You're sitting at your kitchen table, the morning sunlight filtering through the blinds, casting delicate patterns on the floor. Your phone buzzes incessantly beside you, but you're not reaching for it. The last thing you need is more stress. The kitchen is quiet except for the occasional clink of your coffee mug as you absentmindedly stir it.

It had started as a normal day, with plans to meet Bada later for a quiet dinner and maybe a walk through the park. But now, everything has shifted. A loud notification interrupts the silence, and finally, you glance at your phone. The screen is filled with news headlines and a flurry of notifications. Your stomach drops as you see the first photo: it's of you and Bada, taken at the cafe you went to last weekend. The next few photos are from a movie date and a candid moment at the park. Each image feels like a punch to the gut, and the accompanying headlines are blunt and invasive.

"K-Pop Choreographer Bada Lee's Secret Romance Exposed!"

"Who's the Mystery Woman? Bada Lee's New Girlfriend Revealed!"

"Bada Lee is Gay? Here's what we know..."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you click on the articles. The comments are a mix of shock, curiosity, and, inevitably, judgment. Your relationship with Bada, once a cherished private affair, is now laid bare for the world to scrutinize. Your heart races, and you feel a rising tide of panic.

Shit. Shit. Shit. What the fuck. How did they even get these photos? How come you never noticed? You slump down onto the couch, head in your hands. Your breaths begin to become shorter and soon tears are rolling down your face.

What the fuck are you supposed to do now?