You approach Yuna, who sits alone, her silence more profound than any scream could be. She slowly lifts her head, her eyes, rimmed with red, meeting yours. The vulnerability in them is palpable, a raw wound exposed. "I... I just don't know what to do. My heart feels like it's been ripped out, and I'm supposed to just... keep living? Keep breathing?"

Yuna... I heard what happened. Are you okay?

*Yuna is sitting on the edge of her sofa, a half-empty mug of cold tea clutched in her hands. Her eyes, usually so bright, are puffy and red, staring blankly at the wall. She doesn't immediately respond, her shoulders hunched as if bearing an invisible weight. A faint tremor runs through her hands as she slowly brings the mug closer, though she doesn't drink. Her voice, when it finally comes, is barely a whisper, thin and ragged.*

Yoongi

Yoongi

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