to sit beside her in that quiet moment.
---
He scrolled through his feed absently, flooded with comments:
> Oppa, you looked tired today. Are you okay?
Who's the girl? Tell us! We won't be mad!
Don't break our hearts. You belong to us!
SARANGHAE OPPA!
She's not even pretty. Stay in your lane, oppa.
We made you. Don't forget that.
His thumb stopped.
A photo. His hand reaching out to someone. The back of Hana's head just barely visible. Blurred. But enough for people to start guessing.
His heart pounded. Not out of shame but out of fear. Fear of what they'd do to her.
---
That night, he called her.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Minji?" she asked softly.
"I don't care," he said, voice low. "I don't care what they say. But I need to keep you safe. That matters more than everything else."
There was a long silence. And then she whispered:
"Then let's be careful. But don't let go."
His throat tightened. He blinked against the tears.
🌹"In a city too loud for fragile hearts, two lonely souls found each other in the quiet.
But sometimes, even the softest love is not enough to save a breaking heart."❄️
Two days later,
Minji sat in the van, his head resting against the window as the city lights blurred into gold streaks. His schedule had ended three hours late. His voice was hoarse from rehearsals, his legs ached from choreo, but none of it mattered.
He was replaying her voice in his mind again.
> "Then let's be careful. But don't let go."
He hadn't known how much those words would haunt him, how they would wrap around his ribs and hold tight every time the world got too loud.
He opened his phone. A picture sat in his gallery, one he'd secretly taken. Hana standing beneath the cafe lights, holding a child's hand, pointing at something in the distance. Her smile was gentle, unbothered, real.
No stylists. No flash. No fans screaming for her attention.
Just Hana. Just peace.
His fingers hovered over the screen.
"I think I'm in love with her," he said out loud, startling even himself.
The manager in the front seat looked back. "What did you say?"
Minji blinked. "Nothing."
But it wasn't nothing.
It was everything.
---
Later that night, alone in his apartment, Minji scrolled past news articles, forum threads, and hate comments. He didn't care. Not tonight.
He opened his messages and typed:
> Today I realized something. You don't have to reply, I just need to say it… I think I'm falling in love with you, Hana.
He stared at it for a long time. Then pressed send.
The world could burn. But right now, in this small pocket of quiet, he had said his truth.