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pairing: researcher! mark lee x corporate heiress! reader | genre: angst, fluff, smut | words: 26k+ (36k+ total)

parts: 1. 2. (i had to split it into two guys, sorry! it was ridiculous how much i deleted to not hit the 1k limit)

synopsis: what do you do when the ghost of your twenty-one year old self walks back into your life five years later with a proposal so absurd it sounds like a joke? that's the question mark lee finds himself asking when you appear. it should've been easy to refuse, to walk away, to pretend it never happened. too bad first loves are stubborn, billionaires are terrifying and letting go has always been the problem.

warnings: we dive deep into the angst!, this goes back and forth between present and past!! reader has lots of trauma, sadness, loneliness, +18 contains scenes that may be distressing to some readers. please read with care. a physically abusive father! doesn't get too descriptive, more implied, a mention of a bruise and one slap. slight! exhibitionism, virgins but not inexperienced, mark eatssss and he’s a giverrrr (ofc he is), fingering, blowjobs, riding, missionary. mentions of: a deceased mother, pregnancy, condoms, a cigarette, a scraped knee. i think that's it. this kinda looks terrifying…but there is a happy ending!

an: oh god, i haven't written a long mark fic in a while...this was so fun to write!!! i kept getting inspired every time we would get updates from upper room's ceo so you're going to see a lot of that inspiration here <3 i hope you love it as much as i love mark! please do share your thoughts with me - with love, c.

💎 MARRY ME. 💎

the ballroom glittered in gold, the entire venue filled with executives, celebrities, investors and the media that moved from one conversation to another. everywhere you looked, there were cameras, luxury gowns, pressed suits, and waiters carrying trays of champagne beneath giant digital screens advertising yü skincare’s newest launch – their vitamin line.

“mrs. zhong,” you greet warmly, approaching the woman of the hour, surrounded by reporters and company executives. your eyes flicker down briefly to the visible curve beneath her gold silk dress before returning to face her with a smile, “congratulations on the pregnancy.”

the smile on her face softened instantly, “thank you,” she says, one hand resting over her stomach.

“it’s all anyone’s been talking about lately,” you tease lightly, “well–that and this launch,” you gesture around the ballroom, “azur is very excited to officially add yü’s new vitamin line into our stores.”

at the mention of azur, several nearby executives straighten. of course they do. azur’s luxury department stores practically dictated what became successful across asia. if a product received premium placement in your stores, sales skyrocketed overnight.

“ms. y/n,” she says warmly, slipping easily into her public persona, “we’re incredibly grateful to continue working with azur.”

you exchanged practiced corporate smiles for the people listening nearby. perfect. elegant. professional. the life of the rich and wealthy. exactly what the cameras wanted. but the second the reporters drift away, your smiles melt into something real – you were childhood friends, after all.

“my back is actually killing me,” she mutters under her breath.

you nearly laugh, “why are you here anyway?,” you whisper back, “shouldn’t you be at home…resting? chenle’s handling everything pretty well.”

“he’s perfect,” she sighs dramatically, a woman so in love with her husband you can’t help but feel a little envious, “but apparently revealing my belly for the first time at this event was ‘excellent publicity.’”

you snort quietly into your champagne glass, “romance and a baby,” you murmur, “the media must be thrilled.

“they’re obsessed,” she deadpans, “every time i’m even standing next to chenle, they follow us like vultures.”

your laughter slips out this time. “well,” you tell her sincerely, “you look absolutely beautiful.”

her expression melts instantly, “stop,” she pouts, lower lip jutting out slightly, “you’re gonna make me emotional.”

then suddenly–

“oh, mark!”

your heart stops. it wasn’t even intentional, just instinct – the name alone sends something sharp and knowing through your chest before you can control it. you slowly turn around.

“yes, ma’am.”

his voice hits first. low, steady and grounding. it was a voice that had consumed your memories, a sound that triggered a flood of familiarity.

and then you finally see…him.

mark lee stands a few feet away in a black suit, one hand holding a tablet against his side, eyes landing on mrs. zhong first – and then on you.

the change in his expression was microscopic, invisible to anyone who didn’t know the map of his face. but you noticed. you notice everything about him. the way his pupils dilated, the slight hitch in his breathing and the almost imperceptible tremor in his posture as the reality of your presence crashed into him.

mrs. zhong beamed, blissfully oblivious to the sudden, suffocating tension that had snapped into place between you.

“y/n,” she says, turning toward you excitedly, “meet director mark lee, the brilliant mind behind our vitamin research and development team.” then she turns toward him, “mark, this is the heir of azur. their department stores will be leading the distribution for our new vitamin line.”

your eyes remained locked on his, a silent, intense collision as mrs. zhong continues speaking enthusiastically beside you. she goes on and on about mark being one of the company’s greatest assets, detailing his research contributions and how hard the company worked to keep him from rival corporations.

but you didn’t hear a single word.

because mark is staring at you too. his eyes are somewhere between shock and disbelief, like he’s still trying to figure out if you’re actually standing here in front of him or he’s materialized his hallucinations.

only one thought crossed your mind-

you want him.

you are going to marry him.

no one else.

as mrs. zhong finally trailed off, you stepped forward, the silk of your midnight blue dress gliding with every move. you extended your hand towards him, “nice to meet you, director mark.”

for the briefest moment, his gaze drops to your hand, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. then he takes it, warm and steady, a stark difference to the turmoil evident in his eyes.

“you too, ms. y/n,” he replies politely. too politely. he sounded like a stranger with his voice polished and careful, wrapped in a layer of professional distance that felt like a slap to the face. you hated it. you hated the wall he was building between you in real time.

before the silence between you can stretch any further, mrs. zhong let out a soft giggle, “i think my husband needs rescuing.”

you follow her gaze to see zhong chenle trapped in a conversation with a group of investors, subtly trying to signal her over without looking desperate. she looks between the two of you, amusement flickering in her eyes.

“i’ll leave you both to it,” she says casually before turning toward mark, “director, you can explain everything y/n needs to know about the vitamin, it’ll help azur with the marketing campaign.”

mark straightens his posture instantly, the habit of a dedicated employee taking over, “yes, ma’am”

and just like that, she disappears into the gold-lit crowd, leaving you alone with him.

for a moment, neither of you say anything. the music from the ballroom swells softly beneath the low hum of conversations and clinking glasses, but the silence between you feels louder than all of it.

you tilt your head slightly, a slow, amused smile playing on your lips as you let your gaze wander over the sharp line of his jaw.

“director, huh?” you murmured, your voice dropping an octave.

mark clears his throat. suddenly, the brilliant researcher everyone spent the night praising seems to completely lose his footing. because now that it’s just the two of you, he can’t even hide it anymore. the shock. the confusion. the realization.

he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around who you actually are.

and you can tell by the way he stutters. mark lee never used to stutter…unless he was nervous.

“y-yeah,” he nodded quickly, his eyes darting away for a split second before snapping back to yours, “i–uh–”

cute.

“you did it,” you tell him softly, the corporate mask sliding away to reveal genuine warmth, a soft smile on your lips reserved for only one person in this room.

that simple acknowledgment acted like a catalyst. mark stopped glancing around the room and finally looked at you properly for the first time tonight. in an instant, the noise of the ballroom faded into a hum as he’s immediately transported to five years ago.

back when you were just – you.

not the heir to a multi-billion dollar empire.

“uhm–uhm–,” mark stammered, frantically pulling up his tablet like he’s trying to find his ground, “so…our new vitamin line…”

he was retreating. trying to claw his way back into professionalism because that’s safer than acknowledging whatever this is. he starts explaining the product launch but you weren’t listening. because all you can do is look at him.

he’s older now. the boy you met five years ago is replaced by someone sharper. more refined. more composed. his face had matured, his black suit clinging to his broad shoulders perfectly, his glasses gone, his eye lines more prominent, you wonder how many times he’s laughed over the years for those lines to appear. he still has the same moles on his cheeks. still has the same deep brown eyes you fell in love with before you even realized what it was. and despite everything that’s changed, looking at him still felt like coming home.

without warning, you cut him off completely.

“follow me, mark.”

his voice immediately dies off. mark looks up from the tablet just in time to see you already turning away, your gown swirling around your ankles as you led the way. then, after only a second of hesitation, he follows. it almost annoys you that he does so without a single protest because it highlights the difference between the two of you–

you are the heir to retail conglomerate that could crush his career with a single phone call, the daughter to one of the most powerful men in asia.

and mark, no matter how brilliant, respected, or successful he became – is still an employee.

you led him up the grand staircase toward the private balcony overlooking the ballroom below. the music grows quieter the further you climb, the golden lights dimmer up here, the crowd downstairs far too busy with networking to notice the two of you sneaking away.

the cold night air brushes against your skin as you stop near the railing.

behind you, mark exhales a long, shaky breath, “y/n?”

the way he says your name nearly destroys you. it’s the exact same way he used to say it five years ago in seoul. careful. soft. laced with a tenderness that treated your name like something precious.

“i can’t believe this,” he whispered, voice trembling, “you didn’t tell me you were–”

“marry me.”

silence.

complete and utter silence.

mark froze. and this time, he doesn’t even try to hide the shock on his face. his eyes widen almost immediately as if his brain stopped functioning for a second, looking at you as if you had just spoken a language he didn’t understand.

💎 THE GHOST FROM HIS PAST. 💎

mark feels like he’s hallucinating. because there is absolutely no way this is real. no way the ghost from his past just reappeared in thin air, draped in couture and smelling of expensive perfume to dismantle the carefully constructed walls of his life with one proposal.

literally…whose dream is this?

his heart hammers against his ribs like a trapped bird, his entire sense of reality currently collapsing in on itself as he stares at you. and after what seemed to be the longest ten seconds of your life–

“what!?” he finally sputters out, the words escaping him as a breathless, panicked exclamation.

“marry me,” you repeated, your voice steady, contrasting his chaos.

mark actually lets out a disbelieving laugh. not because it’s funny but because if he doesn’t laugh, he genuinely thinks he might lose his mind.

“dude–,” he exhaled, dragging a hand down to his face, his fingers scrubbing at his skin as if trying to wipe away the vision of you.

the term sneaks a small smile onto your lips. it was so him.

“i’ve got to be dreaming,” he whispered into his palm.

you smirked in amusement, biting down on your lip to try and contain your laughter, “you dream of marrying me, markie?”

the nickname hit him like a punch. markie. another bittersweet memory he’s tried too hard to forget. a name that belonged to a version of himself he thought he had let go of.

mark looks at you then. he can’t help but take you in, studying you with the same intensity he used to study his research samples back in the university labs, as if by analyzing every detail, he could prove you were real — you’re older now. still as beautiful as the first day he met you. your smile lines are still there, faint at the corners of your lips. he wonders briefly why they haven’t gotten deeper over the years. had you stopped laughing as much? your hair is shorter. more refined. more elegant. but it’s your eyes that make his chest twist unexpectedly. god, those eyes. he remembered them too well. the same eyes he lost himself in for a whole year. he had memorized every detail without realizing it…every line in your iris, every expression before you laughed, every look you gave him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. but now, as he searched your gaze, he realized the light had changed. something inside them looks quieter. colder. lonelier.

“so…,” you tilt your head slightly, that teasing smirk still on your lips, “is that a yes?”

he finally snaps out of his daydream, your question pulling him back to earth. this isn’t a dream. the cold air is real, the scent of your perfume is real, and the impossible request hanging in the air is real.

mark stares at you like you’ve completely lost your mind.

“what is this?,” he asks finally, a sharp edge of frustration slicing through his shock, “a prank? some kind of joke?”

“do i look like i’m joking, mark?”

“no, but y-you,” he cuts himself off sharply, trying to compose himself, “you can’t just–,” he exhales hard through his nose.

“you disappeared.”

the teasing expression on your face falters slightly. for a split second, the mask of the azur heir cracked, revealing the girl who had once loved him.

mark laughs again, quieter this time, bitter, a sound devoid of any joy, “no goodbye. no explanations.” his jaw tightens, “you were just…gone. you left me like you never existed.”

your chest twists painfully but instead of acknowledging it, you slip into the version of yourself that knows how to survive difficult conversations, forcing indifference onto your expression.

“and now i’m here,” you say lightly, head held high, “and i’m making you an offer you shouldn’t resist.”

mark looked at you as if he were staring at a stranger wearing the skin of someone he once loved. and maybe he was. maybe the girl who stole his heart five years ago isn’t the same girl standing before him now.

“do you think marriage is a game?” he asks finally, anger quietly bleeding into his voice.

your expression softens just slightly, the ice in your eyes flickering. you stepped closer, the scent of your expensive perfume swirling around him.

“i think,” you start carefully, your voice dropping to a low hum, “we can work well together.”

the words hang heavily between you.

“like we did before,” you added softly.

he just stares at you, waiting for an explanation. so you continue.

“let’s face it mark,” you continued, your voice losing it’s softness and taking on a sharp edge, “no matter how smart, impressive and hardworking you are,” you paused, letting the weight of the statement sink in, “you will always be an employee.”

you notice the subtle twitch in his expression immediately. you know you hit a nerve, crossing a line you shouldn’t, but you keep going anyway. you leaned in, your gaze locking into his.

“marrying me would change everything for you,” you gesture vaguely toward the glittering ballroom below, “your status, your influence, your position in this industry.”

mark’s face hardens, his expression becoming a mask of stone.

“you don’t want to spend the rest of your life being the brilliant director executives profit off of while they sit comfortably above you,” your gaze stays locked onto his, “with me, everything you’ve ever wanted is yours.”

for a second, you saw it – the flicker of temptation. mark wasn’t blind. he knew the math. and he knew he’d be a fool to pass up this offer. he could dedicate another ten years of his life and still never truly stand beside the wealthiest — people like the zhong’s, the park’s, the na’s. people like you. that kind of status wasn’t earned. it was inherited.

but even though the wealth is blinding and tempting – mark is a fool.

a fool who believes marriage should mean something. that a vow was a promise of the soul, not a contract for mutual benefit.

his mind flashed back to his parents – the only blueprint for love he had ever known. they ruined themselves loving each other, spent years struggling financially, sacrificing everything for one another, and yet they still look at each other like they won the lottery. it’s his favorite love story. a testament to the idea that love was the only currency that actually mattered. that’s why he can’t imagine marrying someone for strategy or status or convenience.

“and what exactly do you get out of marrying me?,” he asks finally, completely dumbfounded.

none of it made sense to him. he’s sure there was a line of guys waiting at your feet – billionaire heirs, ceo’s, politicians’ sons, executives raised specifically for marriages like this, men with family names powerful enough to impress your family. so…why in the world would you ever choose him? he didn’t have billions of dollars attached to his name. his family is ordinary. and you said it yourself – he is just an employee.

your gaze flickers for the first time tonight.

“i have three months,” you admit quietly as mark’s brows furrow slightly. the sudden time constraint shifted the energy of the conversation from a strategic negotiation to a desperate plea.

“my father made it clear,” you inhale slowly before meeting his eyes again, “i’m getting married this year whether i want to or not.”

the cold night air suddenly feels heavier and mark felt a sudden surge of protectiveness that he had no right to feel. he absolutely hates how much that imagery affects him. you, in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle to someone else. it bothers him far more than it should. which is ridiculous, really. he hasn’t seen you in five years. you were strangers who shared a history, ghosts of a seoul that no longer existed.

but then you spoke and that sharp edge was gone, leaving behind something aching and raw.

“i’d rather it be you,” you say softly, your voice barely a whisper, “than the man my father chose for me.”

that almost breaks him. because for the first time tonight, you finally sound honest. the conflict within him reached a fever pitch. on one side was the man who valued love, the man who refused to be a pawn in a corporate game. on the other was the boy who had spent five agonizing years wondering where you went, the boy who had kept a small, locked part of his heart reserved for the girl who had disappeared without a word, leaving him to bleed in silence.

looking at you now, the anger and the betrayal are still there…but also...the primal, aching longing that refuses to die.

💎 THE GIRLFRIEND. 💎

“there you are,” a sweet, melodic voice cuts through the tension hanging between you and mark, “i’ve been looking for you.”

both of you turn at the same time as a woman approaches from the staircase, her heels clicking softly against the marble. she’s beautiful in that effortless way and she isn’t familiar to you. but the way she walks directly toward mark tells you enough already.

“karina,” mark calls out her name. the way his voice softens around her makes your stomach twist unpleasantly. that tone used to be reserved only for you.

“uhm–,” he clears his throat quickly before gesturing toward you, “meet ms. y/n, heir of azur, i was just explaining the vitamin line like mrs. zhong asked.”

karina’s eyes widen slightly before she bows politely, ”oh,” she says softly, “i’m so sorry for interrupting.”

you’re already preparing to dismiss her. to tell her you and mark were still discussing something important but mark beats you to it.

”ms. y/n,” he says carefully, his voice regaining it’s professional distance, “this is karina, head of the marketing team…”

there’s the briefest pause. then–

“...and my girlfriend.”

your expression almost slips. but years of media training and executive dinners save you before it can fully show. still – it feels strangely humiliating how quickly disappointment crashes into you over a man you haven’t spoken to in years.

karina naturally moves beside him and mark’s hand settles against her lower back – a gesture of comfort, of habit, of belonging. the sight makes something ugly tighten in your chest, a surge of jealousy coursing through you.

right. of course. why wouldn’t he have someone? everyone fell for him. you knew that firsthand.

you force a small smile onto your face anyway, nodding in her direction. you don’t say nice to meet you because it’s not. instead, you go back to default - work.

“well, i’m sure the vitamin line will perform extremely well. azur will set up a meeting with yü headquarters sometime this week to discuss distribution and marketing strategies further.”

you look at mark the entire time, not once sparing karina a glance, effectively erasing her presence from the conversation.

”oh,” you add lightly before stepping away, “and mark?”

his eyes meet yours immediately.

“think about it.”

the words land heavily between the two of you. it’s selfish, maybe even cruel, but you had to try. this isn’t just about a wedding – this was your whole future on the line. you don’t care if there’s someone new in his heart now. not when you can still see the flicker of the old mark, your mark, in his eyes. not when there is a chance that you are still etched into his soul.

then, you turn and walk away, head held high, expression composed, untouchable until the very end, not daring to glance back.

only once you disappear down the staircase does mark finally exhale properly for what feels like the first time all night. the second you’re out of sight, he immediately steps away from karina.

“what the fuck was that?!” karina whisper-shouts, looking at him in disbelief, “i’m not your girlfriend!”

he lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. the composure he had fought so hard to maintain in front of you shatters instantly. karina was not his girlfriend. never had been. she was a good friend. and now she’s looking at him like he’s completely lost his mind.

“do you remember the girl i told you about?” he sputters out, his voice strained, “the one i met in south korea?”

karina blinks once. then twice.

“uhh you mean the girl you’ve been hung up on for the past five years because she ghosted you and ‘she was the only woman i’ve ever loved,’ – that girl?,” karina teases, mocking his voice.

mark grimaces immediately, a flush of heat creeping up his neck, “i never said that,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“‘ughh karina, love is not real—i’ll never love again—she’s the only one for me, no else will ever take her spot—,” karina continues teasing him, voice going several octaves lower in a terrible imitation of him.

”okay, okay!” mark hisses, rubbing his face in embarrassment, “i get it…i may have said those things,” he grumbles in defeat.

karina lets out a soft chuckle, her expression softening as she looks at him. the teasing fades, replaced by a flicker of curiosity and concern. she knows the depth of the scar you left on him.

“what about that girl?”

mark lets out another tired sigh before glancing toward the staircase you disappeared down moments ago. and instantly, his expression turned serious. the exact look karina recognizes from late nights in the office – the expression he wears when he is on the verge of a breakthrough, when he becomes so consumed by a singular goal that the rest of the world ceases to exist.

“that was her.”

karina freezes. ”...oh.” her eyes widening at the revelation, “oh, shit.”

“WAIT–” she hisses, smacking his arm, her voice climbing an octave, “so whY THE HELL DID YOU TELL HER I WAS YOUR GIRLFRIEND!?”

”shhhh!,” mark whispers immediately, glancing around to make sure nobody heard her, “keep your voice down!”

karina lowers her voice, still mixed with the same frustration, “why the hell did you tell her i was your girlfriend!?”

“because…she asked me to marry her.”

his friend’s eyes almost pop out of her sockets, “WHAT—!?”

she processes the information quickly, her gaze shifting from his face to the empty space where you had stood then back to him. she points a finger accusingly at his chest, ”and you turned her down.”

mark winces, “...i turned her down.”

in a flash, a hand comes down to smack the back of his head.

“AYE!–” mark rubs the back of his head immediately, glaring at her with a mix of pain and confusion, “what was that for!?”

“for being stupid!,” she groans, throwing her hands up in the air as she starts pacing in a small circle, her voice a frantic, dramatic whisper–

“mark, i’m struggling to see the problem here!—this is the same girl you’ve been in love with for five years!–and she’s the heir of azur! do you know how much this will elevate you. not only do you get the girl–you also get the name. the wealth. the status. you’d practically be royalty!”

mark lets out a long, heavy sigh, “that’s exactly why i can’t do it,” he says quietly.

karina stood mid-gesture, staring at him blankly.

mark exhales slowly, his gaze drifting back toward the staircase, “i don’t want to marry her because of her money. or her name. or the material things she can give me.”

karina’s expression softens immediately. the fire in her eyes dies down, replaced by a look of profound, almost pained understanding. god. sometimes she forgets how painfully sincere mark actually is. in a world of corporate sharks and social climbers, mark lee was an anomaly – a man whose integrity was as rigid as his research.

”you and your morals,” she sighs dramatically, though there’s obvious fondness in her voice now, a small, proud smile tugging at her lips.

“it’s all i’ve got.”

karina snorts, shifting back into her theatrical persona, clutching her chest and mourning the loss of a lifestyle she never had, “god, i can’t believe i won’t be a nepo friend. i could be in your private jet, mark! shopping in paris!”

mark lets out a genuine laugh, the first one of the night, the tension in his chest loosening just a fraction.

“but now what?,” she pauses, the playfulness vanishing as she looks at him seriously now, “-families like hers are expected to marry one way or another, are you honestly going to be okay watching her marry someone else?”

💎 MIDNIGHT. 💎

the question follows mark home like a curse. it echoes in his head during the drive back to his condo, during the elevator ride up to his penthouse and now – at midnight – it has finally cornered him.

mark’s room is dark except for the faint glow of the city’s skyline filtering through the curtains. usually after events like tonight, he’d already be fast asleep. he had work in the morning. meetings. reports. lab reviews. his life was structured and predictable.

you had always been the one thing capable of ruining that.

he lies flat on his back against his king sized bed, one arm thrown over his eyes as if physically blocking out the memory of you would somehow help. it doesn’t. because every time he closes his eyes – he only sees you.

he exhales sharply before turning onto his side for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. he’s completely restless. and angry. angry that you suddenly showed up after five years as a stranger wrapped in the skin of the woman he loved. angry that you asked him something so insane like it was nothing. angry that some stupid part of him almost said yes immediately. angry that despite everything – his first instinct was still you.

in a fit of frustration, he drags a pillow over his face. this is ridiculous. five whole years has past without you. years he’d spent convincing himself he’d moved on. that whatever happened in seoul belonged in the past. that you were just another chapter in his life he had eventually learned to turn.

but now – every memory he thought he had buried comes rushing back all at once, playing in his mind like a movie he can’t turn off no matter how hard he tries.

he still remembers the first day he met you. still remembers how your hand feels in his. the scent of your perfume that clung to his memory long after you disappeared. the sound of your laughter that still echoes somewhere in the back of his mind sometimes. and your lips – even after five years, he can still taste you. he remembers the heat of your breath, the soft desperate way you used to pull him closer, the taste of salt and sweetness and longing, as if it all happened yesterday rather than a lifetime ago.

that’s the part that truly drives him insane.

what kind of person remembers someone this vividly after half a decade apart? what kind of person still gets wrecked by a single look from someone they haven’t seen in years?

apparently him.

“jesus christ,” he mutters under his breath as he turns in his bed again.

he closes his eyes again, and this time, he doesn’t try to block you out. he lets the memory of you wash over him.

SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA: FIVE YEARS AGO

❄️ MARCH: THE STATISTICS. ❄️

the lecture hall lights were dimmed just enough for your presentation slides to glow brightly against the large screen behind you. rows of students sat scattered across the room, some paying attention, some pretending to care. laptops clicked quietly beneath the sound of your voice while your professor sat comfortably at the back of the classroom. he was one of those who preferred watching students teach themselves rather than actually lecturing. typical. you stood confidently at the front, remote in hand as graphs and marketing statistics flashed behind you.

“-data visualization is critical to the consumer experience because 80% of information transmitted to the brain is visual–”

“90.”

the voice cuts cleanly through the room, stopping you mid-sentence.

slowly, your eyes move toward the source – a boy sits near the front row, one arm resting lazily against the desk while the other twirls a pen between his fingers, his silver-framed glasses reflecting the light from your powerpoint presentation, briefly hiding his eyes, but not enough to hide the calm confidence in them.

“..sorry?” you say slowly, one eyebrow lifting. your voice had a sharp edge to it, the instinctive defense of someone used to being the smartest person in any room they entered.

“the statistics,” he clarifies casually, “visual information transmitted to the brain is actually 90%”

the room falls strangely quiet. you could’ve sworn your textbook said 80. and judging by the way nobody else corrected you, everyone else thought so too. but before you could argue further, your professor’s voice cuts you off.

“mark is right. it is 90%. and though it’s not a critical mistake. you should always be careful with numbers, y/n – wrong numbers could cost you an entire company.”

normally, a public correction like this would’ve irritated you. you hated making mistakes. hated being corrected even more. to be proven wrong in front of people was a bruise to the ego you had spent years polishing.

but strangely, you aren’t annoyed. in fact — you’re impressed. because for the first time in your life, someone interrupted you without hesitation. no nervousness. no flattery.

it was the most honest interaction you ever had.

once class finally ends, the room erupts into noise almost immediately. chairs scrape loudly against the floor, students begin shoving laptops into bags while conversations start to overlap. you stay near the podium, packing away your things.

“hey.”

you glance up. mark stands awkwardly in front of you, backpang hanging off one shoulder while one hand grips the strap absentmindedly. up close, he looks softer. handsome. annoyingly handsome.

“hi,” you reply, a little colder than necessary as you slide your laptop into your bag, “here to point out anything else wrong with my presentation?”

“no–i–,” he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly before letting out a quiet breath, “sorry.”

you find the sudden shift in his demeanor a bit amusing, trying to hide the smile creeping in on your lips.

“sorry for what?”

mark shifts his weight awkwardly, “i uh—wasn’t trying to interrupt you,” he explains quickly, “or act like i thought i was smarter than you or anything. i actually…i really liked your presentation,” he admits, “your powerpoint was really easy to understand.” he gestures vaguely with one hand, clearly struggling to explain himself properly. “like…you explained everything in a way that made the information simple without losing the important parts. most people can’t really do that. usually they just read the slides or copy and paste everything from the book.”

you stare at him, your gaze searching his face for any sign of a facade. you were used to the curated compliments of the elite – the polished, hollow praise designed to gain favor or secure a connection. but as you look into his eyes, you realize there’s no fake politeness here. no calculated flirting. no hidden agenda. he’s just…honest.

which somehow catches you more off guard. in your world, honest was either a luxury or a weapon – it was rarely just a default setting. most people either tried too hard to impress you or walked on eggshells, terrified of disagreeing with you.

mark wasn’t like most people.

your lips twitch slightly before you can stop them, “you rehearsed that apology before coming over here, didn’t you?”

his ears immediately turn red, “...maybe.”

and for the first time since arriving in seoul – you laugh.

❄️ MAY: CONVENIENCE STORES & INSTANT RAMEN. ❄️

“ughh, i swear my brain is going to explode,” you groan, dramatically burying your head in your arms and collapsing onto the library table.

mark lets out a quiet laugh from beside you. the sound alone almost makes suffering through six straight hours of studying worth it. almost.

outside the large library windows, the sky had already begun glowing softly beneath the fading sunset. the once crowded floor was slowly emptying now, students packing up one by one as dinner time approached. meanwhile, you and mark were still buried beneath textbooks, highlighted papers, laptops, empty coffee cups and scattered handwritten notes.

over the past two months, the two of you had gotten unexpectedly close. close enough that studying together had somehow become routine. at first, it was accidental. a shared group project here, an exchanged set of notes there. and then suddenly – you were spending almost every day together. not that you minded. in fact, out of everyone in this prestigious university, mark was probably the only person you genuinely enjoyed being around. he never exhausted you. never tried too hard. never acted differently around you. never expected anything from you.

around him, you didn’t feel like azur’s heir. because to mark, you were just another exhausted university student trying not to fail. and maybe that was exactly why being around him felt so easy — he had absolutely no idea who you really were. no idea that your family owned the luxury department stores he studied in class. no idea that your surname alone could open doors for him. no idea that the “small apartment” you claimed to live in was actually a luxury penthouse paid for by your father.

but the real irony was — even though he didn’t know the real you, it felt like he was the only one who actually knew the real you. every shared joked, every frustrated sigh, every moment of comfortable silence felt real in a way the rest of your life never did.

and to add on to the benefits of him – mark was ridiculously attractive. the kind of handsome that he wasn’t even aware of. which was annoying at times because you spend more time staring at the stars in his eyes than you’d like to admit. and god. when he started nerdy talking? absolutely unfair.

“how about we take a break?,” he suggests finally, smiling softly at you.

you narrow your eyes immediately, turning your head towards him, strands of your hair falling to your face.

“a break?” you repeat dramatically, “you?”

mark laughs quietly, “yes, me.”

“the same person who doesn’t stop until he finishes what he’s doing because ‘it’ll ruin my flow’ you??” you tease slightly.

he bit back a smile, his gaze lingering on you. then, without thinking – he reaches over.

your breath catches instantly as his fingers brush lightly against your cheek, carefully tucking the strands behind your ear. the movement so absentminded. so gentle. like he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing to you. meanwhile, your heart practically stops beating altogether. it’s honestly infuriating how unaware he is of his own effect on you.

“breaks are good,” mark says softly, completely oblivious to the internal crisis you were experiencing, “besides, we’ll retain more information if our brains don't explode.”

which is how you ended up here – standing inside a small 7/11 near campus with its fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead, the warm air carrying the smell of instant noodles and melted cheese wraps around the store.

your eyes scan the shelves lined with different instant ramen cups and packets stacked almost to the ceiling, colors blending together in a way that feels overwhelming…yet you’re completely fascinated by all of it.

“there’s so many flavors,” you murmur under your breath.

mark, who had been walking behind you, pauses mid-step, looking at you curiously, “...have you never been here before?”

you glance toward him quickly, a flicker of panic crossing your mind, “of course i’ve been inside a 7/11 before.”

he raises an eyebrow immediately, “but?”

you hesitate. technically, yes, you’ve entered convenience stores before but usually it’s because your driver needed to stop for gas. or because security had to grab something quickly. or because you got bored waiting in the car once. but standing here casually after studying? having instant ramen for dinner? that was new.

you look back toward the shelves again, “i’ve just…never really had this stuff before.”

mark’s eyes widen slightly, “you’ve never had instant ramen?”

you shake your head once and for the first time since knowing him, mark looks completely stunned.

“how is that even possible?” he asked, his voice a mix of horror and bewilderment.

you shrug awkwardly. all your meals growing up had been prepared by professional chefs. perfectly plated breakfasts every morning, fresh ingredients flown in internationally, nutritionists deciding your meals before you even woke up. the kind of luxury so deeply embedded into your life you rarely noticed it yourself. now, standing here while mark stared at you like you’d confessed to never drinking water before – you realize how absurd your life probably sounds to normal people.

“i don’t know,” you mumble defensively, “my family just…eats at home a lot.”

mark narrows his eyes slightly. you are definitely leaving something out. but instead of questioning it, he simply grabs a shopping basket, his attention already shifting back towards the ramen shelves.

“what are you doing?"

he looks at you like the answer is obvious.

“you’ve never had instant ramen before,” he says simply, “we’re fixing that problem tonight.”

before you can argue, he starts grabbing different ramen cups off the shelves.

“this one’s a classic,” he holds up the shin ramyun before dropping it into the basket.

“this one tastes better with cheese,” he says, adding the buldak carbonara.

“this brand is kind of overrated,” he continues, grabbing the jin ramen, “but the noodles are actually really good.”

you watch him in amusement as he selects different flavors with the seriousness of someone conducting research, his brows furrowing slightly while comparing spice levels. you’re pretty sure he’s taking this more seriously than your last group project.

“are you making me a starter pack?” you ask, laughter slipping into your voice.

mark glances at you briefly, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “you’re judging me,” he says dryly, “but you’ve literally never had instant ramen before.”

“...fair point.”

he reaches toward another cup, “this one’s my favorite,” his voice softening slightly when he says it.

you take it from him carefully, looking down at the packaging like it means more than instant noodles, “then i’ll try this one first.”

he pauses, and for a brief second, something unreadable flickers across his expression, soft enough that you almost miss it, then he clears his throat quickly and tosses a few drinks into the basket too.

“come on,” he says casually, walking towards the register while you follow after him. the cashier begins scanning the items as you instinctively reach for your wallet inside your bag – only for mark to beat you to it.

“my treat.”

“oh, no, you don’t have to–”

“i invited you,” he shrugs, already pulling his card from his wallet, “besides…” a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, “this is technically your first instant ramen experience,” his eyes meets yours briefly, “it should be memorable.”

you stared at him, momentarily speechless. you can’t remember the last time someone did something this simple for you without expecting anything in return. in your world, every “gift” was a transaction, every kindness was a strategic move.

a sudden, piercing thought hit you – if he knew you had billions to your name, would he still insist on paying for it? you’d like to think he would.

a few minutes later, you find yourself standing beside the store’s self-service station near the back wall, staring at it with open fascination. there was a hot water dispenser, a microwave, disposable chopsticks and apparently – people actually cooked their dinner right here.

your curious expression tugs something warm in mark’s chest as he admires you with pure adoration, though he kept his posture relaxed.

“you can stop looking at it like it’s a flying car,” he teased, setting the shopping basket down on the counter.

you glance toward him, “i didn’t know convenience stores could do this.”

he shakes his head, amused, “dude, what planet have you been living on?”

“i told you,” you defended yourself, crossing your arms lightly, “my family eats at home.”

“right,” he mutters, clearly still unconvinced.

you ignore him, leaning closer toward the machine while he begins opening the ramen lids one by one with practiced ease. he moves naturally around the tiny counter space like he’s done this a hundred times before, sleeves pushed up slightly as he carefully adds seasoning packets into the cup while you stand beside him completely useless.

“what do i do?” you ask finally.

mark glances sideways at you, biting the inside of his cheek immediately to stop himself from smiling too hard. you look so concerned about it all, your brow furrowed as if you were facing a complex problem rather than a cup of noodles. it’s cute.

he clears his throat quickly before handing you one of the seasoning packets, “okay” he says patiently, “you pour this in first.”

you take the packet from him carefully like he’s handing you something fragile – but as you tore the edge, your fingers slipped and a cloud of spicy red powder erupted, spilling some on the counter.

“...fuck.”

mark stares at the mess, then at your horrified expression. and he finally laughs. loud and intoxicating. a sound that echoed through the quiet store - you felt it in your bones. you thought you could live inside the sound forever.

“don’t laugh!” you complained, though a smile was fighting to break through your pout.

“i just…can’t believe someone could actually struggle with this,” he says between quiet laughs.

“you’re being mean,” you huffed.

“no,” he corrects, his eyes shimmering with amusement, “i’m just being honest.”

you glare at him but the effect was ruined by the flush on your cheeks. he reaches over wordlessly, brushing the spilled seasoning aside with a napkin before helping you open the rest properly.

“there,” he says softly once the cups are finally ready, “now we wait.”

you watch while the steam slowly rises from the ramen cups. the store is peaceful this late at night. a little old. a little cramped. nothing like the places you usually spend your evenings. and even so – you think you like this more.

mark glances down at you briefly. your eyes are focused entirely on the ramen, your expression one of pure, childlike wonder. in this moment — he decides you’re the cutest person he’s ever met. but instead of saying that out loud, instead of risking the fragile, beautiful thing growing between you, he simply shakes his head slightly to himself, keeping the thought hidden where it’s safe.

eventually, the two of you step outside into the cool air, ramen cups warming your hands immediately as you head towards the benches near the river, the dark water reflecting city lights beautifully beneath the night sky. for a while, neither of you says much, just sitting there shoulder-to-shoulder beneath the glow of the streetlight while the city hums softly around you.

then finally – you take your first bite, eyes widening instantly. mark watches your reaction carefully.

“...oh. my. god.”

you turn towards him immediately, your expression one of genuine shock and delight, eyes practically sparkling under the streetlight.

“this is amazing!”

seeing your excitement, mark laughs softly, smiling into his own noodles while you continue eating with bubbling excitement beside him. you talked about the texture, the heat, the way it felt like a hug in a cup, your voice animated and light in a way you’ve never heard from yourself.

and maybe it’s stupid.

maybe it’s just ramen from 7/11. but sitting here with him, beneath the stars – you realize that this simple, unscripted moment of honesty might just be one of your favorite nights of your entire life.

❄️ JUNE TO JULY: LATE NIGHT LIBRARY SESSIONS. ❄️

“i still can’t believe she gave you a spare key…she barely says a word to me!,” you whispered. you felt a thrill of illicit excitement, though technically, the two of you weren’t breaking and entering.

mark slides the card through the door’s reader, the automatic doors quietly unlocking with a soft beep.

“dude, that’s because you’re scary,” he teases, glancing at you over his shoulder, his eyes crinkled at the corners, a playful, knowing smile tugging at his lips, “you need to smile more.”

“please,” you scoff quietly as the two of you step inside the dim interior, “it’s because she has a crush on you.”

mark laughs softly under his breath while locking the doors behind the two of you, “that’s ridiculous.”

“is it?” you hummed.

what was truly ridiculous was mark’s complete oblivion to the effect he had on people. i mean, everyone loved him – students. professors. the cafeteria lady who dotes on him like he was her own son, always giving him extra servings. and of course, the librarian who you always catch staring at him when he wasn’t looking. mark had captured their hearts simply by existing, entirely unaware that he was doing it.

“yes,” he replies.

“she literally gave you access to an entire building,” you remind him, walking beside him, your shoulder occasionally brushing his.

“she just trusts me,” he argued, though he was smiling.

“she wants you.”

mark shakes his head with another laugh, refusing to entertain your delusions as the two of you make your way toward the back corner of the library. your usual spot. far enough from the entrance that nobody would notice the two of you. you settle into your chair by the window while he drops his backpack onto the table before sitting down next to you, close enough that your legs almost brush underneath. as usual.

it had been over a month since 7/11. at this point, you had lost count of how many cups of ramen the two of you had shared. it had somehow become your thing. you’d once tried eating it alone once, only to realize it didn’t taste the same without mark’s laughter right next to you. which was a little concerning.

“whatever,” mark says, waving off the conversation as he pulls a textbook from his backpack, “that doesn’t matter.”

you open your laptop, the light illuminating your face, but before you could even type a word, mark reached over, grabbing it without asking, his fingers moving across the keyboard as he pulls up your shared google docs notes. this was the rhythm of your friendship – easy and collaborative. if one of you struggled understanding something, the other explained it without judgment. there was no competition. no ego. just a quiet, mutual reliance.

“why not?” you ask curiously, watching his profile in the dim light.

“i don’t know,” he shrugs lightly, his focus still on the screen, “i just don’t really have time for distractions.”

your eyes narrow slightly, “so…what?,” you turn toward him, “you’re just never going to date anyone?”

he shrugs again, his tone remaining casual, “i wouldn’t say never,” his tone stays casual, “it's just not my priority right now.”

“hmm,” you hum softly, “okay.”

mark immediately stops typing then, focusing his full attention on you, “okay…” he repeats suspiciously, “what?”

you shrug innocently, “nothing. just okay.”

“nu-uh,” he shakes his head, leaning forward slightly and resting his arm on your chair, effectively boxing you in.

he’s way too close. close enough that you can smell his detergent. close enough to notice the moles near his cheeks more clearly. close enough that your heart immediately starts racing. you pretend not to notice.

“that’s not your ‘just okay’ okay…that was your judgy ‘okay’,” he says firmly.

your jaw drops slightly, “i do not have a judgy okay.”

“you have a judgy everything,” he teases, a triumphant smile on his lips, “you’re actually a very judgmental person.”

“hey!,” you shove his shoulder playfully in protest but he barely budged. instead, he just looks at you with that stupid smile sitting on his lips, clearly waiting for you to explain yourself.

“it’s just–okay,” you sigh, the playfulness draining away as you lean back into your chair, “i know your end goal is to become a research director,” you say. mark nods, confirming your statement.

“and i know you’re going to get there too,” you add honestly, "probably faster than everyone else.”

that makes him smile – not the teasing grin from before, but something small and shy. like compliments still caught him off guard even though people praise him everyday.

“but then what?” you ask quietly, making mark’s brow furrow faintly.

“you spend your entire life working toward this huge goal,” you continue, “you sacrifice sleep, a social life, you push yourself until you’re exhausted…and then one day, you finally have everything you wanted,” you paused, your heart aching with a truth you had known since childhood, “but you look around and realize you’re completely alone.”

the library suddenly feels quieter now. no teasing. no laughter. mark watched you with a piercing intensity, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to read a language he hadn’t yet mastered.

“wouldn’t it be nice,” you ask softly, “to have someone to share it all with?”

mark pauses. he’s never really thought of it that way. in his head, life had always been a linear equation – work hard, achieve more, keep climbing. life was one massive ladder stretching endlessly upward. and he’d spent so much time focusing on the next step that he never stopped to ask himself what waited at the top – or if the view was worth it if there was no one standing beside him to see it.

“i think,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “i just figured love would happen naturally…if it was meant to.”

“and if it doesn’t?”

mark shrugs lightly, “then i guess i’ll survive.”

the answer makes you sad. because the way he says it sound so simple. so accepting. like surviving is enough. your gaze drops briefly toward the table.

“i don’t want to survive,” you murmured.

mark studies your profile as if you were the most complex research project he had ever encountered, trying to find the deeper meaning, the hidden trauma beneath the poise.

“i want to feel it,” you admit, voice barely audible, “at least once.”

mark’s brows pull together slightly, “feel what?” he asks gently.

“the love we’re supposed to feel.”

the words hung in the air. for a moment, mark forgot how to breathe. because suddenly, the girl sitting beside him doesn’t look like the confident sharp-tongued student that could dismantle a professor’s arguments in seconds and judged every little thing. in her place was someone who looked….lonely. that quiet kind of loneliness that makes something painful twists in his chest. and all he can think about is how softly your voice said those words, almost as if love was something fragile, something distant, something you weren’t entirely sure was real.

his gaze lingers on your face longer than it should. he wants to ask what happened? who hurt you badly enough to make you sound like that? who made someone like you, someone so beautiful and confident, talk about love like it was some impossible thing people were lucky enough to have? but all he can manage to say is–

“you’ll feel it,” he says softly, “why wouldn’t you?”

a small laugh escapes you then, though there’s nothing amused by it. mark didn’t know. he didn’t know that love didn’t exist in business. that love was the biggest privilege… the rarest luxury of all.

“yeah,” you sigh softly, forcing a practiced smile onto your face, “you’re right.”

but the smile doesn’t fully reach your eyes – the sparkle he usually looked for isn’t there.

you wave the tension away before he can question it further, reaching for your laptop and pulling it towards you like you hadn’t just cracked something open between the two of you.

“anyway,” you say lightly, pretending your voice didn’t break seconds ago, “if we fail this class after spending our entire lives in this library, i’m killing you.”

mark stares at you for another second like he knows you’re hiding something. that there’s more there than you’re willing to say out loud, a story that you weren’t ready to tell.

eventually, he lets you change the subject.

“if we fail this class, i’ll kill myself first to save you the trouble,” he jokes, making you shove his shoulder playfully again before you both turned back to studying.

late-night library sessions became routine after that, along with your shared convenience store meals, walks on campus, sitting together in shared classes. in the past month, you were together so much that other students started assuming that you were dating. whispers followed you through corridors, their glances lingering on the way mark leaned into your space or the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t watching. neither of you cared enough to confirm or deny the rumors.

truthfully, you were too immersed in the bubble you built – a world where you weren’t the heir to a retail empire. a world where you can simply enjoy another’s company without anything in return. just two regular people slowly starting to become inseparable without realizing it.

for mark, maybe this was just a beautiful friendship – a rare, honest connection in a competitive academic world.

but for you – it was more dangerous than that. because somewhere along the way, you realized life felt lighter when he was around. the suffocating weight of your father’s expectations, the looming shadow of your planned future, the coldness of your upbringing – it all seemed to fade into the background. with mark, you could breathe. you could laugh without calculating the costs. you could simply exist. it felt as though your impending doom was being held at bay by the mere presence of him.

“mark,” you murmur softly, eyes still focused on your laptop screen, “can you pass me my highlighter?”

a second passes, then another, and another. silence.

your brows furrow in confusion before you finally glance toward him – only to pause immediately.

mark had fallen asleep, his head resting against his arm beside the textbook opened to the last page he was reading. his glasses sat slightly crooked on the bridge of his nose, lips parted slightly, breathing slow and even.

your entire demeanor shifts, softening while you watch him. the usual furrow between his brows is gone now. no stress. no overthinking. no constant need to achieve something. he just looks peaceful.

carefully, you reach over, your heart pounding in your chest as your fingers brush lightly against his cheek. you gently slid the glasses off his face. you couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it must be to sleep in them, but the excuse was flimsy – you just wanted a reason to touch him.

for a while, you stayed there, quietly looking at him beneath the soft library lamp. he’s beautiful. not in the polished way magazine models were beautiful. but in a quieter way. the kind that sneaks up on you slowly until suddenly you realize you could stare at someone for an eternity and still find something new to admire.

that was the moment the realization hit you – you had fallen for him.

it wasn’t a sudden explosion or a cinematic epiphany. it had been a gradual accumulation of small moments – the way he defended his ideas, the way he looked at you when you were being “judgy,” the way he made you feel seen.

it was an emotion that didn’t need theater or grand gestures. it felt as though your soul had simply recognized his and decided to come home.

slowly, almost hypnotically, you lower your head onto your arm beside him, studying every detail freely at once – details you didn’t want to forget. the curl of his lashes, the moles near his cheeks, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead. and before you can stop yourself, you lean in a little bit closer. just a little. like gravity itself is pulling you toward him.

but the second you do – mark’s eyes flutters open.

you froze, your heart leaping into your throat, eyes widening at the initial shock of being caught. for a second, neither of you moves.

you didn’t pull away though, and to your surprise, neither did he.

mark’s sleepy expression slowly sharpened as his brain processes the situation. his gaze drops, flickering briefly to your lips, then traveling back up to your eyes, searching for something. the air between you thickens, charging with a quiet tension that had been building for months.

before either of you could overthink it – mark closes the distance, moving slowly, deep brown eyes locked on yours, giving you every possible second to retreat, to laugh it off, or to pull away. but you didn’t. until finally–

his lips touch yours.

a soft, tentative press at first, a question asked in the silence of the library. it’s hesitant, almost reverent and for a heartbeat — the world stopped.

your eyes fluttered closed as you savor the gentleness of it before pulling back just a little, your lips still brushing his, your voice a breathless, teasing murmur, “i thought you didn’t have time for distractions.”

mark’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours with a quiet intensity.

“you’re not a distraction,” he rasped, his voice dropping an octave before his hand slid upward, warm fingers carefully settling at the nape of your neck, tangling slightly in your hair to pull you in again – the kiss deeper, more purposeful – every soft slide of his lips a confession.

SHANGHAI, CHINA: PRESENT TIME

💎 THE MEETING. 💎

unfortunately, or fortunately, you were still trying to figure it out – your father had personally assigned you to handle the partnership meeting at yü skincare headquarters. which meant you were now sitting inside one of the conference rooms trying very hard to act normal while mark sat directly across from you.

it would’ve been fine, you had wanted to see him again after the launch party, to have another chance to convince him to accept your proposal…if it wasn’t for the fact his girlfriend was here too.

karina sat right next to mark, her presence a sharp reminder of the five year gap you were trying to bridge. she was currently locked in a heated fast-paced discussion with jeno, azur’s marketing director, their voices overlapping as they debated campaign concepts. zhong chenle sits at the head of the table, looking deeply entertained with their arguments.

you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the aesthetics of the campaign. both azur and yü skincare are already known in a global level. at the end it didn’t matter what the campaign concept was.

your focus was entirely on the man across the table.

you remained mostly silent beside jeno, nodding here and there, while your attention drifts toward mark for what was probably the hundredth time. and every single time, without fail, you catch him already looking at you, too. his eyes weren’t just glancing, they were searching, heavy with an unspoken weight. you swear you caught his gaze drop to your lips at times.

it doesn’t help that mark looks annoyingly good today. he wore a black polo with the sleeves rolled slightly past his wrists, exposing the lean strength of his forearms and the silver watch that glinted against his skin. every now and then his brows furrow slightly when someone says something scientifically inaccurate. you remember kissing those furrowed brows once. bad thought. very bad thought. you immediately force your attention back toward the screen.

“...i still think we should focus more on the science of it all,” mark said, his voice cutting through the chatter.

“if we lean too heavily into luxury branding, consumers might think it’s just another overpriced celebrity supplement,” he glances briefly toward the campaign mockups before his eyes flickered back to yours, “but if we explain how it works instead, consumers will be more inclined to trust the actual research behind it.”

god. even his work voice is attractive. you hate him. you want him to keep talking.

karina nods immediately beside him, “that’s a good point.”

your eyes flicker toward her unconsciously.

chenle glances between the presentation slides before nodding once, “sounds good,” he says easily, “let’s revisit the campaign tomorrow with that direction in mind. everyone’s dismissed.”

the room immediately shifts into motion. chairs slide back. laptops begin closing. papers shuffle. but before anyone can actually leave – chenle suddenly turns toward you, a mischievous smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“so,” he says casually, “how’s the marriage proposal going?”

you nearly choke on your own spit. across the table, mark froze. beside him, karina’s eyes immediately dart between the two of you so fast it’s almost impressive.

you stare at chenle in disbelief. because of course he would say something like that in front of employees.

“what?” you ask carefully. you definitely did not tell anyone about your proposal to mark. you weren’t about to hand the world a front-row seat to your desperation and potential embarrassment.

chenle looks equally confused by your reaction, “with dejun?,” he added, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

oh. right. you exhale a quiet, shaky breath, the tension in your shoulders shifting from panic to a dull, familiar ache.

“my wife told me you guys were finally getting married this year,” chenle continues, completely unaware of the emotional destruction happening elsewhere in the room. he smirked, leaning back, “i figured you finally fell for his charm after all these years.”

xiao dejun. the name felt like a heavy weight on your shoulders. he was the man your father had hand-picked for you when you were twenty-two – the son of his closest business associate, the heir of the #1 ice cream brand in the country. he was the five star standard of corporate matches – the perfect lineage, the flawless reputation, the strategic alliance. dejun was handsome, funny, kind. he always showed up with gifts upon gifts. there’s nothing, really, to complain about – except for the fact that he wasn’t the brilliant researcher you had fallen for.

before you can respond, your assistant, winter, who had been quietly taking notes near the corner of the room the entire meeting, carefully speaks up.

“ms. y/n,” she says gently, “you actually have a dinner date scheduled with mr. dejun later–”

your expression hardens instantly, the professional mask snapping back into place.

“cancel it.”

winter hesitates, her brow furrowing, “...it’s the twelfth date you’ve cancelled this year,” she whispered, her voice dropping to a cautious level, “your father isn’t very happy.”

“i don’t care,” you reply flatly, your voice cutting through the air like a blade, “cancel it.”

the room goes awkwardly silent. even chenle straightens slightly. but still – he’s chenle. so naturally, he keeps talking anyway.

“the married life isn’t so bad, you know?,” he chimes in, “highly recommend it, actually.”

you almost roll your eyes. of course he would say that. in a world of transactional unions and cold contracts, chenle was the blip – the one who had managed to secure both genuine love and immense power. it was a miracle you envied.

slowly, you scanned the room. everyone was still there, frozen in a state of pretend-busyness. karina awkwardly looks down at her laptop. jeno had become deeply interested in reorganizing his folders. and then there was mark, who hadn’t moved an inch, his expression an unreadable void – quiet, controlled, and terrifyingly still. but you could feel it. the tension radiating off him was a physical force, vibrating with a frequency only you could hear.

your eyes meet his for a fleeting, electric second before you snapped your gaze back to chenle.

“i really wish we weren’t discussing my personal life in front of our employees, mr. zhong,” your voice is calm, but it carried a frost that silenced the room completely.

chenle straightens up at the tone of your voice. out of everyone in your social circle – you’d always been the frightening one. you weren’t loud or explosive – you were controlled. the kind of cold that made people acutely aware the moment they had crossed a line. and chenle had definitely stepped way over it.

“right,” he coughs awkwardly, “ right, sorry. that was very unprofessional of me.”

“very,” you agree smoothly. the room stays painfully quiet. no one is brave enough to interrupt. after a brief pause, you turn slightly toward chenle again.

“i still have a couple things i need to discuss with director mark,” you stated, your tone shifting back into polished professionalism, “would it be alright if we continued using this room?”

at the mention of his name, mark’s head snapped up. his eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, burning with a mixture of confusion, jealousy, and a frustration that had nothing to do with business.

chenle nods, “yeah, of course,” he says easily, “i should head home anyway,” a smile softens his face instantly, “i have a very pregnant wife waiting for me.”

a quiet, involuntary laugh escaped you, the first genuine sound you’d made all meeting, “tell her i said hi.”

“i will,” he replied with smile, before finally heading towards the door.

one by one, the remaining employees follow after him. jeno gave a polite bow before taking his leave. karina gives mark one suspicious look before leaving too. winter quietly closes the door behind herself.

and then – silence.

mark remains seated across from you for a long moment, his posture rigid. then, slowly, he leaned back in his chair, the mask of the polished research director finally slipping, replaced by the exhaustion washing over his features.

you simply watch him. the physical distance of the conference table acting as a barrier felt almost cruel. you were used to being by his side, your shoulders brushing his, the warmth of him grounding you.

“have you thought about it?” you ask softly.

“i already gave you an answer,” he replied, his voice cold and distant. like he’s deliberately holding the wall up between you, trying to shut you out.

“no,” you say calmly, “you didn’t.”

frustration flashes across his face, a spark of heat in his cold demeanor, “you literally met my girlfriend,” he snapped, his voice rising slightly, “was that not enough?”

you hold his gaze steadily.

“except she’s not your girlfriend.”

“wh-what?” he stammers, the composure he fought so hard to maintain fracturing in real-time.

you almost smile, leaning back slightly in your chair, entirely too relaxed.

“i had winter look into your relationship,” you shrug as if you were discussing the weather and not a blatant violation of his privacy.

mark stares at you in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape, “y-you what??”

“no evidence of a romantic relationship,” you continue smoothly, “at least not between the two of you. she’s dating some guy named kai. older. owns a popular nightclub in the city.”

mark looks seconds away from developing a migraine. he closes his eyes for a moment, a pained expression crossing his face.

“and you,” you finish calmly, “don’t appear to be seeing anyone at all.”

“y-you can’t just investigate me like that!” he exclaimed, completely appalled.

he has every right to be. but instead of feeling guilt, you felt a surge of triumph. you tilted your head slightly, watching the way his chest heaved with agitation, “why not?”

his eyebrows shot up, like he couldn’t believe what just came out of your mouth, “why not?!”

“i have the power. the resources.” you shrug lightly, the heir of azur speaking now. “besides, all this was public information. there wasn’t much ‘investigation’ involved. just a few clicks and phone calls.”

“that’s not the point!”

“then what is?”

mark opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again, a look of sheer frustration crossing his face.

you watch him carefully for another second before finally asking the question that had been rotting in your chest.

“so why did you lie to me?”

his jaw tightens immediately. he couldn’t look at you anymore. he stood up abruptly, “i will be excusing myself from this discussion, ms. y/n.”

he grabs his briefcase without waiting for your approval, already turning his back to you and heading to the door. panic flashes through you instantly.

“stop–”

he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t even slow down.

before he can reach the exit, you move after him quickly and on instinct, your hand shot out, fingers wrapping firmly around his wrist. the contact was intense, a sudden jolt of heat that seemed to stop time itself. mark halted instantly, his entire body stiffening under your touch.

everything went quiet again.

your warm hand felt like a stark contrast to the coldness of the room. for a long moment, neither of you spoke. the only sound was the synchronized, heavy thrum of two hearts beating too fast.

“please…”

your voice broke, coming out softer this time, smaller, stripped of all the corporate armor. you weren’t the composed heir of azur. you weren’t the intimidating billionaire’s daughter who could buy and sell companies with a signature.

you were just you.

“...mark.”

the sound of his name in your voice nearly destroys him. it was the voice of the girl he had spent five years trying to forget and failing every single day. the voice he swore he’d give everything to and up for.

slowly, agonizingly, he turned back toward you. the second his eyes meet yours – the second he saw the raw vulnerability and the unshed tears shimmering in your gaze – his frustration cracked.

SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA: FIVE YEARS AGO

❄️ AUGUST: MY HEART, IT BEATS FOR YOU. ❄️

“baby, where are we going?,” mark asked, his voice a breathless whisper against the shell of your ear, followed by a soft, airy laugh as your fingers were locked tight around his wrist, practically dragging him through the halls.

you didn’t answer until you slipped through the heavy door into a tiny, abandoned lab room, “i thought maybe you could use a break,” you murmur, a teasing smile on your face as your back met the door.

you didn’t give him a chance to respond. in one fluid motion, you reached up, your fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled him towards you. his lips connected with yours in an instant – not the hesitant, shy kisses of the library a month ago, but something deeper, more certain.

a kiss that confirmed how well the two of you knew each other now. both of you smiled into the contact, a soft, breathless sound echoing in the small room as your tongues met in a slow, rhythmic synchronization.

okay…maybe a lot had changed since that night in the library. the tentative boundaries had dissolved, replaced by a magnetic pull neither of you could – or wanted to – resist.

and mark had lied – you were the biggest distraction of his life. every lecture he attended, every page of the textbooks he pored over, every ambitious goal he set for his future – it all started having versions of you.

you had become the singular, pulsing rhythm of his existence.

for the first time in his life, the relentless drive for academic perfection felt secondary. the presentations, the grades, the pressure to succeed – it all failed in comparison to the way you felt in his arms. he didn’t care that his focus was fracturing, he welcomed the chaos you brought into his orderly world.

mark realized that his heart had learned a new way to beat – a way it can only for you.

“breaks are good,” he teases, the inside joke sparking a small, breathless laugh between you, vanishing the moment his lips left yours, trailing kisses down your jawline to that sensitive spot on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, eliciting a soft, whiny moan from you as your head fell back against the cold metal of the door.

“what do you want, baby?,” he whispered directly into your ear, his breath hot and sending goosebumps down your spine.

“you know what i want, markie,” you pouted, voice winded, your body already humming with a need for him.

mark pulled back just enough to look at you, his silver glasses sitting prettily on his nose. he leaned in and kissed the pout away softly, sucking on your lower lip in a way that made your stomach flip. then – without breaking eye contact – he slowly sank to his knees.

from this angle, he looked up at you, his silver glasses glinting, his expression a lethal combination of devotion and lust. his hand slid up your bare legs, under the fabric of your skirt until his fingers brushed the lace edges of your panties, teasing the sensitive skin of you inner thigh with his thumb, circling closer and closer to your center without actually touching it.

“mark…please,” you whispered, voice breaking slightly as you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his shirt, desperate for the contact.

he hummed a low, guttural sound of satisfaction, “patience,” he murmured, a playful smile on his lips.

slowly, agonizingly, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs, eyes still locked on yours. once they were off, he tucked the lace into the back pocket of his jeans with a smirk that was entirely too confident for the “nerdy” student the rest of the campus knew.

then – he leaned in.

the first touch of his tongue was hot. you let out a sharp gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair to hold him in place. mark ate you as if he was hungry, his tongue licking up and down your folds, tasting every drop of your wetness, then going up to swirl circles around your clit, flicking rapidly against the sensitive nub before sucking it deep into his mouth.

you hadn’t had sex yet – you had both agreed to take it slow. but the way mark worshipped you with his mouth made the idea of “slow” feel like a torture you were happy to endure. he knew exactly where to press, exactly how much pressure to apply. exactly how to use his fingers to open you up, sliding one, then two, deep into your soaking wet heat, curling his fingers perfectly.

“fuck–mark–right there–,” you gasped, your legs shaking around his shoulders.

he groaned against you, the sound muffled by your skin as he increased the pace. he was relentless, lapping you with the same focused intensity he had when he was concentrating on his research.

you could feel the tension building, a coil tightening in your lower belly until your head was up in the clouds, eyes rolling back, body shuddering as your thighs unintentionally clamp around his head. he didn’t pull away, drinking every drop of your release, his tongue continuing to draw circles until the last of the tremors faded.

as he finally pulled back, breathless and glistening with your juices, he looked up at you with a look of pure, unadulterated devotion. mark stood up slowly, pulling you flush against him, your shaking legs barely supporting your weight as you leaned into him, listening to the thrum of his heart. he held you softly, arms around your waist, gently rubbing your back to soothe you from the high, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

when the world began to stop spinning, you pulled back just an inch, eyes fluttering open to find him staring at you. his silver glasses were crooked, sliding down the bridge of his noise, his lips swollen and pink – he looked absolutely undone.

a smile tugged at your lips as you reached up, gently pushing his glasses back to place, the simple, domestic gesture feeling incredibly intimate. mark caught your wrist, pressing a lingering, tender kiss to your palm, his eyes never leaving yours.

“you’re my favorite break,” he winked, voice low, teasing.

“...and you’re a very good student, mark,” you joked, your voice still airy.

he lets out a soft chuckle, leaning in for a soft lingering kiss.

you weren’t the only distraction – mark was just as bad.

he craved you as much as you craved him. the only difference was you gave into his touch much quicker than he did yours, his moral responsibility stopping him most of the time.

except for right now.

mark loved to please you and tease you at the same time. and he was currently hitting two birds with one stone at the moment. because under the heavy drape of his cardigan, which he had strategically placed on your lap to act as a shield from the rest of the class – two of mark’s digits were buried deep inside your soaking pussy, stretching you open and claiming you in the middle of a lecture. your professor was going on and on about market penetration and consumer loyalty, not knowing mark was practicing a very different kind of penetration.

his fingers curl upward, dragging along your sensitive spot with a precision that made your vision blur. you kept your gaze fixed forward, staring at the presentation, but the words were nothing more than meaningless letters. you grip your pen as he continues playing with you, dragging your wetness up to your clit before sliding back into you over and over and over again.

your walls tighten around his fingers, a reflexive, desperate squeeze. you weren’t sure if you wanted to pull him deeper into your heat or push him away before you lost all control. but as he began to pick up the pace, you knew there was no escape.

he leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing you, his clean, cotton scent enveloping you, “focus, baby,” he whispered, his voice playful, “you wouldn’t want to miss the most important part of the lesson.”

you glance at him, your eyes silently pleading. you want him to stop. you don’t want him to stop.

you felt the first wave of a climax beginning to burst, your breath hitching – a small, broken sound escaping your throat that you barely managed to disguise as a cough. you were drowning in him, your pussy clamping down hard on his hand for every bit of friction. you wanted to scream, to arch your back and moan his name until the entire hall fell silent. but instead, you bit your lip, your fingers coming up to shield the gasp from your lips.

❄️ SEPTEMBER TO OCTOBER: THE WORLD, IN COLOR. ❄️

the next two months were a blur of playfulness. your relationship with mark became a delicate dance of adoration and a healthy, simmering obsession. there were sneaky touches in the quiet corners of the library – your hand sliding up his thigh under the table while you both pretended to discuss, quiet nights in his small apartment where you spent hours tangled together innocently…or maybe not so innocently. you had done everything except crossing that final line, the pact of taking things slow still withstanding somehow.

but the physical chemistry, as explosive as it was, paled in comparison to the emotional haven he provided - mark was patience and kindness personified. neither of you had uttered those three specific words yet, but you felt it in every lingering gaze, every protective gesture, every day spent in each other’s company.

like that afternoon at the park, when he decided you needed to step out of your comfort zone and onto a skateboard–

“markie…i’m scared,” you whined, your voice sounding smaller than usual as you wobbled on the four-wheeled contraption.

he laughed softly, “babe, i’m literally holding you right now,” he pointed out, his warm hands softly placed on your waist, grounding you.

“well…hold me tighter!,” you groan, genuine panic in your voice. you’ve never done anything like this before. you were used to being prim and proper. piano lessons. language classes. afternoon teas — skateboarding was not on the approved list of activities for a girl like you.

mark didn’t tease you for your hesitation. instead, he guided your hips to help you find your balance, a steady presence that made the world feel less tilted.

“see? it’s not so bad,” he murmured softly, his grip on your waist loosening just a fraction. “you think you can do it if i let go?”

“ok–ok,” you nodded, trying to summon a courage you didn't know you possessed, “i’ll try.”

before he released you, he pulled you in for a quick kiss while you stayed standing on the skateboard, “you got this, baby.”

and then you were skating – all on your own! the wind whipped through your hair, the golden sun kissing your skin, and for a moment, you felt an exhilarating sense of freedom. mark jogged beside you, his laughter harmonizing with your own as you navigated the pavement, feeling like you were flying.

for a while, you were doing pretty well…until the wheel got caught on a tiny rock, which sent you tumbling straight to the ground.

mark was at your side in a fraction of a second, his voice laced with immediate concern, “holy shit, babe–you okay?!”

you winced, sitting up slowly to inspect your scraped knee. the skin was raw and bleeding. instinctively, you felt the old walls go up, terrified of being yelled at for being weak or clumsy, so you put on your usual front, that cool stoic composure that showed you could handle the pain, handle yourself. you braced yourself to tell him you were fine, to play the part of the girl who never falters.

but then mark reached out, his touch incredibly gentle as he carefully turned your leg toward him. he didn't look at the wound with pity, but with a strange kind of reverence.

“your first skateboarding battle scar,” he says in awe, like it was an achievement, “i remember mine…i cried for like 3 hours straight, my dad had to buy me so much ice cream.”

hearing him admit his own vulnerability acted like a key to a lock - the mask crumbled, and you let the tears fall, hot and fast.

“-it hurts a lot, markie,” you finally admit. because with him, you could be soft. vulnerable. you didn’t have to be so protective of your emotions knowing he will gladly hold it in his hands.

“yeah–i thought so,” he teases you playfully, leaning in to give you a kiss on the forehead, “come on…let’s clean that up.”

he settled you onto a park bench, disappearing for a few minutes to the nearby convenience store. when he returned, he knelt between your legs with a first aid kit, working with meticulous care to clean the scrape and blowing softly on the skin to soothe the sting. after carefully applying a spider-man themed bandaid, he pressed a tiny, sweet kiss directly onto the plastic.

then – he pulled three stems of vibrant gerbaras from his back pocket.

“congrats, skateboard warrior,” he says, a gentle, crooked smile on his lips. his eyes full of adoration reserved exclusively for you.

as you looked up at him, the weight of your own history pressed against your chest — you had known care, but you had never known love.

you had accepted that your future would be a mirror of your past – cold. lonely. meticulously managed. because for twenty-one years, your existence had been a cage. your father was a man of stone, a man who viewed emotions as liabilities. and then there was your mother – a ghost from the moment you were born, a sacrifice made for your first breath.

you had grown up in a house of echoing hallways and heavy silences, raised by a rotating carousel of maids and nannies – people who were kind, yes, but whose kindness came with a price.

but mark was different.

mark never asked for anything in return. he cared about you simply because he cares about you.

with him, the world had color.

the loneliness that had been your constant companion for two decades vanished whenever he looked at you with those honest, yearning eyes.

a tiny, fragile seed of hope had begun to grow in your chest – the idea that you could be loved for who you were, not for the empire you were destined to inherit or the image you were forced to project.

you only wanted this – the scent of the outdoors, the sting of a scraped knee, and the overwhelming, dizzying realization that for the first time in your life, you were truly seen.

“thank you, markie,” you whispered, your voice thick with an emotion you were finally allowing yourself to feel.

he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your skin. “always, baby.”

❄️ NOVEMBER: THE REMINDER. ❄️

that hope was crushed before it could fully bloom.

“your father has heard about your grades dropping,” johnny’s vice broke the silence.

you were standing outside the university’s main entrance, the cool air clinging to your skin. johnny, your personal driver and security guard, stood tall right in front of you, the black sedan by his side. his expression was unreadable but there was a flicker of pity in his eyes that you hated.

“it’s fine,” you replied, your voice sliding into that cool, nonchalant mask you wore for the world, “i can get them back up. it was just a rough month.”

johnny sighed, a sound of genuine weariness, “he knows you’ve been hanging out with a boy.”

the air seemed to leave your lungs then, “h-how does he know that?”

“your father has eyes everywhere, ms. y/n,” johnny says softly.

the reminder hit you hard. in the bubble of your happiness with mark, you had forgotten who you were. you had forgotten that you were less a daughter and more a prized asset under constant surveillance. you had let yourself believe, even for a second, that you were invisible.

at that moment, a familiar figure appeared at the university gates. mark waves at you, his face lighting up with a smile that usually made your knees weak, but as he caught sight of johnny, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

you forced a quick smile toward mark before turning back to johnny, your voice a desperate whisper, “just don’t say anything, okay? i can handle it. i’ll fix the grades, i’ll be perfect. just…dont tell him about mark.”

“i won’t ms. y/n,” he replies, “but i can’t promise he won’t find out on his own.”

you nodded slowly, the dread pooling in your stomach. you knew your father. he didn’t just find things out – he hunted them down. he dismantled secrets until there was nothing left but the truth.

you saw mark walking toward you in your peripheral vision, his stride confident and eager.

“go. don’t bow. just get in the car and leave,” you hurried to whisper as johnny quickly followed your instructions, sliding into the driver’s seat and pulling away from the curb without a word.

“baby, who was that?” mark asks as he steps beside you. he naturally reaches out, taking your bag from your shoulder to carry it for you, his eyes searching yours, sensing the tremor you were trying so hard to hide.

“no one,” you lie, the words tasting like ash. you curl your arm in his, beaming up at him with a fake radiance, as you guide him back towards the campus, “he just needed directions.”

as you walked, you leaned your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a briefest second. you clung to him, terrified that the moment you let go, the walls of your father’s world would close in and tear you apart.

SHANGHAI, CHINA: PRESENT TIME

💎 THE WEIGHT OF YOUR WORLD. 💎

the air in the conference room felt suffocating for mark. he sat rigidly in his chair, the sleek surface of the table reflecting a version of himself that looked composed, professional and entirely hollow.

he wasn’t paying much attention. instead, he was trapped in a loop, his mind obsessively replaying the final moments of yesterday.

“...mark.”

the way you had whispered his name had sliced through his defenses like a razor. it was a sound he had tried to scrub from his memory for five whole years, the voice that had haunted his every failed attempt at moving on.

he remembered the moment his eyes locked on yours, expecting to see the cold, calculating mask you’ve been carrying lately. instead, he found raw, bleeding vulnerability. your gaze had been his undoing – it had cracked the carefully constructed wall of frustration he’d spent years building.

“why me?” he asked, sounding small and desperate, only wanting to hear one answer from you.

“because,” you had started, voice trembling, “because–we already know each other.”

wrong answer.

“not good enough,” he sighed, a sound of profound defeat, before slowly peeling your fingers from his grip. he had walked out, leaving you alone in this same room. but he had carried the weight of your gaze with him every second since.

“why is ms. y/n not here today,” mr. zhong’s voice cut through the room, sharp and demanding. he turned his gaze toward winter, who was sitting in your spot, her tablet in her hands.

“uhm,” winter stammered, shifting uncomfortably, “personal matters, sir…she’s asked me to sit in and take notes for the day.”

mr. zhong gave a curt, dismissive nod. mark tunes the meeting all out, just correcting a few technical facts here and there, his mind miles away. your disappearance is hitting him harder than it should. he hated it. absolutely loathed the way he can’t stop thinking about where you were or who you were with. he hated that a single day of your absence felt like a physical withdrawal, leaving him restless and irritable.

he had spent half a decade convincing himself that he was over you, that the life with the girl in seoul was a fantasy he had outgrown. but as he watched winter scribble notes in your place, mark realized with a sinking sense of dread – he was still just as enslaved to you as he had been at twenty-one.

he didn’t just want you in the room…he wanted to know what you were feeling. he wanted to know if you were thinking about him with the same destructive intensity that was currently eating him alive.

the silence of your absence was louder than any argument you could have had, and it was driving him insane.

you didn’t show up until 3 days later.

immediately, mark knew something bad had happened. your eyes are sadder – a depth of grief and exhaustion that seemed impossible, considering how hauntingly lonely they had already looked.

then, he saw it. a tiny, faint purple mark on your cheekbone that no one would notice if they didn’t look at you with the same precision as he did.

“i reviewed everything,” you said, addressing mr. zhong.

you haven’t looked at mark once this entire meeting. it was as if you were terrified that if you did, he’d unravel you completely.

“it looks good–my father has scheduled a meeting in our home office in two days for finalization,” you continued.

mr. zhong nodded, “alright, sounds good with me. mark and karina you’ll be attending with me…will you be present ms. y/n?”

“no,” you replied, a forced smile touching your lips, “i think it’s best for you if i wasn’t there.”

you keep it simple and mark desperately wants to ask why? why would the heir of azur exclude herself from a meeting in her own home?

the moment the meeting ended, you excused yourself quickly. winter followed closed behind.

mark couldn’t let it go.

“ms. y/n, wait a minute,” he called out, his voice echoing through the glass-walled hallway.

you stopped abruptly, your shoulders tensing as you turn to winter, your voice low, “i’ll meet you in the car.”

once she had disappeared around the corner, you turned to face him, the professionalism back on like a suit of armor.

“did we forget to discuss anything in the meeting?” you asked.

mark didn’t answer immediately. he stood there, reading you. a bitter thought surfacing from the depths of his mind – do i even know you?

five years ago, he had fallen for the girl you were. but he didn’t really know that girl, did he? there were so many things you didn’t say. so many things he wasn’t aware of. you had hidden your entire world from him, and now – that world seemed to be crushing you.

“if there is nothing else to discuss, i will be going, director,” you continue, your voice breaking him out of his thoughts—

he doesn’t care.

about the lies. about who you were then and who you are now. his heart is still beating for you the same way it did before.

he stepped forward then, slowly, noticing the way your eyebrows furrow slightly in surprise. he didn’t stop until he was in your personal space, the scent of your perfume intoxicating him. then his hand rose, his fingers carefully grazing your jawline, thumb moving with slow tenderness, gently caressing the hidden purple mark on your cheekbone – the touch light but with a heavy intent.

you have been exposed.

“who did this?,” he whispers, his voice thick with a mixture of care and fury.

your breath hitched, a broken sound in the quiet hallway. for a split second, the mask slipped, your eyes fluttered and every fiber of your being screamed to lean into him, to collapse against his chest and let him carry the weight of your world for just a little bit. you craved the sanctuary of his arms, the feeling of being seen and protected.

but you knew the cost. you knew that giving yourself a taste of heaven when you were destined for hell only made the fall more painful.

you pulled back, your expression snapping shut, turning ice cold, “excuse me.”

you turned away from him, leaving him standing alone in the glass hallway, his thumb still tingling from the touch of your skin. the silence between you once again becomes a deafening roar.

there was no point dreaming again.

he isn’t going to save you. he made that clear already.

SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA: FIVE YEARS AGO

❄️ BACK TO DECEMBER. ❄️

you were curled up on the couch of mark’s tiny apartment, him sitting right beside you. you spent most of your days here, claiming your apartment was “too far” and “too tiny.”

today, he had insisted on watching eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, swearing it was one of his favorite movies of all time.

you stare at the notification that pinged on your phone, a sigh leaving your lips.

“hmm?,” he hums as he presses a soft kiss to the curve of your shoulder, “something wrong, baby?”

“my flight got cancelled due to the snow storms,” you murmured, turning your phone toward him.

mark’s eyes widened as he processed the words, “wait…so you can’t go home?”

you nodded slowly, a tight-lipped smile on your face. truthfully, you didn’t mind at all. the holidays have always been lonelier – a mansion full of people you didn’t know, a towering tree filled with presents you never liked and a father who showed up like it was a meeting and not a holiday. in hindsight, it might be nice to not pretend to care about all of it.

but the way mark is looking at you now seems like you just delivered the worst news of all time, his brows furrowed in that earnest, protective way. you almost laugh, he was too cute, too concerned for a girl who had spent her whole life pretending she didn’t need anyone.

“it’s okay…i don’t really mind, i’ll probably just–”

“why don’t you just come home with me for christmas break?”

you quirked a brow, blinking up at him, “and meet your parents?”

“yeah,” he shrugs, as if he were suggesting you grab another round of ramen rather than introducing you to his family.

you lean back a bit, searching his eyes for any sign of teasing. but there was only that steady, unwavering affection.

“isn’t a little too soon? i mean…we’ve only been together for six months. i don’t want to intrude or make your family uncomfor-”

before you can finish your sentence, he shuts you up with a kiss that you melt into instantly. when he pulled back, he nudged his nose against yours, his eyes searching yours with tenderness.

“baby…no one should have to spend the holidays alone,” he whispered sweetly. if only he knew how many holidays you’ve spent by yourself.

“are you sure it’s okay though?,” you ask shyly.

“more than okay,” he insisted, curling an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his side, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. he sounded so certain, so effortless, as if bringing you into his world was the most natural thing ever, “now…watch this part, it’s my favorite.”

you smiled, a genuine, radiant, tiny thing that reached your eyes as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

you and mark arrive at his parent’s home two days before christmas day. the drive there had been a blur of falling snowflakes and heavy suffocating silence built from your whirlwind of anxiety. by the time his car finally pulled into the driveway, your stomach had tied itself into knots. for the first time in your life, you were truly nervous.

mark saw right through you. as you stepped out into the cold winter air, he reached for your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours before lifting it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“don’t worry,” he murmured, eyes searching yours, “they’re going to love you.”

you managed a small nod, hoping he was right. before you could spiral any further – the front door swings open. a woman rushed down the porch, her coat barely thrown over her shoulders, her face alight with pure joy.

“mark!”

your boyfriend barely has time to react before she’s pulling him into a tight hug.

“mom–”

“oh, look at you!,” she exclaims, pulling back just enough to grab his face between both hands, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, “you’ve gotten thinner! are you eating? tell me you’re eating!”

“i’ve just been busy, mom,” mark groaned, though he didn’t pull away.

“you need vitamins,” she insisted, her voice filled with motherly concern.

“i have vitamins.”

“you should take more!”

you bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing. mark looks absolutely horrified while his mother is completely unbothered as she presses kisses all over his cheeks.

“mom!,” mark groaned, his voice cracking slightly.

“what! i missed my baby!” she exclaims, lightly slapping his arm with a playful grin.

you let out a laugh before you can stop it. mark immediately turns toward you, his expression a mix of betrayal and embarrassment. you tried to look apologetic. you really do. but the sight of him standing there, ears red with embarrassment while his mother fussed over him, was simply too cute.

it was all so foreign to you — the casual affection, the ease of their interaction, the warmth radiating from a woman who loved her son without conditions or expectations. you had spent your entire life watching families from a distance and now you were standing in the middle of one.

eventually, mark manages to escape, stepping back to regain whatever shred of dignity he had left.

“mom,” he says, clearing his throat and gesturing toward you, “this is y/n.”

immediately, his mother’s attention shifts to you. you felt the air leave your lungs as she looked you up and down. in that moment, you realized exactly where mark got his intensity – she looked at you with the exact same focused, piercing gaze. for one terrifying second, the old instincts kicked in. you waited for the judgment, the assessment of your status, the cold calculation of whether you were “suitable.”

but then – her entire face lit up.

and before you could even utter a greeting, she pulled you into her arms. the hug was warm. soft. it felt real.

she pulled back just enough to cup your face between both hands, her touch gentle and sincere, “oh, you’re beautiful,” she said immediately, her voice brimming with warmth.

you blink, whispering a soft, “thank you.”

“look at her, mark!” she says excitedly, turning towards her son with an excited glow.

“i am looking at her,” he replies, voice softening with a smirk of amusement.

“she has such pretty eyes–and her nose–and her lips–”

you felt a sudden, treacherous prickle of tears in your eye, which felt ridiculous…she’s just being kind. but nobody has ever looked at you like this before. not as a tool for a merger, not as an heir to fortune — but as a person. like you belonged somewhere. like they were happy you existed. your throat tightened and you looked down for a moment, thankful that the falling snow hid the sudden shimmer in your eyes.

“okay, mom–” mark says eventually, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to pull her back. you almost reached out to stop him, wanting to stay in that warmth just a second longer, “-don’t kill her now.”

“oh, i’m sorry,” she says sheepishly, though she immediately went back to hold your face, “i’m just so excited.”

“clearly,” mark comments, which she ignores completely.

“you know, he’s never brought a girl home before,” she confides to you, leaning in as if sharing a top secret.

you smiled, glancing at mark with a playful glint in your eyes, “really?”

“i was starting to think he was going to marry his research papers,” she sighs, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

“mom.”

“-or a microscope,” she continues relentlessly.

“MOM!” mark exclaims, his voice hitting a higher octave.

you burst out in giggles, the sound echoing through the driveway as he groaned loudly. even his mother joined in, her laughter melodic and bright.

“i’m serious,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye, “the boy works too much.”

looking at him now, you understood everything — why he was so patient, why he was so honest and why he’s the man that he is. he came from a house that felt warm. a place where the air was thick with love and the walls held the echoes of laughter. the kind of place where people tease each other because they know they’ll be loved anyway. the kind of place you had only ever dreamed of.

“come on,” his mother says suddenly, slipping her arm through yours and pulling you close, “let’s get you inside before you freeze out here.”

and just like that – she starts pulling you toward the house, her chatter filling the space between you. you looked back over your shoulder to see mark standing alone in the driveway, surrounded by snowflakes and two heavy suitcases. he didn’t look annoyed. he just stood there, shaking his head with a fond, helpless smile, following after the two most important women in his life.

the day before christmas, mark’s mom suggested he bring you to the tiny ice skating rink downtown. the weather was a bit better now, the sun peeking shyly through the clouds, making the fresh snow sparkle like scattered diamonds.

the rink itself was small, just a sheet of ice surrounded by wooden fences and strings of christmas twinkling lights. the only other people on the ice were a family with three children who skated with confidence. the rest of the town seemed to be preparing for christmas eve tonight. the only sound you could hear is from the overhead speakers currently playing music from the one employee in charge at the moment.

and then there was you and mark.

to say you were struggling would be the understatement of the century. you were fighting for your lives, both of you looking like newborn kittens trying to walk for the first time. one minute you were standing, the next your feet would betray you, sliding sideways. mark would lunge forward to catch you, his instincts to protect you overriding his own balance, only to send both of you crashing down.

the two of you fell on your asses way too many times that at one point, you just laid there.

“this is actually embarrassing,” you groaned.

mark was lying beside you, his chest heaving slightly, his cheeks flushed a deep, healthy pink from the chilly air as you two stared up at the winter sky.

“i don’t know what you mean…,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he turned to look at you, “i’ve been falling on purpose. i just wanted to see how you looked from this angle.”

you let out a huff of laughter, the sound turning into a small cloud of steam. the smiles on your faces never wavered, a shared secret of clumsiness and joy.

after accepting total defeat, you rented one of the skating aids shaped like a polar bear, usually reserved for children learning how to skate for the first time. and now, you were pushing said polar bear across the ice while mark attempted to skate behind you, his hands resting firmly on your shoulders to steady himself.

“this tiny thing is carrying our entire relationship,” mark declared.

“respect the bear, markie,” you joked, glancing back at him with a grin, “he’s our hero.”

the three children passed you again. for the seventh time. one of them, a little girl who couldn’t have been older than seven, let out a high-pitched giggle as she skated past you with effortless grace, her eyes wide with amusement.

“we’re being judged by children,” mark sighed, though he didn’t let go of your shoulders.

“they’re just jealous because we have a bear and they don’t,” you countered.

the two of you dissolved into laughter again.

when a particular song came on, mark couldn’t resist pulling you closer towards him, his hands shifting from your shoulders to your waist. he leaned in, his head resting on the crook of your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your skin and sending shivers down your spine.

he began to hum – then, he whispered the words directly into your ear, his lips slightly brushing your skin–

“saw so many pretty faces, before i saw you…now all i see is you.”

the butterflies exploded then – a surge of heat rushing to your cheeks. you tried to maintain some of your composure, but you failed miserably, smiling like an idiot as you leaned your head back against his shoulder.

in that moment, surrounded by the scent of winter and the warmth of his embrace, you felt a terrifyingly beautiful realization – you have never been this happy before. you found yourself wishing, with every fiber of your being that time would simply stop.

you wanted to stay right here forever, frozen in the ice.

christmas eve was spent gathered around the lee family’s dining table. the house smelled like meat, spices, and freshly baked pastries. soft christmas music drifted from the living room while colorful lights from the tree blinked quietly in the corner. the clock on the wall ticked closer and closer to midnight, a feast large enough to feed twice the number of people spread across the table.

and for the first time in your life — christmas didn’t feel lonely.

you sat beside mark, your shoulder brushing his, your knees occasionally bumping beneath the table. across from you sat his older brother, a man who seemed to have made it his life’s mission to keep mark humble, teasing him whenever the opportunity presented itself. his mother occupied the seat beside his brother, her presence a radiant warmth while his father sat at the head of the table. the kind of family gatherings you’d only ever seen in movies, the kind you had secretly craved since you were a little girl.

before everyone began eating, marks father cleared his throat. the room immediately fell into silence as he folded his hands together and bowed his head slightly. the rest of the family followed suit, and you found yourself mimicking them, bowing your head in a gesture of belonging.

mark’s hand found yours beneath the table, his fingers sliding between yours, squeezing gently as his father began a simple prayer filled with gratitude. you wouldn’t exactly call yourself religious. in a world where your value was measured by your lineage and your obedience, you had never been given much reason to believe in anything. but if there was a god, you’d like to thank him for this moment, too.

immediately after the prayer, the silence broke into a flurry of activity – mark’s mom began piling food on your plate, urging you to try every single dish she had prepared. and every single one of them was better than every five-star meal you’d ever eaten. conversation flowed easily around the table – stories from mark’s childhood, his brother exposing family secrets, his mother laughing so hard she nearly spilled her drink.

even mark’s father smiled more than you expected. he was quieter than the others but there’s a gentleness to him you hadn’t noticed initially. at first glance, he had seemed intimidating but after spending two days with the family, you realized all the lee men were all built from the same blueprint – quiet on the outside, soft on the inside. they didn’t shout their love, they lived it in the small, steady ways they cared for one another.

then, right in the middle of dinner – mark’s father looked directly at the two of you.

“so.”

the entire table went quiet. the clinking of silverware ceased. mark’s brother stopped mid-sentence, an amused grin spreading across his face.

“do the the two of you plan on getting married?”

mark nearly choked on his fried chicken while your eyes widened slightly, heart skipping a beat.

”dad!” mark managed to gasp out, his face flushing a deep, vivid crimson.

”what?” his father replied, completely unfazed.

mark looks absolutely horrified, his gaze darting around the table as if searching for an escape route. meanwhile, your heart had completely stopped. talks of marriage wasn’t anything new to you. you had been a pawn in the game since you turned eighteen, your father presenting you with a curated list of bachelors of his choosing. but — this was the first time you’d ever considered the word and felt happy.

“wh-what??” mark sputtered, his voice an octave higher than usual, “dad, we just started dating.” his ears were bright red now, a shade of embarrassment you’ve never seen on him before. he’s finding it very hard to look at you or anyone else at the moment.

unfortunately for him, his father wasn’t finished.

”what’s the point of dating if not to marry?,” he asked reasonably, pointing his chopsticks vaguely between the two of you, “you should date someone because you see a future together… don't be like all the other kids these days who are just doing it for fun.”

mark looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. but you didn’t mind at all. you didn’t find it awkward or overbearing. because despite how old-fashioned the conversation was – if mark had asked you to marry him right now…the answer would’ve been an immediate yes. you would say it before he even finished the sentence, give up everything just to ensure you could spend every christmas eve for the rest of your life at this table.

“uhm…” mark finally managed, his voice dropping, losing it’s frantic edge. his eyes flickered towards you briefly, the horror in his expression softening into something vulnerable, “we haven’t really talked about it,” his voice softened, “…yet.”

yet. the word lingered. small but full of possibility.

his father nodded thoughtfully, his gaze shifting from mark to you, his eyes searching, almost intuitive.

“but you love each other don’t you?”

the room suddenly felt much quieter. mark froze. and so did you. neither of you had said that word yet. not once. not out loud. you felt it – you knew you did. every second you spent with him made that increasingly obvious. but the words had remained trapped between you, unspoken and waiting for a moment that felt safe enough to hold them.

his dad continues relentlessly, “marriage is the easiest thing in the world, as long as you truly love each other.”

the simplicity of the statement felt like a blow. for mark’s family, love was the foundation, the easy part. for you, love was the most dangerous thing you had ever encountered – a rebellion against everything your father stood for, a flicker of light in a life designed to be cold.

thankfully – his mom finally intervened, sensing the sheer panic radiating off her son.

“okay, okay!,” she waved her hand dramatically, a bright melodic sound that broke the spell, "let them figure it out for themselves, okay? they’re still young, after all! they still have so many dreams to achieve,” she added lightly, a bubble of laughter slipping from her lips.

she turned to her husband and shook her head fondly, “god, you can be such an old man, sometimes,” she teases, the entire table dissolving into laughter then, the tension slowly disappearing.

”alright,” his dad chuckles, paying attention to his food instead.

everyone resumes eating after that, conversations returned to normal — stories about the ice rink, questions about classes, updates about work. the kind of ordinary conversations you’d spent your entire life missing.

but while everyone else talked — your gaze drifted toward your boyfriend.

he was laughing at something his brother had just whispered, his eyes crinkling at the corners, the twinkling lights reflecting in the dark depths of his pupils. and you realized his mom was wrong–

you didn’t have dreams.

dreams were for people free to choose their futures. and your future had been decided for you long ago. you were a piece on a chessboard, a legacy to be preserved, a daughter to be traded for power.

as you watched mark steal a piece of meat from your plate with a cheeky grin because his mother had given you the best portions – you realized the truth.

the only dream you’d ever truly had is him.

it wasn’t a career, or a title, or a destination. it’s this. the sound of his laughter, the smell of his skin, the way his hand feels in yours. your dream was this family – filled with a loud, messy unconditional love that you had never known.

when the clock finally struck christmas day, “merry christmas” bounced around the dining room, overlapping with laughter and smiles.

mark’s mom pulled you into a hug so tight, pressing a warm kiss against your temple. his dad patted your shoulder once, a small smile appearing on his face. and his older brother gave you an awkward high five. then mark looked at you. he wore that soft, devastating smile you had memorized in every detail – his eyes crinkled, the slight tilt of his head. he leaned down slightly, pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“merry christmas, baby,” he whispered directly into your ear, your heart responding immediately.

for the first time you understood why people loved the holidays so much. it wasn’t the presents, or the decorations, or the food. it was the feeling of home. of being wanted. of being loved.

“ahhh,” mark’s mom yawns, stretching her arms over her head.

”you should head to bed, mom,” mark says immediately, his voice tender, “y/n and i can take care of the dishes.”

”oh, nonsense!,” she waved her hand dismissively, “y/n is a guest! she shouldn’t touch a single dish.”

you laugh. you wouldn’t mind washing up for her. in fact, the idea of contributing to his home, however small the task, felt like a privilege. even if, in reality, your experience with housework was limited to directing staff.

mark rolls his eyes, glancing at you with a smirk, “fine, i’ll wash the dishes,” he conceded, “she can supervise.”

“now that’s a good plan,” his mother declared, satisfied.

“mommm,” his brother suddenly spoke up from across the table, a dangerous smile appearing on his face, “i think they just want alone time to–”

before he could continue – mark’s foot connected with his brother’s shin under the table, “HYUNG!”

the table dissolves into another round of laughter. mark looked seconds away from throwing himself out a window. he wonders if his family has made it their personal responsibility to embarrass him as much as possible this evening.

“fine, fine….,” mark’s mom stood up while still chuckling. she was clearly her son’s only savior in this house of chaos.

“we’re gonna call it a night, the old people need their sleep,” she jokes before finally retreating to her bedroom with her husband, leaving the three of you on the dining table.

”have fun making out in the kitchen,” his older brother teases, leaning back in his chair.

”we’re not even gonna do that,” mark groans.

”whatever, lil bro…just don’t make me an uncle, i don’t have the money to spoil the child yet,” he stands up, pointing toward the two of you dramatically.

“oh my god, leave!”

”goodnight, y/n,” the older boy smiles at you innocently before getting up and walking back into his own room as well.

“goodnight,” you reply back, an amused smile lingering on your lips.

mark turns to you then with a sheepish smile, “god, i’m so sorry about them…we’re all so close i think we forgot what boundaries are.”

your smile softened immediately, the warmth in your chest expanding, “don’t worry about it, markie, it’s nice.”

the nickname made him smile automatically as you leaned forward, closing the small gap between you and pressing a gentle, lingering kiss against his lips to comfort him. mark melted instantly, as he always did when it came to you, his strength dissolving into a soft, needy vulnerability. when you finally pulled away, he looked significantly less traumatized, his eyes hazy with affection, almost glad that his family didn’t send you running.

“better?” you tease softly.

“can i have another one?”

you laughed, “wash the dishes first.”

as promised, mark ended up washing every dish and true to your role as a supervisor, you stood beside him drying them afterward. the kitchen was quiet and peaceful. the rest of the house asleep. christmas lights from the living room still casted a warm glow across the counters while the soft christmas music still drifted faintly.

neither of you said much, you simply basked in the usual comfortable silence and worked together naturally. passing plates. drying glasses. putting things away. it was such an ordinary, mundane task. and yet – you couldn’t stop thinking about how much you loved this over everything else. nothing had ever made you feel this at peace – standing in your socks in a small kitchen at one in the morning, drying dishes with the boy who owns your heart.

it’s the kind of happiness that made you want things you shouldn’t – a future that wasn’t a business contract. a home that smelled like christmas and laundry. a family that laughed until they cried. a life where the only expectation was to love and be loved in return.

you glanced toward mark, watching him absentmindedly roll up his sleeves higher while washing another plate and found yourself wondering what it would be like if this could be your life forever.

then just as quickly – the thought twisted into a dull ache. because deep down, you already knew.

forever was reserved for someone else – a stranger with no face. no name. a stranger who will never hold your heart the way the boy in front of you does. eventually, the clock would run out. eventually, the world would reclaim you and someone would take him away from you. and if forever wasn’t promised, if your time together was merely a beautiful, borrowed dream – then he at least deserved to know the truth of your heart.

❄️ IT’S CHRISTMAS AND I LOVE YOU. ❄️

mark placed away the last dish on the drying rack, the soft clink echoing through the quiet kitchen. before you could lose your courage – you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek against the warmth of his back.

he sank into your embrace instantly, his body relaxing as if you were the only place he ever felt truly safe, hand instinctively settling over yours, squeezing gently, a tiny contented smile forming on his lips.

and finally–

“i love you.”

the words came from your lips, barely above a whisper. small. fragile. and completely terrifying. three little words you’ve never said out loud or to anyone before. three little words you never knew the meaning of until this very moment.

mark didn’t move. didn’t breathe. didn’t speak. and immediately panic started creeping into your chest. maybe it was too soon. maybe you had overstepped. maybe the weight of those words was too heavy for him to carry. maybe you shouldn’t have said it. maybe–

he turned around, his eyes sparkling.

“y/n…”

your heart was beating so hard it almost hurt.

“i know it’s too soon,” you rushed out nervously, “you don’t have to say it back right away–or ever–i just…wanted you to know and it’s christmas and everyone keeps talking about marriage and love and–”

mark cuts you off with a kiss. his warm hands cup your face, fingers sliding into your hair. this kiss felt different. it wasn’t playful or teasing or hungry. just – overwhelmingly tender. when he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his hand dropping to your waist to pull you flush against him, erasing every millimeter of space between your bodies.

“i love you, too.”

he said it so softly, the words seeping into every crack and broken place inside you, sealing the wounds left by a lifetime of loneliness.

“you know that, right?” he murmured, his voice thick with affection.

you nodded immediately but your eyes were already blurring, the tears coming in hot and fast, spilling over your lashes. he notices immediately, his thumb brushing your eye gently.

“why are you crying?” he whispered, his brow furrowing in gentle concern.

“i’m just happy.”

his expression softens completely, looking at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever been trusted with. he leaned down, pressing a kiss against your forehead, closing his eyes as if trying to memorize the feeling of you.

the world outside his childhood bedroom ceased to exist. the two of you are squeezed into mark’s tiny twin sized bed, facing each other, legs tangled under the blanket draped over both of you, larger than the bed itself. the quiet hum of the heater and mark’s christmas playlist drifted through the room, the singular lamp in the corner casting a warm glow.

“feel free to ignore this question…but have you ever thought about it?...marriage?” he asks softly, his fingers tracing slow circles across the small of your back.

the real answer was no. in fact, you tried very hard not to think about it.

“with you?” you ask, teasing softly to mask the sudden tightening in your chest.

mark sputtered, the sudden shift in tone catching him off guard, “i mean–it doesn’t have to be with me,” he stammered, feeling nervous, “i just mean, in general…is that something that sounds appealing to you?”

“if i said no, would you break up with me?”

“no! baby–what?” a flash of genuine panic crossed his eyes at the mere suggestion of losing you. he looked almost wounded by the question, “forget i asked.”

you couldn’t help it, a soft chuckle escaped you, the sound freeing him from his self-inflicted torment. you reached up, tracing the line of his jaw with your thumb, your expression softening.

“i’d only want it if it’s with you,” you admit truthfully.

the confession hit him visibly. a deep, crimson blush creeping up his neck and flooding his cheeks, and for a moment, he looked like the boy you had first met in that classroom.

“how about you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, afraid, “can you see yourself marrying me?”

he shifted then, turning around just enough to reach for the bedside table. you furrowed your brows, confused, as he grabbed a black permanent marker. then – without a word, he took your left hand in his, his grip firm yet gentle, lifting it up and drawing a circle around your ring finger.

your heart stopped.

“i’ll put a real ring on this finger someday, i promise you.”

he said it softly, watching as your gaze remained on the black ink – it was temporary, it was messy, and it was the most beautiful thing you had ever owned.

“i like this one better,” you muttered softly.

that earned a real laugh from him.

“no way…i’ll buy you the prettiest ring in the world, baby, i promise,” he brought your hand up to his lips, trailing slowly, searing kisses up your knuckles, then your wrist, before his lips finally found yours.

he lingered there, his breath warm against your mouth, “just wait a little while, okay?” he whispered, his smile shy.

you knew exactly what he meant. he had ambitions. he had other dreams.

you can't seem to find your words. and you didn’t want to make promises you can’t keep.

so instead, you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him with a desperate, starving intensity. you pour everything you couldn’t say into that kiss – every unspoken fear, every hidden truth and every ounce of love that felt too large for your chest to hold, hoping that if you held on tight enough, the rest of the world would simply forget you existed.

the kiss deepened, shifting from a desperate plea into something hungrier. mark’s tongue swiped firmly against your upper lip, demanding entry and you opened for him instantly, the taste of toothpastes clashing with the heat of your shared breath.

as the kiss grew more frantic, your hand wandered, sliding down the expanse of his chest and stomach until your palm landed on the ridge of his cock, rubbing him through the fabric of his grey sweatpants.

“markie,” you whispered against his lips, “are we still taking things slow?” you punctuated the question with a light, deliberate squeeze, feeling him twitch beneath your touch.

mark’s eyes fluttered shut, his head falling against yours as he inhaled a shaky breath, “i really, really don’t want to anymore, baby,” he groaned.

“what’s stopping you?”

he paused, his expression flickering with a sudden, piercing vulnerability making your hand stop.

“can i be honest?”

you quirked a brow, small and playful, “when are you never not honest?”

he chuckles softly, shaking his head, “i’m a virgin,” he admits shyly.

you stared at him, momentarily stunned. given the amount of times he’s made you cum on just his mouth and fingers, you had assumed he was an expert.

a soft giggle escaped you, the tension breaking into something tender, “that’s why you were so adamant about taking things slow,” you realized.

he chuckles too, “i just…i don’t want to ruin it for you.”

“you literally won’t be able to,” you countered, your voice softening, “i’m a virgin, too.”

mark’s eyes snapped open, widening in sheer disbelief, your words hanging heavy in the air. the odds seemed impossible – that two people with this kind of magnetic, visceral chemistry could both be virgins. you knew exactly where to touch him, unravel him with a single look.

“so i guess we’ll just have to figure it out together,” you add, a small smile blooming on your lips.

he didn’t waste another second. he surged forward capturing your lips onto his again, “together,” he whispered against your lips, “everything…together.”

he kisses you deeper now, pulling you even closer before his hand starts wandering down until it slides beneath the waistband of your pajama pants, slipping under the cotton of your panties.

you hum into the kiss, lifting your leg to curl around his hip, giving yourself up to him as his fingers start rubbing up and down your folds, teasing your leaking hole.

mark might be a virgin. but he had no problem when it came to research. and after six months of dating, he knows exactly how to prepare you, how to touch you, how to get you wet — he sinks two digits deep into your heat, your gasp muffling against his lips, your body arching instinctively.

you were acutely aware of the risk – his family is somewhere in the house and you’re pretty sure the justin bieber playing through his laptop right now isn’t enough to draw out your noises.

that doesn’t stop him from quickly curling his fingers inside you in that way that makes you bury your face in his shoulder, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying your best to control the sounds passing your lips.

your hips begin rutting against his hand, seeking more, “markiee–” you moan softly, biting your lip hard to stifle the sound, your body trembling on the verge of a peak. he always knew that specific, electric spot deep inside.

you’re so close. so, so close. but you didn’t want to cum on his fingers tonight. you wanted to feel the weight of him, the stretch of him.

“wait–stop,” you whispered, grabbing his wrist.

mark froze, his chest heaving, his eyes clouded with lust, “why? you were so close,” he points out, his voice that strained pitch it always gets when he’s pleasing you, almost as if he gets off just by the mere action of getting you off.

“i want to feel you,” you whispered, “…d-do you have a condom?”

mark nodded quickly. he had been carrying one in his wallet since the day you started dating – just in case – a testament to his cautious, responsible nature. he reached for his wallet on the bedside table, pulling out the packet with shaking fingers. he almost can’t believe this is happening right now.

“do you know how to put it on?” you ask softly.

mark paused, a look of genuine uncertainty crossing his face. he let out a soft, embarrassed chuckle, “i-i actually don’t,” he admitted. “wait, let me watch a tutorial video.”

you couldn’t help but burst into a quiet giggle as he seriously reached for his phone, pulling up a youtube tutorial. this is, by far, probably the nerdiest thing he’s ever done – it’s endearing.

the room is suddenly filled with a robotic, educational voice discussing the importance of practicing safe sex and checking expiration dates.

“well…this is one way to kill the mood,” mark grunted, though he continued watching the screen with intense concentration.

“keep watching, markie,” you teased, “i got you,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss under his ear.

and before he could react, you disappeared beneath the heavy duvet, crawling between his legs.

“wha-”

he didn’t get to finish. you swiftly pulled down his pajama pants and boxers, exposing his hard, leaking cock and without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around the tip, swirling your tongue around the head.

“fuuck–baby,” he whines, his head hitting the pillow as he peeled the blanket back to watch you fully.

the educational video continued to drone on in the background, a surreal contrast to the sight of you sucking him. you coated him in spit, your mouth tight and warm and his mind was a chaotic mess – one hand trying it’s best to hold up his phone and keep up with the video, the other gripping the sheets to keep from cumming right then and there.

as the video finally demonstrated how to roll the latex, mark quickly pulled you off his cock.

“okay, okay baby–i got it,” he gasped, grabbing the packet again as you sat on your knees, still in the middle of his legs, watching him, completely amused.

“i gotta do this…and then this,” he muttered, rolling the condom down the length of his shaft with a tiny groan, the feeling of the latex tightening around his cock entirely new.

then he looked at you, his eyes dark and searching, “how should we do it?”

you didn’t answer with words, simply pulling off your pajama pants and underwear, leaving you wearing nothing but his oversized university sweater, which swallowed your frame. you crawled back up to him, capturing his lips in a searing kiss as you positioned yourself, caging him in with your thighs.

slowly, you began to rub your soaking wet pussy against his condom-covered cock. you had dry-humped plenty of times before — this position was somewhat familiar but the feeling was entirely different. with only the thin latex between you, everything seem magnified. you could feel the throb of his pulse, the heat of his skin, the sheer size of him pressing against your opening, teasing.

god, it felt good.

the friction was driving you both insane. the way his cock hits your clit with every glide earning a silent moan from you while mark’s breath was coming in jagged hitches, his hands gripping your waist with a strength that bordered on desperate, yet he remained still, letting you set the pace.

you pulled back from the kiss just an inch, your foreheads resting against each other, your voice a trembling whisper–

“mark…please. put it in. i want you inside me.”

mark swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he looks up at you with raw vulnerability, mixing with an intense hunger. he didn’t just want to take you, he wanted to make sure this was perfect.

“are you sure?” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly, “i don’t want to hurt you. i–i don’t know exactly how much…if it i’ll be too much.”

“i’m sure,” you whimpered, shifting your weight, “please.”

slowly, with caution, mark grabbed the base of his cock, you guided him, aligning him to your soaking wet entrance. as the head of his cock first touched your opening, you let out a sharp, shallow gasp. it was already so much more than his fingers.

“you okay?” he asked immediately, his voice strained as he fought the urge to just thrust upward, his fingers digging into your hips to anchor you.

“yes..yes, let’s keep going.”

you lowered yourself inch by inch. as his cock started to slide into your tight heat, you felt a sudden, sharp pressure. it was a fullness you had never experienced, a feeling of being completely occupied. you froze, your breath catching in your throat, your muscles instinctively tightening around him.

“wait, wait,” mark whispered, his eyes fillled with concern as he takes in every bit of your reaction, “does it hurt? tell me if hurts, baby. i’ll stop. just tell me.”

you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, doing your best to relax. the initial sting was fading, replaced by an overwhelming sense of warmth and a deep, aching want of more. you felt the stretch but it felt right.

“i’m okay,” you whispered, “it just…it’s a lot. but it feels good. i want more.”

reassured, mark let out a nod as you sunk further down, feeling the way his cock expands inside you.

“god, you’re so tight,” mark groaned, his head falling back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut, face contorting in a mix of pleasure and disbelief, “baby…you feel…incredible.”

as you finally bottomed out, feeling the base of his cock press firmly against your pussy, you let out a long, shaky sigh and collapsed onto his chest. the two of you stayed like that for a moment, chests heaving in unison, the only sound the distant beat of the music from his laptop and the frantic drumming of two hearts beating as one.

“are you okay?” mark whispered again, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight against him.

he kissed your temple, his lips lingering there, “i’m…i’m actually inside you,” he laughs.

you let out a soft, shaky laugh, “i’m perfect. you’re perfect.”

you stayed draped across his chest for a few more minutes, getting used to him before slowly shifting, pushing yourself up on your palms to look down at him. mark’s eyes were dark and dilated, completely focused on you.

“i want to move,” you whispered, your voice thick with desire.

“me too,” he groaned, his hands sliding from your waist down to your ass, lightly squeezing the soft flesh, “just…do what makes you feel good, baby.”

you experimentally lift your hips, sliding up the length of his cock, the friction against your sensitive walls sending a wave of pleasure through you. you let out a soft gasp, your eyes fluttering shut. then you sank back down, letting him stretch you again. you continue this over and over, finding the rhythm of your pleasure.

mark let out a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat, his hips instinctively twitching upward to meet you. he was fighting for control over his own body. he didn’t want this to end quickly, wanting to savor every single second of your first time together.

“t-that feels s-so good, baby,” he groaned, reaching up to pull you down into an open-mouthed kiss, your tongue tasting of desperation and love, the kiss mirroring the slow, grinding pace of your hips.

as you found a rhythm together – mark’s hand wanders, sliding his fingers beneath you and rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit, his thumb applying just the right amount of pressure.

the combination was too much. the pleasure spiked, an electric current that snapped through your entire body. you arched your back, head tossing back as a loud, unrestrained moan ripped from your throat, echoing through the small bedroom.

both of you froze instantly.

you stopped mid-ride, your breath hitching, your heart pounding so loud. mark’s hand stayed frozen on your pussy, his eyes wide as he looked up at you. the silence that followed was deafening, making the distant music from the laptop sound like a roar.

you leaned down, your voice a frantic, hushed whisper, “fuck…mark, do you think your parents heard that?”

mark stared at you for a beat then a slow, wicked smirk spread across his lips, the one you only see when the restraint he practices snaps. he gripped your hips firmly, pulling you down hard against him.

“i honestly don’t care,” he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, sounding raw and hungry, “that was so hot.”

you leaned down and nipped at his lower lip, a playful smirk on your lips, “you’re such a dirty boy.”

“only for you,” he teases back, rolling his eyes playfully and earning a chuckle from you.

you giggled, “can you actually get on top? my knees are starting to hurt.”

mark didn’t need to be told twice. as he pulled out to reposition, you let out a small, disappointed whimper, at the feeling of emptiness. you scrambled together, limbs tangling in the sheets, until you were flat on your back and he was hovering over you.

“ready, baby?”

you nod in response.

the moment he slid back in in one deep thrust, both of you let out a simultaneous sigh of pure relief. riding him had been fun but being pinned beneath him felt different – more surrender, more intimate. you could focus entirely on the feeling of him as you sank into the mattress, your legs instinctively wrapping tightly around him.

mark moves with a steady rhythm, no longer holding back as much, the raw hunger in his eyes evident every time he looked down at you. as he drove deeper — his cock angled upward, hitting a specific, sensitive spot deep inside you.

your eyes rolled back into your head, fingers digging into his back, “oh god…right there…markie, right there,” you managed to whisper, your voice shaking.

he heard you loud and clear though, the sound of his name in that tone driving him crazy. he focused his movements, hitting that exact spot again and again. and with every stroke, your walls clamped down on him even tighter, squeezing his cock in pulses.

mark let out a choked sound, his jaw locking. he felt like he was losing his fucking mind. he was so close – so dangerously close – but he refused to finish without you.

“please come for me, baby—please,” he rasped, his voice sounding like gravel.

“just…don’t stop–,” you whisper in a moan.

he reached down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit once more, rubbing it with a frantic, expert intensity. that was your undoing. he leaned down and captured your lips in a desperate kiss, swallowing your moans into his own mouth.

you felt the tension snap as you peaked, your entire body shaking under the force of the orgasm, eyes shutting close, jaw slacked in a silent moan, as your toes curl, the heat traveling through you.

mark couldn’t hold on any longer. the feeling of you cumming around him was his final trigger.

“fuck, i cant–,” he whined against your cheek, his body stiffening. he gave one last, deep thrust, as he buried his face on the crook of your shoulders, spilling moans only reserved for your ears as he filled up the condom. he collapsed onto you, his heartbeat matching yours, both of you trying to catch your breath.

slowly, he lifted his head, pressing a lingering, tender kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips.

“i love you,” he whispered, his voice still raspy and broken from the intensity of the moment, “god, i love you so much.”

you reached up, framing his face with your hands, “i love you too, mark. so much.”

he let out a contented sigh, nuzzling into your neck one last time before he slowly pulled out of you. as he moved back slightly, he paused, his gaze dropping to where you were open and glistening. the sight of your swollen pussy inviting him. without a word, mark leaned back down, licking from your opening up to your clit.

you let out a sharp, sharky breath, your hips twitching instinctively, “mmm…markie…”

he hummed against your folds, tongue swirling around your clit, attempting to clean you up. but the pleasure was almost too much. your nerves were raw, every touch feeling too overwhelming.

“stop—,” you breathed, gently pushing at his shoulders, “stop, mark…it’s too much.”

“sorry,” he smiles sheepishly, “you just taste so good, baby.”

the words make you blush but you disguise it with a playful roll of your eyes. he kisses your inner thigh then before sitting back on his heels, looking down at his own cock which was still semi-hard and protected, the condom now filled with the evidence of his release.

a look of genuine confusion crossed his face. he looked at the condom, then at you, then back at the condom.

“wait,” he muttered, his brow furrowing, “how do i actually take this off without…you know, making a mess everywhere?”

you burst into a fit of giggles, the tension fully breaking as you grab his phone from the bedside table, unlocking it and clicking on the youtube app once again. mark lets out a chuckle as he lays beside you, watching you with adoration as you begin scrolling for another tutorial video.

on christmas morning, you woke up before him, thighs still feeling a bit sore. mark was still out cold by your side, his mouth parted slightly, his breathing slow and his hair a chaotic, beautiful mess against the pillow. he looked so cute. you lingered there for a moment, staring at him with a swelling warmth in your chest, taking a mental screenshot of this version of him.

but then the sound of the piano, a familiar melodic tune, drifted through the hallway. you quietly slip out of his bed, careful not to wake him. you make yourself presentable enough as you slip out of his room in your pajamas and mark’s oversized sweater still clinging to your body.

as you stepped into the living room, the music became clearer, filling the space with a warmth that matched the holiday decorations. mark’s mom was seated at the piano, her posture elegant, her fingers dancing across the keys with effortless grace. you stopped in the doorway, momentarily breathless, simply admiring the way she seemed to merge with the music.

the moment she noticed you, her entire face lit up, “oh! good morning sweetheart,” she beamed, her fingers never missing a beat.

“good morning, mrs. lee…that sounds really beautiful,” you praise her.

“come–come sit,” she urged, gesturing toward the space beside her.

you obeyed, sliding into the space next to her. she paused for a heartbeat, looking at you with a flicker of curiosity and excitement, “do you know how to play?”

of course you knew how to play. piano lessons were a must in your world. a sign of properness and wealth. but beyond the expectations of your father, you had genuinely fallen in love with the instrument. you loved the way a single chord could express a grief or a joy that words were too clumsy to handle.

you nod softly, “yes…i can play.”

“oh! that’s wonderful! join me then,” she says, her excitement increasing tenfold.

you let out a small, shy chuckle before your fingers found the higher register of the keys, tentatively entering her melody. you followed her lead, your notes weaving around hers, creating a rich harmony that filled the room.

at one point, in a moment of playful improvisation, the two of you hit two notes that just sounded horrible together. the sound was jarring and terribly off-key, clashing against the melody. the silence that followed lasted only a second before you both burst into delighted laughter, the sound echoing through the house, warm and unfiltered.

unbeknownst to you, mark was standing in the shadows of the hallway. he had woken up to the sound of music and had followed it, stopping just short of the living room. he leaned against the doorframe, watching. he can’t help the tender smile spreading across his lips as he looked at you – in his sweater, laughing with his mother, your fingers on the keys – and felt a surge of love so strong it nearly knocked the wind out of him.

there were so many things he still didn’t know about you. so many hidden layers, secret talents, and quiet fears he had yet to uncover. but as he watched you, he felt a profound sense of peace. after the promises whispered last night, he knew he didn’t have to rush. he was grateful that he now had forever to learn everything there was to know about you.

SHANGHAI, CHINA: PRESENT TIME

💎 THE FATHER. 💎

“the boss will see you shortly, please follow me,” winter’s voice was quiet and professional as she led the zhong team deeper into the mansion. mr. zhong walked beside her, unimpressed. meanwhile, karina couldn’t stop looking around, her expression a mix of awe and curiosity.

mark couldn’t blame her. the place was absurd in its scale and its extravagance. every room they passed looked like something straight out of an architectural magazine. floor to ceiling windows overlooked the gardens, paintings that probably cost more than entire houses hung from the walls, and the polished marble beneath their feet reflected the chandeliers above them.

it was beautiful. and mark fucking hated it – he hated the cold, pale blue of the walls. the endless hallways that felt designed to keep people apart. the silence, a heavy suffocating void.

as they walked, a sickening realiztion settled in his gut – this was your world. the loneliness he felt just walking through these halls was likely the only constant companion you had ever known.

after passing several more hallways, winter finally stopped before a pair of open double doors. immediately, mark’s gaze locked onto the man standing guard beside the entrance. his heart skipped. it was him. the same man from seoul. the one you had claimed was “just asking for directions.” their eyes met and a flash of mutual recognition sparked between them. the security guard din’t look away. instead, his expression softened into something that looked painfully like pity, almost sad, as if he knew a secret that was about to break mark’s world apart.

but before mark can dwell on it, a voice shattered the silence – a voice that sounded like a scream from the depths of a drowning soul.

“I STILL HAVE TWO MONTHS!”

the entire hallway froze.

“THAT WAS OUR DEAL! WHY ARE YOU MOVING THE WEDDING TO NEXT WEEK?!”

karina’s eyes widened, her head snapping toward her best friend. mark felt his stomach drop.

“please wait a while,” winter intervened quickly, pointing to the velvet chairs lined against the wall. mr. zhong, ever the stoic, sat down without a word, his face a mask of indifference as he motioned for mark and karina to do the same. none of them spoke.

inside the office, a man’s voice answered. not loud. not angry. not screaming. he didn’t need to. his voice was deep, controlled, and resonated with a terrifying level of absolute authority. a voice of a man who didn’t ask for things – he dictated them. he was power itself.

“y/n. i refuse to continue discussing this.”

mark had never met your father, but in that single sentence, he understood exactly who the man was. it was chilling how calm he sounded. like the two of you were just having another business disagreement and not discussing your entire life.

“I’M NOT MARRYING HIM!” you yelled. the sound raw. the sound of someone who had run out of options, out of breath, and out of hope. mark has never heard you sound like that before.

and then, your father laughed, dry and humorless that sent a shiver down mark’s spine.

“and what?” he asked, his tone dripping with a cruel, mocking curiosity, “you’re going to keep waiting around for that boy you swear loves you?”

mark’s breath hitched, very aware the he was that boy.

“i gave you more than enough time,” your father continued, his voice sounding bored, almost exhausted by your resistance, “it has been reported to me that you already proposed to him.”

mark can’t breathe. his lungs seized and he felt the world tilt on its axis.

“and he turned you down,” he snickered, like being right makes him happy.

every word felt like a knife to mark’s chest.

“–so stop playing these games y/n,” his voice hardened, the boredom replaced by a sharp, cutting edge, “it’s embarrassing for my reputation.”

and that was your ugly truth wasn’t it?

that this whole time – you waited. you had been in a state of suspended time, waiting for mark to reach his dreams, for him to become a man your father couldn’t dismiss. waited for a version of him that could stand beside you without being crushed by the weight of your family’s empire.

for five whole years, your world had stopped. you had lived in a frozen moment of hope, clinging to the memory of a christmas day, believing that the purity of that love was a tether strong enough to pull you back to him when the time came. you had played a dangerous game of patience, enduring the suffocating grip of your father, all while believing that if mark just reached his dreams, he would be the one to rescue you.

you had simply failed to factor in the most devastating variable – that he would no longer want to stand by you. and how could he? in his eyes, you weren’t a prisoner. you were the one who left him.

“i don’t love dejun” your voice came again, smaller this time, fragile and utterly broken.

“you don’t need to.” the answer came instantly and something dark flashed across mark’s expression.

“love isn’t necessary.”

your father sounded almost annoyed now, as if your desire for affection was a tedious error he had to correct.

“so because you’re miserable…” your voice cracked, “i have to be miserable, too?”

mark sat frozen in his chair, his knuckles white. the picture is so clear to him now – the bruise he’d noticed. the hollow loneliness in your eyes. the sudden, desperate proposal you had sent him, the way you whispered his name in the conference room, not as a command, but as a prayer.

“not everyone gets to have what they want,” your father replied, his tone flat.

then–very quietly–so soft that everyone outside almost missed it, you said–

“you did. you married who you loved.”

the silence that followed was predatory. slowly, your father rose from his chair, “you know nothing.”

“everyone tells me mother loved you,” you whispered, the bravery of the desperation taking over.

“enough.”

“and i know you wanted to choose her over me.”

“enough.”

and i know–”

“ENOUGH!”

the roar shook the very foundations of the mansion, followed immediately by a sharp, sickening slap! – the sound of his palm connecting with your cheek, ringing throughout the office and echoing into the hallway. you didn’t scream. you didn’t even gasp. you barely reacted at all, a chilling testament to how accustomed you had become to the violence.

but outside the doors, mark’s entire body stiffened, his pulse pounding violently in his ears, the sudden urge to walk-in coursing through him. but before he could move a muscle, a hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

“sit down.”

mark looked at mr. zhong in utter disbelief. the younger man’s expression was tight, his eyes clouded with a weary, distant soundness. his voice a low, commanding warning.

“don’t get in the way of family matters.”

“but–”

“it isn’t our place.”

the words felt like a slap to mark’s own face. who was he in this world? in this fortress of power and blood, he was nothing. he was a researcher, an employee, a ghost. he had zero leverage over the monster in that room.

he looked around, his gaze frantic. he saw the security guard who hadn’t moved an inch. what kind of security guard doesn’t protect? he looked at the maids who continued their tasks with robotic precision, their faces blank. no surprise. no shock. no horror. like it was just another day. he looked at winter, who was staring intently at the wall, her jaw clenched, pretending nothing happened.

mark felt sick.

how often does this happen? how often have you cried behind closed doors? how many bruises had gone unnoticed because nobody dared to notice them? how many times have you walked out smiling afterward, pretending along with everyone else?

all this time, he had convinced himself you had turned into ice. he thought you were cold, manipulative — a woman who had traded her heart for a corporate throne. he thought you had become someone he didn’t recognize. he realized now, with a crushing weight in his chest, that you hadn’t changed. you had just learned how to survive.

then — you walked out of the office.

mark’s gaze is stuck on you as you stopped for a fraction of a second, your eyes rimmed with a raw, painful red. your lower lip split slightly, a small bead of crimson blooming against your skin. it wasn’t enough to alarm a stranger – but more than enough for him. enough for the man who memorized every curve of your face. enough for the man who couldn’t stop seeing you in every dream. enough for the man who still loves you.

you froze when you saw him, not expecting an audience to your shame.

for a second, your expression crumbled. and mark saw her – the girl from seoul. the girl who taught him the meaning of love. the girl who gave him the entire world.

then, just as quickly, you forced back the mask – cold. untouchable. professional. you looked right through him, your eyes turning into shards of glass, and you said nothing, simply walking away, the click of your heels on the marble sounding like a countdown.

mark remained standing there, paralyzed. for the first time since seeing you again, the anger, the confusion and the hurt were gone. in their place was a hot, blinding fury. not at you. but at the silence of the hallway, the maids, the guard – the man behind the double doors who thought power gave him the right to destroy.

and most of all, he was furious at himself.

you had been drowning in plain sight. you had reached out your hand in the only way you knew how. and for someone who prided himself on his brilliance, mark realized he had been the blindest man in the room.

PART TWO.

an: oof 🫪🫪 well that was an emotional roller coaster...but have no fear! we're not done yet! next part will heal you, i promise. just wait a little while, okay? also i hope the different timelines aren’t too confusing! let me know what you think of this part! thank you for reading :3

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