“I still can’t believe they caved to that ultimatum,” Alex says from my laptop. I video-called him last night so he could be a part of this family conversation too. He’s been up with us all night, railing against DB’s weakness and saying how a good businessman should have known how to handle a threat like that. “If it were me,” he continues now, “I would have said, ‘Fine. The plane is leaving for LA tomorrow. If you show up, great. You’ve done your jobs. If you don’t show up, well, then you explain to your fans why you missed the concert.’ You know if he had just said something like that, the girls would have fallen in line.”

I’m used to Alex supporting me and standing up for me in his quiet way, but it’s strange to see my normally laid-back boyfriend (no point in avoiding the forbidden term now) so agitated. I now see clearly how he’s managed to become so successful at such a young age—his business instincts are on point, and he has the strength to stand by them.

I look outside. The sun continues to rise, and soon enough the girls will be arriving at Incheon Airport for the trip to LA. It’ll only take a matter of minutes for our +EVERs and the media to spot that I’m not there. If I don’t post something before then, DB will make their own statement to the media, and I’ll be forced to accept whatever narrative they choose.

My stomach churns at the thought. What will my fans think if they read that I was “too overworked” or “too overwhelmed” to bother with Girls Forever? That I’m too busy for K-pop and, by extension, too busy for them? The thought of disappointing the +EVERs makes me feel even worse than the betrayal from my groupmates does. I just can’t do that to them. I can’t.

But then what’s the alternative?