In a world where dreams and fame collide, Naeun is a hardworking freelance model trying to balance her studies while secretly in love with Taemin, the rising star of SHINee. Their romance began when he was just a trainee and grew stronger as he prep...
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☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:✧⋆.:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾
Naeun's POV,
Months slipped by like fleeting moments, sweeping me along in their relentless current. The same could be said for Taemin—his days devoured by endless practice, performances, and preparations for a new album. Meanwhile, I was consumed by my own world of classes and photoshoots. The real difference lay in how we saw each other less often, and how cautious I had become every time I stepped outside.
SM Entertainment's official statement had come out the day after the initial storm, bringing a temporary sense of calm to the chaos. But I found myself obsessively scrolling through online platforms, searching for signs that the rumors were fading away. It felt pointless. No matter how much I hoped for the story to die down, the whispers persisted, clinging to us like a shadow. How much longer could we keep up this facade? I sighed, weighed down by the unspoken question.
"Naeun, we're ready for the final shoot," a staff member's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Okay," I replied, though my tone felt distant. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, offering myself a fleeting smile, one that didn't quite reach my eyes.
As the camera clicked and flashes went off, I fell into the rhythm of posing. But out of nowhere, a sharp wave of pain tore through my head, nearly knocking the breath out of me. My smile turned bitter as I fought to maintain my composure, the world around me becoming a blur. The voices, the camera clicks—they all faded into the background. "Not now, Naeun," I silently pleaded, forcing myself to push through the haze of pain.
Drawing on every last bit of strength, I powered through the final shots. A staff member, sensing something was off, came to my side, steadying me as I stumbled through a change of clothes. "Are you sure you're okay?" they asked, concern etched on their face. I gave a weak nod, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll manage... later, I guess. Can you let Bomi know?"
The staff member sighed, frustration evident in their voice. "It's obvious you're not okay." They gently helped me into a chair, their eyes a mix of worry and sympathy. Leaning my head against the table, I felt utterly drained, every bit of energy slipping away.
A voice cut through the fog, calling my name and pulling me back from the edges of sleep. I blinked, my eyes landing on Bomi, who hovered over me, her face tight with concern. I could only offer a weak glance, my body too fatigued to muster more.
"Naeun, you look so pale. We need to get you to the hospital immediately," Bomi's voice trembled, her fear unmistakable as she looked me over. I didn't protest, letting her guide me out of the room, her presence a much-needed anchor. My consciousness drifted in and out as we climbed into her car, the world blurring at the edges.
When I woke again, I was lying in a hospital bed, an IV needle nestled in my hand. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, sharp and disorienting. I looked around, searching for Bomi. My gaze found her by the door, talking quietly with a doctor.
