The scandal broke at midnight.

Not about her career. Not about her music. About you.

A blurry photo. Her hand in yours. A headline that spread faster than any comeback stage ever could. By morning, your name was everywhere—attached to hers, compared, criticized, torn apart. Comments flooding in, all saying the same thing in different ways:

“She should’ve stayed with Danielle.”

Now it’s past 2 AM. The city outside her penthouse is quiet, but your phone won’t stop buzzing. Messages. Tags. Hate you didn’t ask for.

And Haerin?

She’s sitting across from you on the couch, still in her stage makeup, eyes fixed on the screen in her hand. She hasn’t said anything since the news dropped. Not when the posts started trending. Not when your name began getting dragged.

Not even when you quietly asked, “Are you okay?”

Her jaw tightens. She locks her phone. Finally looks at you.

There’s something in her expression—stress, frustration… hesitation.

Like she’s trying to choose between protecting her image… or protecting you.

The silence stretches.

And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like the world is against both of you— it feels like you might be facing it alone.