The morning started like any other.
Jennie's day usually began before the sun even had the chance to stretch across the horizon. She was on set by seven, face already in makeup, her phone propped up beside the mirror playing one of Jisoo's recent interviews — a little ritual she'd picked up whenever they were apart.
She'd listen to Jisoo's laugh, the way her voice lilted softly when she teased the MCs, and it grounded her. Reminded her that love didn't always have to be loud; sometimes, it lived quietly in the background, in the space between schedules and headlines.
But that morning, her phone stayed silent.
No good morning text.
No sleepy selfie from Jisoo wrapped in her blanket.
No "Have you eaten yet, baby?"
Just... nothing.
Jennie brushed it off at first. They both had busy weeks — Jisoo with her drama filming in Jeju, Jennie with back-to-back commercial shoots. Sometimes, time slipped away between them. But never like this.
By noon, between camera takes, Jennie finally checked her phone again.
Still no message.
She sent one herself, typing something light:
Jennie 🐻: you alive over there miss busy? 😶
No reply.
A few hours passed, and her chest started to feel tight — the kind that wasn't physical but emotional, like something inside her was whispering something's wrong.
That evening, her shoot wrapped late. The crew laughed around her, talking about dinner plans, but Jennie's mind was elsewhere. She scrolled up through her chat with Jisoo — their little digital diary. Photos of matching pajamas, voice notes of sleepy "I love you"s, and all the silly things that made them them.
The last message was from two nights ago.
Jisoo 🐰: promise me you'll rest tonight. no more late rehearsals okay?
Jennie 🐻: only if you promise to eat properly. deal?
Jisoo 🐰: deal. 🤝
Jennie smiled faintly at the screen, but it hurt now — because that "deal" felt broken somehow.
She dialed Jisoo's number.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Voicemail.
Her pulse sped up. She tried again. Still no answer. Jennie bit her lip, staring at her reflection in the car window as her manager drove her back to the hotel. Maybe Jisoo was just sleeping early. Maybe she was on a flight. Maybe—
But her heart wouldn't calm down.
"Can you take me back to the apartment instead?" Jennie asked suddenly.
"Tonight? You have a morning call tomorrow," her manager reminded her gently.
"I know, I just... I need to check something."
Her manager sighed but didn't argue. They'd all grown used to Jennie's instinct when it came to Jisoo — that unexplainable thread that tugged at her whenever something wasn't right.
Back at her apartment, Jennie kicked off her shoes and went straight to her phone again. She messaged Jisoo's manager, uncharacteristically blunt:
Jennie: is jisoo okay? she's not answering my calls.
The message was seen within seconds.
No reply.
Her throat went dry. She typed again.
Jennie: please answer me.
Jennie: i just need to know she's fine.
No answer. The silence on her screen felt deafening. Jennie clenched her phone tightly, as if she could squeeze an answer out of it.
