Page 125 of K-Pop Double Life

“There will be interviews,” he said. “So many people want to be a part of our story. It may be intrusive to you, if we have to talk about love and authenticity and how the fans’ support means everything.”

“I have watched you in interviews for years,” I said. “I can learn.”

He leaned back, his head against the pillow. “Aidan and Liam invited us to visit them in France when we want. Would you like to do that?”

“Of course,” I said. “I want to know everything about how to hold onto your man for so long.”

Jin and I both got our phones and read our notifications. “There is already a lot on the news about the lighting rig collapsing at the stadium,” he said. “We will have to stick around until everything is resolved. We’ll have some time before we start preparing for the next album.”

“You really think we can have a vacation like that?” I asked.

Jin nodded. “I’m planning for two weeks. Just us. No schedules, no cameras, no one trying to kill us. Just vineyards and good food and figuring out what normal feels like.”

“I don’t think we’re built for normal.”

“Probably not. But we can try.” He laced his fingers through mine. “After everything we’ve survived, normal sounds pretty good.”

51

GOOD DREAMS

JIN — PROVENCE

Wednesday July 1, 2026

The farmhouse sat in a valley surrounded by lavender fields and vineyards, the kind of place that existed outside of time. Aidan and Liam had picked us up from the Nice airport themselves, driven us through winding roads into countryside that looked like a painting.

“Welcome,” Aidan said as we pulled up to a stone building with blue shutters and a garden that smelled like herbs and summer. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

“It’s perfect,” I said honestly.

Their small brown dog met us enthusiastically as we walked in. We followed them inside to a space that was exactly what we needed. Comfortable furniture, a kitchen that smelled like fresh bread, windows that let in golden afternoon light.

“We had a guest suite built last year for family and friends,” Liam said. “It’s in the back of the house, overlooking the garden. We figured you’d want privacy.”

“This is too much,” Sang-hoon said.

“Nonsense. We’re all friends now.” Aidan smiled.

That night, the four of us had dinner on the terrace, with the dog, Hayam, beside Liam’s place, accepting tidbits. Simple food, good wine, the kind of meal that felt like celebration and relief rolled into one. Aidan and Liam told stories about their early days together, the jobs that had brought them from Tunisia to France, the life they’d built in this quiet corner of the world.

“Sixteen years together,” I said. “How did you make it work?”

“Honestly? We didn’t always.” Liam refilled his wine glass. “We had rough patches, times when the job got in the way, times when we weren’t sure if we’d make it. But we kept choosing each other. Every day, we chose each other.”

“That’s the secret,” Aidan added. “Not perfection. Just commitment. Choosing to stay even when it’s hard.”

Sang-hoon’s hand found mine under the table. “We can do that.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “We can.”

Later, after Aidan and Liam had gone to bed, Sang-hoon and I sat outside our room watching stars emerge over the valley. It was quiet in a way Seoul never was. No traffic, no sirens, no crowds of fans. Just crickets and wind in the lavender.

“I keep thinking about all those times I was in danger,” I said quietly. “When you could either run away or run toward me. And you chose me every time.”

“I did, and I’d do it again. A thousand times.” He looked at me. “But I’m glad I don’t have to anymore. I’m glad it’s over.”

“I hope Sara Yoon will go to prison for a very long time. This morning I got an email from Sun-hee-noona. When Eun-ji returned to Seoul and exposed the embezzlement and the network of people Sara Yoon hired, Starhouse decided to begin the June 30 audit immediately.” I leaned against him. “It’s really over.”