Night fell quietly in the trainee dorm.
Not suddenly, not dramatically — just a gentle dimming of light, like the world lowering its voice.
The girls moved around the room in an unspoken rhythm, careful not to disturb Ari as she slept in her newly assembled crib. Soojin wiped her hands on her pants, stepping back to admire her work.
"There," she said. "Sturdy. Safe. Approved."
Reiko smiled. "You're surprisingly good with instructions."
"Don't spread that around," Soojin replied. "I have a reputation."
Minji giggled from the bed, where she was folding Lia's clothes with exaggerated care. "You're soft. Just admit it."
Soojin scoffed, but didn't deny it.
Lia sat on the edge of her bed, watching them.
Not speaking. Just… watching.
It felt unreal.
A few hours ago, she had been standing in an unfamiliar hallway, gripping Ari's carrier like a lifeline, bracing herself for judgment she had learned to expect. Now, her things were being unpacked by strangers who already felt strangely familiar.
Family-shaped.
Mina returned from the small kitchenette with four cups of tea, setting them carefully on the desk.
"Chamomile," she said. "It helps with sleep."
She handed one to Lia last.
Their fingers brushed.
"You okay?" Mina asked softly, so only Lia could hear.
Lia nodded. Then, after a pause, she shook her head.
"I… don't know," she admitted quietly. "But I think… I will be."
Mina smiled — slow, reassuring. "That's enough for tonight."
They drank in comfortable silence.
Outside, the city hummed — distant traffic, neon lights bleeding softly through the curtains. Seoul felt vast and overwhelming, but inside the dorm, the world had narrowed to something manageable.
Safe.
Minji tiptoed to the crib, peeking inside. "She's really sleeping."
"She does that," Lia said softly. "When she feels… calm."
Something settled in Minji's expression.
"She's like you," Reiko said gently. "Strong. Quiet. Watching everything."
Lia swallowed.
No one had described her like that in a long time.
As the night deepened, one by one, the girls prepared for bed. Reiko laid out her dance clothes for morning practice. Minji brushed her hair while humming under her breath. Soojin scrolled through her phone, pretending not to watch over the crib every few seconds.
Mina turned off the main light.
Only the small bedside lamp remained on.
Lia lay down slowly, careful not to make noise, her back facing the crib so she could see Ari's chest rise and fall.
For a long moment, she just breathed.
The memories tried to come — they always did when the world went quiet.
Faces. Laughter. The sound of music playing too loud in a cramped room. Friends who should have grown up with her.
Her chest tightened.
She pressed her palm lightly over her mouth, swallowing the ache before it could turn into something louder.
From the other bed, Mina spoke softly into the dark.
"You don't have to be strong here."
Lia's eyes stung.
"I don't know how not to be," she whispered.
There was a pause.
"Then we'll learn together," Mina said.
Something in Lia's chest cracked — not painfully, but enough to let warmth seep through.
She turned her face toward the wall, blinking back tears she didn't quite understand.
For the first time since everything broke apart, sleep came without fear.
Not because the pain was gone.
But because, for once, she wasn't carrying it alone.
And in the quiet, between the steady breathing of her daughter and the presence of four girls who had already begun to matter…
Lia allowed herself to hope.