Page 57 of When Worlds Collide (Between Worlds #2)

Later

J ihoon and I did not often leave ENT together at the end of my work day. It was usually too busy at that time of the day, and it just wasn’t worth the risk.

I’d gotten pretty good at navigating the local transport. Between me and the Navar app, I had a decent grasp of Seoul public transport, and I'd even started to enjoy my solitary commutes.

Seeing the city using the tourist routes was all very good, but I often thought that in order to really get a feel for a place, you ought to just chuck yourself in.

Jihoon would still rather I use a driver, or at least use a taxi, but I suspected that had more to do with his security concerns than any worry that I'd get lost. I mean, if I could handle the London Underground, Seoul's well-ordered public transport network posed no real challenge.

Jihoon had dinner waiting for me when I eventually made it in the door, fit to collapse after the busy day I’d had.

“Poor baby,” he murmured, stroking a hand down my hair as I unabashedly leaned against his firm chest, revelling in the first bit of silence I’d had all day.

I’d managed to banish the noise in my head about the Tabs article all day, but here, in the quiet stillness of the apartment we shared, and in the arms of the man I loved, I couldn’t help but think back to the photo, and the smile I saw on his face as he looked at Lee Hyejin.

“I saw Min Taeyang last week.” The second the words left my mouth I regretted them. I hadn’t even meant to say them; they just sort of fell out.

Jihoon immediately pulled back, taking some of his warmth with him as he frowned down at me.

“Why?”

“It was after the dance revue. I was outside the studio when he came out. He saw me, and started talking to me.”

“Why?”

I narrowed my eyes as I looked up at him. I didn’t like his tone.

“He knows about you and me,” I said bluntly.

There was a very small part of me that felt like needling him, and judging by the way he flinched and screwed his eyes up, I’d managed that.

“How?” he said slowly.

“He recognised me. A couple weeks ago, he saw me and recognised me from the ball, and I guess-”

“Whoa, stop,” he held up a hand, cutting me off. “What happened two weeks ago?”

Ah shit, I’d forgotten about that. I hadn’t meant to keep it from him. I’d just been so busy it had slipped my mind.

“When we went offsite to set up for a music video, it was for Sol8.”

He made a gravely noise in the back of his throat.

“I was carrying something heavy, and I tripped, but he was there. He helped me up.” I hurried through the recount, seeing how Jihoon’s expression darkened with every word. He let out a bitter little laugh when I finished.

“You seem to fall over in front of performers a lot, jagiya.”

He was referring to when we first met – how I’d fallen, and dropped a box of cables all over the floor.

Jihoon had stopped to help me. Normally, this was a story I remembered with fondness, even wry amusement, but the way he said it made it sound like I’d planned it.

I bit back the snappy retort I felt burning my tongue.

“Anyway,” I continued, “he took one look at me and recognised me from the ball.”

“Yes,” he smirked, “I’m sure it was one look.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What does that mean?”

He waved me away, notching my temper up. “And then today, he finds you alone in the hallway?”

“Who said I was alone?”

“He wouldn’t have talked to you if you were with someone else.” He took a couple steps back from me, looking at me as if… as if I’d disappointed him, somehow.

“Why are you looking at me like I just told you I asked him out on a date?”

“Did you?” He smirked, but the humour didn’t reach his eyes.

“What the hell, Jihoon?” I cried, holding my arms out, only to let them fall at my sides. “Did you actually just ask me that?”

A tic fluttered across his jaw as his fists clenched.

“I told you he had a bad reputation.”

He turned away from me, walking over to the kitchen. I was thoroughly wound up now, and I followed him.

“And I remember telling you that his reputation has nothing to do with me!”

“He puts his hands on you, and you think it has nothing to do with you?” Jihoon whirled on me, but the distance between us felt like we were two warring nations, shouting at each other over the span of an ocean.

“Wha-put his hands on me?” I spluttered.

“You said he helped you up.”

I put a hand to my forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

“Oh my god,” I groaned. “Was he supposed to watch me get back up on my own? I would have fallen, would that have been better?”

“Yes!” He hissed, then – “No! Fuck! What if someone saw him touch you?”

“This isn’t about me,” I accused, the words tasting bitter, “it’s about the ‘scandal’.” I said the word like it was a joke, although I knew damn well it wasn’t.

“It’s all about you!” he shouted, “it’s always been about you!” He slapped a hand on the counter, and I jumped as the sound cracked through the air. Whatever I’d been about to say fled from my mouth as it slammed shut.

He looked as shocked as I felt. He looked down at his hand, and I swore I felt the sting in my own palm. I took a step back, and his eyes immediately flew to mine.

“Jagiya-”

I held my hand up, silencing him. I spoke in a tone so measured it surprised me.

“I don’t know what your deal is with that man, but this was not okay.”

Jihoon nodded, his gaze falling to the floor.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

And I knew he was, but I didn’t feel ready to forgive him just yet. I wasn’t sure what I felt in that moment. Confused, hurt, and a plethora of other things I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to process right then.

“I just want to forget about it, okay?” I said finally.

He nodded. “Okay.”

But it wasn’t.

We ate dinner together, sat in front of the TV like we were any other, normal couple. Like any other normal couple that were currently not talking to each other, that is.

I opened my mouth, to say what, I’d never know as that’s when my laptop rang with an incoming Skype call.

I exchanged a confused look with Jihoon, before looking down at my watch. It was just after 9:00 pm, and the only people to ever call me on Skype were my folks.

I got to my feet and padded towards the kitchen, where my laptop sat open on the island.

Sure enough, an icon of my parents was in the middle of the Skype window, the obnoxious ringing noise so at odds with the peaceful image of them enjoying margaritas in the sun – a picture from the holiday they took last year to Majorca.

I pressed the green button, and a moment later, my screen filled with my parents, sat at their kitchen table.

“Hey, mum,” I said, “everything okay? It’s the middle of the day.”

When she didn’t immediately wave my question away, I felt the smile bleed off my face.

“Hello, love,” she responded.

“What’s up?” I asked, eyeing my dad in the background as he walked into frame. He leaned over my mum, placing a mug in front of her before coming to sit down next to her. He reached for her hand.

“Mum, Dad, what is it?” I only needed to look at my dad’s face to know something was terribly wrong. The look of devastation, of absolute, utter fucking grief.

I felt sick.

“Love…” my mum sighed. “Look, I don’t want you to worry-”

As if those words could do anything, except scare me shitless.

“I-we, didn’t want to tell you like this, but you’re not coming home, and… I-we, there isn’t a better way to tell you.” Her voice hitched, and if I hadn’t been scared before, I was now.

My dad was the crier. He sobbed at the drop of a hat. He wasn’t allowed to watch soppy movies on his own anymore because he turned into a blubbery mess. My mum…

“Baby, I need to have an operation.” She met my eyes, and I could see from the way her chin lifted that she was trying to be stoic.

My breaths began to come faster. “Why?”

“I don’t want you to worry; you know what the hospitals are like round here, they’re great. And we’ve got your dad’s health insurance from the bank, so it’s all going to be quick.”

“Mum, what is?” Breathe, just breathe.

Without warning, I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders, making me jump.

I spared a brief glance up to see Jihoon standing behind me, silent, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into my shoulders.

I saw my parents glance up, but he was out of frame from the chest up.

They knew I lived with him, though they’d never met him.

They didn’t know he was famous. Now was not the time for them to find out.

“Ky, I have breast cancer.”

My hand flew up to my mouth at the same time I leaned forward, like I’d been punched in the gut. Jihoon’s hands tightened on my shoulders, grounding me.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” she said, as if it was somehow her fault. “But I don’t want you to worry. The doctor we’ve seen is great, and I have…” she faltered, visibly swallowing. “I have surgery booked next week.”

“Surgery?” I said weakly, and it was as if I couldn’t get enough oxygen into my lungs.

My shoulders heaved, and if Jihoon hadn’t held his hands around my shoulders, I might have fallen. His warm, comforting presence behind me gave me the strength to take breath after breath.

My mum looked to my dad, the expression on her face one I hadn’t seen before. I was so used to her being the rock, the foundation that we'd built our family on. I watched now as her chin trembled, and it felt like an earthquake that shook the very roots of my being.

My dad brought her hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips to the back of it, holding it so fiercely, but also with such care. You’d have to be blind to not see the plain adoration in the way they looked at each other.

I watched as they took strength in each other, seeming to breathe each other in, before she turned back to me.