Reaching My Star | A Chaennie AU

Chapter 52: Text Me Back (Jennie 30; Rosé 33)

It had been almost a month since Rosé left, and in that time, the silence between her and Jennie felt like an eternity. They hadn't contacted each other, not once, not even for closure. It was as though they had vanished from each other's worlds. Rosé had disappeared from the public eye too. Many assumed she was hard at work on her next album, something she had been known to do when she needed to recharge. But the truth was far more complicated.

Rosé regretted leaving Jennie. She replayed the moment she walked out of that apartment over and over in her mind. It haunted her. She had wanted space, to think things through, to let their emotions settle, but deep down, she never expected it to stretch this long. Every day, the weight of regret grew heavier on her shoulders. She longed for Jennie—not just her presence, but the life they had built together, however imperfect. And Hayoon, too. Rosé had promised Jennie she wouldn't disappear from Hayoon's life like Minwoo had, but almost a month had gone by, and she still hadn't reached out to the little girl who had come to see her as a second mom.

"I should have fought harder," Rosé thought, sitting on the edge of her bed in her old apartment, which felt emptier now than it had ever been. "Maybe if I'd stayed, if I'd found the right words... maybe we wouldn't be here." She had hoped that by walking away, they would both come to their senses, that somehow they would find their way back to each other. She'd imagined Jennie reaching out, telling her she was ready to fight for them again. That they could rebuild, stronger than before. But no text, no call, no sign at all. Every day, Rosé would glance at her phone, her heart sinking when she saw no new notifications from Jennie. She could feel the hope slipping away with each passing day.

"Maybe I should text her," Rosé murmured to herself one night, staring at her phone, her thumb hovering over Jennie's contact. "It's been so long... Would she even want to hear from me?" But she stopped herself. She feared that reaching out would make things worse, that maybe Jennie had moved on, or worse—decided it was truly over for good.

Jennie, on the other hand, was equally trapped in her own spiral of doubt. She was miserable without Rosé, but too scared to admit it. Every time she considered texting Rosé, she would stop herself, her mother's voice echoing in her mind, telling her she had made the right decision. It wasn't just about her and Rosé, after all. It was about Hayoon. Jennie couldn't risk her daughter getting hurt again.

Yet, no matter how much she tried to rationalize it, Jennie couldn't shake the hollow feeling in her chest. She missed Rosé. She missed their life together, the way they would laugh over takeout dinners, the way Rosé would sing softly to Hayoon at bedtime, the way she made Jennie feel safe, loved, whole. But now... now it all felt like a distant memory, something Jennie had to push away because it hurt too much to dwell on.

But Hayoon wouldn't let her forget. "Mommy, can I call Auntie Rosie today?" Hayoon asked for what felt like the hundredth time since Rosé left.

"Not today, sweetie," Jennie would always respond, her voice tight. It broke her heart every time she had to deny her daughter that connection, but how could she explain what was really happening? How could she tell her four-year-old that the woman she loved like a second mom might not come back into their lives?

Hayoon's questions became more persistent as the days went on. "Why doesn't Auntie Rosie call me anymore? Does she not love me?" Those words shattered Jennie in ways she didn't know were possible.

Finally, something snapped. Jennie couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't let this go on, not for Hayoon, and not for herself. After weeks of agonizing silence, Jennie picked up her phone, her fingers trembling as she typed out a message.

"Can we meet? For Hayoon. As promised."

She stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, her thumb hovering over the send button. What would Rosé say? Would she even want to see them? Jennie didn't know. But the uncertainty was killing her, and she couldn't let Hayoon continue to live in this limbo. Taking a deep breath, she hit send, her heart racing as the message went through.

On the other side of the city, Rosé's phone buzzed, the sound startling her from her thoughts. She reached for it, her heart skipping a beat when she saw Jennie's name flash across the screen. Her breath caught in her throat as she read the message, relief and dread washing over her at the same time.

Jennie had reached out.

But it wasn't totally what Rosé had hoped for. Jennie wanted to meet, but only for Hayoon. That fact alone stung, like a sharp reminder that their relationship was still broken. Still, it was something. It was a lifeline.

Rosé hesitated for a moment before typing back, her fingers moving quickly across the screen.

"Of course. When and where?"

After sending the message, Rosé sat back, her mind racing. She wanted more than just a meeting for Hayoon. She wanted to talk to Jennie, to finally get the closure they never had, to maybe even... fix things. But she didn't know if Jennie was ready for that. Hell, she didn't even know if she was ready for it.

As she waited for Jennie's response, Rosé thought back to that day she left. It had been so impulsive, so full of anger and hurt. Now, with the distance of time, she saw things more clearly. Jennie had been scared. Of course she had been. Jennie was a mother before anything else, and her fear for Hayoon's well-being had driven her decisions. But Rosé still loved her. She always had. And no amount of time or space could change that.

But was love enough to bridge the gap that had grown between them?

Jennie's reply came through a few minutes later, confirming a time and place. Rosé stared at the screen, her heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.