💖 Sumedh Mudgalkar Fanfiction – Memory Loss Love Story | The Hidden Enemy (Episode 8)

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  Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction inspired by Sumedh Mudgalkar’s public persona. All events and incidents are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

Episode 8 — The Hidden Enemy (Sumedh’s POV)

Her words haunted me.
“Forget me. Please.”

But I couldn’t.

Not when every beat of my heart screamed her name.
Not when I knew the way she trembled in my arms wasn’t hate — it was love she was too afraid to claim.

Hae-rin found me the next morning, staring at the Han River where Ji-woo and I had once danced under moonlight.

“She pushed you away, didn’t she?” she asked quietly.

I nodded, jaw tight. “But she’s lying. I saw it in her eyes.”

“Then why?”

I turned to her, determination burning. “Because someone is forcing her. I need to know who.”

With Hae-rin’s help, I began asking questions. Old contacts from the festival, journalists, even taxi drivers from that night. Most gave vague answers, but one name kept returning, like poison in the water.

Min-jae.

A dancer once celebrated as Korea’s rising star. But after the accident, his career vanished. No performances, no interviews. As if he had erased himself from the scene.

Until I found a poster.

At the corner of a street dance club, a flyer read:
Min-jae — Choreographer. Dance Academy Grand Opening.

So he hadn’t disappeared. He had simply changed masks.

“Why would Ji-woo’s family support him?” I muttered, staring at the poster.

Hae-rin’s face darkened. “Because Min-jae isn’t just a dancer anymore. His uncle is a politician. Powerful. Respectable. For Ji-woo’s family, he’s the ‘perfect match.’”

My blood boiled.
The same man who nearly killed me… was the man they wanted to marry her to.

Meanwhile…

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing Ji-woo’s face as she said forget me.

But then another image intruded—glass shattering, red lights flashing.
And in the chaos, I remembered something new.

A voice.
Not Ji-woo’s.
Min-jae’s.

Whispering in my ear as I bled on the pavement:
“You don’t belong here.”

I jolted upright, gasping. The memory was real.

The Proof

I rushed to the dance club listed on the flyer. It was late, but lights still flickered inside.

Peering through the window, I saw Min-jae rehearsing with a group. Confident, ruthless, commanding.

And then I saw it.
On the wall behind him, framed like a trophy—
a newspaper clipping from seven years ago.

“Indian Dancer Critically Injured in Seoul Car Crash.”

My photo.

Min-jae looked up, as if sensing me. His lips curved into a smirk.

I stepped back into the shadows, my heart pounding.

This wasn’t just rivalry.
This was obsession.
And Ji-woo… was trapped in it.

I clenched my fists.

No more silence.
No more stolen years.

If Min-jae thought he could take her from me again—
he was about to learn that I wasn’t the boy from seven years ago.

I was coming for her.
For us.

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