The studio was heavy with the smell of sweat and adrenaline. Body heat radiated off the dancers, thickening the air, turning it into something close to suffocation even though the air conditioner had been running at full blast.
"Good! Keep it going! Five, six, seven, eight—"
I focused on the mirrored wall before me, following every movement of my reflection, careful not to miss a beat. Sweat streamed down my cheeks, my flushed face catching the harsh fluorescent light. Around me, the others looked just as drained. We'd been practicing for more than three hours straight for the crew's upcoming show.
"Alright, that's enough for today. Great work, everyone."
At last, the choreography was synchronized, no more missteps, no more stumbles. The team leader clapped her hands, smiling with relief.
I braced a hand against my knee, chest rising and falling, then used the edge of my shirt to wipe the sweat trailing down my jaw. Around me, the others groaned and laughed as they packed up to leave.
I waved off a few invitations to grab dinner, trying to steady my breath. When I finally stood upright to go, a voice called after me.
"Eunbyul, you okay?"
Sara's voice came from behind me—our team leader, now my oldest friend. Her eyes carried a soft concern.
I forced a smile. "Still breathing."
She sighed. "You know, we're not that young anymore. How long are you planning to cling to this dancer life?"
I didn't take it as an insult. She meant well. But at thirty-three, I couldn't deny the truth. My body no longer kept up with the younger members. Every year the crew got fresher, faster—while I aged one rehearsal at a time.
Now only Sara and I remained from the original team. But even she was about to retire, get married, and settle into a quieter rhythm of life.
"This job kept us alive for fifteen years." I said, walking toward the locker room.
Sara followed, words trailing behind me like a scolding echo. "Sure, but we're falling behind, and you know it."
I didn't argue. The truth didn't need an answer. Opening my locker, I pulled out a towel and wiped the sweat from my neck and arms.
"I just feel sorry for you," she muttered, exhaling heavily when I stayed silent. "If you'd accepted that trainee offer from MR Entertainment back then, maybe..."
My hands froze. A quiet bitterness crept through me, seeping into the hollow spaces inside my chest.
Years ago, MR Entertainment—a giant in the industry—had reached out with an offer. I had hesitated, because joining them meant working under the same roof as him. It meant risking rumors, scandals, distractions. I didn't want to hold back his career. So I declined, content to stay in the background, dancing behind someone else's spotlight.
I shoved the towel into my bag, shut the locker, and faced her with a faint, almost peaceful smile.
"What's done is done. Regret doesn't change anything."
She shook her head and grabbed her purse, following me out of the room. "So, when is your mysterious boyfriend finally going to make your relationship public?"
My thumbs danced across my phone screen, typing before I could think. The smile tugging at my lips grew deeper.
"Soon." I said, hitting send.
I just finished practice. Are you free tonight?
Even as I sent it, I didn't expect much. His schedule was packed, after all. How could I blame him? My boyfriend was one of the most sought-after actors in the country.
Thinking of him sent a flutter through my chest, pride mixing with warmth. I couldn't help but imagine it, the day he would finally go public, the day the world would know that I was the woman who had stood by him through everything.
Would he say it with that confident grin of his?
Would he call me the woman who shared his struggles, who believed in him before anyone else did?
It sounded cheesy, but if it were him… maybe he would. He liked the spotlight, after all.
"Soon?" Sara's scoff broke through my daydream. "You've been saying that for fifteen years."
I ignored the irritation in her tone, eyes glued to my screen. She must've guessed who I was texting, because her voice turned sharp.
"Does he even love you, Eunbyul? He can't even remember your birthday!"
"He's busy." I murmured, opening my browser and searching for his latest news.
"Right. Busy." Sara muttered behind me. "Probably busy cuddling someone else."
I stopped dead in my tracks. Sara bumped into me, groaning in surprise. When she saw my face—pale, eyes wide, lips trembling—her own expression faltered.
"Hey, I was just joking, don't take it seriously."
But my hands were shaking uncontrollably, tightening around the phone. My eyes locked on the screen.
Actor Taewon and actress Yuna spotted dating by the Han River. The couple has reportedly been together for eight years.
"Eunbyul?" Sara grabbed my arm as I swayed, her voice rising in alarm. "Are you okay?"
I couldn't answer. My mind was chaos, every thought colliding into the next. It's just gossip, I told myself. Just a rumor.
But when I opened the article, the logo at the top glared back at me. Dispatch. The most credible gossip site in the country.
No. It can't be. They must've mistaken him for someone else.
I scrolled down, trembling. There it was, a photo of a man and a woman walking hand in hand along the Han River. Their faces were blurred for privacy.
I zoomed in, my pulse pounding in my ears. Please, not him. Please.
But the closer I looked, the clearer the truth became, like ice water splashed across my face.
The man's jacket was one I had given him for his birthday last year. Coincidence, maybe.
Yet when my eyes caught the faint glint of a dull silver ring on his middle finger—our promise ring from when we were eighteen—I felt something inside me collapse.
No more excuses. No more pretending.
It was him.
"Eunbyul!" Sara shook me, but I barely heard her.
"I… I have to go." My voice cracked as I pulled away.
My legs were weak, but I forced them to move, stumbling into the street to hail a taxi.
"Eunbyul, what's going on?" Sara called after me, but I couldn't answer.
I climbed in, breath shallow. "MR Entertainment, please," I told the driver.
The moment the words left my mouth, all strength drained from me. I sank back into the seat, clutching my chest where the pain tore sharper with every breath.
With shaking hands, I unlocked my phone and called him. The dial tone droned endlessly, a cruel rhythm against my ear.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Each unanswered calls sliced into the silence like a cruel joke.
My lips pressed together until they bled.
I just needed to hear his voice, an excuse, a lie, anything.
Please… just pick up.
The taxi slowed at a red light. Outside the window, a massive billboard loomed, a familiar face smiling down at the city lights. His face.
Every day after practice, I'd look up and feel proud. Tonight, I wanted to shatter the glass.
The broadcast played silently through the tinted window: the same photo from the article, his hand in hers.
MR Entertainment responds to dating rumors surrounding actor Taewon: 'We have no comment on the artist's private life.'
A silent confirmation.
The phone slipped from my fingers, thudding onto the seat. The world dimmed, the sound of my pulse roaring in my ears. My lungs burned, every breath a struggle.
Memories flooded in, a decade and a half of love and sacrifice flashing before my eyes like a cruel montage.
Fifteen years of love, fifteen years of sacrifices.
Every audition I turned down, every dream I shelved.
All for a promise whispered by a boy with starlight in his eyes.
"Eunbyul, wait for me. I'll build us a home."
When did you start lying to me, Taewon?
Or was it all a script from the very beginning. One you wrote, directed, and starred in yourself?
And I… I was just another extra in your perfect scene.
***