Rewrite the Rules

Untitled Part 81

The harsh fluorescent lights overhead buzzed with an unsettling energy, casting an artificial glow on the meticulously constructed set of Suchwita. Gone was the usual warmth of the BTS practice room, replaced by the sterile environment of a television sound stage. Cameras, with their cyclopean eyes, seemed to scrutinize every corner, while the crew scurried about like ants preparing for a picnic.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to tamp down the knot of nerves twisting in my gut. Yoongi, perched beside me on the plush couch, glanced over with a knowing smirk.

"Nervous?" he drawled, his voice a low rumble.

"Like you wouldn't believe," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. Part of the thrill of being friends with Yoongi was the unpredictable nature of his every move. You never knew what would fly out of his mouth next, that was half the charm... and half the terror.

"It's your anniversary, Emma," he reminded me gently. "Five years of marriage. A chance to show the world how strong you and Namjoon are. Shut down those pesky rumors once and for all."

A bitter taste flooded my mouth. Rumors. They were like weeds, tenacious and impossible to eradicate completely. "There are always rumors," I muttered, the frustration evident in my voice. "Why does it always have to be me facing them? And besides, it's your anniversary too, Yoongi. Why not you and Daisy do an interview?"

He scoffed, a playful glint in his eyes. "Absolutely not. We've all heard Namjoon's side of the story a hundred times. Tonight, it's your turn to shine."

Shine? Under the harsh glare of these unforgiving lights? Fat chance. Yoongi might not have made me walk a tightrope but sitting felt like a precarious feat in itself. My traitorous knees wobbled, threatening to give way at any minute.

Thankfully, the director called for quiet, signaling the start of the show. Yoongi launched into his trademark smooth introduction, and just like that, we were off. The first question felt like a tidal wave, washing over me. I fumbled for an answer, my throat suddenly parched.

Thankfully, salvation arrived in the form of a tall, frosty glass filled with a pale yellow liquid. J-Hope's wife, Sabrina, had concocted a signature lemonade for the show, and it became my lifeline. I took a long, grateful gulp, the icy sweetness momentarily calming my racing heart.

But of course, Yoongi, ever the prankster, couldn't resist a little mischief. He leaned in, a sly grin plastered on his face. "First sip's free, Emma," he murmured. "The rest..." he trailed off, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

A jolt of electricity shot through me as I realized the glass felt a little heavier, a little stronger than plain lemonade. Great. Just what I needed – a tipsy interview on television. Yoongi's laughter echoed in my ears as the first question landed, and I steeled myself, ready for whatever wild ride this anniversary special would throw my way.

The question hung in the air, a challenge wrapped in a playful smile. "Alright, Emma," Yoongi drawled, leaning back in his chair. "Let's hear it from you. How'd you and Namjoon snag each other in this crazy world of yours?"

A wave of nostalgia washed over me, warm and tinged with a touch of disbelief. Five years married to Kim Namjoon – it felt both like a lifetime and the blink of an eye. "Vegas," I began, the word sparking a mixture of memories. The desert heat clinging to my skin, the thrumming energy of the city pulsing through the elevator doors.

That's where I'd first laid eyes on him, disguised in the uniform of a thousand K-Pop idols, K-pop camo, yet undeniably Namjoon. The telltale look in his eyes, the way he held himself – even camo couldn't hide the man beneath. I'd stammered out a thank you for the music, my cheeks flushing under the scrutiny of a group of women who piled into the elevator.