Y/N's POV:
The first time I saw her, she was a whirlwind of chaos and color, a stark contrast to the muted tones of my usual routine.
Hyein.
A name as vibrant and alive as she was, bursting onto the scene like a firework display.
She'd tripped, sending a cascade of art supplies scattering across the pavement right at my feet.
I remember the heat rising to my cheeks as our eyes met, hers wide and apologetic.
In that moment, amidst the scattered paintbrushes and tumbled tubes, something in me shifted.
"Let me help you with that," I mumbled, surprised by the gruffness of my own voice.
She grinned, a flash of pearly white against her flushed cheeks. "You'd do that?"
And just like that, Hyein tumbled into my life, painting it with the same unrestrained passion she poured onto her canvases.
Our days were filled with laughter, whispered secrets under the starlit sky, and the comforting silence of shared dreams.
She wanted to be an idol, to dance across stages bathed in dazzling lights, her voice reaching thousands.
It was a dream as big and bright as she was, and I, the pragmatic one, grounded by logic and responsibilities, found myself swept away by her infectious enthusiasm.
"Don't you ever worry, Y/N?" she'd ask, tilting her head, her eyes searching mine.
"About what?"
"About failing, about not achieving your dreams?"
I'd pull her closer, the scent of her strawberry shampoo filling my senses. "Not when I'm with you. You make me believe anything is possible."
And for a while, it felt like it was. We were young, invincible, our love a fortress against the world's uncertainties.
I supported her dream with every fiber of my being, attending her late-night practices, offering words of encouragement when self-doubt crept in.
But reality, like a persistent weed, has a way of creeping into the pristine gardens of our hopes.
The closer Hyein got to her dream, the more distant she felt.
Late-night practice sessions turned into overnight training camps, whispered promises drowned out by the clamor of her demanding schedule.
I became a ghost in my own life, a shadow lurking at the periphery of her increasingly bright existence.
My texts went unanswered for hours, our once frequent calls reduced to hurried whispers during stolen moments.
***
Hyein's POV:
The practice room was a stifling box of exhaustion and frustration.
Sweat clung to my skin, the choreography a jumbled mess in my head.
I missed him.
The way his arms felt around me, the steadiness of his gaze, the unwavering belief in my eyes when I doubted myself.
But this… this was my dream.
The stage beckoned, promising a fulfillment I craved with every fiber of my being.
I was so close, the finish line a shimmering mirage in the distance. I just needed to push a little harder, sacrifice a little more.
But guilt, a bitter pill, was hard to swallow. Y/N's face, etched with concern and a hurt I refused to acknowledge, swam before my eyes.
