PHONE | Felix ff

John

The room fell into an uneasy silence after Felix sat up, still holding his jaw. Young-woo wouldn't stop apologizing, her voice trembling as she hovered nearby, wringing her hands.

"It's okay," Felix repeated, forcing a small smile despite the swelling already forming along his cheek. "I'll heal."

I could see the guilt written all over Young-woo's face. Soojin lingered by the mirror, pretending to fix her hair, but her eyes flickered toward us every few seconds. She looked shaken, but not sorry.

"Let's go," I said softly, helping Felix to his feet. I shot Young-woo a glance, silently asking her to come with us. Olivia followed behind, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

As we walked out of Practice Room 2, I knew this wasn't over. JYP didn't tolerate violence. No matter the reason, it was a hard rule.

The next day, the mood at the company felt heavier. The rumors had spread fast—trainees whispered about the fight between Young-woo and Soojin. Some exaggerated the details, making it sound worse than it was. Others quietly sided with Young-woo, but no one dared to say anything aloud.

I sat next to Felix in the lounge, pressing an ice pack gently against his jaw. He winced but didn't complain.

"She hasn't texted back," I murmured, glancing down at my phone. I had sent Young-woo a dozen messages, but there was nothing.

Felix's gaze softened. "Maybe she just needs space."

Before I could respond, one of the managers entered the room, scanning the trainees.

"Eva. Felix. Come with me," he said, his tone unreadable.

We exchanged worried glances but followed him without question.

When we stepped into the meeting room, Young-woo was already there, sitting with her hands folded in her lap. Her head was down, and she didn't look up when we walked in.

Sitting at the far end of the table was one of the senior producers, his expression stern. Next to him was a representative from JYP's management team.

"We've reviewed the situation from yesterday," the producer began, his voice low but firm. "After speaking to witnesses and viewing the security footage, we've come to a decision."

I swallowed hard, already sensing where this was going.

"Young-woo, we have to let you go."

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

"What?" I blurted out, stepping forward. "It wasn't her fault—she was defending herself!"

The producer's gaze flicked to me. "Regardless of the circumstances, physical altercations go against company policy. We can't make exceptions."

Young-woo finally lifted her head, her eyes red but dry. "I understand," she said quietly.

"But—" I started, but Felix gently grabbed my wrist, pulling me back. His grip was soft but steady, a silent way of telling me not to push further.

"There's nothing we can do," he whispered.

Young-woo stood, offering a small bow to the staff in the room. Her hands trembled at her sides, but she held her head high.

Before she left, she paused in front of me, forcing a faint smile. "Don't be sad, Eva. This is how it goes sometimes."

I could feel my throat tighten. "It's not fair."

"I'll be okay," she whispered, squeezing my hand. "I'm not giving up. You shouldn't either."

And then she was gone.