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Ethan leaned against the wooden table, his eyes narrowing as Sera spoke excitedly about her visit to the orphanage with Jungkook. She was so carefree, so innocent in her recount of the day. And that, in itself, made Ethan’s blood simmer with a quiet unease.

"Yeah, it was... surreal,"

Sera said, her eyes lighting up.

"Jungkook, he really got along with the kids. It was like they were his world, you know? He remembered their names, played with them... I’ve never seen him like that."

Ethan’s fingers tightened around his coffee cup. He tried to smile, but the forced expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. He knew how Sera viewed the world—everything was filled with light, everything was pure. But he was no fool.

"And then,"

Sera continued, unaware of his inner turmoil,

"we had dinner together, and I told him how curious I was about the music process. You know, how songs are made, how the beats and everything come together."

Ethan could feel his chest tighten as her words spilled out.

“And?”

Sera bit her lip, clearly still in awe of the experience.

“And he invited me to his penthouse. He wants to show me the studio he’s got set up there.”

Ethan’s heart stuttered in his chest. He kept his cool, but his voice betrayed his discomfort.

“To his penthouse?”

Sera nodded, oblivious to the fire raging inside him.

“Yeah. Can you believe it? He said he’d show me how he works on his music, how he mixes everything. I’ve always been curious about that kind of thing.”

Ethan’s jaw clenched as he tried to wrap his head around it. His instincts as a man screamed at him to be careful, but he didn’t want to sound controlling. He had to get his point across without sounding like a jealous boyfriend, but damn it, he was starting to feel like he was losing her to a world he could never touch.

“Listen, Sera…”

His voice softened, though there was a firm edge to it.

“I get that you’re excited. But don’t you think this is a little... much? I mean, Jungkook? He’s a global star. People are dying for a chance to get close to him, and you? You’ve barely known him, and now you’re heading to his penthouse? Does that sound... normal to you?”

Sera blinked, caught off guard by his concern.

"What do you mean? It's not like that, Ethan. I’m just curious."

“Curious?!"

Ethan's tone lifted slightly, a hint of disbelief coloring his words.

"Sera, you don’t just casually get invited to a celebrity’s penthouse like it’s nothing. Hell, even I work in the same industry and I barely ever see him. But you? You’ve met him—what, three times? And now, suddenly, he’s asking you into his private space? It doesn’t sit right.”

Sera opened her mouth, but Ethan cut her off, his words coming out fast, fueled by his protective instincts.

“And I’m not saying he’s a bad guy, but you’ve got to know—sometimes men see someone like you and they think they can just take whatever they want. You’re so innocent, Sera. So trusting. He’s not like the guys you’ve known. This whole thing could be his idea of... something else.”

Sera’s brow furrowed.

“Ethan, I’m not naïve.”

“Maybe not, but you don’t understand how things work in this world,”

Ethan shot back, frustration growing in his chest.

“I know what men like him are capable of. He’s a star; he gets anything he wants. And sometimes... they get attracted to someone who doesn’t see the world the same way. Someone like you.”

He softened his voice, running a hand through his hair as he tried to keep the panic out of his tone.

“Look, I’m not saying he’s a bad person. I’m sure he’s a good guy. But sometimes, the way men act is—”

he paused, searching for the right words,

“—it’s different. He’s been around the world, seen things you can’t even imagine. And I... I’m just saying, sometimes, you’ve got to be careful. Not all men have the same intentions.”

Sera was silent for a moment, clearly taken aback by Ethan’s sudden intensity. But she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. She had always been open, trusting people without suspicion. But maybe, just maybe, she needed to be more cautious.

“I understand, Ethan,” she said quietly, her voice small.

“I just... he’s always been kind to me. And I’m not naïve—I just... I don’t see him like everyone else does.”

Ethan softened. He knew she didn’t understand it all. Sera was still so pure, so unguarded, and he loved that about her. But he also knew how the world worked. How easy it was for someone like Jungkook to get close to someone like Sera, just because of his fame, his power, and his charm.

“I’m just asking you to be careful,” he said, his voice low.

“Sometimes, things aren’t what they seem. And he’s not like us, Sera. You’ve got to remember that.”

Sera hesitated, taking a deep breath.

“I will... I promise. I’ll meet him again. But I’ll keep it in mind. I promise.”

Ethan gave a small, but relieved smile.

“I just want you safe, Sera. And if you ever feel uncomfortable... you call me, okay?”

“I will,” she replied softly, her hand resting over his on the table.

But deep down, she knew Ethan had a point.

Sera sat curled up on the edge of her bed, Ethan’s words echoing in her mind like a soft warning she couldn’t shake off. The excitement she’d felt earlier had faded into quiet introspection. Ethan wasn’t wrong—Jungkook was a global star, someone untouchable for most, and yet, here he was, inviting her into spaces that felt too personal, too intimate. She thought about how easily she'd accepted his invitations, how natural it all seemed at the time. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe she was too trusting, too eager to see only the good. Ethan had spoken not out of jealousy, but from genuine concern. She knew he loved her, and more than that, he understood things about the world she didn’t. With a quiet sigh, Sera made up her mind. She would create distance. Not because Jungkook had done anything wrong—but because Ethan had reminded her of something important: not everyone’s intentions are as pure as they seem, and sometimes, even unintentional closeness could lead to complicated consequences

___________________________________________

The mansion stood at the end of a private road in Gangnam—modern, extravagant, glowing under purple and gold ambient lights. The exterior was lit like a runway, luxury cars parked outside, and the bass of house music vibrating through the marble walls. It was Aiden's album release party—one of Korea's rising R&B legends and Jungkook’s industry friend.

Security was tight. Only celebrities, elite producers, models, and key insiders were allowed inside.

Jungkook stepped out of his black Genesis GV80, his bodyguard trailing behind him. Dressed in a black satin shirt tucked into slim-fit trousers, he wore no tie, just layered chains and an attitude of effortless danger. His hair was slicked back, a few strands falling across his forehead.

As he walked in, the heat of the room hit him—neon lights, cigar smoke, clinking glasses, and bodies moving to the rhythm. The music was low-pitched but heavy, seductive and slow, setting the mood for something that felt less like a celebration and more like a secret rebellion.

Aiden spotted him and approached with a wide grin.

“You made it, finally.”

“I had to,”

Jungkook said, embracing him briefly, his voice already blending with the music.

“Heard your album. You killed it.”

“Not as much as you kill the internet every week,”

Aiden laughed, handing him a crystal glass filled with dark liquor.

“Tonight, no rules, alright? Just let go.”

Jungkook took the glass and downed a gulp. It burned on the way down, but it was a feeling he welcomed. He nodded and gave a lazy smirk.

“No rules sounds good.”

---

An Hour Later

The party had transformed into something wild. People danced like they didn’t care who watched. Some in tiny circles, others pressed against each other like the music demanded skin-to-skin.

The air was heavy with alcohol and secrets. Jungkook sat on a couch near the dance floor, second drink in hand, head tilted back as he watched the world blur around him. Aiden was somewhere, already singing along to his own track. A few models had tried to sit near Jungkook, but he brushed them off with a polite smile.

And then she appeared.

Rina Seo—a sultry voice in Korea’s pop world. Known for her boldness, smoky vocals, and too many flings to name. Her figure was wrapped in a blood-red mini dress, her hair curled and cascading down her back like a goddess dipped in danger.

She sauntered to him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,”

she said, kneeling slightly to speak into his ear, her perfume intoxicating.

“I’m full of surprises,”

Jungkook replied, his voice low, already buzzed but controlled.

“You’re always hiding from scenes like these. What changed?”

He shrugged, swirling the ice in his glass.

“Needed to breathe a little. Maybe forget a little.”

Rina smirked.

“Wanna dance? Or do you still only move on stage?”

He chuckled. “Let’s find out.”

The floor was dimly lit, with soft spotlighting catching only the glimmer of sweat and sequins. The song that came on was slow, bass-heavy, sensual—one meant for close contact.

Rina’s body was already on his by the second beat.

Her back arched as she swayed against him. Jungkook placed his hand lightly on her waist—not pulling her closer, but not stepping away either. She moved like liquid—teasing him, testing him—her hair brushing his chest as she spun, then came back into him, one arm wrapping around his neck.

Their bodies moved in sync, slow and fluid.

She leaned into his ear, whispering something he didn’t quite catch—probably flirtatious nonsense—but he just smirked and nodded.

To the outsider’s eye, it looked…intimate. Maybe even seductive. But to Jungkook, it was nothing. A meaningless escape in a song.

That’s when the flashes began.

He barely noticed them at first—paparazzi must’ve slipped past the private security. Someone had filmed a clip, someone else took photos from a higher floor through tinted glass.

By the time the dance ended, the damage had already been done.

The party began winding down. People spilled out into the cool Seoul night, tipsy, laughing, barely remembering who they kissed or touched.

Jungkook walked toward his car, his bodyguard flanking him as cameras snapped from across the street. His shirt was now partially unbuttoned, the collar slightly damp from sweat. He looked tired, not trashed—but the glow in his eyes had dimmed.

He slid into the backseat of his car, leaning his head back with a sigh.

Rina had blown him a kiss before leaving. He hadn’t responded.

The alcohol buzz was still in his veins

"

The blinds of the floor-to-ceiling windows were only half drawn, letting sharp morning light pour into the room. The skyline of Seoul looked hazy under the early sun, but inside Jungkook’s penthouse, the silence was heavy— tJungkook was sprawled across his plush L-shaped couch, his shirt from last night still on, a few buttons undone, hair a tousled mess over his forehead. He hadn’t fully blacked out—but he wasn’t in full control either. Last night felt like a blur of music, heat, and half-felt sensations. Nothing memorable—at least to him.

The buzz of his phone sliced through the quiet.

Groaning, he reached blindly for it on the side table, still barely awake.

Manager : jungkook

He answered with a gravelly, half-asleep voice.

“What?”

The voice on the other end was panicked, rushed, and heavy with urgency.

“Jungkook, did you check your phone? The news? Twitter? Anything?”

Jungkook rubbed his eyes.

“No, I just woke up—why the hell would I check Twitter first thing?”

His manager exhaled hard, frustration mixing with worry.

“Shit, okay. Listen, Jungkook—it’s all over the place. You and Rina. From last night. Photos, videos. The dance. The way you held her. It’s… it looks too intimate, man. It looks like you were—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jungkook sat up straight, his stomach dropping cold.

“There’s fan cams. Some fans are posting edits already—shipping you two. Some are defending you, but a lot of them… they’re pissed. Especially after what Rina said in that interview last month about wanting to ‘get closer’ to you.”

Jungkook blinked, processing.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Dead serious. Reporters are calling me nonstop. Headlines are calling her your ‘mystery girl’ from the party. Others are saying ‘new flame.’ It’s trending, jungkook Everywhere.”

Panic churned under his skin, rising like a tidal wave. Without another word, he grabbed the remote and turned on the living room TV. His hand trembled slightly as he flipped to one of the entertainment news channels.

And there it was.

A massive, zoomed-in freeze frame of him and Rina on the dance floor.

Her hand around his neck, their faces close, mid-movement. Another shot—his hand on her waist. Then a low-angle video clip playing on loop—Rina swaying against him, whispering something, their bodies moving together like they were lovers in a dim-lit club.

The voiceover blared:

“...The two biggest names in Korea’s pop scene—Jungkook and soloist Rina Seo—shared what appeared to be an intimate moment at Aiden’s private album launch party last night. Are they the industry’s newest secret couple? Or just two friends dancing a little too close? Fans are divided...”

Click. Jungkook turned off the TV.

His jaw clenched. Hard.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath.

He stood up sharply and grabbed his phone again, pressing redial.

“Who the hell let them in?! This was a private party!”

Jungkook barked the moment his manager picked up again.

“I don’t know. Someone must’ve sold them access or location. Maybe even a guest leaked it to get media coverage.”

“I want names,”

Jungkook growled, pacing now, fingers curling into fists.

“Find out which reporter published this shit first. I want that bastard blacklisted. Make sure he never gets near a mic or camera again.”

“I’m trying. Already making calls. Damage control is gonna be tough though—Rina’s team isn’t denying anything either.”

“Of course she isn’t,”

Jungkook hissed, running a hand through his messy hair. “It makes her look good.”

His voice lowered dangerously.

“I want every damn article wiped. Every post flagged. You got that? Shut this down.”

“Yes, . I’ll do whatever I can.”

The call ended.

But silence didn’t return. Guilt did.

Jungkook dropped onto the couch again, his hands gripping his hair, elbows on his knees. His heartbeat wasn’t slowing down—if anything, it picked up.

And then, as if summoned by the devil himself—

Her face came rushing into his mind.

Sera.

Her eyes. What if she saw those pictures?

His chest ached suddenly.

What if she thought he was the same as those rumors said? A player. A flirt. A guy who collected scandals like tattoos.

What would she think of him now?

He rubbed his face, the knot in his throat tightening.

“It wasn’t even like that,” he whispered to no one. “I didn’t do anything.”

But it wouldn’t matter.

Because to someone like Sera—someone untouched by this kind of chaos—it would look like something. Like proof that he wasn’t trustworthy. That maybe she was right to keep her distance from him.

And that scared him more than any headline.

Because this wasn’t the first time his name had been tangled in tabloid trash. It wasn’t the first time he’d been shipped, kissed, or speculated about. And he’d never cared before. Not once.

But now?

Now it felt different.

Because for the first time… he wasn’t worried about his image.

He was worried about hers.

---Jungkook sat on the kitchen counter, absently stirring a spoon into his untouched coffee. The headlines were still everywhere—his name paired with hers. Rina. Again and again, on every tabloid cover, every trending tag, every speculative blog post. It should’ve pissed him off more than it did. But all he could think about was her.

Sera.

He didn’t even know why. She wasn’t involved. She hadn’t called, hadn’t messaged—of course she hadn’t. She didn’t owe him that. She was probably reading the same crap as everyone else, skimming through it with that blank look she always wore. Detached. Untouched.

But that was the problem.

What was she thinking?

Did she believe it?

Did she just shrug and think, Yeah, that’s who he is… just another rumor-boy clinging to attention?

He scoffed under his breath, setting the mug down with a dull clink.

Why the fuck did it matter?

But it did.

Way more than it should.

He didn’t want her to believe it. He didn’t want her to think he was the kind of guy who let girls cling to him at parties, let cameras snap pictures that screamed intimate when nothing was. He wanted to explain. Not to clear his name to the world—but to her. Just her.

But the words—

“It’s not what it looked like.”

“Don’t believe what you saw.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

—they all sounded weak. Defensive. Like excuses.

And he didn’t even know what she thought yet. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Maybe she'd never even bring it up, and he’d be the one sitting here like a fool, spiraling over someone who barely knew him.

Still… he wanted to say something.

Even just—“Hey. Did you see it?”

Simple. Open-ended.

But the moment he reached for his phone, his chest tightened, and the hesitation returned like a slap. If he said something first, would it look like he was guilty? Or worse—trying to make it matter when it didn’t?

He leaned back, head hitting the cabinet behind him, sighing.

This wasn’t like him.

He didn’t chase explanations. He didn’t worry about what people thought. But with her... it wasn’t about reputation. It was about being understood. About her seeing the truth.

And fuck, he didn’t even know why that mattered so much.

Maybe it was because she never looked at him with those expectant eyes. She didn’t follow his headlines. She didn’t try to get close. She wasn’t impressed. She was just… Sera.

And maybe that’s why her opinion suddenly felt heavier than all the millions out there.

And maybe that’s why he couldn’t bring himself to face her yet.

Not until he figured out what he wanted to say.

Not until he figured out what the hell she meant to him.

______________________________________

The warm glow of the evening sun filtered lazily through the tall windows of Ethan’s apartment, casting long golden streaks across the wooden floor. A half-read book lay forgotten on the coffee table, its pages fluttering slightly in the fan's breeze. The faint sound of running water hummed from the washroom.

Ethan sat on the couch, one leg bent beneath him, nursing a mug of black tea that had already gone lukewarm. He could hear Sera humming faintly behind the door — a low, offbeat tune. She always did that when she was relaxed. Comfortable. Herself.

It made him smile.

His phone was beside him, untouched, and Sera's phone lay a few inches away on the armrest, her screen black and still — until suddenly, it lit up.

He glanced at it lazily, expecting it to stop after two or three rings.

But it didn’t.

The shrill ring echoed again.

Ethan’s brows furrowed slightly. His first instinct was to ignore it. It wasn’t his business. He wasn’t the kind of guy who flipped through his girlfriend's phone. And Sera… Sera never gave him a reason to.

He trusted her. Completely.

So, he told himself to wait.

But it rang again. And again.

With a slight sigh, he called out, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the water.

“Sera! Your phone’s blowing up!”

No response. Just the sound of water continuing to fall, rhythmically splashing against porcelain.

He called again, louder this time,

“Sera? Someone’s calling you. Might be important!”

“Sera? Someone’s calling you. Might be important!”

Still nothing. Maybe she didn’t hear him. Maybe she was shampooing her hair. He chuckled at the thought.
The phone went silent, finally.
He took a sip of his tea.

And then — Ting. Ting. Ting. Ting.
This time, it wasn’t a call. It was message notifications. One after another, filling the silence of the room like soft raindrops tapping on glass.

Something about the frequency of it made Ethan pause. A tight knot slowly curled in his stomach — not out of suspicion, but out of curiosity that slowly started shifting into unease.

He looked at the phone. Her lock screen was visible now, lit up with the flood of notifications. He didn't try to read anything. Not yet. His hand hovered near the device.
He cursed under his breath, pulled his hand back, then stood and walked toward the washroom door, knocking lightly.

“Sera? Everything okay in there? Someone’s messaging you a lot.”

Still no answer.
More pings followed.
He looked back at the phone.
It was still lighting up.
He hesitated again, the conflict pressing heavier now.
He wasn’t jealous. Not paranoid. But this — this constant ringing — it felt… off. Out of place. Like something was trying to demand attention, urgently.

Sera had always been open with him. Never hid anything. But something in the pit of his chest twisted.
And before he knew it, he was reaching for the phone.
He didn’t unlock it. Just looked.

The notifications were from one person.
Jungkook.
The name stared back at him, repeated again and again.

Jungkook:

"Sera, please read." Jungkook: "I know how this looks but it's not what you think." Jungkook: "I swear it’s not real." Jungkook: "Don’t believe what they’re saying." Jungkook: "Please just say something."

Ethan froze.
His mind reeled.
He wasn’t angry — not yet — but something inside him cracked open, uncertain and raw. Why was Jungkook messaging her? Why so desperately? And more importantly — what the hell was he trying to explain?

His grip on the phone tightened before he placed it down slowly, like it had become a fragile, dangerous thing.

Just then, the washroom door clicked.
Sera stepped out, towel-drying her damp hair, dressed in one of Ethan’s oversized shirts that fell just above her knees. She looked relaxed, unaware of the tension in the room. Her eyes found him — standing still, stiff — and then her gaze dropped to her phone, now dim but lying obviously out of place from where she left it.
Her eyes narrowed.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, sensing something.

Ethan turned to look at her. His jaw flexed slightly, eyes scanning hers — searching.
He didn’t speak right away. Just held her gaze for a moment too long before asking, voice quiet but heavy:

“Why is Jungkook messaging you like that?”

Sera’s eyes shifted from Ethan’s tense expression to the phone lying face-down on the table. The silence that followed his question was unnerving, almost heavier than the question itself.

Jungkook.

Her brows furrowed slightly, confused more than alarmed.

“Jungkook messaged me?” she asked, wrapping the towel loosely around her neck. “What did he say?”

Ethan’s voice was low.

“He’s been spamming you. Calling, messaging… asking you to believe him. I didn’t read the full thing. Just… saw the name. And a few lines.”

Sera's lips parted slightly, processing this. Jungkook? And desperation? It didn’t add up.

She moved toward the table, picked up her phone, and scanned the notifications. Her face remained unreadable as her thumb swiped quickly to clear the flood of pop-ups. Ethan watched her with quiet eyes, waiting.

“I… don’t know what this is about either,”

she said honestly, glancing at him.

“Let me talk to him, yeah?”

Ethan nodded, still watching her. “Sure.”

Sera exhaled and stepped aside, closer to the balcony, needing a little space to think clearly. She dialed Jungkook’s number — and barely half a ring passed before he picked up.

“Sera—” his voice burst through the line, laced with tension, as if he’d been holding his breath this whole time.

She blinked, surprised by the immediacy.

“What’s going on, Jungkook?” she asked softly. “Why were you calling me so much?”

He didn’t even pause to breathe.

“It’s not true. That article — that photo — it’s all bullshit. It’s just a twisted headline taken from the wrong angle. I wasn’t doing anything. I was just dancing . It’s just— someone caught it in a weird frame. It looks bad but it’s not what they’re saying. You believe me, right? Sera? Please… I swear to you I didn’t do anything.”

She listened patiently. No judgment in her tone. No hint of shock or disappointment either. When she finally spoke, her words were slow, measured, clear.

“Jungkook,” she said gently. “Take a breath first.”

He stopped. Inhaled sharply.

She continued, her voice calm.

“I didn’t even know there was an article or a photo until Ethan told me . So you don’t have to explain anything.”

“But I want to—”

“You really don’t,” she interjected lightly but firmly.

“I’m not bothered. You don’t owe me any explanation.”

A pause stretched between them.

“How can you say that?” he asked, confusion trickling into his tone.

“Because,” she said simply,

“you have your life. I have mine. We’re friends, Jungkook. Just friends. Nothing more. And as your friend, I’m not here to judge you or hold you accountable for things that don’t concern me.”

Jungkook went completely quiet on the other end.

Her words were kind. Mature. But they cut through him in the worst way.

Just friends.

Not bothered.

Didn’t need an explanation.

It was like she had built a wall between them without even raising her voice — like she’d already decided he was just another name in her contact list, not someone who mattered. Not in that way.

He swallowed, hard.

Then, in a low, wounded voice, he asked,

“So… you’re not angry? You don’t think I’m a bad person?”

There was a moment of silence before Sera answered — this time slower, more thoughtful.

“No,” she said.

“I’m not angry. And I don’t think you’re a bad person, Jungkook. People make mistakes. And even if you did something reckless… I wouldn’t define your whole self by one blurry headline. I know there’s more to you.”

Those words were kind — maybe too kind — and yet they only made the ache in Jungkook’s chest worse. Because the distance in her voice wasn’t cold… it was indifferent.

She meant it. But not because he was important to her.

She just had that kind of heart.

He closed his eyes.

“Okay,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Thanks… for picking up.”

And then he ended the call.

Just like that.

No goodbyes.

Just silence.

Sera stared at the screen for a few seconds before turning it off. She lingered by the window, gaze distant now.

Back in the room, Ethan stood leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms folded loosely across his chest. When she walked back in, he didn’t ask anything. But he noticed the slight drop in her shoulders.

“Everything alright?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. “Yeah. He just… needed to clear his head, I think.”

Ethan gave her a soft smile, choosing not to press further. He simply opened his arms, and she stepped into them.

She sat beside him on the couch,  Ethan had been watching her — not with suspicion, but with a lingering concern that had taken root ever since Jungkook's name started flashing across her screen.

He finally broke the silence.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, voice low and steady.

Sera glanced at him. “Hmm?”

“About Jungkook,”

he clarified, eyes focused on her,

“I know you said you’re just friends, and I trust you. Completely. But…” — he paused, choosing his words carefully — “there’s something about the way he talks to you. The way he panicked today. It didn’t feel like just friendship.”

Sera frowned slightly, confused. “You think he likes me?”

Ethan gave her a small, almost sad smile.

“I think he cares about how you see him. Too much.”

She remained quiet, processing that.

“I mean,”
he continued, leaning back slightly but never taking his eyes off her,

“I don’t know him well. But the way he  first instinct to call you  , and beg you to believe him… that’s not normal, Sera. That’s emotional desperation that's what I'm trying to say sera it's really doesn't seem normal "

Sera looked down at her cup. She wasn’t blushing or flattered. Just thoughtful.

“I don’t know what to do ethan ,”

she said after a pause.

“We haven’t even been close like that.”

Ethan nodded slowly.

“Maybe not out loud. Maybe not even clearly to himself. But the way he clings to your opinion of him—it’s intense. You may not see it, but to him, your validation matters like hell. It’s… it’s emotional territory that’s dangerous, Sera.”

Her eyes flickered to his, a quiet understanding beginning to form.

“I’m not asking you to cut him off,”

Ethan added softly.

“But maybe… just take a step back. Don’t be too available. Don’t become his safe place unless you want to be that. Because if you don’t feel the same… it’s only going to confuse him more. And hurt him more.”

Sera swallowed. Ethan’s words weren’t dramatic. They weren’t possessive. They were just real.

“He’s probably lonely,” she whispered.

Ethan nodded. “Yeah. And that makes it worse.”

She gave a slow nod too, leaning her head back against the couch.

“I didn’t think it was that deep.”

“You’re kind,” he said.

“That’s your nature. But sometimes… kindness gets misread. Especially by people who are starved for something more.”

That struck a chord.

Ethan reached over and gently took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

“I just… don’t want you caught up in something messy. Especially not something that’ll hurt either of you.”

Sera squeezed his hand back. “Thank you. For being honest.”

He smiled softly. “Always.”

As the evening deepened around them, the conversation faded into a calm stillness — but the message lingered. Sera didn’t have all the answers yet. But something had shifted.

Any thoughts on ethan sera and jungkook.

Still nothing. Maybe she didn’t hear him. Maybe she was s