THE ANGEL TO MY BROKEN HEART | JIROSE

The studio lights buzzed above us, casting a pale glow over the practice room mirrors. Jennie was counting beats under her breath, Lisa's energy never seemed to run out, and Jisoo-calm as ever-watched us all with that sharp eye she always had.
Two weeks left. Just two.
I let my body fall into the music, each step sharp, precise, familiar. This was where I felt safe-the rhythm, the voices of my sisters, the burn in my muscles.
There was a time, not so long ago, when I would have dragged myself into this room hollow and aching, when even the thought of eating before practice felt impossible. But not anymore.
Now, I was breathing again. Eating again. Living again.
Not for anyone else-for me. For us. For this stage that we had to own.
"Rosie, you're pushing too hard," Jisoo called, tilting her head with that teasing half-smile.
I shook my head, catching my breath. "We only have two weeks. If we're not dead by the end of this, we didn't try hard enough."
Lisa groaned dramatically, collapsing to the floor. "Then I'm already dead. Revive me, unnie."
We laughed, the four of us, the sound bouncing off the mirrored walls. It felt good.
Love wasn't on my mind. Not anymore. All I wanted was this-my girls, the music, the fire of the stage waiting for us.