Sana sighed, fingers rubbing her throbbing temple.

She had barely escaped her nagging manager in the car for being late, when the producer suddenly summoned for her presence in his room. She wished he would serve americano during the meeting - she’s in dire need of it. 

But who is she kidding? He’s not the barista at her favourite coffee shop.

“You look horrible.”

Yeah, no thanks to the tight schedule, .

“I’m good.” She responded wryly, “So why did you call me here?”

The man with gel-slicked hair clears his throat, taking out a piece of paper with some pictures and a big headline as the title. “This happens.”

Sana leans closer, her eyes widening from the well-known tabloid of the city.

Minatozaki Sana and her co-star are rumored to be dating. The fans are not concerned about the partner’s identity, but rather of her habit of finding a new partner on a monthly basis - she changes boyfriend as if changing clothes! But the interactions captured between the two seem much more intimate than the previous exes. Would this be another fling, or is she finally settling down?

The printed out paper almost crumpled in her hand, if it wasn’t for her manager who holds her shoulder and seize the paper away. Instead, she balls her hand into a fist, directing her displeasure into it. 

“What do you think?”

Her forehead scrunched in confusion at his composed front, and Sana starts putting two and two together. 

“You... planned this?” 

“Well,” He leans forward, hands supporting his chin. “They caught the bait, so what else should I do other than comply with their demands?”

“You-” 

Sana almost jumped on him, if not for the hand holding her firm on the chair. She glanced upwards towards her manager, receiving an apologetic look from the latter. 

Of course, she knew.

That explains the countless missed calls early this morning - her manager is trying to warn Sana about it.

Except, she had been warned many times, her strength had already been chipped away to nothingness from the mistreatment she received from the company. 

“We have our best interest in you, Sana.” The producer said, “That’s why we did all of this - for you.”

Sana was having none of it, but who is she to speak out against him. Her fate as the company’s top artist had been sealed five years ago on a piece of paper - her signature a witness to her foolish desire. 

“Does it have to be now, PD-nim?” Sana finally heard the voice of her manager, the latter’s hand squeezing her shoulder for support. “Sana just started filming last week and the previous scandal hasn’t even died down yet. This might affect her revenues, not to mention she’ll gain more antis than fans when this comes out.”

The man in grey suit and flowery tie rubs his scruffy chin, before a smirk takes place on his rather sophisticated face.

“That’s how we do business here, Park.” He chortled - an annoying sound to Sana’s ears. “Don’t tell me you forgot about it? How many years since you worked here - three? Four and a half?”

“It's been four years, PD-nim.”

“That’s right. I believe you’ve heard rumors of the previous manager.” His voice lowered as his eyes hardened. “We don’t want that to happen to you too, do we?”

Sana can feel the hand holding her shoulder clenching hard, causing her to wince in silence. She pats the hand, giving an assured nod to the disappointed manager. 

Sana slowly exhales, before putting on her fake front.

“So what should I do now?”

*

“Are you sure about this?”

Sana turns to her manager as she exits the van, a weak smile on her face. 

“I’m going to be fine, unnie.” She lets out a loud huff. “I’ve been through this for years now - nothing new.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” 

“Unnie, I’ll be fine.” Sana pats the manager’s arm dangling out of the car’s window, only for her hand to be gripped tightly by the slightly older woman. 

“Don’t hesitate to call me, okay?”

Sana giggles, nodding to her worrywart manager. The latter didn’t seem to be convinced - she can see Sana’s smile didn’t reach her eyes - but relents anyway.

As the car leaves, Sana turns on her heels. 

She looks up at the tall building, a luxurious apartment complex situated in a gated-community of rich people. The place is nice and perfect - too perfect for Sana’s liking.

She did wish to own one, a place she can call home in the middle of the city where only the richest can afford. Instead, she didn’t feel belonged here. 

It wasn’t home for her. 

A thought crosses her mind, or rather, a face.

The rather blank face of a certain air-headed yoda.

Her lips unconsciously lifted, her worries momentarily forgotten as she remembers the soft feature of a slumbering beauty she had woken up to, lying delicately beside her on the queen-sized bed of the small studio complex.

The place was nothing fancy - a contrast to her own - but she loves it there. She loves the warm ambience, the simplicity of having the bare minimum, the lack of decorations and chipping wallpapers. But most of all, she loves the presence of the owner.

The owner of the house who owns her heart and makes her feel at home, just by being there.

She snaps out of her daydream when her phone buzzes - an incoming alarm for the moment she’s been dreading the whole day. 

An hour left before the article will be released, yaay! -_-

She slides away the alarm, a message from her manager greets her. It’s a simple text with words of encouragement, but it helps ease the nerves she’s having. Her thumb automatically hovers over the lower chatroom, but pauses midair as her eyes fall on the small digital clock on the top screen.

She would be preoccupied right now… I shouldn’t disturb her. 

With heavy feet and a heavy heart, Sana trudges forward into the building, ignoring the uneasiness clutching her chest. 

*

Sana ignores the countless pings and notification alerts coming from her phone. She had almost thrown her phone to the wall after reading the article - not before recalling that the lifespan of the gadget had just reached five months. 

She cursed loudly at first, but nothing good came out of it. She tried to scream, but her conscience refrained her. She wants to disappear - but she's no magician. Maybe she can eat - she has a stash of chocolates from fans kept in the fridge. Then she remembers her diet, and she push the craving urge away.

The only thing she can do is sleep, and it's the safest choice she has for refuge. It's better than entertaining the thousands of questions and tags of her social media profile. What’s the use of reaching out to her if all they want to say are harmful threats and spite words?

She squeezes her eyes shut, but her mind is still wide awake. 

Grabbing the remote of the home stereo system, Sana press play. A beat of drum starts, followed by a mellow voice of foreign words with guzheng playing in the background, and her frowning lips turn upside down. 

It was a song recommended by her, a song from her favourite Chinese singer. In fact, the whole playlist is made up of chinese songs. But Sana doesn’t mind it - they are one of the things that reminds her of the air-headed woman.

As she is slowly getting lulled by the music, her ears picked up a familiar tone of a new chat - one she specially set for her.

Sana quickly snatches the phone lying on the bedside table, and she smiles.

McD or subway?

Sana doesn’t even think twice of her decision as she swiftly types a word into the text bubble.

You

A reply is received within a beat, and Sana quickly jumps on her feet, her phone thrown carelessly over the soft bed. The glaring screen displays the recent chat - a dog emoji with a blue heart shown on top instead of a name.

I’m already at your door