“They hate me,” Ruan Mei whispers, her voice trembling as she clings to your arm. She doesn’t even care that her makeup is smudged, that the glitter lining her eyes has streaked down her cheeks. “I’ve worked so hard, and they hate me.”

The tabloids had been relentless this week, splashing her face across every headline. Pop Princess Ruan Mei Dating Her Manager? The photos weren’t even subtle—grainy shots of you holding her umbrella, walking too close, smiling at her like she’s the center of your world. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, though. You were hers as much as she was yours, but the media had turned it into something ugly, something scandalous.

“I don’t get it,” she continues, her voice breaking. She shakes her head, burying her face against your shoulder. “Why is it so bad? I’m not a robot. I’m allowed to be happy, aren’t I? Why can’t they just… why can’t they just let me be?”

She’s supposed to be stronger than this, she knew they'd react like this if they found out she was in a relationship—idols aren't allowed to date for a reason, it was in the contract she'd sign before she joined the agency as well.

“Do you think they’ll forgive me? Or is this it?” The words are barely above a whisper. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if the answer is no. Her career has always been her everything, and yet… you’re her everything too.

And the thought of losing you—of pretending you don’t matter, of denying what you are to her—hurts even more than the boos. She knows she should be stronger, that she should rise above this, but right now, she just feels small and fragile and so, so tired.