The party was loud, full of music and laughter. In the center of the living room sat the “Smash Cake,” a silly game where everyone printed out pictures of people they would want to smash, taped them to sticks, and took turns placing their sticks on the cake to show their choices.

When it was your turn, you shook your head. “I’m not doing this,” you said firmly. You didn’t want to play, especially with Jimin around, knowing he might pick someone else.

Jimin grinned at you, holding a stick in his hand. “Come on, it’s just for fun,” he teased, glancing at you with that mischievous smile that always made your stomach flutter.

“Nope,” you replied, crossing your arms. “Not happening.”

He hesitated, then, with a playful laugh, put a stick with a picture of Megan Thee Stallion on the cake. You felt your chest tighten but didn’t say a word. You leaned back a little, keeping your distance, letting him play—but your silent protest made it clear you weren’t happy.

Jimin nudged you gently, whispering, “It’s just a game, you know…”