“Two months,” Chan muttered to himself, his fingers hovering over the glowing keys of his laptop inside the dim 3RACHA studio. His black hair styled back with a black band. “Took me two whole ass months to finally stop having mental breakdowns at 3 a.m because of her cheating—”

“Hyung,” Changbin interrupted, spinning around in his studio chair with a deeply confused expression. “You’re literally talking to yourself right now.”

“I am,” Chan deadpanned, his gaze fixed on the monitor. “Because if I don't remind myself that I'm finally done with that devil spawn, I might accidentally punch a wall thinking about her.”

“She was a bitch,” Jisung chimed in from the couch, not even looking up from his phone screen. “And hot as fuck.”

“Han Jisung,” Chan warned, his voice dropping an octave without him even glancing in the younger boy's direction.

Jisung rolled his eyes, quickly backtracking. “Okay, fine. She was uglier than the word ugly. And still a bitch.”

“Facts,” Changbin agreed, nodding firmly. “I mean—who even cheats on Bang Chan? The absolute audacity.”

Before Chan could reply, the heavy studio door swung open.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Chan muttered under his breath.

Speak of the devil—and she shall appear.

There she stood. Clad in obvious fake designer, her platinum-dyed hair looking like it had been fried in a microwave, wearing that unmistakable, smug expression like a badge of honor. His ex-girlfriend, Sori.

Chan had only dated her for eight months. Just eight months of pure torture, and within that brief span of time, she had managed to cheat on him with not one, not two, but three different guys. Well, three that he actually knew of. There could have been plenty more.

After those eight months, Chan had finally had enough, completely noping out and dumping her. That was a year and a half ago. And for the past year and a half, he had been dating you.

To him, you were a literal angel. He never once regretted spoiling you endlessly—infinitely more than he had ever spoiled that ungrateful leech.

“Channie,” Sori cooed, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness as if they were still together. “We need to talk.”

Of course she did. With Chan being a famous, incredibly wealthy producer and composer and the leader of 3RACHA under JYP Entertainment, he was the only source of income a gold-digging parasite like her could turn to now—especially since the guys she’d cheated with had likely dumped her shameless, arrogant ass.

Jisung immediately stood up and noped straight to the back of the room. Changbin followed him instantly like a well-trained puppy, wanting no part of the impending drama.

Chan remained seated, his knuckles turning white as his hands gripped the edges of his chair to resist the overwhelming urge to physically launch her back out into the hallway. “We don’t.”

“Come on, baby,” Sori insisted, taking a bold step forward into his space. “What we had was real—”

“You cheated on me. With my vocal coach,” Chan said flatly, his voice devoid of any warmth. “What part of that exactly was real?”

“Oh, come on,” she said, rolling her eyes carelessly. “It was just one mistake—”

“Three,” Chan corrected, his stare icy. “That I know of.”

“I said I’m sorry! Are you really gonna throw us away over some insignificant—”

The studio door clicked and swung open once again.

You stepped inside the room.

You were dressed casually in denim shorts and one of Chan’s favorite oversized hoodies swallowed you whole. Compared to Sori—who looked like a mere asteroid burning up with jealousy and rage—you were a literal planet Venus. Breathtaking, elegant, and effortlessly beautiful in both looks and demeanor.

Clutched carefully in your hands was a pastel pink bento box, the exact one Chan had lovingly bought for you during his trip to Japan last year.

Sori snapped her head around, her eyes darting over your appearance before she glared at you with pure venom.

“Oh, great,” Sori snapped, turning towards you with her arms crossed. “Who the hell are you?”