Chapter 5: Convenient Lies
The days following the tabloid incident blurred into a pattern of fragile reconciliation and growing distance. Y/N tried to focus on her bookstore shifts, but her mind kept drifting back to Jay's excuses, the way his smiles now seemed calculated even in her memories. The rain had returned, mirroring the constant drizzle in her chest.Her phone buzzed during a slow afternoon at work.
Jay: Stuck in practice till 3am again. These choreo's are killing us. Miss you like crazy though ❤️ Thinking about you keeps me going.
She stared at the message, her thumb hovering. This was the fourth cancellation this week. Her reply came out sharper than intended.
Y/N: It's been four days since I last saw you. I feel like I'm talking to a ghost half the time.
Jay: Don't be like that, babe. You know my life is crazy right now with comeback preparations. You're the one I come back to when everything else is too much. Stop doubting us.
The words stung. She wanted to scream at the screen, but instead she slipped her phone into her pocket and tried to help a customer. That night, alone in her apartment, the fight escalated through texts.
Y/N: I'm not doubting "us." I'm doubting whether I even exist in your world outside these stolen hours.
Jay: You're overthinking again. Remember what I told you? You're my escape. I'll make time soon. Promise.
He always turned it around, making her feel needy and ungrateful for the crumbs of attention. She spent hours rereading their old sweet messages, tears blurring the screen as Maggie Lindemann's lyrics played on repeat in her headphones: You always lie when it's convenient. Her friends had started warning her more insistently.
Friend: He's an idol, Y/N. They all have these patterns. You deserve someone who shows up.
But she defended him fiercely in her replies, isolating herself further. The loneliness settled heavy and cold, like winter seeping into her bones. One evening he finally showed up unannounced, pulling her into a kiss that tasted of exhaustion and fleeting apology. They lay together afterward, his arms around her, whispering promises that felt thinner each time.
Yet by morning, another vague text arrived: "Emergency meeting. Talk later." The convenient lies piled up, each one chipping away at her self-worth until she barely recognized the hopeful girl from the café.
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