Inside, laughter echoed off the walls. Seven voices, familiar as your own heartbeat. But tonight, there was an eighth.

You pushed the door open, and the smell of Jin's cooking hit you first. Then the sound of Namjoon's nervous laugh, a pitch too high.

Namjoon stood near the couch, a woman tucked close to his side. She was pretty in a polished way, perfect hair, perfect smile, perfectly manicured nails resting on his arm.

It vanished the moment Namjoon looked at her.