You need to eat
The Fragile and the Fierce
The following morning was one of those rare, quiet L.A. mornings where the fog rolled in from the coast, blurring the edges of the palm trees and making the shared house feel like a secluded island. Amelia was the first to wake, a rarity in itself. Usually, the sun would have to be high in the sky before she could be coaxed out of her dreams, but the weight of the cast on her arm acted as a constant, dull reminder that her world had shifted.
She lay still for a moment, adjusted to the feeling of Megan’s steady breathing against her back. Megan was still fast asleep, her arm draped protectively over Amelia’s waist even in her slumber. In the dim light, the vibrant ink on Amelia’s cast—the crowns, the hearts, the chaotic doodles—seemed to glow. It was a physical manifestation of the love that had carried her through the last forty-eight hours.
Slowly, carefully, Amelia disentangled herself from the blankets. She didn't want to wake Megan; her best friend had been running on fumes, staying up late to research wrist rehabilitation and scouring the internet to report any lingering hateful comments. Amelia slipped out of the room, her footsteps silent on the hardwood floors.
In the kitchen, she found Sophia already awake, wrapped in a fluffy robe and staring out the window with a steaming mug of tea in her hands. The leader turned when she heard the floorboard creak, her expression instantly softening into that maternal warmth that always made Amelia feel safe.
"Hey, sleepyhead," Sophia whispered, beckoning her over. "How’s the pain this morning?"
Amelia joined her at the window, leaning her good shoulder against Sophia’s. "It’s just a dull throb now. Better than yesterday. I think the ice helped."
Sophia reached out, brushing a stray blonde lock away from Amelia’s face. "You look more like yourself today. The color is back in your cheeks."
"I feel more like myself," Amelia admitted, looking down at the fog. "I was thinking about what you said during the live stream. About us being a family. I used to think that being the youngest meant I had to be the one who never stumbled. I didn't want to be the one you guys had to carry."
Sophia set her mug down and turned fully toward Amelia, taking her left hand in both of hers. "Meels, look at me. Family isn't about everyone walking perfectly at the same pace. It’s about the fact that when one person trips, there are six pairs of hands already reaching out before they even hit the ground. You aren't a burden. You’re the reason we keep our hands open."
Amelia leaned her head on Sophia’s shoulder, a few tears prickling her eyes—not of sadness, but of a profound sense of relief. They stood there in the quiet for a long time, watching the fog begin to lift as the rest of the house stirred.
By ten o'clock, the house was a whirlwind of activity. Despite the "mental health days" granted by management, the girls were perfectionists. Since they couldn't go to the studio for full rehearsals, they had turned the spacious living room into a makeshift workshop.
Lara was sitting on the floor, surrounded by fashion magazines and fabric swatches. She was working with Dani, who was sketching frantically in a notebook.
"Okay, hear me out," Dani said, tapping her pencil against her chin. "For the music video, we don't hide the cast. We lean into it. We customize it for every outfit. One can be wrapped in black lace for the edgy set, and another can be covered in Swarovski crystals for the glam shots."
Lara’s eyes lit up. "Wait, that’s genius. It makes it a fashion statement. It tells the fans that Amelia is literally unbreakable. Like, 'Yeah, I have a broken bone, and I’m still the visual.' It’s so empowering."
Amelia, who was sitting on the sofa with her feet tucked under her, felt a surge of excitement. The idea of turning her injury into an aesthetic choice made the heavy plaster feel less like a cage and more like armor.
"Can we do a y2k one with charms?" Amelia asked, leaning over the back of the sofa to look at Dani’s sketches. "Like those old cellphones? With the little hanging stars and glitter?"
"Yes!" Dani chirped, scribbling a note. "Meels, you’re a genius. We’ll make it the most iconic accessory of the year."
While the "fashion team" worked, Manon was focused on a different kind of protection. She was sitting at the dining table with her laptop, her face set in a mask of calm determination. Manon was usually the quietest of the group, but when she was moved to action, she was a force of nature.
"What are you doing, Manon?" Amelia asked, wandering over.
Manon didn't look up, her fingers flying across the keys. "I’m working with the social media team. We’re setting up a new filter for your mentions. Anything containing certain derogatory keywords regarding body image or your injury is being automatically diverted to a legal review folder. We’re not just blocking them anymore, Meels. We’re documenting."
Amelia felt a shiver of awe. Manon’s protective nature was subtle, but it was fierce. "You don't have to do all that for me."
Manon finally looked up, her brown eyes steady and deep. "I’m not just doing it for you. I’m doing it for the next eighteen-year-old girl who joins a group and thinks she has to starve herself because some stranger on the internet had a bad day. You’re our line in the sand, Amelia. Nobody gets past us to hurt you again."
The afternoon brought a surprise visitor. Yoonchae had been suspiciously quiet, hovering near the front door until a delivery driver arrived with several large, insulated bags.
"Lunch is served!" Yoonchae announced, her voice echoing through the house.
She had ordered a massive spread of Australian-Serbian fusion food from a specialty spot downtown—meat pies, cevapi, and fresh lepinja bread. It was a taste of home that Amelia hadn't realized she was craving.
They gathered around the large dining table, the atmosphere festive and loud. Physical touch, as always, was their primary language. Megan sat so close to Amelia that they were practically sharing a chair, cutting up the cevapi into bite-sized pieces so Amelia could eat easily with her left hand.
"Try this one, it’s got the extra ajvar," Megan said, holding a fork to Amelia’s lips.
Amelia took the bite, the familiar flavors bursting on her tongue. "Oh my god, Yoonie, how did you even find this place?"
"I have my ways," Yoonchae said, looking smug as she bit into a meat pie. "I asked your brother for the names of the dishes you talk about when you’re homesick. I figured if we’re building a 'strong' Amelia, we need to start with a full stomach."
As they ate, the conversation turned toward the future. They talked about the comeback with a new sense of unity. The fear that had been paralyzing Amelia for weeks had been replaced by a collective defiance. They weren't just a girl group anymore; they were a pack.
"I was thinking about the lyrics for my second verse," Amelia said, her voice gaining confidence. "Maybe we can tweak the last two lines. Instead of the line about 'shining bright,' what if I rap about 'rising from the cracks'?"
Sophia nodded approvingly. "I love that. It ties into the 'Kintsugi' concept Lara was talking about—the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with gold. It makes the piece more beautiful because it was broken."
"That’s exactly how I feel," Amelia whispered.
After lunch, the house settled into a comfortable lull. The "chaotic duo," Dani and Yoonchae, had retreated to the living room to play video games, their loud shouts and laughter providing a background track to the afternoon. Sophia and Manon were on the balcony, discussing logistics with their manager over the phone, their voices low and professional.
Amelia found herself back in her room, sitting on the edge of her bed. The door pushed open, and Megan walked in, holding a fresh bottle of water and a small container of vitamins.
"Maintenance time," Megan said, sitting down next to her.
She waited while Amelia took her supplements, then she reached out and took Amelia’s left hand, interlacing their fingers. "You okay? You got quiet during lunch."
"I was just thinking about how lucky I am," Amelia said, looking at their joined hands. "A week ago, I was sitting in this same spot, looking at my phone and wishing I could just... disappear. I felt so alone, Megs. Even with all of you right there, I felt like I was behind a glass wall."
Megan squeezed her hand, her expression pained. "I’m sorry we didn't break the glass sooner. I noticed, Meels. I noticed you weren't eating, and I noticed the way you looked in the mirror. I thought if I just stayed close, if I just kept hugging you, you’d know. But I should have spoken up."
"You’re speaking up now," Amelia said, leaning her head against Megan’s shoulder. "And the glass is gone. I don't feel like I have to hide my flaws to be loved by you."
"Good," Megan said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Because I don't love you for being a perfect idol, Amelia. I love you because you’re the person who lets me stay in her bed when I have a nightmare. I love you because you make the best hot chocolate and you always know when I need a laugh. You’re my person. Broken wrist, messy hair, and all."
Amelia felt a tear slip down her cheek, but she didn't wipe it away. "You’re my person too, Megs. Always."
They stayed like that for a long time, curled up together as the afternoon light turned to gold. It was the kind of closeness that had led people to mistake them for a couple in the past, but to them, it was simply the only way they knew how to be. They were two halves of a whole, a constant in an industry that was built on transience.
As evening approached, the rest of the girls drifted into the room, one by one. It was as if there was an invisible magnet pulling them toward Amelia’s space. Lara brought a tray of tea; Sophia brought a stack of face masks; Dani and Yoonchae brought a pile of blankets.
Within twenty minutes, the room was a sea of pillows and girls. They were piled on the beds and the floor, a tangled mess of limbs and shared warmth.
"Is it weird that I’m kind of glad this happened?" Amelia asked suddenly, her voice muffled by the blanket.
"The broken arm?" Lara asked, looking up from where she was applying a mask to Dani’s face.
"Not the pain," Amelia clarified. "But the way it stopped everything. I was on a treadmill that was going too fast, and I didn't know how to get off. This forced me to stop. It forced me to look at you guys and actually see how much you care."
"Sometimes the universe has a very aggressive way of telling you to slow down," Sophia said, sitting at the head of the bed and stroking Amelia’s hair. "But I’m glad you’re back with us, Meels. The real you. Not the version that was trying to be perfect for the internet."
"I’m never going back to that girl," Amelia promised.
They spent the rest of the night in that room, talking until their voices grew hushed and the stars appeared outside the window. They talked about their dreams for the future—not just for Katseye, but for themselves. They talked about the places they wanted to travel, the things they wanted to learn, and the women they hoped to become.
Amelia listened to them, feeling a profound sense of belonging. She looked at each of them—Sophia’s wisdom, Megan’s loyalty, Manon’s strength, Lara’s empathy, Dani’s fire, and Yoonchae’s joy. She was the seventh piece of the puzzle, the one that made the picture complete.
As she finally drifted off to sleep, tucked between Megan and Lara, Amelia felt a sense of peace that was deeper than any she had ever known. The comments were still out there, buried in Manon’s legal folders. The cast was still heavy on her arm. The journey toward body neutrality was still a long road ahead.
But she wasn't walking it alone.
She was Amelia Rozek, and she was surrounded by a fortress of sisters who would never let her fall again. She was fragile, yes, but she was also fierce. And as the moon rose over the quiet house in L.A., the seventh member of Katseye slept soundly, knowing that she was more than enough. She was loved.