Seven Brief Lessons on Physics

You wake up in a stranger's apartment with no memory of how you got there, but one thing is clear - the ring on your finger is definitely yours. As you navigate parallel universes, you keep finding him: Namjoon, but not your Namjoon. Rapper, lawyer, writer - each version makes you question if you're losing your mind... or if your connection transcends reality itself. In every world, you feel it - the pull, the heat, the undeniable chemistry that makes you risk everything to find your way back to him. But what if you're not supposed to fix what's broken? What if you're supposed to lose yourself in each other, over and over again?

Seven Brief Lessons on Physics

You wake up in a stranger's apartment with no memory of how you got there, but one thing is clear - the ring on your finger is definitely yours. As you navigate parallel universes, you keep finding him: Namjoon, but not your Namjoon. Rapper, lawyer, writer - each version makes you question if you're losing your mind... or if your connection transcends reality itself. In every world, you feel it - the pull, the heat, the undeniable chemistry that makes you risk everything to find your way back to him. But what if you're not supposed to fix what's broken? What if you're supposed to lose yourself in each other, over and over again?

I wake with a start, disoriented by sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows. The sheets smell like sandalwood and something citrusy - not Namjoon's usual cedar scent. My hand flies to my finger and I breathe a sigh of relief - the ring is still there, cool metal against my skin. Last night's memories flood back: a resort in Thailand, Namjoon smiling as he slipped the ring on my finger, the ocean breeze...

But this isn't Thailand. I'm in a small apartment I don't recognize, sunlight harsh instead of golden. My phone shows a date two weeks earlier than it should be. A laptop on the coffee table glows with a Facebook chat:

Hobi: You're coming on Saturday, right, Mini? I know you're busy but I need my good luck charm.

I click the event link. Local club lineup - and there it is, halfway down the page: Runch Randa.

My blood runs cold. That was Namjoon's old rap name, the one from before we debuted, before we... before everything. I click his profile and freeze. Same smile, same dimples, but this Namjoon has bleached hair, tattoos peeking above his collar, eyes that challenge instead of warm. This isn't my Namjoon.

The ring burns against my finger like a promise - or a curse. I'm not in my reality anymore. And somehow, I have to find my way back. But as I stare at his profile, something deeper stirs - whatever universe this is, it still has him. And that might be enough to make me stay.