June 15th, 2025. 2:07 AM. Seoul. 

A slow drizzle permeates outside on the high-rise balcony. Coupled with the night breeze, it’s relatively peaceful yet depressing, given the circumstances. Yerim spends many nights standing before the double doors, viewing the Seoul nightlife. Her eyes drift across the bright lights and shuffling bodies below, wondering if anyone feels the way she does currently, utterly lost. Or, if she is an anomaly, filled with dread and anxiety in your twenties is not the norm. 

It’s been months, and the nagging feeling has yet to depart. It is beyond harrowing to picture herself as a failure, yet it consumes Yerim. The lack of interest in solo projects from the company kickstarted it. But the feeling has only grown worse over time. It drains every drop of energy within her. Even basic tasks, on most occasions, become too much to fulfil. In truth, she has felt this feeling before and thus knows what it is. 

When Red Velvet first debuted, she watched the girls from the sidelines enjoy their activities. The feeling in the back of her mind that she should be alongside them. However, the company didn’t believe it was the right time for her to debut. When that time did roll around, it should have been the happiest moment of Yeri’s life. Instead, she faced ferocious criticism, rumours and lies about her character and capabilities. It was overwhelming, and anyone in her shoes would have crumbled, which she did. 

It was easy to hide the depressive episodes at first. Put on a brave face, smile and pretend to be happy. In truth, it became Yeri’s best performance to date. But now it has returned, and she has no idea how to deal with it. Before, the members were aware she was feeling less than herself. They pulled together to help and reassure her she belonged in Red Velvet. But now, she’s left alone and unsure how to tackle this feeling of deep sadness. 

S.M. promised to work with her to create a brand or an identity outside Red Velvet. It lasted for around two weeks before the company grew bored and moved on to one of their newly debuted idols. It was easy for them to sweep her under the rug because they had never had faith in her capabilities. If not, they would have allowed her to produce and write music. But that was too much to ask. 

There have been moments when her fingers have brushed over Irene’s name in her contact list because Irene would know what to do. But it doesn’t seem right to call her anymore. Wendy always had a way to make Yeri laugh, usually from being cheesy. Their time zones don’t align - the excuse Yeri gives herself for not calling or texting. Though Wendy tries to keep in contact, Yeri always ignores her calls. Then there is Joy. The person she has trusted the most in her adult life. They shared everything at one point. Now, Yeri barely recognises Joy when she appears on her television screen. It’s as if she were a stranger. 

The only person she can truthfully rely on is Seulgi. Being in the same company still has helped their bond survive the disbandment. Their relationship isn’t as tight-knit as previously. But Yeri knows that if she needs someone to be there for her, she can rely on Seulgi to pull through. Or at least, she usually can. 

It has been hours since she texted her former member, and there has been no response. Once upon a time, Seulgi would respond within seconds. But these days, she is too busy being the face of S.M. Entertainment to bother with anyone else. Yeri gets it. Her priorities would align the same if she were in Seulgi’s position. However, it still hurts to see her read her messages and not bother to respond. 

There’s also an underlying feeling of bitterness behind it. Yeri can’t help but wonder if she should be in that position. If she could have focused and let her fears go, she may be promoting an album or on a variety show. After all, she is the youngest member. The company would get a lot more years out of her than they will Seulgi. Or at least, her jealousy has led her to believe this. 

Yeri steps back to the kitchen of her apartment. There are several wine bottles strewn across the counters. As of late, those bottles have been piling up more and more. Her mother has grown concerned with the amount of alcohol she is consuming whenever she stops by. However, it helps her to sleep at night and blocks out the lingering self-doubt that threatens to turn her into an insomniac. Yeri picks up a wine glass on the table beside her white leather couch. It has been empty for the last hour, not that it matters. The bitter taste still lingers on her lips as if she’d only just gulped it down. 

Falling asleep as the sun rose used to be perfectly fine when there were managers around to make sure she was prompt to different events no matter what. But she no longer has that luxury with just one manager who barely checks in with her. It’s hard to want to wake up on most days. Sometimes, Yeri wishes she didn’t have to at all. That way, she wouldn’t have to feel like a failure anymore. 

Yeri tried her hardest to be what S.M. wanted from her. She would pitch ideas she felt passionate about and go out of her way to write music she thought people would love. But none of it mattered to the company. They were all half-hearted ideas with little to no hope. The songs they wanted her to release all sounded generic and lacking quality. She tried to record some of them, but the anxiety would kick in and ruin everything. The noise in her head gets louder and louder until she has convinced herself that she isn’t good enough. That, or someone else, deserves to be in her shoes. It was a lot of pressure.

In truth, she felt more at ease when she was acting. At least then, she could be a character instead of herself. It’s easier to ignore the pain when you’re playing somebody else. It was also easier to avoid the company phone calls asking her when she would next be in the studio. 

Like usual, her hands drift back to the empty wine bottle, sullen to find the content missing but mentally refusing to believe that she is the one who has consumed it entirely. Light music from the television is the only sound audible once the doors to the balcony are closed. It’s from a re-run of a drama that Yeri has tried to binge-watch three times. But her intoxicated brain has prevented her from picking up on the storyline. If she were paying attention, she would realise it is the second season of her drama. 

Her phone sits tightly in the back pocket of her jeans as it begins to vibrate. Someone is calling, which is never good news. Yeri tries to grip it, but her fingers slip and almost drop the device, which would no doubt have smashed against the hard flooring. Thankfully, she catches it before disaster strikes but answers the call all in one motion. 

Had she gotten the chance to check who it was that was on the other end of the line, she may not have wished to speak. But now she has no choice but to say something. It’s been months, and Yeri has no idea how this phone call will help or hinder her mental state. She heaves a deep sigh before putting the phone to her ear, immediately regretting how close she pressed it against her head. 

“Hey! Are you avoiding me or something, Yerim?” The voice booms through the phone speaker. Yeri quickly pulls the phone away from her ear and lets out a small groan. “Hello? Are you there?” 

Yeri sighs once more and positions the phone back toward her ear. 

“Yes, Wendy. I’m here. You don’t need to shout, you know?” 

Wendy laughs quieter than usual but returns to bursting Yeri’s ear drums. 

“I’m not shouting! There’s just an echo in my room. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.” Wendy pauses. “Are you avoiding me or something? I haven’t heard from you in months!”

Yeri quickly stands and paces around her living space, trying desperately to conceive a lie.  

“I’m not avoiding you…” Yeri hesitates before relying on the old familiar. “I’ve just been busy trying to record music and such.” 

“Oh. Well, that’s great, Yeri. I’m happy for you.” Wendy clears before continuing. “I have something to tell you!” 

Yeri continues pacing back and forth. It’s an awful thought, but she wants Wendy to hang up by accident or end this conversation somehow. There’s a nauseous feeling in her stomach that she’s unsure if it is because of Wendy or the alcohol. Either way, it isn’t good. 

“If this is about the place that sells muffins that are also doughnuts again, I don’t want to hear it. I know they’re the best thing you’ve ever had but if I can’t taste them then what’s the point in telling me about it?” Yeri fires back. The thought of food is making the nausea much worse. “You spent an hour last time I spoke to you explaining the texture for me. It gave me a migraine.” 

“No, silly! I just woke up, I haven’t eaten yet, but I got some good news. Are you ready for it?” 

Yeri rolls her eyes and moves to flop down onto her couch. She’s sure that the news will only be good for Wendy and not her.

“I’m practically on the edge of my seat.” That’s the first honest thing Yeri has said to Wendy in months. The last time they spoke, Yeri convinced Wendy that she had been producing more often. In truth, she hadn’t been to the studio by that point in over a month. She still has not been since. The lies are difficult for her tipsy brain to keep up with. Thus, Yeri is careful with her words. 

“Well, prepare to be blown off it.” Wendy enthuses. “The label has finally agreed to let me fly back to Korea to collaborate with you on a bonus track for the eventual repackage of my album, isn’t that amazing?” 

It takes Yeri a moment to understand what Wendy has just said. She sits upright quickly, but it gives her head rush. As soon as her words sink in, she feels immense guilt in the pit of her stomach. This whole time, Yeri has led Wendy to believe that the songs written in the last year have been a success. But, the reality is that they have all been rejected for usage by S.M. 

Not one piece of music has gotten out of the vault. And now Wendy wants them to create something. Together. For an actual release, that would affect Wendy’s career. Yeri can feel the tightness in her chest grow as she contemplates. 

“That’s great, Wendy.” Yeri half-heartedly forces out. is so dry that she barely gets the remainder of her sentence out.  “When do you arrive?” 

Wendy chuckles on the other end of the phone, and Yeri can tell she isn’t going to like the answer.

“Oh, you’re going to love this. It’s the best part.” Wendy excitedly yells. “I’m already here!”