"You Don't Have to Do Better"
Pairing: CEO!Lee Heeseung x Surgeon!Reader
Genre: Arranged Marriage AU, Slow Burn, Comfort, Healing, Slice of Life, Mature Romance, Introvert x Introvert, Family Expectations, Marriage of Convenience, Emotional Hurt/Comfort
Synopsis: Two younger siblings who spent their entire lives becoming what everyone else wanted are pushed into an arranged marriage neither of them asked for. A successful CEO and an accomplished surgeon on paper, Heeseung and Y/N seem perfect together. In reality, they're just two quiet people carrying years of expectations, abandoned dreams, and the exhausting need to always do better.
People always assumed younger siblings had it easier.
They assumed younger siblings were spoiled.
And maybe for some families that was true.
But for Heeseung and Y/N, being the younger child meant something entirely different.
It meant becoming the backup plan.
The one expected to succeed where the elder sibling didn't.
The one who couldn't afford mistakes because someone had already made them before.
The one who quietly gave up things before anyone even asked.
Y/N learned that lesson when she was nine.
Her parents had bought two slices of cake.
Her favorite was chocolate.
Her older sister liked strawberry.
Yet somehow, when her sister suddenly decided she wanted chocolate instead, everyone looked at Y/N.
"Oh, Y/N doesn't even like chocolate that much, right?"
Nine-year-old Y/N looked down at the plate.
The chocolate slice suddenly didn't seem important anymore.
Her voice came out small.
"I don't really like it."
She remembered her sister happily taking the chocolate cake.
She remembered her mother smiling proudly.
She remembered forcing herself to eat strawberry while pretending she enjoyed it.
That memory stayed with her.
Because it taught her something.
It taught her that wanting things made people disappointed.
Heeseung learned the same lesson differently.
His older brother, Heedo, was brilliant.
The type of person who walked into a room and immediately owned it.
Their father had spent years preparing Heedo to inherit the family company.
Only for Heedo to announce one day at dinner:
Because Heedo was the eldest son.
And somehow he always got to choose.
He wanted to become an architect.
His parents bragged about him constantly.
Then they turned toward sixteen-year-old Heeseung.
"You've always been the smart one."
"The company will be safe with you."
"You'll do great things."
No one asked whether he wanted it.
Because they assumed he would.
And Heeseung had never learned how to say no.
He wanted recording studios at three in the morning.
Creating something beautiful.
But dreams seemed selfish.
Especially when everyone looked at him with such expectations.
And became exactly what everyone wanted.
One of the youngest specialists in her hospital.
The kind of daughter parents bragged about.
But every achievement felt strangely empty.
Whenever she tried mentioning cooking—
"You've always been creative."
"Imagine if you became a chef though."
As if it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.
And eventually stopped mentioning it.
At twenty-six, she was exhausted.
Tired of proving herself.
Tired of chasing approval that never seemed close enough.
"Your sister was already married by this age."
"Your sister knew what she wanted."
"Your sister was always independent."
But comparisons existed anyway.
Meanwhile, at twenty-nine, Heeseung had become one of the most successful CEOs in the country.
And yet every family gathering sounded exactly the same.
His father discussing profits.
His mother discussing future growth.
His brother discussing his latest architectural project.
"Heeseung, have you considered expanding internationally?"
"Heeseung, have you thought about this investment?"
"Heeseung, what's your next goal?"
Y/N first heard about it during dinner.
Her mother cleared her throat.
Her chopsticks paused halfway.
The word escaped before she could stop it.
Everyone looked surprised.
As if she'd never disagreed before.
"He owns a large company."
"You need to settle down eventually."
As if twenty-six was ancient.
As if she had somehow missed a deadline.
Across the city, Heeseung sat through almost the exact same conversation.
"I can take care of myself."
"You're not getting younger."
Then they showed him a photo.
A woman standing outside a hospital.
The kind of tired that settled behind someone's eyes.
And because Heeseung never knew how to say no—
the conversation continued.
And because Y/N never knew how to say no—
Before either of them realized it.
The boutique smelled like expensive perfume and fresh fabric.
Y/N stood on a small platform while three women circled around her.
Her sister clasped her hands.
His mother agreed immediately.
Y/N stared at herself in the mirror.
Actually, it was gorgeous.
Exactly what a bride should wear.
The entire thing felt like she was wearing someone else's skin.
Three women answered before she could.
The consultant turned toward Y/N.
"So this is your choice?"
Y/N looked at her reflection.
Looked at everyone's happy faces.
Looked at the expectation.
it became her wedding dress.
The wedding arrived faster than either of them expected.
Y/N sat in front of a mirror while makeup artists adjusted final details.
Her heart wouldn't stop racing.
She wasn't scared of Heeseung.
They'd exchanged messages.
A few awkward conversations.
Which somehow made everything worse.
Because now she felt guilty for not wanting this.
Meanwhile, Heeseung stood outside the ceremony hall adjusting his tie for the fifth time.
He wasn't afraid of marriage.
He was afraid of being another expectation.
Another thing someone was forcing themselves to accept.
But that wasn't what struck him.
She looked exactly how he felt.
for the first time all day—
Because maybe they were both standing on the same side.
Maybe neither of them wanted this.
Maybe that made it easier.
When she finally reached him, their eyes met.
Heeseung offered a small smile.
The first genuine thing either of them had felt all day.
The first night wasn't romantic.
There were no dramatic confessions.
No sudden realization of love.
Just two strangers standing awkwardly inside a penthouse apartment that now belonged to both of them.
Y/N stood near the entrance clutching her handbag.
Heeseung stood three feet away holding his suit jacket.
Neither knew what to say.
Heeseung cleared his throat.
"You can take the bedroom."
Y/N immediately shook her head.
"No, it's your apartment."
"It's our apartment now."
They both spoke at the same time.
Then both immediately looked away.
Heeseung rubbed the back of his neck.
"There's a guest room too if you're uncomfortable."
And somehow that was how they ended up getting ready for bed together like two people trying desperately not to acknowledge the fact they were married.
Y/N spent ten minutes in the bathroom trying to mentally prepare herself.
When she finally stepped out wearing oversized pajamas, she found Heeseung sitting on the edge of the bed.
A guitar rested beside him.
Not something she expected from one of the most successful CEOs in the country.
His expression immediately softened.
"I forgot to put it away."
A strange look crossed his face.
Something almost vulnerable.
The answer felt rehearsed.
Like it wasn't the complete truth.
And neither of them said anything else.
That night they slept on opposite sides of the king-sized bed.
Far enough apart that an entire person could fit between them.
The next morning felt even stranger.
For a moment she forgot where she was.
Heeseung was asleep beside her.
She quietly slipped out of bed.
Determined not to wake him.
Thirty minutes later she was standing in the kitchen staring at ingredients.
Cooking always calmed her.
Even when she wasn't allowed to dream about it.
The sound of footsteps made her turn.
Heeseung stood there frozen.
Looking genuinely shocked.
"No one's ever cooked for me before."
The words slipped out naturally.
Yet something tightened inside her chest.
The statement somehow sounded lonely.
They ate breakfast together.
For the first time since the wedding—
the silence didn't feel awkward.
"Your hospital is on my way."
And somehow that answer convinced her.
Every morning after that became routine.
At first they barely talked.
Then eventually conversations started appearing.
Then suddenly thirty minutes had passed.
Y/N would tell him about difficult surgeries.
Not because she was a surgeon.
Not because her career was impressive.
Then he would tell her about meetings.
For the first time in years—
The realization happened during a family dinner.
A month after the wedding.
Both families had gathered together.
Everything started normally.
Until comparisons appeared.
"Your sister always knew exactly what she wanted."
Y/N lowered her eyes automatically.
"Heedo's latest project won another award."
Heeseung's father added proudly.
They knew exactly how the other felt.
That feeling of never quite reaching the finish line.
Because the finish line kept moving.
That night neither went to bed immediately.
Instead they sat on the balcony.
The city glowing beneath them.
"Did you always want to be a doctor?"
The answer surprised him.
Her smile became smaller.
"My parents thought it was cute."
The word hurt more than she intended.
Heeseung stared at the city.
Now it was Y/N's turn to stare.
And for the next hour they talked.
About becoming versions of themselves other people preferred.
they felt lighter afterward.
Like they had finally put down a weight.
Weeks turned into months.
It stopped feeling like Heeseung's home.
Started feeling like theirs.
There were recipe books in the kitchen now.
Her favorite tea beside his coffee.
Her blanket on the couch.
His guitar in the living room.
Little pieces of each other everywhere.
One night she came home after a sixteen-hour shift.
The apartment lights were dim.
Soft guitar music drifted through the room.
Y/N stood there watching.
Something warm spread through her chest.
For years she'd spent her life becoming what others wanted.
Yet this moment felt more genuine than anything she'd experienced before.
"Why are you apologizing?"
Because he'd never heard that sound before.
And suddenly he wanted to hear it again.
Months after their wedding—
they took their first late-night drive.
The city sleeping around them.
And somewhere along the way—
surviving slowly became living.
Then came the next expectation.
Because apparently marriage wasn't enough.
One Sunday lunch changed everything.
Y/N's mother asked casually.
The smile immediately gave it away.
Across the table Heeseung nearly choked on his drink.
His mother joined immediately.
"We'd love grandchildren."
"You've been married long enough."
As if they were discussing a business deadline.
Y/N felt her stomach twist.
The same familiar feeling.
Something else she needed to achieve.
Something else she needed to provide.
Y/N didn't want to stay silent.
Not because she was brave.
The words wouldn't come out.
For a moment Y/N stared at their joined hands.
Because he was tired too.
Tired of living according to everyone else's timeline.
Tired of chasing expectations.
Tired of being told what the next goal should be.
For the first time in their lives—
they weren't carrying that burden alone.
standing on their apartment balcony—
neither realized they were still holding hands.
Because somewhere between survival and living—
between awkward breakfasts and late-night drives—
between shared silences and impossible expectations—
they had become each other's home.
And for two people who had spent their entire lives trying to make everyone else proud—
that felt like the beginning of something far more important.
Something neither family could choose for them.
Something neither expectation nor obligation could create.
Love didn't arrive dramatically for them.
There was no moment where Heeseung looked at Y/N and suddenly knew.
No scene where Y/N woke up one morning and realized she had fallen in love.
The way most important things do.
One small moment at a time.
One ordinary day after another.
Until suddenly neither could remember what life looked like before the other.
The first argument happened on a rainy Thursday.
Y/N had just finished an eighteen-hour shift.
The kind of exhaustion that made her vision blurry.
When she entered the apartment, the lights were still on in Heeseung's office.
Three untouched coffee cups.
Still staring at a laptop.
Still forgetting himself.
Something inside her snapped.
"When was the last time you ate?"
"When was the last time you ate?"
"That's not what I asked."
Which answered the question.
"That's what you said yesterday."
The question irritated her even more.
The dark circles under his eyes.
The way he rubbed his neck after long meetings.
The way he skipped meals when stressed.
The way he smiled and pretended everything was okay.
Because she did the exact same thing.
And she hated seeing him do it.
Especially because she cared.
A lot more than she should.
Or maybe exactly as much as she should.
Something felt different.
And somehow that felt worse.
Because nobody worried about him.
People expected things from him.
The anger disappeared immediately.
Because that was another thing about them.
Neither knew how to stay angry.
Then walked into the kitchen.
Ten minutes later she returned with reheated food.
Without a word she placed it in front of him.
Then quietly started eating.
And Y/N sat beside him while he finished every bite.
Neither mentioned the argument again.
But something changed afterward.
The walls between them became smaller.
The distance became less.
The apartment became warmer.
A few weeks later Y/N accidentally discovered the truth about the guitar.
She had come home earlier than usual.
Not from the living room.
The door was slightly open.
Heeseung sat surrounded by recording equipment.
Not expensive studio equipment.
Because she had never heard anything so beautiful before.
The version of Heeseung she had never seen.
For once he wasn't a CEO.
Wasn't someone's expectation.
The floor creaked beneath her foot.
Heeseung immediately looked up.
She quickly shook her head.
His expression tightened.
Like a child caught doing something wrong.
The firmness in her voice surprised both of them.
The dreams he never got to have.
Because nobody had ever said that before.
The word settled somewhere deep inside him.
That night they talked until three in the morning.
About the dreams they buried.
About the lives they never got to live.
At some point Y/N admitted she still watched cooking videos after hospital shifts.
At some point Heeseung admitted he still wrote songs almost every night.
At some point they started laughing.
And neither wanted the conversation to end.
The first kiss happened a month later.
Not because of some dramatic accident.
It happened because Y/N was standing in the kitchen.
Heeseung leaned against the counter watching her.
Something she secretly liked.
"I think you're happiest when you're cooking."
"You don't smile like that at the hospital."
"I'd be concerned if I did."
The kind that existed only between people who truly understood each other.
And found him already looking at her.
Months ago they would've.
Months ago they would've panicked.
Now they knew each other.
Not the polished versions.
Not the successful versions.
The ones nobody else seemed to see.
And somehow that felt intimate.
More intimate than anything else.
Slow enough for her to move away.
His hand gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
Y/N's heart nearly stopped.
Not because she was nervous.
Then Heeseung softly kissed her.
Like both of them were still learning.
When he pulled away, neither spoke.
And for the first time since they'd met—
Heeseung kissed her again.
A little less shy this time.
The pressure for grandchildren never stopped.
Neither did the questions.
But something had changed.
One evening both families gathered for dinner again.
The usual conversations started.
Then someone asked the inevitable question.
"So when are you two planning for children?"
Y/N felt that familiar pressure.
A warm hand found hers beneath the table.
But this time something was different.
Because Y/N wasn't alone anymore.
"We'll decide that together."
"We appreciate everyone's concern."
And that was that. The conversation moved on. The world didn't end. Nobody exploded. Nobody got angry.
On the drive home Y/N stared out the window.
Then suddenly laughed. Heeseung glanced over. "What?". "I can't believe you did that." His ears turned pink. "I almost passed out." She laughed harder. And Heeseung joined her. The sound filled the car. Warm. Free. Real.
A year after their wedding, Y/N came home to find something waiting on the kitchen counter. A small box. She frowned. "Heeseung?" "Open it." Inside was a set of professional chef knives. The expensive kind. Y/N froze. "Heeseung..."
"You always buy things for everyone else." His voice was quiet. "So I bought something for you." Her eyes burned. Nobody had ever done that before.Not really.
Not something that belonged entirely to her. Not something connected to her dream. Not their dream. Not society's dream. Hers.
A few months later she found him standing in a recording studio. A real one. The same shocked expression on his face she had worn that day. "What is this?" Y/N smiled. "A gift." His eyes widened. "You rented this?" "For six months." "Y/N." "You always write songs for yourself." She smiled softly. "Now write one because you want to."
For several seconds he couldn't speak.
And suddenly both of them understood something. This was love. Not grand gestures. Not dramatic confessions. Not perfection. It was seeing someone's abandoned dreams and saying. They're still worth something.
Years later, if someone asked Heeseung what changed his life, he wouldn't mention becoming a CEO. And Y/N wouldn't mention becoming a surgeon. Because neither achievement had healed the lonely parts of them.
Neither achievement taught them how to rest. Or be understood. Instead they'd remember a quiet apartment. Late-night conversations. Guitar strings. Recipe books. Shared silences.
A marriage neither wanted. And a love neither expected. Two younger siblings who spent their entire lives trying to become enough. Only to discover they had already been enough all along.
They just needed someone who looked at them and said—
You don't have to do better. You can just be you. And for the first time in their lives. That was enough.
