𝑬𝑵𝑺𝑵𝑨𝑹𝑬𝑫 | JUNGKOOK

80. Living The Dream

Alba's POV

The hum of the office was a soft murmur in the background, the steady rhythm of clicking keyboards and the low chatter of conversations blending into a soothing white noise. You sat at your small desk, your back straight, fingers poised over the keyboard as you studied the fabric swatches on your screen. The light from your monitor reflected softly on your face, casting shadows that flickered with each adjustment you made. You leaned in closer, adjusting the fine details on the sleeve of a dress you were designing, your brows furrowing in concentration.

It wasn't glamorous but it was enough. This was your first ever, real taste of the fashion industry, and you relished every second of it. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint hint of printer ink, and every now and then, the squeak of rolling chairs or the rustle of fabric samples broke the steady pace of work. You found comfort in the routine, the small rituals of a day spent bringing ideas to life on a screen. This was your escape, your refuge.

"Hey, Alba," called Mina, your mentor, from across the room. She was sharp-eyed and quick with feedback, her tone always a mix of encouragement and critique. "Don't forget to double-check the hemline on that design. It's running a little long, and we need these perfect before the review tomorrow."

You nodded, smiling lightly. "Got it. I'll fix it now." You moved your mouse with deliberate care, adjusting the hemline pixel by pixel, feeling a quiet satisfaction in each tiny correction. These moments, where the world narrowed to just you and the work in front of you, were your favorite. They were small victories, reminders that you were moving forward, no matter how slowly.

The morning passed in a blur of edits and notes. Your attention was so deeply absorbed in your work that you barely noticed when your stomach began to rumble, a gentle reminder that you had skipped breakfast again. You glanced at the clock; it was nearly noon. Stretching your arms above your head, feeling the pull of your muscles, you stood up to grab a snack from the break room.

As you made your way down the corridor, you felt the familiar tug of memories pulling at your mind, when you used to enjoy break times with your friends back at the hotel. The break room here was always quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft hiss of the coffee machine. You reached for a granola bar, unwrapping it slowly, your fingers lingering on the crinkling foil. You took a seat by the window, staring out at the city skyline.

You stared at the unfinished sketch in front of you, the lines blurred slightly by your unfocused gaze. The granola bar in your hand felt heavy, its sweetness cloying in your mouth as the bitterness of your memories washed over you. It was strange, the way Jimin's absence had hollowed out parts of you that you hadn't even realized he occupied. The way you'd lost pieces of yourself after he left, your appetite, your sleep, your desire to create. You had even stopped drawing, the one thing that had always been your refuge. It was as if, without him, the world had lost its color.

But Aina, had refused to let you fade away. She had found your sketchpads buried in the back of your closet, covered in dust and neglect, and thrust them into your hands with a determined glint in her eyes. "You're not disappearing on my watch," she had said, her voice steady but soft. "I don't care how long it takes; you're going to pick yourself up. Jimin doesn't get to take that away from you."

So you had started small. A few hesitant lines with a few tears, on a blank page, with shaking hands and a mind filled with doubt. Every stroke felt like a struggle, as if you were wading through the thick muck of your own despair. But gradually, those lines began to take shape. The frustration that knotted in your chest began to loosen, just a little, as you poured it into your art. You drew late into the night, the hours blurring together as you rediscovered the catharsis that came with creating.