The pulsating lights of the stage and the deafening roar of the crowd faded into a dull hum as my heart pounded against my ribcage. I stood in the crowd, hidden in the shadows, watching ITZY's performance unfold. My gaze remained fixed on Ryujin, her movements effortlessly fluid, her charisma an unspoken command that captivated every soul in the audience. 

As the final note of their song resonated through the arena, the applause surged like a tidal wave, crashing against my ears. I took a deep breath, steeling myself before making my way to the dressing room. The laughter and chatter grew louder as I approached, a joyful cacophony that momentarily drowned out the turmoil within me. Pushing the door open, I was met with a chorus of happy exclamations from the members of ITZY.

"Minjeong!" Ryujin's face lit up as she saw me, her smile like a beacon piercing through my restless heart. For a fleeting moment, the chaos inside me quieted, replaced by the comforting familiarity of her presence.

"Hey, you were amazing out there," I said, stepping forward to embrace her. The scent of her perfume enveloped me, a fragrant reminder of shared nights and whispered secrets. Her arms around me felt like a refuge, yet also a reminder of the distance that now lay between us.

"Thanks," she replied, her voice warm and genuine. "It means a lot coming from you." Her eyes held mine for a second longer than necessary.

After exchanging pleasantries with the other members, Ryujin gently took my hand, her touch both familiar and electrifying. She led me away from the bustling room, her voice low and inviting. "Wanna get out of here?"

Her words were a lifeline, pulling me out of the sea of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. "Yeah," I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "Let's go."

We slipped out unnoticed, our departure a quiet pact of mutual understanding. The city lights blurred into streaks of neon as the car sped through the night, each of us cocooned in our thoughts, the silence heavy with unspoken emotions. The hum of the engine provided a steady, rhythmic backdrop to the turbulence within my heart.

When we arrived at the hotel, it felt like stepping into a time capsule. The lobby was eerily familiar, the same plush carpet underfoot still springy, the same soft lighting casting gentle, familiar shadows on the walls. It was as if time had stood still, preserving this place as a shrine to our past. The elevator ride was silent, each floor dinging a countdown to an inevitable confrontation with memories we both carried.

As we entered the room, the air seemed to thicken with the weight of our history. The space was unchanged, a tableau of our shared moments from three years ago. The faint scent of lavender lingered, a subtle but poignant reminder of our last time here. The bed, with its rumpled sheets, seemed to beckon with ghosts of our former selves.

Ryujin broke the silence first, her voice soft and tinged with nostalgia. "Do you remember?"

I nodded, my throat constricting with the weight of memories. How could I forget? It was three years ago, almost to the day, that we had stood in this very room. The conversation we had then had etched itself indelibly into my soul. Every word, every glance, every touch was seared into my memory.

-----

3 YEARS AGO

February 26, 2021

The city lights outside the hotel window flickered like distant stars, casting a soft, almost ethereal glow across the dimly lit room. I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers absently tracing the intricate pattern of the bedspread. The room smelled faintly of jasmine and rain, a comforting juxtaposition to the turmoil inside me. My thoughts were a tangled mess, emotions waging war within me, leaving me feeling adrift and uncertain. I stole a glance at Ryujin, who stood by the window, her silhouette framed against the bustling streets below, lost in thought.

"Ryujin," I whispered, my voice heavy with sleepless nights and emotional turmoil.

Ryujin turned, her eyes meeting mine with a mix of concern and resignation. "Yeah?"

There was a moment of hesitation, the words lodged in my throat. I had always been the more guarded one, my emotions tightly locked away behind a carefully constructed facade. But with Ryujin, there was a fragile sense of safety, a space where I could let down my defenses, even if just a little.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like if things were different?" I asked, my gaze falling to my hands, my fingers twisting a ring around my finger—a nervous habit I had developed over the years.

Ryujin pushed away from the window, the city lights casting fleeting shadows across her face as she crossed the room. She sat beside me, her presence warm and reassuring. Reaching out, she took my hand in hers, the gesture tender and familiar. "Different how?"

"If I wasn't... so hung up on her," I admitted, my voice cracking slightly as I finally let the words spill out. "If I could just move on."

Ryujin's grip on my hand tightened, a sad smile touching her lips. "I think about it sometimes. But I knew what I was getting into, Minjeong. I knew your heart wasn't fully here with me."

I looked up, tears b in my eyes, shimmering like unshed diamonds. "I'm sorry, Ryujin. You deserve so much better than this. Better than me."

Ryujin reached out, brushing a tear from my cheek with a gentle touch. "Don't say that. You gave me something real, even if it wasn't everything. And I chose to stay, knowing that."

I leaned into Ryujin's touch, my heart aching with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. "Why did you stay?"

"Because I care about you, Minjeong. And because I hoped that maybe, just maybe, you'd find a way to heal. Even if it meant I had to watch from the sidelines." Ryujin's voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of pain that she couldn't quite hide.

I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of Ryujin's presence wash over me like a soothing balm. "I wish I could give you more."

Ryujin sighed, her fingers still intertwined with mine. "Sometimes, we can't choose who we love or how we love them. But that doesn't make the feelings any less real."

We sat in silence, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air. Outside, the city continued its relentless pace, the sounds of traffic and distant laughter a stark contrast to the stillness within the room.

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