Chapter 1

The KATSEYE house always buzzed with something—music from the kitchen speakers, the shuffling of socks across polished floors, the rise and fall of laughter through open doors. But in the quiet moments—just before breakfast, just after practice—it was a place of scattered silences. That’s when Megan usually wrote.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, sunlight bleeding through the curtains as she tapped her pen on the corner of her black journal. Lara’s side of the room was still a mess of pillows and a hoodie halfway off the nightstand. Megan glanced at it with a small smirk. Typical.

But her mind wasn’t on Lara. It rarely was anymore.

Her pen finally moved.

“I don’t know why I keep doing this. Writing about her like it’ll go away. Daniela. Again. Just saying her name makes me feel like I’m thirteen. It’s pathetic. She’s said it, like, a thousand times—she likes guys. Straight, straight, straight. I get it. I do. But then she smiles at me like she sees something in me. Or maybe I’m just stupid.”

Megan swallowed and closed the book halfway, thumb resting on the spine. Her chest was tight in that annoying way it always got when she thought too hard about what couldn’t be. She wasn’t dramatic—just sensitive. At least, that’s what Sophia always said.

Voices filtered down the hallway.

“Ten minutes to breakfast!” came Manon’s shout.

“Tell that to Yoonchae, she’s still asleep on the beanbag,” Sophia added, laughing.

Megan stood quickly, tossing the journal onto her bed, half-covered by her pillow. It had been a long week of dance rehearsals and press. She didn’t want to be late and get roasted by Dani again for being the last one downstairs. The thought made her heart tighten—she hated how even criticism from Daniela made her feel seen.

She rushed out, socks slipping slightly on the wood as she shouted down the hall, “I’m coming, don’t eat the last pancake without me!”

The door creaked open half an hour later.

Lara strolled in, holding a bottle of water, hair still damp from the quick shower she took after breakfast. She looked around lazily—Megan’s side of the room was neater than usual.

Then she saw it.

The journal. Left wide open.

Her eyes lit up.

“Oh, Megs…” she grinned to herself, tiptoeing closer like it was some kind of treasure map.

She reached for it with no real intention of reading—just to mess with Megan, hide it behind the radiator or something equally annoying. But as she slid it off the bed, a few lines jumped out at her.

And then… the name.

DANIELA. Bold. Underlined. Centered in Megan’s loopy handwriting.

Lara’s smirk faltered.

A part of her told her to shut it and drop the journal. But her eyes were already moving.

“She’s got that look when she’s focused, like nothing else in the world matters. Sometimes I think about what it would be like if she looked at me like that—really looked. But she never will.”

Lara blinked.

She sat down slowly on Megan’s bed, the journal open in her lap.

“Well… shit.”