Stigma Love's Algorithm [ A BTS x Reader Poly ]

Chapter 102: Choreographed by Fate

The audience rises to its feet as if pulled by invisible threads. A standing ovation roars through the opera house.

Hobi is on his feet, clapping so hard I'm worried he'll bruise.

I rise too, though it takes me a second-because I can't stop staring at the stage.

Jia stands, bowing, her cheeks flushed, her expression a perfect storm of pride and exhaustion.

She did it.
She broke free.

"She told the world," Hobi says beside me. "She finally said it all."

And when I look at him-when I see the tears in his eyes and the way he's smiling like the sun just rose behind his ribs-I can't stop myself.

I lean in.
And I kiss him.
Slow. Certain.

His lips are soft, sweet, and so heartbreakingly real.

It's not rushed. Not flashy.
It's grounding.

It's a thank you. A me too. A we made it.

And as we part, still breathless from the show, from each other-

My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket.
I pull it out and glance at the screen.

You have reached the Romantic Connection Phase with Hoseok.

Hobi's phone pings the same second.

He pulls it out, reads it, and then grins-eyes shining, full of mischief and joy and something deeper.

"Well," he says, voice a little breathless, "guess it's official now."

I let out a soft laugh.

"About time," I murmur, pulling him close again. "I've been in that phase for a while."

He kisses me again-this time a little deeper, a little slower.

And as the applause continues and the lights warm back up, we stand there-hands clasped, hearts full, souls alight.

We don't say anything else.
We don't need to.

Because tonight, Jia gave us a gift.

Not just a performance.
But a mirror.
And in it, we saw truth.

Her freedom. Jin hyung's quiet battle. His pain and fears. Our own becoming.

This is what love looks like.

Unbound.
Unwritten.
Awakened.

_________________________

Backstage smells like roses and resin.

The applause still thunders through the walls, echoing like a heartbeat.

Hobi is practically vibrating beside me, cheeks flushed, hair tousled, mouth forming half-words he can't even finish because what the hell did we just witness?

We're ushered through a quiet corridor by a stagehand who bows slightly before leaving us at a sleek black door.

I knock twice.
The door creaks open.
And there she is.

Jia.

Still in her ivory costume, the light from the dressing room haloing around her like some kind of divine spotlight. Her face is flushed, her eyeliner smudged, and her hair has fallen slightly out of its performance twist-but she's glowing. No, radiating.

Hobi gasps. "Oh my God. She's real."

I grin. "She really is."

Jia doesn't speak at first.
Just opens her arms.