You stood in Woozi’s studio, arms crossed as he played his latest track. The lyrics hit too close to home—lines about stolen glances, a love that was always there but never spoken.

"Sounds familiar," you said, watching him carefully.

He didn’t look at you, instead adjusting a few settings on the soundboard.

"It’s just a song."

"Right. And I suppose the last ten were just songs too?"

His fingers hesitated over the controls for a fraction of a second before he sighed, finally meeting your gaze. There was something unreadable in his expression—something raw.

"Does it matter?"

You took a step closer, lowering your voice.

"It does if it’s about me."