The Pact of Perfection

The camera flash didn't just blind... it burned.

Jimin had learned long ago how to hold his smile steady through it. Chin tilted just right, eyes softened into that perfect crescent shape everyone loved, hand resting lightly on Jihyo's waist. Her fingers curled around his with practiced grace, like a dance they'd both performed a thousand times before.

To the world, they looked flawless... two halves of a whole, the couple everyone wanted to be. Seven years, no scandals, no whispers, no cracks in the porcelain.
Every magazine headline called them goals.
Every red carpet was a stage, and every interview a script.

He could almost hear the crowd's awe behind the velvet ropes:

"They're perfect together."
"Imagine being that in love."

Perfect. Together. In love.
Three words that meant nothing, yet cost him everything.

When the cameras finally lowered, Jimin exhaled through his teeth, slow and quiet so no one would notice.
Jihyo's hand slipped away first... always hers first... and she smiled up at him, that polite, public kind of affection that was all they had left.

Their manager approached, offering congratulations for another successful appearance.
Jimin nodded automatically, already scanning the exit.

In the backseat of the car, silence pressed heavier than the flashbulbs.
Jihyo scrolled through her phone, the screen glow flickering over her perfect profile.
He watched the city blur by... the same city that loved them, worshipped them, and would destroy them if it ever saw the truth.

His phone buzzed once.

[Taehyung]: You good?

Jimin stared at the message for a long time, thumbs hovering.
He didn't answer. Not yet.

He looked out the tinted window instead, at the endless streets of Seoul glittering like a lie. Somewhere in that brightness, someone would always be watching.
And somewhere beneath it, all of them were still waiting
for the night the lights would finally go out.