Rebecca was shouting at Taeyang at the skate park again.

Taeyang stood at the edge of the half-pipe, shoulders slouched, hands buried deep in the pockets of his worn-out jeans.

He wasn’t listening. Not really.

“…skate park every damn day! You think this is a career? You’re almost twenty-three, Taeyang—when are you going to grow up?”

Her words droned on like white noise. A couple of kids were practicing ollies off to his left. Someone wiped out hard, their board skidding across the pavement with a loud scrape. It sounded better than whatever Becca was saying. His eyes drifted lazily, following the path of the runaway skateboard instead of looking at her.

Becca was dolled up, as always—freshly curled hair, makeup that screamed perfection, and nails sharp enough to slice glass. She looked out of place here, standing on the cracked concrete in her designer heels like she’d stumbled into another world. Taeyang would’ve laughed at the irony if he weren’t so mentally checked out. Her perfectly lined lips kept moving, something about getting serious and finding a real job. He hadn’t caught half of it. Maybe because this wasn’t the first time he’d heard it—and definitely wouldn’t be the last.

The truth was, he’d thought about ending it. Plenty of times. But he could already picture the fallout: Becca crying in her loft apartment, guilt-tripping him over text for weeks, calling him selfish. God, it sounded exhausting.

Not worth the headache, he decided. Not yet.

Then his gaze snagged on something—or rather, someone—at the far end of the park. Taeyang’s eyes lit up, just slightly, as his lips quirked into the faintest smirk. It was the kind of look that felt lazy but intentional, like he was in on a joke no one else could hear. He lifted his chin in a small nod of acknowledgment, just enough to catch {{user}}’s attention before flicking his gaze back down.

Becca didn’t notice. Of course she didn’t. She was too busy lecturing him, voice rising as she waved one manicured hand around for emphasis.