ᴘᴀʀᴀʟʟᴇʟ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ | 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙽𝚊𝚛𝚊

The One with The Empty Spaces 💕

Mark paused then, just for a breath. He didn't correct them.

Because they were right.

---

Somewhere

Yuta

For a week, every time the door to the practice room creaked open, he half-hoped it would be her, apologizing for being late, tying her hair up, slipping back into formation like she never left. Every song they practiced that had once featured her voice-every note she'd once harmonized with-echoed a little emptier.

On the trainee's floor of the SM building, the sun bled orange through frosted windows. The city stretched wide below, cars flowing like steady arteries of movement, unaware of the ache threading through the stillness of one quiet room.

Yuta stood by the window, the sky casting gold across his face. In his hand, his phone buzzed again-another mention, another update, another video.

Nara

She was everywhere now.

Her solo stage had gone viral overnight. Fancams glowed with shaky admiration. Comments flooded every upload-"She's ethereal." "Where has she been hiding?" "SM's secret weapon."

Even the press had started calling her "The One-Day Girl"-a reference to the myth that some stars are born in a moment, but leave a mark that lasts forever.

He watched it all unfold. Watched her unfold.

The curve of her movements, the gentle shift of her voice, the stillness she commanded.

She was becoming the person she had always been meant to become.

And somehow, it hurt.

Not out of jealousy.

Out of distance.

Because he wasn't beside her anymore.

She still passed him sometimes-brief hallways, shared elevators, schedules that nearly overlapped. She still bowed. Still smiled, sometimes. But the warmth, that quiet corner of their world where they used to laugh and lean into each other-that had closed.

He knew why.

She needed space to fly.

And he had promised to let her.

Doyoung approached, hands in his pockets, pausing beside him. "You watching her videos again?" The only one who knew about their relationship.

Yuta didn't answer, but his silence was loud enough.

Doyoung offered a bottle of water. "She's incredible."

"She is," Yuta murmured. "She always was."

They stood there for a long moment, watching the fading sunlight.

"You okay?" Doyoung asked.

Yuta gave a small nod. "I just hope she still finds time to laugh."

---

Lunch Room

The room hadn't changed, but the energy had.

Trays clattered. Chairs scraped. Chatter fluttered from table to table-but a certain rhythm was missing.

The corner seat, right by the sun-drenched window, remained untouched. That had always been Nara's spot. She liked the way the light hit her lyric notebook. Said it made the rice taste warmer.

"She always picked two kimchis," Haechan said, poking at his tray, "And gave me one."

"Because she said you weren't growing fast enough," Renjun grinned. "She used to call you Baby Sprout with that mom's voice."