Shadows Of Stardom

Chapter 48

I was a terrible person. I am a terrible person. Those words echoed in my mind, sharp and unyielding. I shouldn’t have said anything to him that morning; I should have just collected myself and left quietly, vanishing like a bad dream. I should have ignored that ridiculous, taunting text that lit up his phone on the nightstand. And, above all, I should have stopped loving him.

"Taehyung… pick up the phone," one message read.

"Your dad and I wanted to tell you to come home this weekend to plan the engagement," the second text from his mother said.

"Don't be late like usual..."

The words swirled before my eyes, each one a tiny, poisoned dart.

He was finally complying with their wishes; he was going to marry Sana and soon give up making music.

That morning, I had woken up tangled in his sheets, his scent still lingering on my skin. For a brief, dizzying moment, I dared to hope. I hoped that the heat between us, the desperation that had crackled in the air, meant something. That we could somehow rewind, erase the misunderstandings, the pain, the distance that had grown between us. That maybe, just maybe, he still wanted me.

Those texts shattered that illusion with ruthless clarity.

He was getting married soon. Sana. That name felt like a cold blade twisting in my gut. Sana was his future, his life partner. And I? I was nothing more than a moment of weakness, a fleeting lapse in judgment driven by possessiveness. A midnight fling with a past love, a mistake made in the dark on a lonely night. There had been no real feelings, no lingering emotions behind what had happened between us.

I felt so foolish, so naive. Now, my heart was breaking once more, splintering into countless irreparable fragments.

The pain was overwhelming. It hurt deeply, a raw, searing ache that seemed to rob me of breath. I needed something to anchor me, something tangible.

I splashed cold water on my face, the chill providing a much-needed contrast to the heat of my cheeks. The tap in the washroom of our practice space ran continuously, a steady stream that felt almost soothing.

I have to put an end to this, I reminded myself. I need to move forward. I must forget.

"Jennie?"

Rose's voice caught me off guard. I hadn’t even noticed her enter; I was too lost in the chaos of my thoughts.

"Hey," I replied, grabbing a handful of tissues from the dispenser. I wiped my face, trying to erase any signs of my emotional breakdown.

"Are…you…"

"I'm fine," I interrupted, my tone sharper than I meant it to be. I couldn’t face discussing it, couldn’t explain the fresh wave of anguish that had hit me. I crumpled the tissues and tossed them in the trash before stepping out of the bathroom, forcing myself to look composed.

The bright lights of the practice room were blinding. The music pulsed, a relentless beat that seemed to taunt my inner turmoil.

"5…6…7…8!" the choreographer shouted, his voice resonating throughout the room. He moved with practiced elegance, demonstrating the steps with precision.