"I can't believe you lied to me!" Her voice quivered with hurt, and tears streamed down her face. She looked down, trying to contain the storm of emotions within her. "I trusted you."
Meet Jeon Jennie, an incredibly talented and beautiful fashion de...
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Jeon Jennie
Lying on my bed, the phone pressed against my ear, Jisoo unnie ranted about the challenges of moving in New York.
"Moving out in New York is so difficult, I have so many boxes and furniture to move. I'm planning to sell most of my furniture," she shared her frustrations.
"I guess that's a good idea. It'll be much easier," I replied, trying to offer some reassurance amid her moving chaos.
She sighed on the other end. "I envy you, Jennie. Having your own place in Seoul sounds so much more manageable."
I chuckled. "Well, it does have its perks. By the way, when are you planning to come back?"
There was a brief pause before she responded, "Next week, if everything goes as planned. I can't wait to see you and catch up."
Excitement bubbled within me. "I'm looking forward to it, unnie. And I can't wait to meet your fiancé."
"He's a sweetheart," she gushed. "You'll love him."
Our conversation continued, weaving through various topics, from work to friends, creating a bridge over the physical distance that separated us.
As we talked, I couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and nostalgia. Jisoo had been a pillar of support during some challenging times, and the prospect of having her back in Seoul felt like a comforting embrace.
After a while, our conversation shifted to lighter subjects. We reminisced about our past adventures and laughed about the antics of our friends. Jisoo seemed genuinely excited about reconnecting with everyone, and the thought of our close-knit group being together again brought a smile to my face.
As the call came to an end, Jisoo said, "I'll let you go, Jennie. I need to get back to this mess of packing."
"Sure, unnie. Take care, and don't stress too much. We'll have a great time when you're back."
We exchanged goodbyes, and I found myself looking forward to the reunion, eager to create new memories with my friends.
I rose from my bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon. A familiar heaviness settled in my chest as I walked towards the fridge. The bottle of expensive scotch called out to me, a temporary escape from the haunting grip of my nightmares.
With a heavy sigh, I poured a generous measure into a crystal glass. Each sip carried a weight, not just of the rich liquor but of the burdens that refused to let go. It had been weeks since I enjoyed a peaceful night's sleep. Rosè, the doctor among us, had diagnosed me with insomnia, a cruel companion in the lonely hours of the night.
I recalled a night, just two weeks ago, where I found solace in the embrace of sleep. But now, it seemed like an elusive luxury slipping through my fingers, leaving me in the clutches of restless nights and haunting dreams.
The amber liquid burned its way down, a fleeting distraction from the turmoil within. I traced the rim of the glass, lost in the whirlwind of thoughts. Ivan's attempts to date me seemed to have triggered a resurgence of my nightmares, vivid scenes from a past I yearned to forget.
Rosè's medical advice echoed in my mind, suggesting ways to alleviate insomnia. Yet, as the night stretched before me, the promise of rest remained distant. The city lights outside my window twinkled like distant stars, indifferent to the internal storms I battled.
I sank into the couch, the scotch offering a temporary reprieve. My phone buzzed on the coffee table, a reminder of responsibilities and the fleeting nature of escape. The darkness outside mirrored the shadows within, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something ominous lingered on the horizon.
The shrill ring of my phone pierced the quiet room, pulling me back from the abyss of my thoughts. The caller ID displayed an unknown number, a fact that both intrigued and unnerved me. Against my better judgment, I answered.
"Hello?" I spoke, my voice betraying a hint of weariness.
A deep, unfamiliar voice responded, "CEO Jeon, I have some information that might interest you."
My curiosity peaked, but caution held me in check. "Who is this, and what information are you talking about?"
The voice on the other end remained calm and composed. "I have details about Ivan Petrov. Information that might change the way you see him."
Ivan Petrov, the enigmatic figure from my recent past, seemed to have woven himself into the fabric of my life. The mention of information about him was enough to stir both interest and apprehension.
"Meet me at the old warehouse on Dock Street in one hour," the voice continued, leaving no room for negotiation. "Come alone."
Before I could respond, the call ended abruptly. The weight of uncertainty settled in the air. The scotch in my glass seemed to lose its warmth, replaced by the chill of the unknown.
I glanced at the clock; an hour stretched ahead, a countdown to revelations or potential danger. The city outside continued its restless symphony, unaware of the choices I was about to make.
