The funeral was heavy with grief, the kind that pressed against your chest and made it hard to breathe. As we arrived, the low hum of reporters and cameras outside the crematorium reminded me why we were here—not just to mourn but to play our roles.

Inside, the air was somber, tinged with the faint scent of incense. Two urns rested at the front of the room, surrounded by flowers and photos of Tris' mother and younger brother. Tris stood near them, his shoulders hunched, the picture of a man completely shattered.

The moment he saw me, his expression cracked even more. He didn't hesitate—he walked straight toward me.

"Clover," he managed, his voice breaking. Before I could react, he threw his arms around me.

I froze. His weight pressed into me as he clung to me, his body trembling with sobs.

I stood there, caught between the past and the present, feeling a mix of pity, discomfort, and resentment swirl in my chest. Slowly, I placed a hand on his back, my touch awkward but meant to calm him down. What could I say?

The eyes of the room were on us, some filled with curiosity, others with sympathy. I could almost feel the click of cameras from outside, reporters piecing together their stories.

As I awkwardly patted Tris' back, I saw Miami and Michael entering. Miami, ever the show-woman, walked in with a serene expression that screamed both compassion and intention. She approached us, her steps measured, and then, like she'd rehearsed it a thousand times, she made her move.

"Oh, Clover," Miami said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "You're such a good friend to Tris, even after everything."

Her words hung in the air, slicing through my resolve. I glanced at her sharply, but she gave me a knowing smile and—of course—a wink.

It was part of the plan, her line delivered just right for the watching media. She wanted them to hear it, to latch onto it.

Michael, on the other hand, kept his distance at first. His face was impassive as he approached Tris, his hands tucked into his pockets. He walked with the kind of energy that said he was only here for one reason: respect for the deceased.

Finally, he stopped in front of Tris and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss," Michael said, his voice low but steady.

Tris nodded, his face still streaked with tears. For a brief moment, the history between them—a once-close friendship torn apart by betrayal—seemed to dissolve.

Michael glanced at me, his expression softening just enough to remind me he was on my side. But then he stepped back, leaving me to handle the emotional weight Tris had practically dumped on me.

The two urns sat quietly at the front of the room, their stillness a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions swirling around me. Tris' tears soaked into my shoulder, Miami's calculated words echoed in my ears, and Michael's brief glance lingered in my mind.

I reminded myself why I was here—not for Tris, not for the media, but for his mother and brother, who had nothing to do with the mess he created in my life. Yet, as I stood there, supporting a man who had once broken me, I couldn't help but feel like I was part of a performance. A carefully crafted scene in a drama I didn't sign up for.

After what felt like an eternity of holding Tris while he wept, I felt a presence approach from behind. It was RM, exuding his natural calm and collected demeanor, the kind that could command attention without uttering a single word.

He cleared his throat gently, just enough to break through the moment. "Tris," RM said in his deep, steady voice.

Tris lifted his head from my shoulder, his face streaked with tears, and turned to look at RM.

"We wanted to express our deepest condolences for your loss," RM continued, his tone measured and sincere. He gestured subtly toward the rest of the group, who stood a few steps behind him. "We're truly sorry for everything you're going through. Losing family is never easy, and we can only imagine the pain you're feeling right now."

The weight of RM's words seemed to ground Tris. He sniffled, wiping his face with the back of his hand, and nodded. "Thank you," he managed to say, his voice hoarse and trembling.

Suga, ever the quiet observer, stepped forward slightly and gave Tris a small nod of acknowledgment. Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin mirrored the gesture, their expressions a mix of solemnity and compassion.

RM's ability to handle moments like these always amazed me. He wasn't just speaking for himself; he was speaking for all of us, encapsulating everything we wanted to say but couldn't find the words for. Even I felt a strange sense of comfort from his presence, as if he was silently reminding me that I wasn't carrying this alone.

Tris blinked a few times, his gaze darting between RM and the rest of the group. "It means a lot," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for being here."

RM placed a hand on Tris' shoulder, a simple yet powerful gesture. "We're here for you," he said, his voice steady. "And we're here to honor your mom and brother. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to let us know."

The sincerity in his tone seemed to resonate with Tris. For a brief moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed a little lighter. He nodded again, this time with a bit more resolve.

As RM stepped back, giving Tris the space he needed, I couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude. RM wasn't just a leader in title—he embodied it in moments like these, bridging the gaps between us and reminding everyone, even me, of the importance of standing together, no matter how complicated the circumstances.

As RM stepped back, Tris stood there, wiping at his red-rimmed eyes, looking lost yet grateful for the support. He seemed hesitant, almost unsure of what to do next. That's when RM, ever thoughtful and composed, gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Let us pay our respects properly," RM said softly.

I glanced at him, momentarily confused, until I realized what he meant. Of course. In Korea, it's customary to bow deeply to honor the deceased and show respect to the family. Tris, being half-Korean himself, would have appreciated the gesture.

RM looked at the rest of us, and we all understood without him needing to say another word. One by one, we lined up before the small memorial altar where Tris' mom and younger brother's urns rested, surrounded by white chrysanthemums, incense sticks, and framed photos.

Tris stood beside the altar, his eyes flitting nervously between us and the offerings.

RM stepped forward first, clasping his hands in front of him and lowering his head deeply in a bow. The gesture was deliberate, respectful, and solemn. He lingered in the bow for a few seconds before straightening up, his expression unreadable yet reverent.

Next was Suga, his movements as understated and sincere as ever. He stepped forward, hands by his sides, and bowed just as deeply, his dark hair falling over his face. When he rose, his eyes lingered on the urns, his gaze soft but heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Taehyung followed, his usually playful demeanor replaced by a quiet seriousness. He placed a single chrysanthemum near the altar before bowing. His hands trembled slightly as he rose, and for a moment, his lips pressed together as if holding back his emotions.

Jungkook's turn was next. His jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath before bowing. His youthful energy seemed subdued, replaced by a quiet maturity that rarely surfaced. As he straightened up, his eyes briefly met Tris', a silent message of solidarity passing between them.

Jimin, ever the empathetic one, hesitated for a split second before stepping forward. His bow was graceful, almost fluid, as if it carried the weight of his emotions. When he rose, his gaze lingered on Tris for a moment, his expression soft and supportive.

Then it was my turn. My heart hammered in my chest as I approached the altar. I clasped my hands together tightly and bowed as deeply as I could, my eyes closing against the sudden sting of tears. I stayed there longer than I intended, feeling the weight of the moment settle heavily on my shoulders. When I finally straightened, I dared a glance at Tris. His gaze was fixed on me, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

"Thank you," he finally said, his voice cracking. He looked at each of us, his expression raw and vulnerable. "Thank you for doing this. For them."

RM stepped forward again, gently placing his hand on Tris' shoulder. "It's the least we could do," he said. "Your family deserves to be honored."

Tris' eyes glistened, and he nodded. For the first time since we arrived, a faint smile, bittersweet and fleeting, crossed his face.

The room fell into a hush, the only sound the faint crackle of the incense burning nearby. As we stepped back, giving Tris space to stand by the altar, I couldn't help but feel a quiet sense of connection—not just with Tris, but with the others as well. For all our differences and the tangled history we shared, in that moment, we stood united in something bigger than ourselves.

***

The restaurant had a cozy ambiance, the kind of place where you could relax and pretend, for just a moment, that the world outside wasn't watching. I chose the spot carefully—somewhere private but comfortable enough to feel like a casual outing. After everything that had happened that morning, we all needed a breather.

To my satisfaction, Miami and Michael agreed to tag along. Miami was practically glowing with excitement, her cheeks rosy as she clutched her phone like a lifeline. I could see it in her eyes—she was trying so hard to play it cool, but the little smiles she kept sneaking at Taehyung and Jungkook totally gave her away.

The six of us—me, Taehyung, Suga, Jungkook, Jimin, and RM—sat comfortably around the table with Michael and Miami squished in between. The conversation flowed naturally, mostly light and teasing. Miami looked like she was pinching herself every two minutes, her eyes darting from one member to another like she was trying to memorize every detail of this surreal lunch.

"I can't believe this is happening," Miami finally admitted, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "This is... like... my ultimate dream lunch."

Michael let out a dramatic groan, slumping back in his chair like she'd just stabbed him in the chest. "I can't believe my girlfriend is out here openly fangirling over other men. Right in front of me."

The table erupted into laughter. Jimin, ever the mischief-maker, leaned closer to Michael with a sly grin. "Don't take it personally, man. We're used to it. ARMY's love knows no bounds."

"Except for me," Taehyung chimed in with a playful smirk, winking at Miami. "I'm everyone's bias, right?"

Miami's face turned an impressive shade of red, and she buried her face in her hands. "Oh my gosh, stop!"

"Oh, don't stop," I teased, leaning back with a grin. "She's loving this."

Michael shook his head, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. "Unbelievable. I'm sitting here watching my girlfriend swoon over another guy. Actually, five other guys. It's tragic."

"Seven," Suga corrected dryly, raising an eyebrow. "You can't forget Jin-hyung and Hobi."

"Eight, if you count their staff," I added with a cheeky grin.

The table dissolved into laughter again.

"Michael, you don't have to worry," Miami said finally, placing her hand over his dramatically. "You are the only love of my life. But BTS... well... they're another story."

That set everyone off again, the kind of laughter that made your stomach hurt. Even Michael couldn't keep up the wounded act for long, joining in as RM shook his head, muttering something about how ARMY always finds a way to steal the show.

Our orders arrived not long after, but the teasing and laughter didn't stop. As we dug into the food, the atmosphere remained light and warm. It was one of those rare moments where everything felt simple and normal, despite the craziness of the morning and the complicated emotions swirling in the background.

As we finished up our food, the laughter and stories flowed naturally, but of course, Miami had to stir the pot. She leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with mischief, and said, "You know, Taehyung, Clover's been in love with you for ten years now. Since 2013. A decade."

I froze mid-sip, my water suddenly feeling like a betrayal. "Miami..." I muttered, giving her a pointed look.

"Oh, don't Miami me," she said with a grin. "You can't hide it. Remember that time in 2021, Clover? SoFi Stadium?"

Taehyung tilted his head, clearly intrigued. "What happened at SoFi?"

Miami clapped her hands, delighted to have everyone's attention. "Oh, it's a great story. Clover, tell them!"

I groaned, sinking deeper into my seat, but Miami was already charging ahead. "So, you guys had your concert in LA, and during the show, Taehyung and Jin were picking ARMYs from the audience to join them on stage. Taehyung's scanning the crowd, and suddenly—bam! His eyes lock onto Clover."

Taehyung raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely curious. "Really?"

I waved my hands, trying to stop her. "No, no, it's not what you think—"

"But what does Clover do?" Miami continued, completely ignoring me. "She panics! She ducks out of her seat, keeps low like she's avoiding a sniper, and slips into the aisle. She literally hides behind a pillar!"

The table erupted into laughter. Even Taehyung was chuckling, his boxy grin lighting up the room.

"That's not the best part," Miami said, barely able to contain herself. "Jin and Taehyung make it to Clover's row, and instead of finding her, they stop in front of Clover's best friend, Break. Jin reaches out his hand, and Break ends up on stage instead!"

Jungkook was laughing so hard he almost fell out of his chair. "You abandoned your best friend to avoid Taehyung?"

"I didn't abandon him!" I protested, my cheeks burning. "I just... strategically relocated."

"Strategically relocated," Taehyung repeated, his grin widening. "I'll remember that one."

Miami wasn't done, though. "It's just proof of how much she loves you guys. Especially you, Taehyung."

My face was practically on fire at this point, and I hid behind my hands as everyone teased me.

Then, out of nowhere, Suga chimed in, his voice calm and nonchalant. "There's actually a worse story about Clover being an ARMY."

The table went quiet, all eyes turning to him.

I stared at him, wide-eyed. "What are you talking about?"

Suga leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Spring Cultural Festival. Seoul Suntrust International School. 2018."

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. "No..."

"What happened?" Jimin asked eagerly, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Suga's lips twitched into the faintest smirk before he said, "She didn't even make it past the entrance. She fainted the moment she saw us."

The table exploded into laughter again, and I buried my face in my hands. "Oh my god, you were never supposed to know that!"

"I noticed," Suga said simply, his voice quieter now. "It was hard not to."

I peeked through my fingers, stunned. He'd noticed me? Back then? The thought was too surreal to process.

"You fainted before we even got to perform?" Jungkook asked, his bunny smile wide and teasing. "How did you even get home?"

I groaned, covering my face. "My ex-boyfriend, Tris, dragged me out. We were still together at the time," I mumbled, trying to shrink into myself.

Suga glanced away, avoiding my eyes after dropping that bombshell. Thankfully, everyone was too busy laughing and teasing to notice the tension between us.

"Well," RM said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, "at least you've come a long way since then, Clover. You're sitting with us now."

"Barely," I muttered, still mortified.

Taehyung leaned closer, a teasing glint in his eyes. "So, Clover. If I'd picked you at SoFi, would you have fainted then too?"

I groaned, slumping onto the table. "Can I just evaporate now, please?"

The table filled with another round of laughter, and despite my embarrassment, I couldn't help but smile. It was humiliating, sure, but in a weird way, it was also... kind of amazing.

The laughter at the table continued, but my mind wasn't there anymore. My thoughts were spinning. Suga noticed me in 2018. Five years ago. Five. Before Taehyung even knew I existed.

The realization hit me harder than I expected. Suga, of all people, had seen me first. And not just seen me—he remembered.

I tried to shake the thought off, focusing instead on the lively chatter around me. Miami was giggling as Jungkook teased Michael, but my gaze wandered back to Suga. He was sitting there, quiet as usual, a faint smile playing on his lips as he sipped his water.

And that's when it happened.

I realized I'd been staring at him for way too long, lost in the whirlwind of my thoughts. He looked up, meeting my eyes without warning.

The world around me seemed to blur. For a moment, it was just us, locked in this inexplicable moment that felt heavier than it had any right to.

And then it hit me—that feeling.

It wasn't pain. Not the ache in my chest that had haunted me for years. It wasn't the sharp sting of heartbreak I felt when Tris cheated on me or even the fluttery excitement I used to feel whenever I looked at Taehyung.

It was something else entirely. Something crazy.

Something I couldn't even name.

My heart skipped, then stumbled over itself like a clumsy dancer. I quickly looked away, focusing hard on the edge of my glass like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

But that moment lingered. His gaze lingered. And deep down, I knew something had shifted—something I wasn't ready to face just yet.