ᴘᴀʀᴀʟʟᴇʟ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ | 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙽𝚊𝚛𝚊

The One with The Threads 💕

“You made her feel like she did something wrong for having a life before you. Like she owed you an explanation for being someone’s sister. You made her question if she belonged here at all.”

The weight of that truth settled heavy in the room.

“I don’t care which of you thinks you care about her more,” Nathan said bluntly. “But let me tell you something—none of you deserve her if you can’t handle her light.”

And then, without waiting for a response, Nathan turned and left the room.

---

Second-to-last day before the Rookie Showcase

The stage was washed in warm afternoon light as the trainees trickled into the auditorium for their final full-group rehearsal. This would be their last chance to run the entire show before the closed-door final rehearsal the next day. The mood was somewhere between nervous and electric, the kind of energy that buzzed just under the skin.

Nara sat quietly near the front row, skimming through her lyrics sheet with calm precision. She hadn’t spoken a word to Taeyong, Johnny, or Jaehyun since the blowout two nights ago.

And they noticed.

She acknowledged them with nods during lineup checks. Responded when spoken to in group instructions. Smiled at the staff. Encouraged the younger trainees.

But she never looked directly at them.

And none of them dared break the silence.

The weight of their fractured bond was visible in the way Jaehyun kept adjusting his earpiece more than necessary, the way Taeyong stretched his fingers like a nervous tick, and the way Johnny’s eyes followed her every time she walked past—but never called out.

Still, when her name was called for the duet stage, Nara rose smoothly. She took her place beside Jaehyun on stage, facing him in front of the mirror-like black floors.

BoA and Kangta stood in the middle of the auditorium, arms crossed, expressions neutral—but sharp-eyed.

The music began.

Their harmonies were soft, practiced, and near flawless. Nara’s voice wrapped around Jaehyun’s,  like velvet—clear, precise, full of restraint. It was beautiful, but it was clinical. No emotion, no chemistry—just two professionals getting the job done.

BoA noticed.

So did Kangta.

But neither said anything.

When the final note faded, Nara turned on her heel and bowed politely before exiting stage left. Jaehyun stood alone for a beat longer, then followed after her with a complicated look in his eyes.

---

Later that afternoon

“Last run-through, people! Let’s get this right!” one of the assistant directors called out, waving a clipboard over his head as the tech crew started queuing up the final act lists.

After the big group number wrapped up, a murmur spread through the group as everyone prepared to scatter to the wings.

But then—

“Ah, all trainees except for Nara,” a staff member called out, “please note: for the final slot today, the auditorium will be cleared. You’re all dismissed after the closing group number."

Groans immediately broke out across the floor from the younger trainees.

“What? Why?”

“Is there a guest's performance?”

“Do we at least get to know what it is?”

Nara, who had just finished tying her shoes, stood and gave a small, sheepish smile.

"It's you?!" Haechan asked and she nodded. "Why?"

“It’s just a surprise,” she answered softly. “You’ll see it tomorrow.”

Haechan let out a dramatic sigh, flopping over onto the floor. “누나! You can’t do that to us!”

Mark elbowed him. “Bro, let her live. It’s obviously gonna be amazing if they’re locking us out.”

Renjun raised an eyebrow. “Is this the solo stage Kangta 선배님 and BoA 선배님 keep whispering about?”

Nara only shrugged and gave them a small smile.

The younger trainees howled with playful betrayal. But they filed out as instructed, some still trying to guess what it could be.

Except for Haechan.

He ducked behind a curtain near the side stairs and waited for a clear moment. But before he could slip in—

A hand clamped down on his shoulder.

It was one of the floor managers.

“Nice try, Lee Donghyuck.” she said dryly, steering him toward the exit. “Out.”

“Aw, come on—!”

“Out.”

Haechan groaned dramatically, dragging his feet like a prisoner of war as the rest of the trainees laughed behind him.

---

Once the auditorium was cleared, the staff gave the signal. The lights dimmed to a soft, amber hue.

Nara stepped onto the center of the stage—alone.

The only audience now: BoA and Kangta seated in the center, their clipboards balanced on their knees. Camera crew positioned in the aisles. Lights cued. Mic live.

She took a deep breath as she adjusted her in-ear piece.

Nathan’s words echoed in her mind from the night before: “Let them see you. All of you.”

And so she did.

She sang.

And every word in that room told a story only she knew—of sacrifice, of belonging, of silent heartbreak. Her voice trembled in the first verse, steadied by the chorus, and soared in the final bridge.

There was no hiding here.

Just Nara.

The girl who had walked through shadows and chose to stand in the light anyway.