Echoes of Forgotten

Duwapulo Ket Lima

Athours Note;

Decided to finish it... No worries, not gonna abandon this, I hate authors who abandon their stories making readers the hanging, why would I do what I hate right ? LOL

Enjoy :) but tbh my bias is Jennie and I'm having a hard time writing shit like this, I hate her being like this lol

The next morning, Jennie woke up to an empty bed, the space beside her cold and untouched since Lisa had slipped away. Her body ached, a dull soreness that served as a reminder of the night before—the roughness, the intensity, so different from the way Lisa had touched her in the past. She sat up slowly, wincing as she shifted, the soreness making her body feel heavy, but her heart felt heavier still.

She glanced around the room, her eyes lingering on the door, half-hoping Lisa would walk back in. But the silence in the room felt deafening, confirming that Lisa had left without a word.

Jennie ran her fingers over her skin, recalling the way Lisa's hands had roamed over her last night, rough and almost punishing, unlike the gentle, loving touches she used to receive. It hurt, emotionally and physically, but in a way that also left her wanting more—because it was Lisa. No matter how hard or distant Lisa had been, Jennie couldn't help but cling to the feeling of being close to her, even if it wasn't the same as before.

As she sat in bed, her body sore, her heart ached even more. She had loved every moment of it, but it wasn't because of the pleasure—it was because it was Lisa. She longed for the tenderness that used to exist between them, the way Lisa used to hold her with care, to touch her like she was something precious. Jennie closed her eyes, imagining a world where they could go back to that place, where Lisa's touch would be filled with love again, not pain or anger.

She wished, more than anything, that the next time—if there ever was a next time—Lisa would touch her like before.

--

Back in Seoul

Jennie lay sprawled across the plush couch in her penthouse, her body aching in ways she hadn't anticipated. The soreness from the night before had evolved into something worse—her muscles throbbed, and her head felt heavy, as if weighed down by the fever that had begun to take hold. She could feel the heat coursing through her veins, her skin clammy despite the coldness of the room.

She shifted, wincing as a sharp pang ran up her spine, a stark reminder of how rough Lisa had been. Every movement seemed to reignite the ache in her limbs. Her throat was dry, and she barely had the strength to move, much less get out of bed to take care of herself.

With a shaky hand, she reached for her phone on the table beside her, intending to call for help but hesitated. She didn't want to call Irene or Nayeon; they'd worry too much. And Lisa? No. Lisa had made it clear where she stood. Jennie was left to deal with her loneliness, her body wracked with pain, and her mind torn between regret and longing.

The penthouse was eerily quiet, only the distant hum of the city breaking the silence. She wanted to cry, but she was too exhausted for tears. Her fever spiked, and she curled up on the couch, trying to find some comfort in the blankets she pulled around herself.

Her thoughts drifted back to Busan. The intensity of Lisa's touch haunted her, but what hurt more was the emotional distance. She had wanted Lisa to touch her with love, but instead, it had been raw, almost vengeful. Jennie couldn't deny that part of her had enjoyed it—because it was still Lisa—but it wasn't enough. It wasn't what she needed. She wanted to feel close to her again, but the gap between them felt impossibly wide.