Chapter 67 — The Hour Between Heartbeats
7:04 PM – 9:11 PM
The apartment continued to glow in warm tones—golden lamps, soft laughter, and the ticking sound of a wall clock that seemed to stretch time itself.
To the fans, the 48-hour livestream was still light-hearted.
But in the silence between moments, Jaeheon was somewhere else.
Not visibly.
Not obviously.
But deeply.
He Didn't Look at His Phone Again
Not once.
Not even a glance.
He didn't need to.
She had replied.
And the moment had already stitched itself into his memory, so vividly, so completely, it didn't need rereading.
He had memorized every word the second he saw them.
All four of them.
"I saw your message."
That was all.
No punctuation. No explanation.
Nothing else.
But for Jaeheon, it was enough to burn through six months of silence like fire through old paper.
It was real.
It was her.
And it had arrived.
He didn't know if she would reply again.
He didn't know if it meant anything more than that.
But he didn't care.
Not right now.
Because the message itself wasn't a beginning—it was acknowledgment.
It was proof that his words had reached her.
That she had seen him.
That, somewhere in her world of unreachable brilliance, she had paused long enough to open his thread, read, and reply.
The Members Didn't Notice
Hyunjae was too busy losing a bet to Sungchan over who could eat the most raw garlic without crying.
Rin had taken over the kitchen and was determined to prove his cooking wasn't cursed.
Minjae was planning a prank involving fake cockroaches and Jaeheon's bed.
Their laughter was honest.
Their chaos—genuine.
They were living the broadcast like they always did: together, comfortably, unaware that the stillest one among them had quietly stepped through a door no one else could see.
Later, in the Bathroom Mirror
Jaeheon washed his hands slowly.
The bathroom lights were soft and warm. The world felt quiet in here.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
He didn't smile.
He didn't speak.
But he breathed—once, deeply—as if he had been holding it for half a year.
The water ran over his fingers.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Behind them flashed six months of daily messages—
Today I walked past a jasmine plant and thought of the way your hair smelled at the ball.
I composed three melodies, erased two.
I watched the stars last night. They weren't the same without you.
She had seen them.
She had seen him.
And now, he wasn't just writing to silence anymore.
He was writing to someone who might be listening.
Even if she never replied again.
Even if that one message was all he ever got.
It had changed everything.
Without anyone knowing.
Without a single word spoken.
The Fans Online
@goldenaurelight: "Is it just me or did Jaeheon look softer tonight?"
@jaeheonlooped: "He smiled. I swear. At 7:09. Just a tiny one. Rewatch it."
@behindourgold: "He seemed more… alive. Like something happened. But what???"
They didn't know.
No one did.
They never would.
But they felt the shift, the kind that echoed in the quiet moments between laughter.