By the time Yoongi burst through the apartment door, she was already packing.
"Rhea, wait—stop—let me explain—"
"I saw it, Yoongi," she said, eyes red, tears streaking down her cheeks. "I waited for you. Every night. While you let them print lies, while she kissed you—"
"She kissed me—Rhea, I didn't—please, it wasn't—"
But she wouldn't hear it.
She dragged her suitcase to the door. His hand reached for her, pleading. But she flinched away.
Her hands were busy—grabbing clothes, cramming drawers into the suitcase, yanking zippers. She didn't look at him.
"I saw it, Yoongi," Rhea hissed, her voice trembling. "I waited. Every damn night. While the press printed whatever lies they wanted, I kept quiet. Loyal. And tonight—tonight—I walk in and you're locking lips with her?"
"She kissed me!" he barked, breath short. "I didn't—Rhea, I didn't ask for that—"
She whirled on him, eyes blazing."New normal my ass!" she snapped. "I didn't know the new normal meant being humiliated in your studio, Yoongi. I didn't know it involved watching someone else kiss you."
"You think I wanted that?" he yelled back. His chest rose and fell as he stepped closer. "I was working. She poured herself a drink, got tipsy, and I was done—I was about to leave and she just—"He dragged his hand through his hair, breath ragged. "I'm telling the truth. What I wouldn't give just to come home and be done with it. With everything."
Rhea laughed—a dry, broken laugh."And I'm pregnant."
The words dropped like a grenade between them.
Yoongi froze.
His mouth opened but no sound came out. His eyes scanned hers—searching for sarcasm, a cruel twist to the moment. But it wasn't there.
Her voice cracked now. Shaky. Honest."You hear me? Pregnant."She shook her head, pressing a palm to her chest."And for what? What did I sacrifice, Yoongi? My sleep. My health. My peace. I trusted you—and you left me behind."
"Rhea…" he whispered, stepping forward. "I didn't know. I didn't—"
She backed away."You didn't care. You were slipping. I saw it. The texts slowing down. The 'I'll be home late' turning into no messages at all. And now some nobody pops up, draping herself all over you, and you didn't even push her off—"
"I froze," Yoongi said, chest heaving. "I didn't want it—"
"But you didn't stop it either."
Silence stretched. A quiet, cruel thing.
"Rhea. Please." He reached for her arm. "Let's talk. Sit down. Let me fix this."
She yanked herself away.
"You can't fix it with a beat or a verse this time, Yoongi." Her voice broke. "This is real. This is my body. This is a baby. And I don't even know if it's going to survive because I'm barely surviving."
Yoongi's face drained of color."What?"
"My blood sugar's tanking. The doctors are already warning me about complications. I've been terrified for weeks—every single day I wonder if my body's strong enough to keep this baby alive. And now I've got this on my chest too."
He reached again—desperate now—but she stepped back. Her eyes were shining with tears, her voice shaking with grief and rage.
"I needed you. And you weren't there."
Her vision blurred from sobbing. she gripped the handle of her suitcase and stormed out of the apartment. She took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.
And then it happened.
Her foot caught the strap of her bag. The weight shifted. She stumbled.
Thud.
She tumbled down the last steps, her body curling inward, instinctively shielding her stomach. The pain hit instantly—a sharp, throbbing cramp in her abdomen. Then a warmth spreading beneath her.
Her eyes widened in horror.
Blood.
Too much.
Too warm.
Too soon.
****
She woke to a sterile ceiling and the soft beeping of machines. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and something sweet—like artificial lemon.
Her body ached. Her throat was dry.
But it was the silence that made her skin crawl.
Until a warm, trembling hand wrapped around hers.
"Rhea…"
His voice cracked, low and rasping, like he hadn't spoken in hours.
She turned her head slowly, and there he was—Yoongi—his cat-like eyes swollen, red-rimmed, his mask crumpled under his chin, hospital wristband still clinging to his wrist.
"They said it was too late," he whispered. "Your blood sugar dropped too fast. You lost too much. We lost it, Rhea. We… we lost our baby."
For a long moment, Rhea didn't speak.
She stared at the ceiling again. Her lips parted—but no sound came.
No tears. No sobs. Not even a blink.
Just numbness.
A strange hollowness sank into her bones like winter, and she curled slowly away from him, as if trying to bury herself in the hospital sheets.
***
It was too bright.Hospitals always were.White walls. White light. White noise.
Yoongi sat in the emergency room, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, hands trembling.
His fingers still smelled like her shampoo.
His jeans were stained from the floor where he knelt beside her.He hadn't moved since.Didn't speak on the way here.Didn't cry.He couldn't.
The only sound that mattered had been Rhea's broken voice whispering, "The baby—" as the medics wheeled her into the ER. And now… silence.
Too quiet.
He stared at the swinging double doors the nurse disappeared into.
Every second dragged like wet cement.She was behind those doors.And he wasn't.
He didn't even know if she was still—
No. He wouldn't go there.
His hands clenched. His leg bounced relentlessly. The whiskey buzz from earlier was long gone, washed out by adrenaline and fear.
He couldn't stop replaying it.The snap of her heel.The sound her body made hitting the steps.The way she grabbed her stomach.
His child was in there.And he didn't even know.
She had told him in the middle of a fight—sarcastic, bitter, angry.He didn't believe her at first.Didn't have time to.And now?
Now he'd give his entire goddamn soul just to see her open her eyes again.
When he reached the door, he paused. He could hear the soft hum of machines, the shuffle of paper, quiet conversation. Then—
Jin's voice. Low. Grim.
Selena's whisper. Wet with tears.
He opened the door.
Rhea was there, pale and smaller than he remembered, propped up by stiff hospital pillows. Her eyes were closed, cheeks sallow. Her hair stuck to her temples with sweat.
He thought he was prepared.
He wasn't.
Selena turned when she heard the door, but didn't speak. Jin, standing by the window, gave him a look Yoongi couldn't read. Not exactly angry. Just… heavy. Unmoving. Like stone.
Yoongi stepped forward slowly.
One foot. Then another.
He reached the edge of the bed and opened his mouth to speak—he didn't even know what words would come—when Rhea blinked her eyes open.
She looked at him.
Then turned away.
His heart cracked in half.
He didn't get to say her name.
Because it was Selena who said the words.
"Yoongi…" she began, voice trembling, "…the bleeding didn't stop. The scan—"
No.
No.
No.
He could still see her clutching her stomach.
He could still feel the warmth of her blood on his hands.
But some part of him still thought—hoped—it was early. It wasn't real yet. Maybe it was just a scare. A complication. A possibility. Not—
"We lost the baby."
Selena said it gently.
But it landed like a bomb.
Yoongi froze.
Completely.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't blink.
"The doctors tried everything," Jin added softly. "But it was too late."
He could still hear the monitor.
Still feel the cold from that studio.
Still hear the echo of that door slamming shut.
His knees gave out. He collapsed into the chair beside her bed, unable to stop the quake that rippled through his chest.
He had no right to cry.
No right to speak.
But when Rhea finally turned to look at him, her eyes were hollow.
He reached for her hand, but she pulled away.
***
Days bled into weeks
Rhea became a ghost of herself.
She stopped drawing. She stopped laughing. She barely ate unless Selena nagged her to. She wandered the apartment like a shadow, flinching every time Yoongi's phone buzzed with company calls, interviews, shoots, deadlines.
He tried to be present, but the world pulled him in every direction—except hers.
He brought her dinner sometimes. Left gentle forehead kisses. Sat beside her, silent, as she stared out the window with vacant eyes.
And one night, over untouched food, she looked at him and said it:
"I think we should break up."
He didn't fight her.
He didn't plead.
Maybe he was too guilty. Maybe he thought he deserved it. Maybe, deep down, he knew she needed to be alone more than he needed to be forgiven.
So he nodded.
And just like that, she left.
Three Weeks later.
She returned for the last of her things—quiet, early in the morning when she thought he wouldn't be home.
But the door opened to the sound of soft piano keys and the scent of tteokguk.
He was there.
Yoongi stood barefoot in the living room, hair longer, eyes sunken, shirt rumpled.
He looked at her like she was both a memory and a dream.
"You're here," she said softly.
"I never left," he replied.
Rhea didn't know what to say. Her chest ached, but her face stayed blank.
She nodded once. Walked past him. Opened the closet.
But her hands trembled around the handle of her old suitcase.
And Yoongi watched, hoping she would say something else—anything else.
But she didn't.
Because grief, even shared, can build a wall higher than love knows how to climb.