You need to eat
The Fragility of Glass
The morning air was crisp and smelled of rain-washed pavement, a refreshing change from the stifling anxiety that had filled the house only days prior. After their "healing protocol" day, the girls had decided that some fresh air and a bit of normalcy were exactly what Amelia needed. They opted for a low-key trip to a nearby outdoor mall, dressed in oversized hoodies, caps, and masks, hoping to blend into the Saturday crowd. Without the usual wall of security, they felt like regular girls—seven sisters out for bubble tea and window shopping.
Amelia felt lighter. Her blonde hair was tucked under a navy baseball cap, and she was wearing one of Megan’s favorite baggy vintage sweatshirts. Walking between Megan and Yoonchae, with her arms linked through theirs, she felt a sense of reclaimed safety. The world didn't feel like a predatory lens today; it felt like a playground.
"I’m telling you, Meels, that silver jacket would look insane on you," Dani said, walking backward in front of the trio, her dark curls bouncing. "It’s very y2k, very 'main character' energy. We’re going into that boutique and you’re trying it on."
"Only if you try on those neon platform boots you were eyeing," Amelia giggled, her Australian accent bright and clear for the first time in a week.
"Deal!" Dani chirped, spinning around to lead the way.
They were crossing a wide, sun-drenched plaza near the fountain when the atmosphere shifted. It happened in a heartbeat—the kind of sudden, jarring transition that makes the world feel like it’s tilting on its axis.
A man, looking disheveled and swaying slightly with an open can in his hand, stumbled out from a side alley. He looked at them, his eyes squinting against the sun, until they landed on the group. Even with masks on, their silhouettes and the way they carried themselves were unmistakable to anyone who followed the industry.
"Hey!" the man barked, his voice thick and slurred. "It’s them. The Katseye girls."
Sophia immediately stepped slightly in front of the group, her posture straightening into that of a protective leader. "Keep walking, girls," she whispered urgently.
But the man was faster. He lurched forward, cutting off their path. His face was flushed, and the smell of stale alcohol wafted off him in waves. His gaze zeroed in on Amelia, who had instinctively shrunk back against Megan’s side.
"You," he spat, pointing a shaky finger at Amelia. "The weak link. I saw the videos. You’re ruining the group’s aesthetic, you know that? You look like a mess. Katseye would be top of the charts if they just cut the dead weight. Why are you even here?"
The words were like physical blows, landing right on the bruises Amelia had been trying so hard to heal. She froze, her breath hitching in her throat.
"Back off," Megan snarled, her voice dropping into a dangerous, low register. She stepped in front of Amelia, her dark eyes flashing with a protective fire. "You’re drunk and you’re being a creep. Move."
The man laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Oh, the bodyguard is talking! Why do you care about her? She’s dragging you down, too. She’s nothing but a pretty face that isn't even that pretty anymore."
Before anyone could react, the man lunged forward. It wasn't a calculated move, just a clumsy, aggressive shove meant to get Megan out of the way to get closer to Amelia. As he pushed, his arm caught Amelia’s shoulder with surprising force.
Amelia, caught off guard and already trembling, lost her balance. She tripped over her own feet and went down hard on the concrete. In a desperate attempt to break her fall, she threw her right hand out.
There was a sickening *crack-pop* sound as her wrist hit the pavement at an awkward angle, followed by a sharp, white-hot flash of agony that radiated up her arm.
"Amelia!" Megan screamed.
The scene descended into instant, protective chaos. Daniela didn't hesitate; she stepped forward with a ferocity that stopped the man in his tracks, her face inches from his. "Don't you dare touch her! Get away from us!"
Manon and Lara were right behind her, their usual gentle demeanors replaced by a cold, sharp anger. Manon pulled out her phone, her fingers flying as she signaled for the mall’s emergency security, while Lara stood like a shield, her eyes fixed on the man to make sure he didn't move again.
"Security! Over here! Now!" Lara shouted, her voice echoing across the plaza and drawing the attention of dozens of onlookers.
On the ground, Amelia was curled into a ball, clutching her right arm to her chest. Her face was ghostly pale, and beads of sweat were already forming on her forehead.
"Meels? Meels, look at me," Sophia said, dropping to her knees beside her. Her voice was steady, but her hands were shaking as she reached out to touch Amelia’s shoulder.
Megan was already on the other side, her face a mask of pure heartbreak and fury. "Where does it hurt? Talk to me, baby."
"My wrist," Amelia gasped, her voice breaking. She tried to move it, but the slightest twitch sent a fresh wave of nausea-inducing pain through her body. "I can't... I can't move it. Soph, it hurts so bad."
Yoonchae hovered over them, her long blonde hair falling around her face as she looked down at Amelia. The youngest member looked devastated, her usual playful spark extinguished. She reached out and placed a firm, reassuring arm around Amelia’s waist, trying to provide some sort of physical anchor.
Within minutes, mall security arrived, swarming the man and pinning him down while he continued to shout obscenities. The spectacle was drawing a crowd; phones were being pulled out, and the flash of cameras began to flicker like lightning.
"We need to get her out of here," Manon said, appearing beside them, her voice clipped and professional despite the fear in her eyes. "The crowd is growing. We need privacy."
With Sophia and Megan supporting her weight, they hurried Amelia away from the center of the plaza and into a quiet, dimly lit service corridor behind one of the larger department stores. It was a stark, concrete hallway, smelling of cardboard and cleaning supplies, but it was away from the prying eyes of the public.
"Sit, sit down," Sophia urged, helping Amelia lower herself onto the floor against the wall.
Amelia slid down, her back hitting the cold concrete. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, replaced by a crushing weight of physical pain and emotional exhaustion. She looked down at her wrist, which was already starting to swell and discolor, looking terrifyingly fragile.
"I’m calling management," Sophia said, stepping a few feet away. Her voice was tight as she began explaining the situation into her phone, her "leader" mode fully engaged.
Megan sat cross-legged on the floor right next to Amelia, pulling the younger girl’s head onto her shoulder. She didn't care about the dirty floor or the cold air; she just wanted to be close.
"It’s okay, Meels. We’re here. You’re safe," Megan whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Amelia’s cap.
Amelia finally broke. The tears that had been welling up since the man first started shouting began to spill over, hot and fast. She wasn't just crying because of the sharp, throbbing pain in her arm; she was crying because the world felt like it was closing in again.
"Why do they hate me, Megs?" Amelia sobbed, her voice echoing hollowly in the corridor. "What is so wrong with me that he had to do that? Am I really that bad?"
"No, no, no," Megan said fiercely, pulling her even closer. "Amelia, look at me. Look at me right now."
Amelia lifted her tear-streaked face, her blue eyes wide and shattered.
"That man was a monster," Megan said, her voice trembling with emotion. "He doesn't know you. He doesn't see the hours you spend in the studio or the way you make us laugh until we can't breathe. He’s just a hateful person looking for someone to hurt. It has nothing to do with you, Meels. Nothing."
Yoonchae sat on Amelia’s other side, taking Amelia’s left hand—the uninjured one—and squeezing it tightly. "Nobody hates you, Meely. The fans love you. We love you. If anyone hated you, we wouldn't be standing here right now, would we?"
"But he said... he said the group would be better without me," Amelia whispered, a fresh sob wracking her small frame.
"He’s an idiot," Yoonchae said firmly, her Korean-accented English sharp and decisive. "If you weren't in Katseye, I wouldn't have a best friend to play games with. Sophia wouldn't have anyone to mother. Megan would probably just stop functioning entirely. You are the heart, Amelia. Don't listen to a man who can't even stand up straight."
A door at the end of the corridor opened, and a few mall employees walked past, giving the group concerned, confused looks. They saw three famous girls huddled on a concrete floor, one of them sobbing and clutching a mangled wrist. It was a jarring, awkward sight—the glamour of the "global girl group" stripped away to reveal something raw and vulnerable.
Amelia shrunk further into Megan, feeling the weight of those gazes. "I want to go home," she whimpered. "Please, I just want to go home."
"We’re going to the hospital first, honey," Sophia said, returning to them and kneeling down. She looked at the wrist and winced. "Management is sending a private car to the back entrance. They’ve already contacted a specialist. We’re going to get you fixed up."
Lara, Dani, and Manon joined them then, having finished giving their statements to the police and security. The sight of Amelia on the floor, broken and crying, seemed to hit them all over again.
Dani immediately dropped to the floor, her eyes red as if she’d been crying too. She reached out and touched Amelia’s knee. "I’m so sorry, Meels. I should have seen him coming. I should have been faster."
"Don't you dare blame yourself, Dani," Manon said, her voice steady but her hand resting protectively on Dani’s shoulder. She looked at Amelia, her gaze softening. "We’re all going with you. All of us. We aren't leaving your side until that wrist is in a cast and you’re tucked into bed."
"It hurts so much," Amelia whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as the pain became a dull, rhythmic roar.
"I know, baby. I know," Lara said, reaching out to stroke Amelia’s hair. "Just breathe. Focus on my voice. We’re right here."
The car arrived ten minutes later. The walk to the back exit was a blur of pain and muffled sobs. Every step sent a jolt through Amelia’s arm, but the girls formed a tight circle around her, their bodies acting as a human shield against the world.
In the back of the spacious black SUV, the seating arrangement was cramped but necessary. Amelia was wedged in the middle of the back seat, with Megan on one side and Sophia on the other. Yoonchae sat at her feet on the floor of the car, resting her head on Amelia’s knees, while the others squeezed into the remaining seats.
The ride to the hospital was quiet, save for the occasional sniffle and the low murmur of comfort. Megan held Amelia’s good hand against her chest, letting her feel the steady, rapid beat of her heart.
"You’re going to be okay," Megan kept repeating, like a mantra. "We’ve got you. You’re not alone."
Amelia leaned her head back against the leather seat, closing her eyes. The man’s hateful words still echoed in the back of her mind, a poisonous residue that refused to wash away. But as she felt the warmth of her sisters surrounding her—the pressure of Megan’s hand, the scent of Sophia’s hair, the weight of Yoonchae on her knees—the poison felt less potent.
She was hurt. She was scared. She was broken in more ways than just her bone.
But as the car pulled up to the emergency entrance and her sisters scrambled out to help her, Amelia realized something. The world could be cruel, and people could be monsters, but she had six reasons to keep standing.
They didn't see a "weak link." They didn't see "dead weight."
They saw Amelia. And for them, she would find a way to be whole again.