The first day of shooting ended late in the evening. Rhea returned to her small rented apartment, barely more than a studio, with one window that overlooked the crowded Seoul street below. She dropped her bag near the couch and collapsed onto the bed without even turning on the lights.
Her body was tired, but her heart was heavier. The same familiar ache that had lived inside her for the past seven years returned with quiet cruelty. That constant pull, the longing for someone untouchable, someone her heart refused to let go of Jeon Jungkook.
She sighed deeply, dragging herself to the shower. The warm water slid down her skin, but it couldn't wash away the question looping endlessly in her head.
Why not Jungkook? Why must fate put Kim Taehyung in front of me, and not him?
It was a thought she hated herself for, because Taehyung was kind, too kind, too beautiful, too human in the few moments she had witnessed. But her heart didn't long for him. It was stitched so deeply to Jungkook that she couldn't imagine cutting it free.
After a quick, simple dinner, some rice, a fried egg, and pickled radish, she turned on Netflix, half-watching an English drama, half-drowning in her thoughts. The screen blurred as sleep took over, and the ache followed her into dreams.
The Next Day
The second day on set arrived. Rhea reached early, greeting her coworkers with a small, polite smile. She was always quiet, never the one to stand in the spotlight, and most of the crew had come to admire her simplicity.
Taehyung arrived later, his presence filling the space the way sunlight spills into a room. People brightened when he walked in; his charm was effortless, disarming. He offered everyone warm greetings, and when his eyes briefly met Rhea's across the set, he gave her a small smile. It surprised her enough to look away quickly, pretending to be busy herself with her script notes.
By evening, as the golden light softened outside, they were given a short break. Rhea slipped away, her feet carrying her to the rooftop. She needed air, the kind that wasn't thick with chatter and lights.
The rooftop was quiet; the city stretched endlessly below her. She leaned against the railing, her phone buzzing in her pocket. A notification. She unlocked it, and her lips curved unconsciously into a soft smile.
It was a new reel from a fan account, Jungkook, laughing in some behind-the-scenes clip. She played it once. Then again. And again. Her heart squeezed the way it always did.
Seven years, and you still do this to me, Jungkook.
"What are you doing here?"
The sudden voice behind her made her flinch. She turned, startled, only to see Taehyung standing there. The evening wind caught his hair, lifting it gently, making him look almost unreal against the fading sky. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.
Damn it, God. Why do you keep testing my heart like this?
She forced a small, polite smile. "Just… getting some fresh air."
His gaze softened, but then shifted to her phone screen. Jungkook's smiling face was frozen there. Taehyung's lips quirked curiously.
"Army?" he asked.
Rhea chuckled lightly. "Not really."
He pulled an exaggerated disappointed expression that made her laugh for real this time.
"I do listen to your music," she clarified, "but I'm not Army. Not in the full sense. Because… I don't love all of you equally."
His brows rose slightly, teasing. "Jungkookie fan?"
Her smile faded into something softer. She lowered her eyes. "Not a fan. But… something more than that."
The playfulness in his expression disappeared. His eyes narrowed slightly, studying her. "You… love Jungkook?"
Rhea lifted her head slowly, her gaze meeting his. She smiled faintly, a little broken, a little resigned. "What do you think?"
He shrugged, but his curiosity didn't fade.
"Yes," she admitted quietly. Her voice carried a depth that pulled the air still around them. "It's a kind of feeling I haven't been able to move on from. For seven years now."
Her confession wasn't dramatic, but it was raw. The words slipped out with pain, devotion, and an almost foolish loyalty.
Taehyung froze. "Seven years?" His voice was barely above a whisper, stunned.
She nodded with a bittersweet smile.
Taehyung didn't know how to react. He was used to fans claiming love, but this felt… different. There was no hysteria, no obsession in her tone. Only a quiet truth that shook him more than he wanted to admit.
Seven years… loving my brother like this?
Something inside him resisted it, denied it. He didn't want to see her, this woman who seemed so different, so sincere, tie herself to Jungkook in such a way.
He found himself staring at her, searching her face as though it could give him answers.
"What are you looking at me like that for?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to laugh off the heaviness.
"Nothing," he muttered, quickly glancing away.
She tilted her head, a knowing smile on her lips. "I get what you're thinking. But don't worry. I'm not a sasaeng. In fact, you're the first person I've ever told this to. No one else knows."
His lips parted, but no words came. She turned away under his gaze, a little flustered by his silence.
Then, as if to break the heaviness, Taehyung pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced ease. The smoke curled into the air between them. He inhaled, then exhaled slowly, before casually offering one to her.
"Want one?"
Rhea smiled faintly, shaking her head. "No, I'm good."
The moment lingered, strange, quiet, heavy with unspoken thoughts, until the break ended, and both of them walked back down to the set.
But something had changed. Neither of them could quite name it yet.