Chapter 26

sophia’s heels clicked against the floors of the hybe x geffen building, but they weren’t comforting like they usually were. they were harsh.

dani had her headphones playing at full volume, head lowered as she followed her leader’s steps.

the lobby felt colder than she remembered.

staff moved around them like they weren’t really there — polite smiles that didn’t reach their eyes, quiet bows, hurried footsteps. the fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead.

sophia didn’t slow down.

her jaw was tight, shoulders squared like she was walking onto a stage she didn’t want to be on.

at the front desk, a receptionist blinked in surprise.

“oh! sophia, dani, do you have an appointme–”

“we’re here to see management,” sophia cut in, voice steady but sharp. “now.”

the receptionist hesitated.

dani pulled one side of her headphones down just enough to hear.

there was something humiliating about this. about having to beg. about having to explain why manon mattered.

about knowing someone, somewhere, had already decided she didn’t.

after a tense moment, the receptionist picked up the phone.

“they’re… in a meeting,” she said carefully.

sophia laughed once. it wasn’t amused.

“good,” she replied. “we’ll wait.”

she turned and dropped into one of the stiff lobby chairs, crossing her legs with deliberate calm. dani sat beside her, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie.

minutes stretched.

a group of trainees passed by, whispering.

dani caught fragments.

“—hiatus—”
“—scandal?”
“—six-member curse—”

her stomach twisted.

she shoved her headphones fully back on.

across from her, sophia stared straight ahead like she could burn a hole through the frosted glass doors.

eventually, they opened. their marketing manager stepped out, surprise flickering across his face when he saw them.

“…i thought i told the assistant team to handle this.”

sophia stood. “no,” she said quietly. “you told them to handle her.”

the hallway suddenly felt too small.

dani rose beside her.

“this isn’t happening,” she added, voice calmer than she felt. “not without an explanation.”

The manager sighed, already looking tired of them.

“there was an explanation,” he said. “it was sent to manon.”

sophia’s laugh was sharp enough to cut.

“an email?” she asked. “you put her career on pause and you sent an email?”

his expression didn’t change.

“this decision wasn’t emotional,” he replied evenly. “it was strategic.”

dani felt something hot crawl up her spine.

strategic.

like manon was a marketing plan.

like she was replaceable.

“strategic for who?” dani asked quietly.

the manager glanced at her then, as if noticing her for the first time.

“for the group,” he said. “public perception matters. timing matters. stability matters.”

“manon is stability,” sophia snapped. “she holds this team together.”

“and yet,” he replied calmly, “internal conflict has been escalating.”

the words hung between them.

dani’s stomach dropped.

so they knew.

maybe not everything — not the kiss, not the diary, not the jealousy — but enough. enough whispers. enough tension on camera. enough stiff smiles.

sophia stepped forward.

“that has nothing to do with her,” she said. “you’re punishing the wrong person.”

“we’re protecting the brand,” he corrected.

brand.

not girls.

not dreams.

not the years they bled into rehearsal rooms.

brand.

dani suddenly hated the building. the lights. the way the air smelled too clean.

“then protect it better,” she said.

sophia blinked at her.

the manager raised an eyebrow.

“if you put her on hiatus,” dani continued, voice steady now, “you’re not stabilizing anything. you’re proving the rumors right. you’re telling everyone we’re disposable.”

silence.

somewhere down the hallway, a door clicked shut.

the manager studied them both.

“you’re very passionate,” he said finally. “but contracts don’t run on passion.”

sophia’s hands curled into fists.

“what would make you reconsider?” she asked.

the manager tilted his head.

“that depends,” he said. “how far are you willing to go for her?”

dani’s heart started pounding.

because suddenly this didn’t feel like a conversation anymore.

it felt like a test.

“it’s fine,” dani said quietly.

sophia stared at her. “what are you doing?”

dani didn’t look at her. instead, she looked at the manager.

“if someone had to step back,” she said slowly, “it should’ve been me.”

the words felt heavier once they existed. the manager watched her carefully now, like she had just become relevant data.

“explain,” he said. dani swallowed.

“there’s been… noise around me,” she admitted. “my dad. the rumors. the tension in the group. i haven’t exactly been helping the situation.”

sophia shook her head violently. “no. don’t you dare.”

“manon doesn’t deserve this,” she said. “she’s the most stable one we have.”

“that doesn’t mean you disappear,” sophia whispered.

dani gave a small, broken smile. “i won’t disappear.”

she was lying, and they both knew it. she faced the manager again.

“if you need someone to put on hiatus,” dani continued, voice steadier now, “put me.”

the fluorescent lights hummed overhead. the manager didn’t answer immediately. he was thinking. calculating. sophia stepped forward like she might physically block the decision.

“you can’t seriously be considering this,” she snapped.

“it would address multiple concerns,” he replied calmly.

dani’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might be visible through her hoodie. this was it.

this was the only thing she could control.

not megan.
not the rumors.
not the way everything was slipping through her fingers.

but this? this she could choose.

“then do it,” she said.

sophia’s breath hitched.

the manager gave a single nod. “very well,” he said. “we’ll draft the announcement.” the world didn’t end. nothing dramatic happened, which somehow made it worse. sophia just stared at dani like she didn’t recognize her anymore.

“…why?” she asked. dani forced a shrug.

“someone had to be strong.”