She looked up. Namjoon was first to notice her, and then the others stopped, a domino effect of recognition. Jimin's face broke into a cautious smile. Jungkook tilted his head. And then—

That was it. All of it. He had given her a polite, distant nod. Like she was a co-worker. A stranger.

Jin's voice fumbled into the silence. There was a second hesitation. This was the most painful kind of distance—the kind that means you have to begin at zero again. No left, no right. Just a nod.

A phone buzzes. A single, sharp vibration slicing through the tension. Taehyung looks down—and his face did something. His eyes softened. A small curve of his lips appeared. It wasn't forced. It was real. Natural. Times, if there was any trace of stiffness left, left his shoulders.

He walked away. No glance backwards. No hesitation. Just footsteps fading down the corridor. Like clockwork. He didn't look back. He didn't even see her flinch. Jimin watched her watch him. A recognition flickered in his eyes—old and knowing.

She tightened her grip on the schedule in her hands, the paper crinkling under her fingers. She's not ready. It wasn't a decision. It was a truth that hurt, a raw and unbidden ache that she had never admitted to anyone.