Where I Wanted To Run

Tzuyu stopped replying to Nicholas Han three days before her birthday. Not completely. That would have been dramatic. Tzuyu did not do dramatic things unless the choreography required it, the camera deserved it, or Nayeon was being unbearable enough to justify escalation.

She still answered him. Technically.

Nick
Did you eat?
Yes.
Nick: Actual food?Yes.
Nick: That means fruit and coffee, doesn’t it?

Tzuyu stared at the message for a long moment, then locked her phone. That one did not deserve an answer. Across the practice room, Sana noticed immediately. Sana always noticed the emotionally inconvenient things. She was sitting on the floor with one leg stretched out, one hand around a water bottle, watching Tzuyu with the kind of softness that made lying difficult.

Tzuyu looked away first. A mistake. Sana’s eyes narrowed “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Momo, lying flat on her back nearby like the practice room floor had personally adopted her, lifted one hand without opening her eyes “That was a lie.”

“It was not.”
“It sounded Taiwanese.”
Tzuyu blinked. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Momo said. “But it sounded true when I said it.”

Jihyo, who had been reviewing something on her tablet near the mirror, looked up “Tzuyu.” That was worse. Sana’s concern was soft. Momo’s concern was strange. Jihyo’s concern came with a schedule, a pen, and the emotional threat of organization. Tzuyu took a careful sip of water “I am fine.”

Nayeon, who had just entered the room carrying two iced coffees and the expression of someone who had already chosen violence, stopped mid-step “Oh,” she said. “So it’s Nick.”

Tzuyu turned her head slowly. Nayeon smiled… badly. “That was fast,” Jeongyeon said from behind her. “She used the calm voice,” Nayeon replied. “It’s always Nick when she uses the calm voice.”

“I have many calm voices,” Tzuyu said.
“Exactly,” Nayeon said, placing one coffee beside Jihyo and keeping the other for herself “That one was the boyfriend-problem calm voice.” Tzuyu considered leaving the country. It was not impossible. She had a passport.

Unfortunately, Mina was sitting near the door, quiet and pretty and impossible to escape past without being noticed. Mina looked up from her phone “Did he do something?” That was the problem. Nick had not done anything. Not really. He had done the kind of thing that made it difficult to be angry because, from the outside, it looked considerate.

Mature.

Careful.

Polite.

The kind of thing a good boyfriend would do if he understood that dating an idol meant knowing when to step back. That was why Tzuyu hated it. Because Nick was very good at stepping back. Too good…  “He said he would come after,” she said finally.

The room went quiet in the way only TWICE could make quiet feel loud. Nayeon frowned “After what?”

“The midnight dinner.”
“Your birthday dinner?”
Tzuyu looked at her water bottle “Yes.”
Jihyo lowered the tablet “He said he would come after the private birthday dinner?”
“Yes.”
“With us?”

Tzuyu nodded once. Momo sat up. “Why?” Tzuyu’s phone buzzed again. Everyone looked at it. Tzuyu did not “He said it should be for me and the members,” she said. “That I should enjoy it without worrying about him.”

There. Said out loud, it sounded reasonable. That made it worse. For a second, nobody spoke. Then Jeongyeon sighed “Oh, he’s being stupid.”

Tzuyu’s eyes lifted. Nayeon nodded immediately. “Very stupid.”

“Sweet stupid,” Sana added.
“Still stupid,” Dahyun said from the corner, where she had been pretending not to listen and failing with her entire body.

Chaeyoung looked up from where she was sketching something on the edge of an old lyric sheet “Polite men are dangerous when they start making decisions alone.”

Mina nodded faintly “That sounds like something he would say if he thought he was helping.”

“He does think he is helping,” Tzuyu said. That was why her voice came out smaller than she wanted. Nick always thought he was helping. He helped quietly. Carefully. Without needing credit.

He booked private rooms under names so boring nobody remembered them. He left through side exits first so photographers would not follow her. He remembered which hotels had back entrances, which restaurants had curtains, which staff members could be trusted not to ask questions. He knew when to wait in the car, when to walk two steps behind, when to pretend they had arrived separately.

Nick loved her like he had studied the architecture of her life and memorized every hidden door. At first, Tzuyu had loved him for it— she still did. But lately, the same carefulness had started to feel like something else. Like he was always prepared to remove himself before anyone had to ask. Like loving her meant becoming very good at disappearing.

Jihyo watched her expression shift “So you’re not angry because he won’t come,” she said. Tzuyu was silent. Jihyo softened “You’re hurt because you asked him to be there, and he still acted like he needed permission from the room.”

Tzuyu looked down. That was close enough to the truth to make her uncomfortable. Nayeon set her coffee down “Give me his number.” Tzuyu looked up immediately. “No.”

“I already have it.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“To be polite.”
“That was not polite.”
“It was ceremonial.”
Jeongyeon pulled out her phone “We should call him.”
“No,” Tzuyu said.

Several heads turned toward her. She kept her face calm through pure discipline “No one is calling him.” Dahyun blinked. “So we text him?”

“No.”
“Group call?”
“No.”
“Voice note?”
“No.”

Nayeon looked at Sana. “She’s saying no a lot.” Sana nodded solemnly. “That means we should do it lovingly.”

“Tzuyu,” Jihyo said, using the leader voice now, which was unfair because they were not at work. “Do you want him there?” Tzuyu did not answer fast enough. That answered for her. Mina’s voice came gently from the door “Then he should come.”

“He already said he would come after.”
“Then he should be corrected,” Jeongyeon said.
Momo nodded “With force.”
“Emotional force,” Sana clarified.
“Still force,” Dahyun said.

Tzuyu looked around at all of them. There was no judgment in their faces. That was somehow worse. They knew Nick. Not as a rumor. Not as a scandal waiting to happen. Not as some man Tzuyu hid in the spare hours of her life.

They knew him as Nick, who once brought Mina a specific tea from Switzerland because she mentioned liking it six months earlier.

Nick, who learned how to properly fold kimbap from Jeongyeon’s mother because he said his first attempt looked “structurally disrespectful.”

Nick, who survived one dinner with Nayeon asking him questions about his intentions while Dahyun played dramatic background music from her phone.

Nick, who had money but never used it to make things heavy. His family owned quiet hotels in cities where the towels were better than most people’s blankets. He worked with old books, private archives, and paper delicate enough that people wore gloves to touch them. He had grown up between Korean and Swiss manners, which meant he could apologize in three languages and still somehow make it sound like he had inconvenienced the furniture.

He was wealthy enough that Tzuyu’s life did not intimidate him. Private enough that her fame did not tempt him. Mature enough that he never competed with any of it. And foolish enough, apparently, to think that being loved meant knowing when to stand outside the room “He is not a bad boyfriend,” Tzuyu said quietly. Nayeon’s expression softened “No one said he was.”

“He is just being an idiot,” Jeongyeon said.
“Lovingly,” Sana added.
“With impressive consistency,” Chaeyoung murmured.

Tzuyu almost smiled. Almost. Her phone buzzed again. This time, Jihyo reached for it. Tzuyu moved faster and took it first.

Nick: I know you’re upset.
Nick: I’m sorry.
Nick: I don’t want to make your birthday complicated.

Tzuyu read the messages once. Then again. The hurt in her chest tightened, quiet and familiar. That was Nick. Always gentle, always careful, always trying to make himself smaller than the problem.

She typed one word.

Tzuyu: Okay.

Then she put the phone away. Nayeon made a wounded sound. “That was painful.”