A Recipe for Love ( Le sserafim X Fem reader )

Chapter 11: Gathering of Hearts

The apartment was cloaked in silence, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall. The faint glow of the streetlights outside filtered through the curtains, casting elongated shadows that danced across the dimly lit room. Y/N sat at her kitchen table, the scattered empty bottles serving as a testament to the evening's despair.

The phone screen in front of her glowed softly, illuminating her face in the darkness. Ji-eun's contact was pulled up, and Y/N's thumb hovered nervously over the call button. Her fingers trembled slightly as she battled with herself, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts.

Her gaze drifted to the empty chairs around her, and memories of conversations with her mother flooded her mind. Her mother had always been her emotional anchor, the person she turned to when the world became too heavy. Now, with her mother gone, Y/N felt adrift, uncertain of how to reach out for help.

"I'm so used to talking to Mom about everything," she thought, her heart aching. "How do I even start opening up again? It feels like I'm supposed to know how to deal with this, but I don't. And now, I have to rely on someone I don't really know... It's easier because she's a stranger. Maybe she won't judge me or expect me to be strong."

The thought of reaching out to the LE SSERAFIM girls loomed over her like a dark cloud. She loved them, but the idea of letting them see her in such a broken state felt unbearable. She imagined their concerned faces, their sympathetic glances, and it made her feel even more isolated. She couldn't handle the weight of their concern or the potential judgment they might bring.

"The girls... They don't know how bad it is," she reflected, feeling a wave of guilt and shame. "I don't want them to see me like this. I can't handle their sympathy or judgment right now. It's somehow easier to reach out to Ji-eun because she's not part of my world. She doesn't know me, and maybe that's what makes it feel safer."

The apartment felt like it was closing in on her, the walls pressing in with the weight of her grief. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm within her, but the fear of reaching out to Ji-eun was paralyzing. The thought of speaking to a stranger, someone who didn't have any expectations or preconceived notions of her, felt like a small beacon of hope in the overwhelming darkness.

Y/N finally let out a frustrated sigh and set her phone down on the table. Her shoulders slumped as she stood up, her movements slow and weary. She walked aimlessly around the room, trying to chase away the suffocating thoughts. Her eyes landed on the window, and she found herself drawn to the faint city lights outside, a distant reminder of the world beyond her current pain.

The silence of the apartment seemed to grow heavier as she retreated into the living room, seeking solace in the shadows. The darkness embraced her, a temporary refuge from the weight of her own emotions. As she sank into the couch, her heart ached with the realization that she was caught between the need for connection and the fear of opening up.

The phone on the kitchen table remained untouched, its screen dimming as Y/N lost herself in the depths of her sorrow. The internal struggle continued, but for now, she was left alone with her thoughts, the darkness of the room mirroring the darkness within her.

The late afternoon light streamed through the heavy curtains, casting a dim, amber glow across Y/N's apartment. Shadows crept along the walls, stretching long and thin as the sun dipped below the horizon. The apartment was eerily quiet, save for the occasional clink of ice in an empty glass on the coffee table. Y/N sat curled on her couch, swathed in a cocoon of blankets, her gaze fixed on the still screen of her phone lying beside her. The TV played in the background, the flickering light creating a rhythmic dance of shadows but offering no solace.