Minji had just poured milk into the onions she had fried, and Zoya—who had been standing in front of her notepad, trying to write something for her to read—froze mid-sentence.
Her brows pulled together in visible confusion as she stared at the pan.
Minji noticed instantly.
While stirring the spoon through the creamy mixture, she glanced at Zoya and caught her staring at the pan as if she had just witnessed a crime against cooking.
"Zoya," Minji said, suppressing a laugh, "what now? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Zoya quickly shook her head, gesturing nothing, and then awkwardly pointed back toward her notepad.
Minji let out a dramatic sigh.
"I'm seriously getting tired of your notebook," she complained, though her tone was playful.
"When is your voice coming back? Honestly, I think you were right. Maybe we really should leave, because at this rate, reading your notes all day is going to make us mute too."
Then she narrowed her eyes mischievously.
"And tell me one thing… You barely talked before. So why now?"
Whyyyyy?" "She wanted to check."
She dragged the word out deliberately, clearly trying to annoy her.
Zoya bit down on her lower lip to hide her smile, the exact expression of someone enjoying the teasing far too much.
Seeing that only encouraged Minji.
She turned back to the pan, letting the onions and milk cook down into a smooth, creamy base before tossing in freshly sliced mushrooms. Different sauces followed one after another.
Watching the whole process, Zoya couldn't decide whether this dish was going to end up sweet or salty.
It definitely wasn't spicy.
She made a face, shifting her gaze from Minji to the bubbling pan like she was silently questioning every life decision that had led to this kitchen.
"If you stop glaring at my cooking masterpiece," Minji muttered without looking up, "I might actually be able to finish making it and read your note."
Zoya quietly leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms.
On the second induction stove, noodles boiled vigorously, nearly done.
The kitchen had fallen into a comfortable silence now.
Minji was completely absorbed in cooking, moving with calm confidence.
But Zoya wasn't watching the food anymore.
She was watching Minji.
The soft smile on Minji's face as she cooked.
The familiarity in her movements.
The quiet focus.
She knew Minji tried Jeon.J recipe.
Zoya had seen him make it once during a live stream.
The realization made something ache inside her chest.
A soft smile formed on her lips, but sadness lingered beneath it.
This difference between us…
It's starting to exhaust me.
"You belong beside someone as beautiful as her. What am I compared to that? Nothing at all… and from now on, I'll make sure I become nothing more than space between the two of you."
The thought landed heavily.
Her expression settled somewhere between a smile and grief.
As she kept looking at Minji, she discreetly brushed the corner of her eye before quickly lowering her gaze and scribbling something onto her notepad.
This time, when she held it up, Minji actually read it.
I'm not drinking that tasteless soup. I'll make my own food.
Minji looked up.
"You know you're still not allowed spicy food," she said patiently. "Not until your voice fully recovers. Just bear with it a little longer."
She gestured toward the pan.
"Look, I made creamy fried-onion noodles. It's a nice change from soup.
The creamy texture still isn't ideal for your throat, but it's way better than spicy food right now."
As she spoke, she added the boiled noodles to the pan and folded everything together.
Zoya immediately shook her head.
Minji stared at her for a long second, then exhaled deeply.
"Fine."
She stepped aside and folded her arms.
"Cook whatever you want. I'll stand right here and supervise. But no spice."
Zoya grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.
Then she moved toward the fridge with sudden excitement.
She pulled out a potato, a carrot, one capsicum, two spring onions, and four tomatoes.
From the cabinet, she grabbed a frying pan.
Minji watched her, amused.
Someone says rightly,
The thing you truly enjoy is what brings you alive.
Looking at Zoya now—bright-eyed and energised—Minji could believe it.
Meanwhile, she finished her own dish, sprinkling chopped spring onion over the top before sliding the pan aside.
Now all her attention was on Zoya.
Zoya peeled the potato and diced it into tiny cubes.
The carrot and capsicum followed.
She picked up the spring onions, stared at them thoughtfully… then quietly put them back into the fridge.
Instead, she grabbed a large white onion and chopped it into thick slices.
Finally, she reached for the tomatoes.
Minji's eyes widened.
She stepped forward abruptly.
"Wait."
She stared into the bowl.
"Are you really using all four tomatoes?"
Zoya blinked.
For a second, she thought Minji was upset there weren't enough.
Shrugging, she replied through gestures and quickly scribbled another note.
I was actually going to take two or three more. Then I thought it might be rude to use too much of someone else's groceries.
Minji's eyes went comically wide.
"Too much?!" she repeated. "You think this is less?"
Zoya frowned. "Is it too many?"
Minji pressed a hand dramatically to her chest.
"You know, if Jeon.J saw this right now, he'd either faint on the spot or have already collapsed."
Zoya stared at her. "What does that even mean? An idol is going to faint over tomatoes.
"Wow. What a headline."
Even Zoya was starting to feel drained from having to communicate through her notes again and again. God, it was exhausting…
"And wait—how would he even know? Why would he be watching us?
"We're not standing in the living room,"
she again wrote and put the notepad aside because a busy bee was getting angry.
Still muttering to herself, she reached for one of the oil bottles lined up on the counter, carefully selecting the one marked with a Halal certification stamp, then poured some into the pan.
For Zoya, it looked like too little oil.
For Minji, it was already dangerously too much.
She had watched Zoya cook once or twice back in Busan.
The first time, the food somehow turned out incredible.
The second time?
Even the first letter, T, from "Taste" had gone missing.
Utterly tasteless.
"Tomatoes are practically sold at gold prices in Korea right now," Minji said solemnly.
Then she leaned closer, bringing her mouth near Zoya's ear.
"And if you look carefully… There are cameras in the kitchen."
She straightened again, folding her arms innocently.
Zoya slowly turned.
Her eyes scanned the kitchen.
And she finds two cameras are mounted in different corners of the kitchen.
Her eyes widened.
Instantly, she looked down at herself, checking her dress in alarm.
Then she quickly adjusted her scarf—even though it had already been perfectly fine.
Minji broke into laughter.
At that exact moment, in Busan—
Inside Kim Joon's room—
Jeon.J sat with the others, his phone in hand.
He had the house security cameras pulled up on screen.
The kitchen feed filled the display.
Minji stood off to one side while Zoya chopped vegetables at the counter.
The cameras had built-in microphones, too.
Jeon.J had muted his own mic and adjusted his earbuds, meaning no one there could hear him.
But he could hear every word they said.
Then
"An idol is going to faint over tomatoes. "Wow. What a headline."
The moment those words, which Minji read, were said, Jeon.J burst out laughing.
The sound was so sudden that everyone in the room turned to stare at him.
Still laughing, he hurriedly set his phone aside and raised both hands in surrender.
"Sorry."
But he couldn't stop. He tries because RAMY had an almost supernatural ability to monitor his every move.
And somehow, no matter how small the moment—
It always ended up all over social media.
Still chuckling, he picked his phone back up and watched the screen.
On it, Zoya had just lit the stove.
Minji tilted her head, eyeing the ingredients suspiciously before finally asking—
"So…"
She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter.
"What exactly are you making? And do you need help?"
"Yeah, I want rice."
Zoya quickly scribbled the words onto the notepad she had just set aside moments ago, picking it back up with the kind of reluctant attachment one develops toward something they've been forced to depend on all day.
At this point, she had started valuing that notepad far more than she ever thought she would.
Meanwhile, she sautéed onions in the pan before adding chopped tomatoes.
Without a word, Minji walked to the fridge, pulled out a sealed disposable bowl, and placed it beside Zoya.
Zoya stared at it.
Then at Minji.
With a questioning look, she gestured with her eyes.
What is this?
"Rice," Minji answered calmly.
Zoya frowned.
She picked up the sealed bowl, turned it over once, then twice, as if expecting actual rice grains to magically appear.
Then, with visible dissatisfaction, she scribbled something and held it up.
I want rice. Actual rice grains.
Just looking at the sealed, ready-made rice was enough to ruin her mood.
She had been imagining making proper rice in her own style tonight.
And now this?
No raw rice?
No pot?
Nothing?
Minji looked at her in disbelief.
"Girl, you are seriously going to drive me insane."
She folded her arms dramatically.
"What kind of grains are you even asking for? This is a bachelor's house. Of course, everything here is ready-made. At most, you'll find pasta."
Then she pointed at the rice bowl.
"Put it in the oven, heat it, and your rice is ready. Stop torturing me."
The moment Zoya reached for her notepad again, Minji snatched it out of her hands.
"No."
She narrowed her eyes.
"If you write even one more complaint, everything gets cancelled, and you're drinking soup."
Zoya immediately gave her pleading eyes, silently begging for just one note.
Minji glared suspiciously before finally handing it back.
The second it touched her hands, Zoya scribbled rapidly and shoved it toward her.
Then I'm not eating this rice. Just give me spaghetti. After that, leave… and take this notebook with you.
Minji read it.
Then she looked up at Zoya.
Then back to the note.
A slow smile spread across her face, but she controlled it.
Without another word, she walked to the cabinet, pulled out a box of spaghetti, and handed it over.
"There."
Then she plated the creamy noodles she had made earlier into four dishes and carried them one by one out to the living room—
where the other three wonderfully lazy girls were already seated in front of the TV.
A live TBS broadcast was playing.
On the screen, Seven were casually chatting with their fans.
Kim Joon sat at the front with Teahun, Jinhun and Hosu
Behind them on the couch were Minjo, Jeon.J, and Yomin.
They were eating while talking, relaxed and natural.
In Jeon.J's hand was his phone.
To the fans, it looked like he was reading comments.
No one knew that while physically present in the live broadcast, his attention was split—
Because on that phone screen, another live feed was open.
The kitchen camera.
And on it—
She was a pear.
Teahun leaned closer to his laptop, reading fan comments aloud.
Beside Jeon.J, Yomin had a clear enough angle to glimpse the phone screen.
"Jeon.J…?"
He nudged him and pointed.
"What's that?"
Jeon.J glanced at him.
Then, without saying a word, he casually turned the phone face down.
Back in the kitchen—
Zoya had already set spaghetti to boil.
While it cooked, she opened cabinets, searching until she finally found the spice section.
The second she spotted it, victory lit up her face.
After Minji had left, she had freedom.
And she intended to use it.
Vegetables hit the pan.
Then came the spices.
Then more spices.
She let the vegetables cook for a few minutes before adding the boiled spaghetti and tossing it all together.
Rice hadn't happened.
But this?
This would do.
And she was genuinely happy.
It had been days since she'd eaten something cooked in her own style.
As she worked, she cleaned alongside cooking.
Counters wiped.
Ingredients returned.
Nothing is left messy.
Whatever else could be said about her cooking—
She never left a dirty kitchen.
Finally, she plated her food and placed the used pan in the sink.
Back in Busan—
Jeon.J had set his phone beside him on the couch edge, screen still on.
To everyone else, he seemed focused on the hive.
But his eyes kept drifting back.
Watching.
Observing.
And then—
He suddenly sat upright.
In the kitchen, Zoya had opened the drawer.
She picked up fork—
then stopped.
For a brief second, she just stood there.
Then slowly, she withdrew her hand and picked up the chopsticks instead.
Back in Busan, Jeon.J's gaze sharpened.
He had been pretending to casually scroll through fan comments, but the moment she chose the chopsticks, his full attention shifted to the kitchen feed.
Because he already knew she didn't use chopsticks. He had heard that much from Minji and the others' casual conversations. Alright, it's normal to use something new, but...
There was nothing normal about it.
Not with the way her fingers hesitated. Not with the fragile stillness written across her face. Her expression looked as though something inside her was balancing on the edge of collapse, as if the smallest failure might be enough to make it all break apart.
Zoya held them awkwardly.
Her fingers adjusted once.
Then again.
Trying to position them properly.
She had watched enough uses of chopsticks and variety shows to understand the theory of using chopsticks.
But understanding and doing were very different things.
She tried again.
Carefully, she lowered them toward the spaghetti.
After an embarrassingly clumsy struggle, she managed to catch a few strands.
A tiny spark of triumph flickered across her face.
Slowly, cautiously, she lifted them toward her mouth.
And then—
The chopsticks slipped.
The spaghetti fell back onto the plate.
The metallic clink echoed softly through the kitchen.
Meanwhile, in the living room, the girls continued enjoying both dinner and the TBS live.
Ruhi, mid-bite, frowned at the screen.
"Why does Jeon.J keeps staring at his phone like that?"
Minji glanced up and noticed it too.
"Maybe he's reading comments."
"Could be."
Hana took another bite and nodded approvingly.
"By the way, Minji… this is actually really good." Sophia admired the food that she had made for them.
Minji smiled proudly.
Then Hana looked around.
"Where's Zoya?"
Minji chuckled.
"She's in the kitchen making her own desi-style rebellion meal."
For a moment, everything went still.
Then—
A small sound escaped her throat.
Barely audible.
Almost like a broken breath.
And suddenly, she was crying.
Quietly.
Without warning.
She placed both hands against the counter and lowered her head.
Her shoulders trembled.
Soft, helpless tears falling faster than she could stop them.
It was obvious those tears had nothing to do with failing to use the chopsticks.
Something far deeper had broken inside her long before they ever slipped from her fingers.
Back in Busan, Jeon.J straightened so abruptly that Yomin glanced at him.
His eyes locked onto the screen.
Confusion hit first.
Then concern.
Then something strange.
Being live on screen, Yomin couldn't ask anything. But he noticed every glance of Jeon.J kept throwing at his phone. To anyone else, it may have looked like he was reading comments. Yet Yomin knew better. If that had been the case, Jeon.J would've been reading them aloud like he always did. The unsettling silence around those repeated glances said otherwise. And if he had noticed, the others surely had too. No one asked. No one could. Not while millions of eyes were already watching—waiting to turn even the smallest unusual moment into tomorrow's rumors.
Jeon.J is still watching her struggle with the chopsticks.
and then break down—
filled him with a strange, restless ache he couldn't explain.
It wasn't about the chopsticks.
He knew that.
This was about everything they represented.
The effort.
The distance.
The trying.
And the quiet realisation that some things could hurt simply because they refused to fit.
Then—
As if she could feel his eyes on her—
Zoya slowly lifted her face.
Her tear-filled gaze turned toward the camera.
She knew he was watching.
She didn't know how.
She just knew for certain.
Their eyes met through a screen hundreds of miles apart.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then, while looking directly into the camera, Zoya slowly shook her head.
No. No...
A silent refusal.
A quiet answer to everything neither of them had ever spoken aloud.
No to the unspoken confession.
No to the fragile thread connecting them.
No to whatever this could have become.
Jeon.J felt it like something sharp lodging deep in his chest.
Still holding the chopsticks, Zoya stared for another second.
Then she let them fall onto the counter.
Picked up the fork.
Placed it beside her plate.
And walked out of the kitchen.
A storm churned inside Jeon.J.
Restlessness.
Pain.
The unbearable urge to do something.
Anything.
But he couldn't.
He was live.
He wasn't just Jeon.J right now.
He was an idol.
And idols didn't let themselves break on camera.
So he stayed where he was.
Forced his breathing to be steady.
Held himself together.
That's all I'll ever be, he thought bitterly.
An idol. Nothing more.
The realisation filled him with a hollow ache that spread through his chest.
Then—
Slowly, he leaned back into the couch.
His jaw tightened.
A deep breath filled his lungs.
Then another.
And somewhere between those breaths, the truth settled heavily inside him.
He wasn't simply Jeon.J.
He was Jeon.J of Seven.
An idol.
A name people belonged to.
A person who could not afford to act on silent feelings carried through camera screens and unspoken glances.
No matter what he felt—
That reality would not change.
And it never would.
The thought hollowed something inside him.
But it also steadied him.
So he did what he had trained himself to do for years.
He buried it.
Locked it away.
And when he looked up again—
His expression was smooth.
Controlled.
Untouched.
To be continued...
Regards,
ZK