Chapter 1: The Bootcamp

The first few days of bootcamp passed in a blur of texts and nightly calls. Haeun’s voice crackled through the line each evening, brimming with exhaustion but also determination. She painted vivid pictures of the sterile practice rooms, the endless hours spent perfecting choreography, and the relentless competition among trainees.

“It’s harder than I thought,” she admitted one night, her usually bright tone laced with doubt. “They put me in B-rank, Joonie. B-rank! Do you know what that means? It means I’m just… average.”

I could almost hear the tremble in her voice, the sting of disappointment she was trying to suppress. “Haeun,” I said gently, gripping my phone tightly. “You’re not average. You’ve always been talented, way more than most of those trainees. And look at you—you’re beautiful. You’re going to stand out no matter where they put you.”

“But B-rank trainees don’t get screentime,” she whispered. “When the show airs, no one’s going to notice me.”

“They will,” I insisted, my voice firm. “You’ll work your way up. You’ve always been the hardest worker in the room. And just because you’re not from one of those big agencies doesn’t mean you don’t belong there. You’re going to prove them wrong.”

Her soft sigh came through the line, followed by a quiet “Thank you.” I could almost see her faint smile as she spoke. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Joonie.”

But as the days went on, something started to change.

The photos she sent—selfies of her radiant smile, glistening with sweat from hours of practice—began to feature someone else. A tall, broad-shouldered trainee with a sharp jawline and a confident grin. At first, he was just in the background, blurry and indistinct. But in one photo, he stood closer, holding up a peace sign. And then, the photo that made my chest tighten: his arm draped casually over her shoulders, her face tilted toward his as she leaned in, laughing.

That night, I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Who is he?” I asked as soon as her call connected.

“Who?” she replied, her tone feigning innocence.

“The guy in your photos,” I pressed, trying to keep my voice calm. “The one with his arm around you.”

“Oh, him?” she said lightly. “He’s a trainee from SM! Can you believe that? He’s helping me with my choreography for the weekly evaluations.”

“That’s it?” I asked, the knot in my stomach tightening.

“What else would it be?” Her voice sharpened, defensive. “Joonie, you know how hard this is for me. He’s been nice enough to give me tips. That’s all it is.”

I wasn’t convinced. “It doesn’t look like ‘just tips.’ You’re leaning into him, Haeun.”

Her voice rose. “What are you saying? That I’m cheating on you? Joonie, how could you even think that?”

The fight escalated from there, words tumbling out faster than either of us could take them back. She hung up on me, her voice trembling with anger, and for the next week, I didn’t hear a word from her.

I barely slept. The images of her and that trainee haunted me. Was he sitting beside her at night, whispering encouragements where I couldn’t? Was he closer to her now than I had ever been?

When her name finally lit up my screen, my hands shook as I answered.

“Joonie,” she said, her voice soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry for ignoring you. Training has been so intense this week… I just haven’t had the energy to talk.”

I wanted to press her, to ask what had really happened during that week of silence, but the desperation to keep her in my life overpowered my jealousy. “It’s okay,” I said, forcing a smile she couldn’t see. “I get it. You’re working hard. I’m proud of you.”

And just like that, I let it go. I convinced myself that I had to trust her, that she wouldn’t betray me—not Haeun. Not my Haeun.