Boos sister

Chapter 15: The Discovery

Jay, despite the iron-clad communication ban, was receiving increasingly panicked, coded updates from Heeseung and Ni-ki about my skeletal appearance and constant exhaustion. He couldn't ignore the clear signals of distress anymore. He broke the rule.

He sent a text with a coded location for a midnight meet-up at a rarely used, high-up rooftop cafe near the river—the highest, coldest, most secluded point he could think of.

When I arrived, shivering despite the thick layers I wore, Jay's face immediately fell. He took one look at my strained, pale face, the bruised circles under my eyes, and the oversized hoodie I wore to hide my frame.

"Jaehyeon," he said, bypassing all formalities, his voice raw with worry and controlled frustration. "When was the last time you ate something substantial that wasn't coffee or ice?"

I shrugged, pulling the hoodie tighter, resorting to the familiar defense mechanism. "I'm fine, Jay. Just busy. Woozi Oppa is pushing me hard. You know how he is."

He didn't press. He didn't yell. Instead, he simply pulled out a small, warm thermos of soup—homemade by his mother, Jay confessed, sheepishly—and insisted I drink it. As the warm, comforting liquid touched my throat, breaking weeks of internal resistance, tears welled up and spilled over uncontrollably.

"Don't lie to me, Princess," Jay whispered, gripping my hand tightly. "I'm worried sick. This isn't just training stress. This is something else. This is the past, isn't it? That fear, that voice—it's back. Tell me. Please."

Broken, exhausted, and craving the release of the truth, I showed him the faint, old scars on my wrist, covering them again quickly, ashamed. I briefly, desperately mentioned the abusive ex-manager showing up at BigHit, and how his reappearance had violently triggered the destructive coping mechanisms I thought I had beaten.

Jay's face hardened with cold, controlled fury at the mention of the ex-manager, but he kept his voice steady, refusing to panic. He knew this was beyond a midnight cafe rescue. That same morning, an emergency, highly secured meeting was held at my house—Seungkwan, Eomma, KD (via a secured video link, his face grave despite the screen), Jisoo Unnie, and Jay.

"Jaehyeon-ah," Eomma said, her voice shaking with restrained panic, holding my hand like I was made of fragile glass. "You have to let us help you. We see you hiding this. Tell us what he did to make you feel like you have to disappear, like you have to starve yourself."

It was KD who finally broke through the thickest wall. His image on the video screen seemed suddenly clearer, his usual bravado gone, replaced by a profound seriousness. He quietly shared his own past struggles with depression, isolation, and feeling used, emphasizing that healing wasn't failure, but power. "You saved me, Jae," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "You told me my life was worth more than the pain. Now you have to believe that about yourself. That abuse, that trauma—it does not define the artist."

Watching the most important people in my life—my fierce brother, my stable best friend, my loving mother, and my dedicated boyfriend—all unite in fear and love, finally gave me the strength to speak the whole, agonizing truth about the constant emotional abuse, control, and body shaming I suffered in the past. I felt the poison leaving my body, replaced by the fierce, protective love in the room.