"When is the concert?"
Hana asked while arranging her clothes inside the wardrobe.
They had only just arrived in Busan.
After the familiar routine of dorm life, they were now staying in a shared house. Everyone had cleaned together the moment they arrived, and now the house was slowly filling with the sounds of unpacking—zippers opening, hangers sliding across rails, bags being dragged from one room to another.
"It's a three-day concert—Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday," Minji replied as she closed her wardrobe.
She had already sent Sophia and Ruhi to a nearby market to bring food.
No one had enough energy left to cook.
Hana turned toward Minji.
Then, almost imperceptibly, she pointed toward Zoya.
Zoya stood silently by the wardrobe, carefully arranging her clothes.
Minji gave Hana a small gesture.
Relax.
Then she walked toward Zoya.
"Zoya..."
Her voice was deliberately casual.
"How's your throat? Does it still hurt?"
Zoya didn't immediately answer.
Yesterday, her voice had finally returned.
But she had barely spoken.
That night, she had cried herself to sleep.
No one had questioned her.
No one had asked what had happened.
And perhaps that silence had been necessary.
Because none of them knew what to say.
This morning, Zoya had been the first one awake.
She had even gone around waking everyone else.
The others were still confused by the previous night's events, still carrying fragments of what they had seen and heard.
But no one brought it up.
They simply avoided the subject.
As if silence could somehow make the memory disappear.
Zoya continued arranging her clothes.
Then, without turning around, she said,
"I'll also come to Busan."
Her voice was quiet.
"I'm falling behind in my studies."
Before anyone could respond, she picked up the last piece of clothing and walked toward the kitchen.
Hana watched her disappear.
Minji remained silent.
Neither of them said what they were thinking.
Busan
In Yomin's room, Jeon J was still asleep.
His phone lay beside him, the house camera feed still running on the screen.
The previous night, he had listened to Yomin without saying much.
Eventually, he had simply lain down on the bed and fallen asleep there.
But even in sleep, he had never let go of his phone.
He hadn't turned the camera off.
As though some part of him was afraid that if he did...
he might miss something.
The Kitchen
The moment Zoya stepped inside, yesterday returned.
Not as a memory.
As a sensation.
The room.
The fear.
The helplessness.
The pain.
For one brief moment, her steps slowed.
Then she forced herself forward.
Today, she looked different.
There was no confusion on her face.
No visible pain.
No trace of the girl who had broken down the night before.
She opened the refrigerator.
Took out a bottle of fresh juice.
Poured it into a glass.
Then sat down on the chair beside the counter.
She held the glass between both hands.
Carefully.
Almost protectively.
As though it were something precious.
But beneath that calm exterior...
She was still trapped inside the previous night's trauma.
She simply refused to let anyone see it.
She knew there were cameras in the house.
And she knew they had microphones.
Perhaps that was why she had come here.
Because she needed to speak.
She needed to let the words out.
She needed to tell someone everything that had happened.
Everything Ji-won had done.
Everything Ji-won had said.
And most importantly...
She needed to tell the person whose existence had somehow become the reason behind it all.
She closed her fingers more tightly around the glass.
For a moment, she imagined him sitting across from her.
And then...
She began to speak.
Back in Yomin's room, Jeon J shifted in his sleep.
His phone slipped from his hand.
It fell onto the carpet without making a sound.
If it had hit the floor directly, Yomin probably would have woken up.
Slowly, Jeon J opened his eyes.
His hand instinctively searched for the phone.
Empty.
He immediately sat up.
For a second, he looked around in confusion.
Then he remembered.
Yomin's room.
Last night.
The conversation.
He looked down.
His phone was lying on the carpet beside the bed.
He quickly picked it up.
The memory returned.
He had fallen asleep while listening to Yomin.
He hadn't answered.
Hadn't explained anything.
He had simply...
stopped fighting the exhaustion.
Jeon J stood.
If Yomin woke up, the questions would begin again.
He needed to leave before that happened.
He reached the door.
Then stopped.
A voice came from behind him.
Yomin's eyes remained closed.
"Jeon J..."
Jeon J turned slightly.
Yomin continued sleepily,
"You didn't answer."
A pause.
"We'll talk later."
Then he turned over and went straight back to sleep.
Jeon J stared at him for a moment.
He said nothing.
He quietly left the room.
It was nine in the morning.
The house was still asleep.
No one would normally wake before noon.
Jeon J entered his room and placed his phone on the side table.
His hand had barely left it when something caught his attention.
The house camera.
The kitchen feed.
He glanced at the screen.
And froze.
Zoya.
She was sitting alone in the kitchen.
Both hands wrapped around a glass of juice.
She wasn't drinking.
She was simply staring ahead.
Lost somewhere far beyond the four walls surrounding her.
Then Jeon J noticed something else.
Her lips were moving.
She was speaking.
His brows drew together.
He immediately turned on the audio.
The faint sound of her voice filled his room.
"You know what Ji-won did to me..."
Jeon J went still.
His eyes snapped toward the screen.
He looked carefully at the camera feed.
There was no one else in the kitchen.
So who was she talking to?
Then—
Zoya slowly lifted her eyes.
Directly toward the camera.
Jeon J froze.
She knew.
Somehow...
She knew she was being watched.
A cold uneasiness moved through him.
How?
How could she possibly know?
Who was she talking to?
And how much did she know about everything that had happened?
Jeon J didn't stop the recording.
Instead...
He turned the volume higher.
He wanted to hear everything.
He needed to.
Zoya's voice continued.
"I met her at university..."
Her fingers tightened around the glass.
"I didn't even know her properly."
She looked down.
"I kept thinking..."
"What was my fault?"
"Why does she have so much hatred for me?"
"Why is she hurting me like this?"
Her voice trembled.
"You know this wasn't the first time she did this to me."
Jeon J froze.
Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to keep going.
"She hurt me like this at Christmas too. I just… I couldn't tell Minji. I couldn't tell anyone."
She lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening around the fabric in her hands.
"Because I was scared. Yes… I was scared."
A painful silence followed.
"I didn't understand why she was hurting me like that. I kept wondering what I had done wrong, why she had chosen me, why she kept targeting me."
Her voice cracked.
"And now… she's done it again."
She swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that were already gathering in her eyes.
"But this time…"
Her breath shuddered.
"This time, she didn't just hurt me."
She pressed a trembling hand against her chest.
"She wounded my soul."
"But you know what she was saying..."
Zoya's words faltered.
Before continuing, she slowly pressed one hand against her leg.
The wound was still there.
Still painful.
"I was unconscious..."
Her fingers pressed slightly harder.
"But this pain brought me back to my senses."
Jeon J's expression changed.
Zoya swallowed.
"She kept saying..."
Her voice dropped.
"'How can you walk with him?'"
"'The one I wanted to be with...'"
Her fingers trembled against her leg.
"That's why she gave me this pain."
She looked down.
"She slapped me so many times..."
Her voice cracked.
"I really felt it."
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
She tightened her grip around the glass.
"She said..."
"'What do you even have in you that he looks at you?'"
"'Look at yourself.'"
"'You are nothing compared to me.'"
"'Why would he ever look at you?'"
Jeon J's jaw tightened.
Zoya slowly touched her arm.
"She cut my arm."
She stared at the wound.
"Do you know this cut?"
Her voice became quieter.
"She gave it to me while I was unconscious."
"This is my right arm."
"For a moment..."
She took a shaky breath.
"...the pain was so intense that I thought I'd never be able to hold a pen again."
Her fingers moved unconsciously.
"My arm just froze."
Jeon J stared at the screen.
Zoya continued.
"She said..."
"'Before he ever holds your hand...'"
A pause.
"'...I'll cut your arm.'"
Jeon J's eyes hardened.
"If her companion hadn't stopped her..."
Zoya swallowed.
"I think she would have killed me."
Silence.
She looked down at the glass.
"She pulled my scarf in front of everyone."
Her voice was barely audible.
"She humiliated me."
Her fingers slowly tightened.
"Do you know..."
She looked toward the camera.
"Since then, I've started covering my head."
A pause.
"And twice..."
Her eyes lowered.
"...my scarf was pulled off."
"Both times because of you."
Jeon J stopped breathing for a second.
Zoya's next words came slowly.
"She pulled my hair and said..."
"'Do you even know?'"
"'He was physically with me...'"
"'...and then he left me.'"
Zoya's eyes filled again.
"What do you think?"
"Do you really think he would ever choose a girl like you?"
The words remained hanging in the kitchen.
Her words.
Ji-won's words.
The wounds.
The humiliation.
All of them seemed to exist together.
Zoya ran her fingertips slowly around the rim of the glass.
Then whispered,
"I'll keep praying for you."
Jeon J's eyes lifted.
"Always."
Her voice softened.
"Maybe for as long as I live..."
"I'll continue praying for you."
She gave a faint smile.
Fragile.
Painfully sincere.
"I'll pray that the true light finds your heart."
"And I'll pray that you always stay happy with Minji."
The smile remained.
But there was no happiness in it.
Only acceptance.
"Maybe our paths were never meant to meet..."
She lowered her eyes.
"So how could they ever separate?"
Jeon J didn't move.
Zoya stared down at the juice in her hands.
"Ji-won was right."
Her voice became smaller.
"How did I ever imagine a global idol inside my small world?"
A bitter little laugh escaped her.
"You're a global star..."
"And I'm just an ordinary girl trying to survive in this world."
She shook her head.
"How did I even dare to think like that?"
A quiet breath escaped her.
"But you know something..."
Her fingers tightened around the glass.
"These thoughts didn't start now."
She stopped.
Her eyes lowered.
She was getting closer to the confession she had carried inside herself for so long.
The words began to blur together.
Emotion disrupted her breathing.
She paused between sentences, gathering herself before continuing.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As though every word had to be pulled from somewhere deep inside her.
The kitchen was completely silent.
Even the hum of the refrigerator seemed distant.
The walls appeared strangely still.
As though the entire room had become a witness.
As though the world itself had paused...
Just to hear her speak.
Then she whispered,
"They started the very first time I saw you."
Jeon J's eyes widened.
He slowly sat down on the sofa in the middle of his room.
His gaze never left the screen.
Those words should not have shocked him.
He heard confessions every day.
People loved him.
Admired him.
Dreamed about him.
He had received letters filled with love.
Messages filled with longing.
Confessions from people who had never even met him.
So why...
Why did this one feel different?
What was different about it?
Why did he suddenly feel as though he had been pulled into the room with her?
He couldn't understand it.
For a moment, everything around him seemed to disappear.
The room.
The morning.
The silence.
Even time itself.
It felt like a scene from a movie.
Except this wasn't fiction.
This was his life.
He was a global star.
And she...
She was just an ordinary girl.
An ordinary girl with ordinary features.
She didn't have the pale, flawless skin Korean beauty standards often praised.
She didn't look like the women who surrounded him in advertisements or on red carpets.
And yet...
Something about her had always pulled at his attention.
Something he couldn't explain.
Something that had nothing to do with beauty.
Nothing to do with fame.
Nothing to do with appearance.
And for the first time in a very long time...
Jeon J couldn't look away.
Zoya's voice echoed through the phone.
"I didn't know what songs you sang."
"I didn't know how well you danced."
"I didn't know how many people loved you..."
She paused.
"...or how rich and famous you were."
A faint smile appeared.
"I only saw your humble nature."
She lowered her eyes to the glass.
"Do you know something strange?"
Her fingers moved slowly around the rim.
"I wasn't even your fan."
A weak laugh escaped her.
"I know that sounds strange after everything I've said."
She looked toward the camera.
"But it's true."
Her eyes drifted somewhere far beyond the kitchen.
"The first time I saw you..."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"...you were holding a little girl's hand on stage."
She laughed softly.
"And for a few seconds, I actually thought she was your daughter."
The memory made her smile.
But the smile slowly faded.
"That wasn't what stayed with me."
She lowered her eyes.
"My father was sitting right in front of me."
A tear gathered in her eye.
"I was scrolling through my phone absent-mindedly."
"Your video appeared."
"I looked at the screen."
Her breathing slowed.
"And then..."
"I looked at my father."
Silence.
"He was talking to me."
She swallowed.
"Not casually."
"Not the way people talk every day."
"He was saying something..."
Her voice trembled.
"...something that would stay with me for the rest of my life."
Her fingers tightened around the glass.
"So I put my phone away."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"And I listened."
The kitchen fell completely silent.
"For most people..."
Her voice became a whisper.
"...that moment would have meant nothing."
"But for me..."
She closed her eyes.
"...it became priceless."
She lowered her head.
"Because three days later..."
Her breathing faltered.
"...my father left this world."
The words barely escaped her lips.
Silence followed.
A long, painful silence.
"The next time I opened my phone..."
She swallowed hard.
"...he was gone."
Another tear rolled down her cheek.
"And somehow..."
Her lips trembled.
"...that video was still there."
A faint, broken laugh escaped her.
She shook her head.
"But I remember that moment."
"The moment I looked away from the screen."
"The moment I chose to listen."
"The moment he spoke."
Her hand slowly moved to her chest.
"And those words..."
She closed her eyes.
"...never left me."
"They became part of me."
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then—
"And after him..."
Her voice nearly disappeared.
"...the words my father left behind became something I carried with me."
She looked toward the camera again.
"I was supposed to go to China."
A small laugh escaped her.
"I planned everything."
"I worked for it."
"I dreamed about it."
Her eyes became distant.
"But Allah's plans are different from ours."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"And somehow..."
She breathed in.
"I found myself sitting on a flight to Busan."
A faint smile appeared through her tears.
"Even now, I don't fully understand how it happened."
"The university."
"The journey."
"The people."
"The moments."
"The pain."
"The lessons."
She slowly shook her head.
"Because..."
She paused.
"...Allah knows what is in my heart."
Her voice became softer.
"Maybe the path I kept trying to walk..."
"...wasn't the path written for me."
She looked toward the camera.
"And maybe..."
"...that's why I'm here today."
"Not because I was searching for you."
Her voice trembled.
"But because Allah was leading me somewhere I could never have reached on my own."
A tear rolled down her cheek.
"And from that moment..."
"I started praying for true light for you."
Jeon J stared at the screen.
Zoya continued.
"Every day, on social media, I watched your fans increase day by day."
"Especially girls."
A weak laugh escaped her.
"Yes..."
"I used to get jealous."
She smiled faintly.
"I still do."
"But even then..."
"I kept praying for you."
Her fingers moved slowly over the cold glass.
"I lived a difficult life."
"But among all those hardships..."
"One thing always gave me peace."
She looked down.
"Praying for you."
"Watching you."
Her voice became almost inaudible.
"For ordinary people..."
"reaching a global star..."
"taking a selfie with them..."
"Getting an autograph on a shirt or even on their hand..."
"That alone is considered the luckiest moment of their life."
She gave a faint, almost embarrassed smile.
"But I..."
Her voice broke.
"I was imagining an entire life with you."
Jeon J's expression changed.
"And for someone like me..."
"That was impossible."
"For the world..."
She looked away.
"...it would only sound ridiculous."
A small broken smile appeared.
"Look at me."
"Even you would laugh if you heard the things I used to imagine."
She lowered her eyes.
"Do you know..."
"Later, I found out you were born in '97..."
"And I'm from '95."
A quiet laugh escaped her.
"As if all the other differences weren't enough..."
"Even the age difference became another wall between us."
Jeon J lowered his head.
Slowly, he rubbed his face with both hands.
Confessions like this filled his inbox every day.
Wherever he went, love followed him.
Someone was always confessing.
At a fan sign.
Through a letter.
In a comment.
In a trembling voice from behind a barricade.
Some women confessed while standing beside their husbands.
Some even confessed while holding their children's hands.
He had heard every kind of love.
Every kind of dream.
Every kind of impossible promise.
So why...
Why did this one feel different?
Why did every word seem to reach somewhere inside him that no other confession had ever touched?
He didn't know.
He couldn't explain it.
It was just a confession.
Wasn't it?
And yet...
The longer he listened to Zoya's voice,
the less ordinary it became.
"Do you know what love is for me?"
Zoya's fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
She looked down at the juice for a moment, watching the faint movement inside it as though the answer might be somewhere beneath the surface.
Then she lifted her eyes again.
"Love isn't having someone."
Her voice was quiet, but there was nothing uncertain about it now.
"It isn't about touching them… or making them mine."
On the other side of the screen, Jeon J didn't move.
Zoya continued.
"Love is praying for someone without them ever knowing you prayed for them."
A small breath left her.
"It's looking at someone from far away and still feeling happy when they smile. It's wanting light for them when your own life feels dark."
Her lips curved into the faintest smile.
"People think girls fall for fame. For money. For the name."
She shook her head.
"But I never cared about any of that."
Her eyes softened.
"I cared about the way you smiled."
A pause.
"The way you bowed to people."
"The way you treated people when you didn't need anything from them."
"And…"
Her voice lowered.
"Sometimes, I saw something in your eyes."
Jeon J's expression changed.
"Something lonely."
He stared at the screen.
"You could stand in front of millions of people, and everyone would be screaming your name…"
Zoya swallowed.
"But sometimes, your eyes looked like they were somewhere else."
She looked away for a second.
"Maybe that was the moment I lost myself."
The words came without drama.
That was what made them hurt.
"Love was never loud for me."
"It was soft."
"Almost sacred."
She leaned back slightly against the counter, her gaze drifting toward the window.
"Sometimes I imagined walking beside you somewhere filled with white light."
Jeon J frowned faintly.
"Not on a stage."
"Not in front of cameras."
"No guards. No crowds. No one asking for pictures."
Her voice became almost dreamlike.
"Just two souls walking through a place where people arrive exhausted…"
She smiled faintly.
"…and leave lighter."
Jeon J's eyes remained fixed on her.
"I imagined standing beside you between two hills, under a burning sun."
She paused.
"We would be tired."
"Maybe our feet would hurt."
"Maybe we would want to stop."
Her fingers slowly loosened around the glass.
"But we would keep walking."
"Again and again."
"Because some journeys are too sacred to abandon halfway."
Jeon J lowered his eyes.
His hand slowly moved from his face to his knee.
Zoya looked directly into the camera.
"That was love for me."
"Not holding your hand so the world could see."
"Not standing beside you so people would know you were mine."
Her voice trembled for the first time.
"It was walking beside your soul…"
"…toward something pure."
The room around Jeon J suddenly felt smaller.
Zoya continued before she could lose the courage to finish.
"I want to meet you beyond this world."
His eyes lifted again.
"Somewhere souls return."
"Where everything hidden becomes visible."
"Where hearts are gathered…"
"And perhaps only those who carry true light can recognize each other."
She smiled, but there was sadness beneath it.
"There would be no fame there."
"No distance."
"No names."
"No titles."
"Only truth."
"Only souls as they really are."
Her gaze dropped.
"That is why I keep praying for you."
"Not because I want you to become mine."
"Not because I want your fame…"
"…or your wealth."
She slowly shook her head.
"I never even asked Allah to make us be together."
Jeon J's breathing grew heavier.
"I only asked Him to guide you."
"Because guidance is such a beautiful gift."
"If Allah guides a heart…"
She paused, searching for the right words.
"…everything else eventually finds its place."
Her voice became softer.
"I asked Him to forgive you."
"Because everyone makes mistakes."
"People we love aren't angels."
"They also need forgiveness."
Another breath.
"I asked Him to have mercy on you."
"Because this world can be cruel."
"People smile while carrying wounds no one knows about."
She looked toward the camera again.
"And I asked Him…"
Her voice nearly broke.
"…to place faith in your heart as light and guidance."
Jeon J stopped breathing for a moment.
Zoya continued.
"Not because I wanted to change you."
"But because when Allah places light inside someone's heart…"
Her eyes shone.
"…they never truly walk alone."
"They have something inside them that guides them when the world becomes dark."
She lowered her gaze.
"Every time I made that dua, I imagined you somewhere beneath the same sky."
"Maybe you were busy."
"Maybe you were surrounded by people."
"Maybe you were laughing."
"Maybe you were having the worst day of your life."
"But you were still there."
"Unaware."
"Distant."
"And somehow…"
Her lips curved into a fragile smile.
"…still included in my prayers."
She looked down at the untouched glass.
"Maybe that was enough."
Jeon J stared at her.
Zoya spoke slowly now, as if every word had to pass through something inside her before she could release it.
"Because love doesn't always ask Allah to give us the person."
"Sometimes…"
She swallowed.
"…love asks Allah to give goodness to that person."
"Even if you never become part of that goodness."
Jeon J's fingers curled against his knee.
For once, he had nothing to say.
Not even to himself.
Zoya took a long breath.
"Everything…"
Her eyes lowered.
"…ends here."
The words landed quietly.
"I hope you take care of yourself."
She looked into the camera one last time.
"Really."
A faint smile appeared.
"Take care of yourself."
Then, almost too softly to hear—
"Goodbye."
She whispered her own name beneath her breath, as though sealing the words at the end of a prayer.
Then she stood.
The chair moved gently against the floor.
She left the glass exactly where it was.
And walked away.
Jeon J froze.
The video continued playing.
But his mind had stopped somewhere between her last words and the empty kitchen.
Goodbye.
It should have been simple.
A word.
An ending.
But somehow, it felt like something breaking.
"Zoya…"
The name escaped his lips before he even realized he had spoken.
There was no answer.
The kitchen on the screen was empty now.
Only the untouched glass remained on the counter.
Jeon J stared at it.
His chest felt strangely tight.
He had heard confessions before.
Hundreds.
Maybe thousands.
Women had confessed while standing beside their husbands.
Some had held their children while telling him they had loved him for years.
Some cried.
Some laughed.
Some promised they would wait forever.
He had always known how to receive those words.
A smile.
A bow.
A thank-you.
Sometimes nothing more.
But this…
He didn't know what this was.
It wasn't admiration.
It wasn't the excitement of discovering someone liked him.
And strangely, it didn't even feel like obsession.
It felt like letting go.
As if someone had just placed something precious in his hands…
…and then quietly walked away before he could understand what it was.
Jeon J remained seated, staring at the blank kitchen.
For the first time in a long time, being a global star gave him no answer.
Because the person speaking to him hadn't asked for anything.
Not his attention.
Not his love.
Not his name.
Not even a place beside him.
She had simply loved him from a distance…
…and prayed that he would find the light.
And now she had said goodbye.
But somewhere deep inside him, a frightening thought had already begun to form.
What if…
wasn't he ready to let her go?
For several seconds, Jeon J remained exactly where he was.
The screen had gone dark.
Yet he didn't put the phone down.
His thumb rested against the edge of it, unmoving.
He replayed the last few minutes in his mind.
Not her words alone.
The way she had said them.
There had been no demand hidden inside them.
No expectation.
No attempt to make him feel guilty for not knowing.
She had simply spoken…
…and then walked away.
Jeon J leaned back against the sofa.
His eyes closed.
"Why does this feel like this?"
The question came out as a whisper.
He opened his eyes again.
He had spent years learning how to stand beneath bright lights without letting them blind him.
He knew how to face thousands of people.
Millions.
He knew how to smile when he was exhausted.
How to wave when his body wanted rest.
How to accept love without promising something he couldn't give.
But he had never learned what to do when someone loved him by asking nothing from him.
That was the part he couldn't understand.
His phone remained in his hand.
He opened the camera feed again.
The kitchen was empty.
He watched the counter.
The glass was still there.
For some reason, that small glass bothered him more than anything she had said.
It was proof that she had really been there.
She had sat there.
She had spoken.
She had poured herself a drink.
She had said goodbye.
And then she had left it untouched.
His eyes stayed locked on the empty frame of the camera feed.
A strange pressure built in his chest—something unfamiliar, something uncomfortable.
Not admiration.
Not curiosity.
Something closer to fear.
Because this wasn't like the other confessions.
This didn't feel like an obsession.
It felt like letting go.
And that—
He didn't know how to respond.
To be continued...
Regards,
ZK 💌