Sakura and you had been best friends since trainee days—practicing until sunrise, sneaking convenience store snacks into dorms, and falling asleep on each other’s shoulders between schedules. Skinship came naturally between you two. Clasped hands, shared hoodies, sleepy head-leaning—it was just how you were.

But not everyone saw it that way.

It started with a blurry photo—your hand in hers, both of you laughing outside the company van. Then came the fan edits, the rumors, the hashtags. “Is it true?” “Are they dating?” Your phones wouldn’t stop buzzing.

You found her in the practice room, sitting cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through the chaos. She glanced up at you, her expression unreadable. “Do we really look that in love?” Sakura asked, half-joking—half not.