15 | Heartstrings and Candlelight

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At twenty-five, your romantic history is a thin thread, barely woven into the tapestry of your life. Two fleeting relationships mark your past, neither sturdy enough to last beyond a couple of months. At fifteen, you were the new girl at school, an enigma with a quiet spark that drew eyes. He was the golden boy—top of his class, swim team captain, his smile a magnet that pulled you in. You fell hard, your heart racing at his attention, the way his laughter lit up the crowded hallways. But a month in, his "I love you" landed like a thunderclap, too heavy for your teenage heart to carry. The words broke the spell, and you slipped away, the weight of his confession a reminder of how unprepared you were for love's demands. A year later, at sixteen, you tried again with a football jock whose charm was all bravado. Five weeks in, the cracks showed—clashing tempers, your insecurities flaring, the distance between you growing until it swallowed the fragile connection whole. Since then, love has been a ghost, haunting the edges of your thoughts but never taking form.

You hold no grudges, but the realisation stings: you wanted to feel more, to care deeply, to prove your heart isn't as guarded as you fear. Yet here you are, still untouched, still wary, your self-proclaimed philophobic heart unmoved by fleeting sparks.

For the past week, your phone has been aconstant buzz, Jay's texts lighting up your screen daily since your Jeju date.His messages are a mix of charm and playfulness—"Thinking of you under thosestars" or "Bet I can plan a better date next time 😎"—eachone pulling a smile but no deeper stir. You've replied, keeping the banterlight, but today, as you glance at your phone on the counter, three unreadtexts from him wait: "Morning, you free tonight?", "Found a placewith mango desserts you'd love", and a winking emoji. His persistence issweet, but you haven't answered yet, the pull of this day with Jimin stronger,your heart still guarded, wishing you cared more about Jay's charm than you do.

Today, the air feels different, the November sunspilling through your windows in soft, golden waves, chasing away the chill.You're spending the day with Park Jimin, and the thought brings you an unusualcomfort in the excitement, like a melody you can't stop humming. He's not afriend, not officially, but he's the closest you've come to one with a man. Hispresence is a magnet, letting you shed minute pieces of your armour without muchfear of judgment. You've never held a platonic bond with a straight man—eitherthey wanted more, or you did, the lines always blurring. But Jimin's different.His warmth, his quiet care, makes you want to stay close, to savour the ease ofbeing yourself.

He's breathtaking—sharp jaw, eyes like deep pools at dusk, a living sculpture that could rival Michelangelo's David. From the moment he picked you up in his Porsche Panamera, his black tracksuit clinging to his frame, your thoughts have strayed to primal places you try to ignore. Attraction is undeniable, but you've held it at bay, determined to keep this connection pure. You want to know him—his heart, his thoughts—not just his body, and that desire feels new, fragile, worth protecting.

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