Chapter 26 - Janhaes Confrontation
Ginny was spiraling.
Not dramatically.
Not publicly.
But in small, quiet ways that only someone observant would notice.
She double-booked a venue for the first time in her career.
She snapped at a florist over peonies.
She redesigned an entire mood board at 3 a.m. and then scrapped it by sunrise.
Janhae noticed.
Of course she did.
Because unlike Apple, who confronted chaos with louder chaos, Janhae approached it like a steady mirror—calm, unflinching, impossible to lie to.
On Friday evening, when the staff had cleared out and the studio lights dimmed, Janhae locked the door and leaned against it.
"Sit," she said gently.
Ginny didn't look up from the fabric swatches she was aggressively reorganizing.
"I'm busy."
"No, you're unraveling."
That made Ginny pause.
Janhae walked over and quietly took the swatches from her hands.
"You ended it."
It wasn't a question.
Ginny exhaled. "It was fake anyway."
Janhae tilted her head slightly. "Was it?"
Ginny's jaw tightened. "It started that way."
"And the kiss?"
Ginny froze.
She hadn't told Janhae about that.
Janhae gave her a small look. "Apple talks."
"Of course she does," Ginny muttered.
Silence settled between them.
Then Janhae said softly, "You love her."
Ginny laughed, sharp and defensive. "That's dramatic."
"No. What you're doing is dramatic." Janhae stepped closer. "You're dismantling your own happiness before it has a chance to disappoint you."
Ginny's chest tightened.
"That's not what this is."
"Then what is it?"
Ginny ran a hand through her hair, pacing now.
"She deserves someone stable. Someone who doesn't panic when things get real."
"So instead you decided to prove that you panic when things get real?"
The words hit clean.
Precise.
Ginny stopped walking.
"You didn't see her face when I ended it," she said quietly. "She didn't fight me. She didn't argue. She just... accepted it."
Janhae studied her carefully. "And that hurt."
"Yes."
"Because you wanted her to chase you?"
Ginny shook her head quickly. "No. I just—" She faltered. "I wanted to matter enough that she wouldn't let me walk away."
Janhae's expression softened.
"Ginny," she said gently, "healthy people don't beg someone to stay."
That landed.
Hard.
Jayna hadn't chased her.
Not because she didn't care.
But because she respected herself.
"You think I'm unhealthy?" Ginny whispered.
"I think you're scared."
Ginny looked away.
Janhae didn't let her retreat.
"You sabotage before you can be rejected. You ghost before someone leaves first. You turn real emotions into jokes so you don't have to admit they're real."
Ginny's throat burned.
"That's not fair."
"It's accurate."
Silence stretched.
The hum of the air-conditioning felt too loud.
Janhae stepped closer, voice steady but kind.
"You're not afraid of commitment," she said.
Ginny's eyes lifted slowly.
Janhae held her gaze and delivered the truth like a diagnosis.
"You're afraid of being loved."
The words sliced through every excuse Ginny had built.
Because commitment meant responsibility.
But being loved?
Being loved meant being seen.
Seen meant flaws exposed.
Flaws exposed meant the risk of someone deciding you weren't worth staying for.
Ginny swallowed hard.
"She deserves someone serious," she whispered, echoing the comment that had started all this.
Janhae's tone sharpened slightly. "Stop deciding what she deserves as an excuse to run."
Ginny blinked rapidly.
"She chose you," Janhae continued. "Over and over. Even after you ghosted her years ago. Even after you made her your fake fiancée. Even after you kissed her and panicked."
Ginny's breathing became uneven.
"She didn't need someone perfect. She needed someone honest."
The studio felt too small.
Too bright.
"I hurt her," Ginny said weakly.
"Yes."
The honesty didn't come with cruelty.
Just fact.
"But you're hurting her more by pretending this was nothing," Janhae added.
Ginny sank into a chair.
For the first time in weeks, she let herself feel it fully.
The loss.
The regret.
The fear.
"I don't know how to do this," she admitted quietly.
Janhae crouched in front of her.
"You start by admitting that it wasn't a lie."
Ginny's lips trembled.
"It wasn't."
"There it is."
A tear slipped down before she could stop it.
"I thought if I ended it first, I wouldn't have to watch her leave," Ginny confessed.
Janhae nodded slowly.
"That's the fear talking. Not reality."
Ginny let out a shaky laugh. "What if she doesn't want me back?"
"Then at least she'll be making that choice with the truth."
The truth.
Not a shield.
Not a joke.
Not an exit strategy.
Ginny wiped her face, staring at the floor.
"She looked so calm," she murmured.
Janhae smiled faintly. "Jayna is calm. That doesn't mean she wasn't devastated."
That image twisted something deep inside her.
Jayna alone.
Holding it together.
Because that's who she was.
Ginny inhaled slowly, steadying herself.
For the first time since ending it, the panic shifted into something else.
Resolve.
Small.
Fragile.
But real.
"I messed up," she said.
"Yes."
"I need to fix it."
Janhae squeezed her shoulder gently. "Then stop hiding."
Ginny nodded, heart pounding—not with fear this time, but with the terrifying possibility of bravery.
Because maybe Janhae was right.
She wasn't afraid of commitment.
She was afraid of being loved by someone who actually meant it.
And Jayna had meant it.
The question now was—
Was she too late?