Blessing in Disguise

Chapter Eighteen

Yunjin

7/21/2018

Yunjin sat on the edge of her seat, her heart hammering against her chest as the elimination round of Produce 48 began. The room was filled with a thick tension, and the air felt heavy with anticipation. Only 30 girls would remain after today, and with each name called, the anxiety clawed deeper into her. She looked around the room at the other trainees, each one just as tense, their eyes fixed on the stage where MC Lee Seung-gi stood, calling out the rankings one by one.

His voice, usually calming, now felt like a ticking clock, counting down her fate. "In 23rd place..." he began, the pause before the next words making Yunjin feel like the ground beneath her was slipping. Then, finally—"Huh Yunjin."

A wave of relief swept over her, but it was followed by a pang of disappointment. 23rd. Not her best, but still enough to advance. She exhaled shakily, feeling the eyes of her fellow trainees on her as she stood. Her legs felt wobbly as she made her way to the pyramid of seats, each tier representing the rankings. The seats at the very top were bright, a brilliant pink glow around it, reserved for those in the number one rank. She had hoped to be closer to the top, but now she was heading toward the middle, a mix of pride and pressure filling her chest.

As she sat in her place, she looked up at the peak of the pyramid and the top-ranked girls. The contrast between her place and theirs was stark, a reminder of the long road ahead. But for now, she was still in the game, and that was enough to keep her going.

The room was filled with whispers, every girl feeling the weight of their position. But as Yunjin sat, trying to calm her racing heart, she couldn't help but feel the bittersweet blend of relief and determination. The competition wasn't over yet, but she had survived another round.

Yunjin lay on her bed, feeling the weight of the day slowly lift off her shoulders. After the tension of the elimination round, this moment felt like a breath of fresh air. The dorm room was filled with the soft hum of conversation as Chaewon, Sakura, and Miyu chatted around her, the intensity of the competition left far behind.

Chaewon, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was in the middle of a story, her eyes animated. "I swear, you should've seen it," she said, laughing. "During rehearsal, I nearly tripped over my own feet! The dance teacher didn't even notice, but I thought I was going to faceplant in front of everyone!"

Sakura burst out laughing, leaning against her bed. "That sounds like something I would do! Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I've forgotten how to walk properly after all these dance lessons."

Yunjin couldn't help but laugh, feeling the tension of the day completely dissolve. "We're all going to have some seriously weird muscle memory after this show."

Miyu, lying on her stomach with her phone in front of her, suddenly chimed in. "Oh, speaking of weird, did you see the trainee from the other group who keeps doing that super high jump every time she's on stage? It's impressive, but... how does she not fall?"

The girls burst into laughter, imagining the image, and Yunjin smiled, feeling the warmth of their camaraderie. "Maybe she's secretly got springs in her shoes," Yunjin joked, leaning her head back against the pillow.

Chaewon grinned. "Or maybe she's part robot. It would explain a lot."

The room fell into soft giggles again, and Yunjin found herself thinking about how nice it was to just be here, like this, with them. The stress, the competition, the ranking—all of it felt so far away. In this moment, they weren't contestants, they were just friends, sharing stories and laughter like any other group of teenage girls. It was rare to find moments like this, and Yunjin cherished it.

"Hey," Sakura suddenly said, sitting up a little straighter, "when this is all over, we need to plan a day to hang out—no rehearsals, no cameras, just us. Like, a real girls' day."

Yunjin smiled, nodding. "Deal. That sounds perfect."

As they continued chatting, sharing more stories, gossip, and light-hearted jokes, Yunjin felt a sense of peace wash over her. The outside world—the competition, the pressure—felt distant.

Y/N

Y/N's first week of bed rest blurred into a series of visits, each bringing a unique energy to his recovery. He had decided to stay home, knowing that rushing back to school would only slow his healing. The familiar faces that came through his door helped ease the frustration of being off the court.

The first visitors were the Huh family, their warmth and care filling his home. Rachel bounded into the room with a bag of snacks, her little brother following closely behind, clutching a colorful drawing of Y/N dunking a basketball with a huge grin on his face. Mr. and Mrs. Huh were all smiles, their concern subtle but present in the way they asked about his recovery. Rachel, always energetic, sat next to Y/N on the bed, chattering away about how she couldn't wait for him to be back on the court. Her excitement was contagious, and Y/N couldn't help but smile, feeling the familial love that surrounded him.

Yunjin's younger brother shyly approached Y/N, holding out the drawing. "I made this for you," he said softly, his cheeks flushed.

Y/N grinned, taking the picture with genuine appreciation. "Thanks, buddy. I'm gonna hang this up right next to my trophies."

The room filled with laughter, and for a moment, everything felt light and carefree. The Huh family stayed for a while, chatting and making sure Y/N had everything he needed. By the time they left, the warmth of their visit lingered, and Y/N felt like his spirits had been lifted.

The next day, his teammates showed up. It was like a whirlwind of noise and energy—just what he needed. They barged into the room, teasing him right from the start. "So, you planning on making falling your signature move?" one of them quipped, eyeing Y/N's wrapped ankle.

"Yeah, man," another joked. "We thought you were trying to retire early."

Y/N rolled his eyes, laughing despite himself. "You guys know I was just testing gravity, right?"

The banter flowed freely, the room filled with laughter and inside jokes. His coach joined in on the teasing, saying, "Maybe we'll bubble-wrap you for the next game, just in case." But beneath the jokes, there was a layer of genuine concern. They brought him a signed basketball from the team, a card filled with well wishes, and enough food to last him a month.

"You better get better fast," one of his teammates said, clapping Y/N on the shoulder. "We need you back out there."

Their visit was loud, fun, and full of lighthearted moments that reminded Y/N of how much his team meant to him. As they left, the room felt lighter, and he couldn't stop smiling.

Then came the college coaches. Their visits were different—more serious, more intense. Each one sat down with Y/N, their eyes scanning his injuries, subtly evaluating whether or not he was still the player they had been recruiting. "How are you feeling?" one of the coaches asked, his voice steady, but Y/N could sense the underlying worry. "Any lasting damage?"

Y/N reassured them that the injuries were minor—just a sprained ankle and wrist—and that he'd be back on the court in no time. The tension in the room lessened slightly after that, but there was still a quiet intensity to their questions. They talked about his recovery plan, his potential timeline, and how they would support him during the process.

Once they were satisfied that Y/N's injuries wouldn't affect his future, their demeanor shifted back to friendly and enthusiastic. They began talking up their programs again, each coach trying to outdo the other in describing how much their school could offer. Y/N couldn't help but smile at the way they seemed to butter him up, but underneath the flattery, he could feel the weight of their expectations.

By the end of the week, Y/N had been visited by nearly everyone important in his life, and each visit brought something unique—whether it was the sweet care of the Huh family, the playful banter of his teammates, or the subtle intensity of the college coaches. Every interaction reminded him that, even though he couldn't be on the court, he wasn't going through this alone. And that, more than anything, made him feel ready to face everything ahead.