Chapter Text
The conference room was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. A long wooden table stretched between them, the contract packets placed neatly in front of each member. TWICE had gathered to discuss their future—another seven years, another chapter together.
Chaeyoung stared at the document before her, the weight of its meaning pressing heavily on her shoulders. Seven years. It wasn’t just a number. It was a commitment, a promise to the group, to ONCE, to herself. And yet, deep down, she wasn’t sure if she could sign it.
No one knew. Not yet.
Or so she thought.
Across the table, Sana’s gaze lingered on her. She had noticed the way Chaeyoung’s fingers hovered over the contract, how she hadn’t touched her pen like the others. Sana had known Chaeyoung long enough to see past her usual nonchalance.
And it hurt.
She had never considered the possibility that Chaeyoung, of all people, might hesitate.
TWICE was their home, their family—weren’t they supposed to stay together? But she swallowed the lump in her throat and stayed silent. If Chaeyoung wanted to tell them, she would.
Jihyo, sitting at the head of the table, was the first to speak. “Before we move forward, I just want to say… No matter what happens, I’m grateful we made it here together.” Her voice was steady, but there was emotion behind it. “Ten years isn’t easy, but we did it. And I believe we can do seven more.”
The members murmured their agreement, some smiling, some nodding. Chaeyoung lowered her eyes.
“I know we’ve all thought about this a lot,” Nayeon added. “And I don’t want anyone to feel pressured. But I do hope we’ll do this together.”
There was another silence, but this time, it felt heavier. A quiet understanding settled over them—this was a choice, and they all had to make it for themselves.
Mina, ever soft-spoken, looked up from her contract. “We should be honest with each other. If anyone has doubts, it’s okay to talk about them.”
Sana tensed. She didn’t look at Chaeyoung, but her hands clenched on her lap.
Chaeyoung swallowed hard. Her heart pounded in her chest. She knew this was the moment.
She lifted her head and spoke. “I… I’m not sure if I want to sign.”
The room froze.
Dahyun blinked. Tzuyu’s lips parted slightly as if she wasn’t sure she heard correctly. Momo’s brows furrowed, and Jeongyeon let out a quiet breath. Nayeon’s expression was unreadable.
Sana squeezed her hands together tighter, biting her lower lip. Even though she had known, hearing Chaeyoung say it out loud made it feel real—and it hurt more than she expected.
But the worst reaction came from Jihyo.
The leader’s face hardened. “You’re not sure?” Her tone was sharp, uncharacteristically so.
Chaeyoung hesitated but nodded. “I just… I need to think about it more. Seven years is a long time, and I want to be sure it’s what I want.”
Jihyo’s jaw tightened. “What’s there to be unsure about? This is TWICE we’re talking about. Us. The group we built together. Don’t you care about that?”
Chaeyoung’s stomach twisted. “Of course I do.”
“Then why are you hesitating?” Jihyo demanded, voice rising. “What, are we not enough for you anymore?”
A sharp gasp cut through the room.
“Jihyo.” Nayeon’s voice was low, warning.
But it was Sana who reacted the strongest. Her hands slammed against the table as she stood up, eyes burning with unshed tears. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Her voice cracked with emotion, but there was anger there, too. “How could you say that to her?”
Jihyo turned to her, still tense. “Sana—”
“No,” Sana cut her off, her voice trembling. “That’s not how a leader should act. You think that’s going to make her stay? You think that’s going to make any of us want to sign?”
Jihyo flinched.
Sana’s shoulders shook. “I just want us to be together. I don’t want anyone to leave. But saying things like that…” Her voice broke, and finally, the tears spilled over. “You’re only making it worse.”
The room was deathly silent.
Nayeon reached out and rubbed Sana’s back soothingly. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Breathe, Sana.”
Jihyo looked down, guilt flickering across her face. She hadn’t meant to hurt Chaeyoung like that. She had just… panicked. The thought of TWICE without one of them had terrified her, and she lashed out before she could stop herself.
Nayeon took a deep breath and turned to Chaeyoung, her voice much gentler than Jihyo’s had been. “Chaeyoung-ah, no one is mad at you for thinking this through. We should think this through. And if you need time, that’s okay.” She glanced at Jihyo, her expression firm. “Right, Jihyo?”
Jihyo clenched her fists, then exhaled slowly. She turned to Chaeyoung, regret heavy in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “That was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Chaeyoung studied her for a moment, then nodded. “I accept your apology, Unnie.” Her voice was quiet but steady. “But I still need to think about it. And I need to figure out what’s best for me—not just for the group.”
Jihyo bit her lip and nodded. “I understand. I just… I’m not ready to lose any of you.”
Chaeyoung’s heart softened a little. “I’m not saying I’m leaving. I just need time.”
She turned to Sana, whose eyes were still glistening. Chaeyoung reached out and squeezed her hand. “Sana-unnie,” she said softly. “You won’t lose me. No matter what happens, I promise.”
Sana sniffled, looking down at their joined hands. “I just want us all to be together,” she whispered.
Chaeyoung smiled sadly. “Me too.”
The room remained quiet, but the tension had shifted. There was still uncertainty, still a decision to be made, but there was also understanding.
They weren’t just a group. They were family. And family listened.