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“Who wouldn’t send Sori flowers?” Nathaniel interjects. “You’re just jealous you didn’t get some, Youngmin-ah.”
Youngmin grins, dispelling whatever tension there might have been. Together, we shuffle into the limo. Sun takes the flowers, putting them to the side, while Jaewoo hands me his suit jacket to cover my legs. As we ride to the venue, I risk glances at Nathaniel. Unlike the others, he hadn’t reacted to the bouquet. It’s not that I want him to be... jealous, but only last night, he’d told me helovedme. Though later, after we got off the Ferris wheel, he’d acted as if nothing had changed, laughing and joking with Youngmin, teasing Hyemi, and treating me... just like he treated them, as if I were a friend, nothing more.
It’s exactly what I asked for, every time I’ve pushed him away, so then why do I feel so unhappy?
The limo pulls up outside the venue for the awards show at one of the largest arenas in Seoul. Already photographers line the red carpet leading to the front entrance. Even though I’m prepared this time—these photographers aresupposedto be here; they’re doing their jobs in a respectable manner, compared to tabloid reporters—I still feel a bolt of anxiety go through me.
Sun opens the limo door, and a rush of sound pours into the car, high-pitched screams coming from the crowds of fans behind the photographers, separated by a partition. I give Jaewoo back his jacket and he exits after Sun, the screams erupting again. Youngmin is next. I shift closer to the door, wincing at a sudden flash of light—a camera, directed at the limousine.
I remember the paparazzi outside the event hall and outside the batting cages, and even before then, those lights from my childhood, following me home from school, reporters yelling for my attention, asking me about my father’s affairs, the rumors that my mother was frigid, cold-hearted, that she was the reason they fell apart, because she drove him away.
“Sori.” I look down to find Nathaniel holding my hand. His is warm, his grip firm but gentle. He’s wearing rings on his fingers. Reaching up, I twist the one on his pointer finger, around and around. He lets me, remaining completely still. He doesn’t rush me, though everyone outside is probably wondering why we haven’t stepped out yet. He’s so patient with me—the one person in the world who has alwaysseenme, as I am, flaws and all.
“It’s you and me, remember?” he says softly. “We got this.”
All those times with the paparazzi, I hadn’t been with Nathaniel. I’m with him now. I nod. He lets go of my hand to step out of the car, then he’s reaching back to take my hand. There’s a roar of sound as I emerge—from the photographers shouting my name, but also the fans, screaming, cheering, for me.For us.
Nathaniel draws my hand to his arm, and I grab on to the fabric there, taking strength from him. Together, we face the cameras.
“Nathaniel, look over here!”
“Sori. Nathaniel, over here, please.”
“Sori,Vogue Koreaover here. You look stunning!”
I glance at Nathaniel, who’s waving at the photographers, smiling and confident. His confidence, hispresence, givesmeconfidence.
Taking a deep breath, I turn toward the cameras, pretending the director from Sun’s drama is on the carpet, shouting, “Be bold! Be beautiful!” Throwing my shoulders back, placing one hand on my hip, I channel that energy. I direct my sultry gaze at the cameras and pout my lips. The noise on the carpet seems to get even louder, the fans screaming, the photographers clicking at a faster rate.
Nathaniel and I start moving ahead, allowing for more cars to drive up behind us. Every few steps, we stop to pose, and Iknowwe look good, standing side by side. At one point, I even drop Nathaniel’s arm to take photos alone, showing off my dress and earrings. I’ve already posted on my SNS that my makeup was done by RALA, my hair by Kim Soobin.
After the red carpet, we head inside the arena. Attendants usher Sun, Jaewoo, and Youngmin to their seats, while Nathaniel and I are shown through a door backstage.
We enter a long, curving hallway, which presumably leads to the stage area. I shiver, the air colder here than it was outside.
Nathaniel notices. Taking off his suit jacket, he places it around my shoulders. It’s warm and thick and smells of his cologne.
“Sori-ssi? Nathaniel-ssi?”
A motorized cart pulls up next to us, with Woogi sitting in the front with a driver and Woori sitting in the back next to an empty seat.
“You two... Wow... ,” Woogi says. “I want to take a photograph of you both and frame it on my wall.”
“What a silly thing to say, Oppa!” Woori laughs.
Nathaniel steps closer to the cart. “Woori-ssi,” he says, “can I ask you for a favor?”
Her eyes widen, blinking rapidly. “Yes, of course.”
I stare at Nathaniel, curious what he’s up to.
“You’re heading to the backstage area, right? That empty seat beside you, can Sori take it?”
“Oh no,” I start to protest. “I can walk.”
Nathaniel gives my feet—specifically my stilettos—a significant look. “Please, for me.” My stomach flutters. Then he adds teasingly, “You’re slowing me down.”
My feetarestarting to smart a bit. Woori moves over and I climb into the cart, turning my head to peer at Nathaniel as we pull away.
