Summary: Chan was certain that you two should never have broken up. So, he made up his mindâhe was going to find a way to be with you again.
Chan smirked at the bouquet of roses sitting on his counter, the vibrant petals almost mocking him. He felt betrayedâby himself, by the memories that refused to fade. Who was there to blame? It was February 14th, after all. A day that used to mean something. A day when heâd pick out flowers for youânever chocolates, because you didnât like them.
Now, he was on the verge of laughing at himself. How pathetic was it that, even after a year, he still remembered every little thing about you? The way you preferred lilies over roses but accepted them anyway because he had terrible taste in flowers. The way youâd roll your eyes at grand gestures but secretly adored them. The way Valentineâs Day had never really mattered to youâuntil it did.
And yet, here he was, staring at a bouquet that wasnât even meant for you, feeling like a fool.
"That's pretty," you had said a year ago, your gaze lingering on the red roses displayed in the flower shop window as you passed by.
"You want it?" Chan had asked playfully, his tone light but his intent obvious. He would have gotten them for you in a heartbeat.
You chuckled, shaking your head. "There's no reason to get me flowers."
Chan had only smiled, his fingers brushing gently against your cheek as he steered the wheel with his other hand. His voice was soft yet certain when he said, "I don't even need a reason to give you the world."
Now, standing in his kitchen, Chan exhaled sharply, shaking his head at himself. How pathetic. How utterly ridiculous that even after a year, the memory still clung to him like a ghost that refused to be exorcised.
Pushing himself up from the barstool, he grabbed the bouquet in one swift motion. His strides were long and deliberate as he walked to the bin, gripping the same exact roses you had once admired. Without a second thought, he tossed them in.
The petals rustled against the trash bag, a quiet, almost mocking sound. Chan stared for a moment longer, then turned away, jaw clenched.
It was just a bouquet of flowers. Just another February 14th. And yet, it still felt like letting go.
The doorbell rang. Chan let out a sigh, already knowing who it was. It had to be Hansol and Seungkwan.
Dragging himself toward the monitor, he glanced at the screen and chuckled when his guess was confirmedâhis two friends stood outside, waiting.
"Go," Chan muttered as he pressed the button to let them in.
He barely lifted his finger before Hansolâs amused laughter came through the speaker, followed by Seungkwanâs dramatic whine. "Why? We brought chicken!"
Shaking his head, Chan unlocked the door. Moments later, they strolled into his living room like they owned the place, setting down a box of fried chicken and a few cans of beer on the coffee table. Chan simply stood there, watching them move around, as if they had done this a thousand times before.
"Why are you guys here?" he finally asked, settling onto the couch.
"Canât we visit our favorite little brother?" Seungkwan teased, grinning.
Chan cringed. "Never say that again."
Hansol chuckled, stretching his arms before reaching for a can of beer. "Thereâs a new chicken shop nearby. Everyone says itâs good."
Chan smirked at the excuse. Yeah, right. Deep down, he knew the truth.
A year ago, they were here too. Sitting in this very spot. Eating chicken. Drinking beer. Trying to distract him the night you walked out of his life.
*
Chan stepped into the bakery, his eyes instinctively scanning the space. The warm scent of freshly baked bread filled the air, but it did little to calm the nervous hammering in his chest. His breath hitched at the thought of seeing you again.
Hansolâcompletely out of sobriety that nightâhad blurted out something that caught Chan off guard. His so-called "new favorite bakery," the one where he always grabbed kaya bread before practice, was your bakery.
"She opened a bakery?" Chan had blinked, his voice laced with disbelief. Opening a bakery had always been your dream.
Hansol had nodded, looking almost guilty. "I've known since, like, half a year ago."
Seungkwan had chimed in with a sigh, "Weâve known. I told him about the bakery⊠and we met her."
Chan had tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing. "Why are you telling me this?"
Then, as if catching himself, he shook his head. "NoâI mean⊠Thatâs great news. She always wanted this." He let out a forced chuckle, but the nervous energy lingered. "I just donât get why youâre telling me now."
Seungkwan and Hansol exchanged glances before Seungkwan exhaled. "I met her last week," he admitted, pausing for a beat before continuing. "And⊠she asked about you."
Chan's stomach twisted. He swallowed.
"Nowâhear me out," Seungkwan pressed on, his voice softer, more careful. "I know the breakup wasnât great. I get it. But from where Iâm standing, it seems like you two still have feelings for each other."
What made him say that?
Had he been that obvious? Had he been showing everyone that he still had feelings for you?
Chan didnât like the thought of it. The idea that his emotions were visibleâthat anyone could see right through himâmade his stomach churn. He didnât want people to think he was pathetic, still holding on to someone who had walked away.
Still loving someone who had already left him.
"What can I help you with?" a shopkeeper asked as Chan wandered through the bakery, his eyes subtly scanning the space.
He turned his head, expectingâhopingâto see you. But it was just the shopkeeper.
Forcing a polite smile, Chan bit down on his lower lip, trying to push away his disappointment. "Do you have any recommendations?" he asked, shifting his attention to the employee.
The shopkeeper's face lit up as he gestured toward the sandwich section. "Hereâs our new menu! We have tuna, beef, and bacon sandwichesâperfect for breakfast."
Chan nodded absentmindedly, barely registering the words. "Iâll take ten bacon and ten beef, please." He pulled his wallet from his pocket, handing over his card.
The shopkeeper quickly packed the order, then, to Chanâs surprise, handed him a cup of Americano with a bright smile. "This oneâs on the house. Thank you so much!"
Chan hesitated before lifting the cup slightly in acknowledgment. "Oh, you donât have to⊠but thanks," he murmured, accepting the drink.
Once he settled into his car, he glanced at the neatly packed boxes of sandwiches in the backseat. He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head at himself. Pathetic.
Taking a sip of the Americano as he pulled onto the road, he let the familiar bitterness settle on his tongueâexcept, something was different. His brows furrowed as he pulled the cup away, eyeing it curiously.
That taste.
Americano with berry syrup.
Your favorite.
*
Chan scrunched up his face the moment the taste hit his tongue.
You burst into laughter at his expression, quickly pulling the cup away from him. "Why do you look like that?" you teased, amusement dancing in your eyes.
"It's weird!" Chan exclaimed, wiping his lips as if that would rid him of the lingering taste. "Itâs bitter, sweet, and sour all at once. Coffee shouldnât taste like this."
You smiled, holding the cup close to your chest. "No⊠it tastes good. It has everythingâthe sweetness, the bitterness, and the tang of berries. Just like life."
Chan let out a chuckle, raising a brow. "Since when did you get this sentimental?"
You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. "Excuse me? Iâve always been a sentimental person!"
Chan shook his head, giving you a playful look of disbelief. "You? Sentimental?" He scoffed. "You literally just leave my goodnight texts on read every night."
You giggled, tilting your head at him. "Thatâs because theyâre too sweet. I was speechless."
Chan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Oh, so you were so speechless that you couldnât even type a single reply?"
Chan shook his head, exhaling as he tossed the empty cup into the trash before stepping into the practice room.
From across the room, Seungkwanâs sharp eyes immediately caught sight of the plastic bags in Chanâs hands. He recognized the logo instantlyâit was your bakery. His gaze flickered to Chan, suspicion creeping into his expression.
Hansol, however, was too excited about the food to notice anything. The moment he got his hands on a sandwich, he eagerly unwrapped it and took a huge bite. "This is delicious!" he mumbled, already reaching for another.
Seungkwan, still observing Chan, took a bite of his own.
"It does taste good. Where did you get this, Chan?"
Before Chan could answer, the other members in the roomâwho had also helped themselves to the sandwichesâstarted chiming in.
"Whoa, this is really good."
"I could eat this every day."
"Seriously, where did you buy these?"
Chan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at the growing pile of empty sandwich wrappers. He hadn't planned for this much attention.
"This is from the place where I always get my kaya bread," Hansol said nonchalantly, taking another bite.
But the moment the words left his mouth, his chewing slowed. His eyes widened as realization sank in, and he snapped his head toward Chan.
"Waitâreally?!"
As if finally processing his own words, Hansol immediately glared at the younger, his eyes practically screaming, You went there?!
Chan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided Hansolâs accusing stare. He knew this was coming. Meanwhile, Seungkwan let out a knowing exhale, arms crossed, as if he had expected this exact scene to unfold.
The other members, noticing the sudden shift in Hansolâs behavior, exchanged confused glances.
"Whatâs up with him?" one of them muttered, glancing between Hansol and Chan.
Seungkwan, ever the smooth talker, quickly waved them off with a casual grin. "Ah, you know Hansol. Heâs just being a little extra again."
Hansol scoffed but kept his mouth shut, though the way he kept side-eyeing Chan made it obviousâthis conversation wasnât over.
*
"He came again today."
You glanced up as you packed the leftover pastries into the boxes Sunoo had set up on the counter. You knew exactly who he was talking aboutâChan, your idol ex-boyfriend. But for the sake of keeping up appearances (and maybe your own pride), you feigned ignorance.
"Who?" you asked, keeping your voice light.
Sunoo shrugged, his legs dangling off the counter like a kid who had just discovered something amusing. His knowing smirk didnât help.
"That well-known ex of yours," he mumbled.
You snorted. "No one even knows we were dating. Never got caught." There was a hint of pride in your voice, as if that secrecy had been some kind of achievement.
Sunoo rolled his eyes. "I mean that well-known person who also happens to be your ex-boyfriend. Stop pretending you're not affected! Heâs been coming here almost every day for a week."
Your hands stilled for a moment, but you quickly resumed packing, forcing a chuckle. "Maybe he just really likes the sandwiches."
Sunoo gave you a deadpan stare. "Right. And Iâm the Crown Prince of Korea."
"And?" you asked, sealing the box filled with leftover donuts before heading to the sink to wash your hands.
"And youâve been hiding in the kitchen every single time he comes in, i thought you still love him." Sunoo huffed in frustration, arms crossed over his chest. The pout on his face made him look even cuter than usual, which only made you laugh.
"I do..." you admitted, drying your hands.
Sunooâs eyebrows shot up. "Then?"
"Thatâs it," you shrugged, lifting the box into your arms.
Sunoo let out an exaggerated sigh, grabbing another box and trailing behind you as you made your way to the exit where your car was parked.
You popped open the backseat door and carefully placed the boxes inside. Tonight, youâd be dropping off the leftovers at the nearest police stationâsomething you did regularly.
Sunoo, still not letting the topic go, leaned against the car with a pointed look. "With him constantly visiting, donât you think itâs time to get back together? I mean, he might feel the same way."
You froze for just a second before turning to face him. Sunoo shifted under your gaze, suddenly looking unsure.
"Having the same feelings isnât enough to get back together," you said softly.
Sunoo shrugged. "But at least it gives you a reason. Isn't love about finding a reason?"
You chuckled at his comment. "You're right. But how do you know that? Didnât you just graduate high school?"
Sunoo snorted as if you had just said the dumbest thing heâd heard all year. "I mightâve dated more people than you, and I only graduated high school."
You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, his voice softened. "But really. Stop denying your feelings. Thatâs whatâs hurting you the most."
You sighed, slipping into the driver's seat. Sunoo stood there, watching you expectantly, but you simply started the car and drove away.
You werenât denying your feelings. You never had.
You let them flow, like water, even after breaking up with Chan. You still celebrated his birthday and his bandâs anniversary by preparing special treats at your bakery. You still kept up with his activities on social media.
You never once denied the warmth that still lingered in your heart.
But you refused to give yourself false hope.
The idea that Chan might still feel the same wayâit was too dangerous to entertain. When Seungkwan and Hansol had shown up at your bakery out of nowhere, catching you off guard, they reassured you that they held no resentment toward you. Then, just as casually, they mentioned that Chan had gone through the hardest year of his life after the breakup. That he hadnât shown a single sign of moving on.
And that was unlike him.
This was Chanâa man who had never let himself be alone for long. A man who, before you, had always found himself in a relationship.
Yet, a year had passed since you walked out that door. And he was still alone.
*
Meeting you at the police station wasnât something on his to-do listânot today, not this month, not even this year. Yet, here you were.
Chan had just been about to step out, his younger brother trailing behind him, when he saw you standing there, frozen in place, holding a box of what he assumed were pastries. The sight of you made his heart race, and he felt a mix of surprise and anxiety.
Beside him, his brother cleared his throat awkwardly, as if he wasnât the reason Chan was here in the first place.
Great. Another reason to slap the remaining puberty out of his high school brother:
1. Getting into a fight with another student.
2. Making Chan come all the way here to pick him up.
3. And nowâleading him straight to you.
Also, what the hell were you doing here with pastries?
Chan's mind raced. He hadn't seen you since the breakup, and now, here you were, looking as beautiful as ever.
Before either of you could speak, an officer approached, breaking the thick tension hanging between you and Chan.
"Ms. Ji, good evening. Long time no see," the officer greeted politely.
Chan immediately shifted his gaze, suddenly very interested in the interior of the police station. He kept his expression neutral, but his ears burned at the sound of your name.
You smiled at the officer, handing him the box of pastries. "Good job for today, Officer. Thanks for the hard work." Your voice was softâjust like it used to be when youâd ask him if he had eaten after a long, exhausting day.
The officer beamed at you. "You didnât have to come all the way here for this, Ms. Ji. But thank you so much!"
Then, as if only just noticing the thick, unspoken air between you and Chan, the officer glanced between the two of you.
"Do you two know each other?" he asked, clearly curious.
Chan stiffened. He wanted to say something, anything, but his throat felt dry.
But you? You barely hesitated.
"Weâre acquaintances," you replied smoothly, sparing Chan the briefest glance before looking away again.
"I should go, good evening." You bid the officer goodbye with a polite nod, turning on your heel to leave. The officer walked you out to the entrance.
Chan looked conflicted, exhaling sharply before running a hand through his hair. Then, with a pointed look at his younger brotherâa silent commandâhe made his intentions clear.
Go hail a cab.
For once, his brother didnât argue. He simply sighed, pulling out his phone as he stepped toward the curb. Thank goodness. Even though he had just been detained for fighting with another student, at least he had the decency to recognize that Chanâs love life was a bigger mess.
Chan, however, had no time to dwell on that. His long strides carried him after you, his heartbeat picking up as the crisp night air bit at his skin.
"Hey."
You stopped.
Your fingers instinctively tightened around the strap of your bag before you slowly turned to face him.
"Hey."
It had been over a year, yet your voice still sounded exactly the sameâsoft, steady, untouched by heartbreak.
Chan swallowed, his hands digging deeper into his pockets. How did you still manage to look so unaffected?
"You, uh⊠come here often?"
A dry breath of amusement left you as you tilted your head slightly. "If youâre trying to make a joke, that was a terrible attempt."
He huffed out a short chuckle, shaking his head at himself. "Yeah, figured." His gaze flickered to the police station building, then back to the box in your arms. "You do this a lot? Bringing pastries to the station?"
You shrugged, adjusting your grip on the box. "Yeah. They work long hours, and I always have leftovers. Seemed like a good way to put them to use."
Chan nodded, but his expression remained unreadable. A small muscle in his jaw twitched, like he wanted to say something but couldnât quite figure out how.
Of course youâd do something like this. Thoughtful. Considerate. Always looking out for others.
Still the same.
And yet, he couldnât say the same about himself.
The silence between you stretched, thick with unspoken words. The last time you had been this close, it had been different. Warmer. Familiar. Now, there was a distance that couldnât be measured in steps.
Chan exhaled, his breath visible in the cold. "Itâs been a while."
You gave a small nod, your gaze unreadable. "Yeah, it has."
There were a million things he wanted to ask. How have you been? Are you happy? Do you still think about me the way I still think about you? But instead, all that came out wasâ
"You look good."
The words settled between you, heavier than they should have been.
You pressed your lips together before offering a small smile, the kind that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Thanks."
Chan wanted to say more, to keep you standing there just a little longer, but before he could, a car honked nearby. His brother waved him over from the curb, signaling that the cab had arrived.
You took that as your cue to leave, adjusting your grip on the box before turning slightly. "I should get going."
He nodded, even though everything in him wanted to stop you. "Yeah⊠me too."
Another pause. Another breath caught between the past and present.
"Take care, Chan."
And just like that, you were walking away.
Chan stood there, watching as you disappeared down the sidewalk, his hands clenching into fists in his pockets.
Funny. He had spent so much time convincing himself that seeing you again wouldnât change anything.
But now, he wasnât so sure.
*
That night, Chan found himself doing something he never thought he wouldâscrolling through your social media. The account he had unblocked just hours ago.
You didnât post often, just the occasional pictures with friends or snapshots of your bakery. But as he scrolled, his eyes caught on the detailsâthe way your hair had grown out before you cut it again, the soft waves framing your face in a way that tugged at something deep in his chest. That image stayed with him longer than he expected, lingering in the back of his mind like an old song he couldnât shake.
Then his finger stopped.
A photo of your bakery.
Decorated for his birthday.
Chanâs eyes narrowed, his breath catching slightly as he took in the details. His face on the banners, the pastries colored to match his bandâs themeâevery little thing meticulously arranged. And the post date? Just last month.
Why would you do this?
You had no reason to. You werenât together anymore. If anything, he thought you resented the fact that he had chosen his career over you.
Wasnât that why you broke up in the first place?
A strange feeling curled in his stomach. He didnât know what it wasâregret? Hope? Confusion?
But then, as he scrolled further, the feeling twisted into something else entirely.
A group photo.
You, smiling, standing among friends. And beside you, a man.
His arm slung casually over your shoulders. Too casual. Too comfortable.
Chanâs jaw clenched. His fingers tightened around his phone as he zoomed in slightly, analyzing the guy like it was second nature. As a man himself, he knew that kind of touch. It wasnât just friendly. There was something in the way the guy stood close to you, the way he seemed at ease, like he belonged there.
"Who the hell is this?" he muttered, brows furrowing.
Like a magnet, his eyes kept finding the same man in different posts. Sitting beside you. Standing beside you. Slinging his arm around yours. Even touching your cheek in one pictureâsomething that had Chanâs stomach flipping uncomfortably.
"Whatâs up with this guy?" He snorted, irritation creeping into his tone.
He tried to check the guyâs profile, but you hadnât tagged anyone. Not a single name. Smart. Frustratingly so.
And thenâ
A notification.
You had just posted an Instagram story.
Chan tapped on it immediately.
A simple, cryptic sentence:
âEven if thereâs a reason⊠could it be the reason?â
His brows shot up.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
He stared at the words, trying to decipher them, trying to connect them to the birthday post, to the pictures with that guy, to you.
And for the first time in a long while, he felt something unfamiliar creeping inâ
The unsettling thought that maybe, just maybeâ
He had been too late.
*
"That's your problem, Lee Chan. You're too possessive but insecure at the same time."
Seungkwan didn't hold back as he took a sip of his drink, lounging comfortably in his apartment. He, Jeonghan, and Chan had settled into an impromptu drinking session after Chan had shown up unannounced, dragging along bottles of soju and cans of beerâclearly looking for an outlet.
Jeonghan raised a brow, intrigued by the turn of conversation. âThat could be trueâŠâ
Seungkwan chuckled, shaking his head. âThat is true. If you want to have a good relationship, you only need oneâeither confidence or possessiveness. Look at Mingyu and Seungcheol hyung.â
"Seungcheol is a bit possessive, though," Jeonghan pointed out.
Seungkwan waved a dismissive hand. "Thatâs just a concept. It makes him look cute."
Chan groaned, running a hand down his face. âBut think about itâhow could I not be insecure when she never wanted to introduce me to her friends? Was it because of that guy?â His voice tightened on the last part, irritation creeping in.
Seungkwan sighed, exasperated. He pointed a finger at Chan to Jeonghan. âLook at this fool. Youâre an idol, Chan. How could she introduce an idol as her boyfriend? Whereâs your brain? Did you leave it behind at practice?â
Jeonghan nodded, though he was still weighing both sides. "I actually get where Chanâs coming from, though. Y/n is very beautiful, and sheâs competent tooâa lot of men want her. But she never really made it clear that she was off-limits.â
Chanâs eyes widened in relief. âRight?! And I was so patient, trying to understand her, trying to make it work. But she was the one who broke up with me?â His voice rose slightly, frustration evident. To anyone else, it would have sounded like a fresh wound rather than something that had happened a year ago.
He put his can of beer down a little too abruptly, the sound echoing in the quiet of Seungkwanâs living room.
Jeonghan glanced at him, amused but also slightly concerned. âWhat did she say when she broke up with you?â
Chan inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. The memory crashed into him like a waveâtoo vivid, too raw, even after all this time.
It had been the day after Valentineâs Day.
Chan had just gotten back from a three-day trip abroad, exhausted beyond belief, desperate for nothing more than a proper rest. He had been on edge all day, feeling sensitive after the long flight. But the moment he stepped into his apartment, his fatigue was replaced by confusion.
Your suitcase was sitting in the living room.
Your bag rested beside it.
His heart sank.
Hadnât you two been arguing all week? Was this about Valentineâs Day? Had it really come to this?
"Letâs not do this," Chan had said the moment he saw you emerge from the bedroom, another bag in your hand.
You didnât look at him. Didnât even pause. You simply walked forward, grabbing your luggage as if he wasnât even standing there.
Chan moved quickly, stepping in front of you, blocking your path. âWhere are you going?â
Your expression was unreadable when you finally met his gaze. "Home."
Chanâs chest tightened. "This is your home," he insisted.
But you shook your head. "Letâs take a break."
Chan had never believed in breaks. There was no such thing in his dictionary. A break was just a softer way to say breakup. And if you wanted to break up, then he deserved to at least know why.
"Is this because I chose work over spending Valentineâs Day with you?" he demanded, irritation creeping into his voice.
You frowned slightly. "Thatâs what you think of me?" A bitter smile tugged at your lips. "Then letâs say thatâs the reason."
Chanâs frustration spiked. "What do you mean? At least explain it to me!"
You just shook your head again, gripping your luggage and moving past him.
"How can I let you go if you donât tell me the real reason?"
That was when you turned to face him, your voice quiet but firm.
"You said it yourselfâ you chose work over me. Thatâs the reason."
Chan had stared at you, searching for something in your face. A crack in your expression. A hesitation. Anything that would tell him that you didnât mean it.
But you nodded, steady. Unwavering.
"Yeah."
And then you walked out of the door, left him.
Back in Seungkwanâs apartment, silence stretched between the three of them after Chan finished recounting the memory.
Seungkwan was the first to break it, crossing his arms over his chest. "If I were you, I wouldnât believe it."
Chan shot him a skeptical look. "Why? She said it herself."
Seungkwan sighed, shaking his head. âYou know⊠sometimes women donât tell the truthânot because they want to lie, but because they donât want to hurt you more than necessary.â
Jeonghan, who had been silently listening, hummed in agreement.
"And maybe," Seungkwan added, his voice softer, "that was the least painful thing she could say to you."
*
"I'm sorry, but we're cloâ"
Your words faltered the moment you saw who stood in front of the entrance.
Chan.
There, standing just beyond the threshold, was Chan. His presence felt almost out of place against the warm glow of your bakeryâs lights, his frame silhouetted by the dim streetlamps outside. He held a paper bag in one hand, gripping it just a little too tightly. He looked unsureâout of place, as if he wasnât sure whether he should be standing there at all.
For a second, neither of you spoke. The quiet between you was filled with things unsaid, memories neither of you had dared to touch for too long.
Then, finally, you found your voice.
"Chan⊠Hey," you greeted, pushing open the counter divider to step closer to him.
You glanced at the clock. 10 PM. The bakery had closed an hour ago, yet here he was, standing at your doorstep like he had something important to say.
"I havenât come here in a week," he said abruptly, as if that explained his presence.
You nodded, already aware of it. It wasnât hard to notice when someone like him stopped showing up. He had been coming almost every morningâuntil that night at the police station. After that, he disappeared.
Your eyes flickered to the bag in his hand. Before you could ask, he extended it toward you.
"I was in Italy for a week," he said, shifting slightly. "I got you a bottle of wine from a local winery there."
Surprise flickered across your face as you carefully took the bag from him. You peeked inside, fingers tracing over the sleek packaging before your eyes landed on the label.
Made in 1999.
Your lips parted slightly. That was the year Chan was born. The wine was as old as he was.
"You didnât have to," you murmured, glancing up at him. "This mustâve been expensive."
Chan shrugged, his eyes darting toward the bakeryâs interior instead of meeting yours. "I just⊠I wanted to thank you. For the birthday event. The fans mustâve loved it."
Your heart clenched at that. He was referring to the special decorations you had set up last monthâhis face on banners, pastries in his bandâs colors. At the time, you werenât even sure why you had done it. Maybe it was just an old habit you couldn't shake, or maybe it was something else.
You bit your bottom lip, your gaze shifting to the wine glasses sitting on a cabinet nearby.
Without thinking, you walked over, grabbing two and setting them on a small table near the counter.
"Letâs drink it together," you said, glancing at him over your shoulder.
Chan immediately waved his hand. "No, itâs a present. You should keep it."
You smiled, tilting your head slightly. "Itâs okay." A small chuckle escaped your lips. "I donât like drinking alone."
The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them.
Because once upon a time, he had been the one you shared drinks with. Late-night conversations, quiet moments, the kind of familiarity that felt effortless.
And now, standing across from him, you werenât sure if you were trying to relive a memoryâ
Or trying to forget one.
"Your worker..." Chan started, his voice casual yet laced with something unreadable.
You turned to him as you poured the deep red wine into his glass, the rich aroma filling the small space between you. He looked as charismatic as ever, effortlessly commanding attention even in something as simple as denim pants and a loose white shirt. His long hair, tucked neatly behind his ears, framed his face in a way that made your breath hitchâa sight you hadnât expected to affect you so much. Unfair. So much unfair.
"Sunoo?" You guessed, already knowing your overly enthusiastic employee was the likely subject. Sunoo had a knack for keeping the bakery alive with his energy and charm, but sometimesâjust sometimesâyou wished heâd mind his own business, that little menace.
Chan nodded, confirming your suspicion. "Yeah, I think itâs Sunoo. He always makes me that Americano with berry syrup."
You froze.
Oh, dear god.
You needed to sit down. Or disappear. Preferably both.
Internally, you launched into a full-scale attack on Sunoo. That little rascal. That absolute traitor. You shouldâve known better than to trust him near the espresso machine unsupervised.
You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "Oh my god. Chan, I am so sorry. You hate that flavor, donât you?"
Chan chuckled, waving it off. "Yeah, but itâs fine. He didnât know."
"No, itâs not fine!" you wailed dramatically, gripping the wine bottle like a lifeline. "I canât believe heâs been sabotaging your morning coffee all this time. What should I do to make it up to you? Free pastries? Free coffee for life? A legally binding contract that bans Sunoo from touching the espresso machine ever again?"
Chan laughed, shaking his head. "You donât have to do all that."
"No, I do," you insisted. "And while Iâm at it, I might need to stage an intervention for Sunoo. What was he thinking? Who just decides to put berry syrup in an Americano?!"
Chan grinned, watching your mini meltdown with mild amusement. "Maybe he was just trying to be creative?"
You pointed an accusatory finger at him. "No. No. We do not encourage Sunooâs creative coffee experiments. Thatâs how we ended up with the Matcha Espresso Disaster of last year."
Chan laughed even harder, and for a moment, the bakery felt a little lighter, like you werenât two exes dancing around old wounds.
Still, you were going to have a very serious conversation with Sunoo in the morning.
"Have dinner with me."
Chanâs voice cut through the quiet hum of the bakery, steady but carrying something unspokenâsomething heavy.
Your breath hitched for just a second. "Iâm sorry, what?" The words tumbled out before you could catch them, your brows furrowing in disbelief.
Chan didnât flinch. He only nodded, his gaze locked onto yours with a quiet urgency. "Have dinner with me this weekend. You said you wanted to make it up to me, right?"
A soft, nervous laugh escaped you, but it did nothing to ease the sudden tension that thickened the air. "Chan⊠I donât thinkâ"
"As a friend," he cut in, his voice quieter this time, almost pleading. "Just as a friend. Please." His Adamâs apple bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers curling slightly against the counter. "Itâs been a while since we really talked."
Your chest tightened. You glanced down at the glass in your hand, as if the deep red of the wine might offer you an escape. "Weâre talking now, arenât we?" You tried to sound casual, but your voice came out softer than you intended.
Chan let out a breathâpart scoff, part something else. Then, he leaned in just slightly, the warmth of his presence making it impossible to ignore him.
He licked his lower lip, eyes still on you, unwavering.
"Are we?"
*
You stepped into his house just as the clock struck seven. Chanâs eyes immediately landed on the plastic bag in your handâprobably filled with your favorite food, just like always. It was a habit of yours, bringing something to eat whenever you came over, as if his kitchen wasnât enough. It was something so familiar, so you, that it almost made him forget how long it had been since you last stood here.
He held the door open as you slipped off your shoes and made your way to the living room.
"It's cleanâŠ" You remarked, your eyes scanning the space with mild surprise.
Chan let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous tick. "Yeah⊠I try to keep it that way. But, you know, sometimes a hectic day hits, and it turns into a shipwreck."
You chuckled, settling onto his couch like you belonged there. And maybe that was what threw him off the mostâyou still fit into this space.
Chan swallowed and turned on his heel, heading toward the kitchen. He quickly grabbed a couple of containers for the food you brought, his hands moving on autopilot. But as he reached for a dish towel, he caught himselfâhe was stalling. Wiping down a bowl heâd already washed an hour ago just to keep busy, to calm the subtle panic creeping up his spine.
Because if he stopped moving, heâd have to face the fact that this was completely insane.
It had been an impulsive text, one he barely thought through before hitting send. Asking his ex to come over and hang out in his barely put-together apartment on his day off? He shouldâve known better.
But what shocked him more was your response.
"Sure."
So casual. So effortless. So unlike the emotional mess heâd expected.
Chan had to check his phone twice to make sure it was actually you who replied.
And now here you were, sitting on his couch like it was the most natural thing in the world, while he stood in his kitchen trying to push down the ridiculous amount of effort he put into cleaning just because you were coming over.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
Or maybe⊠he wasnât ready to let go just yet.
Chan approached you, setting the containers down on the coffee table before crouching beside you to help unpack the food. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he pulled out a box, and for a moment, he wondered if you noticed. If you cared.
"You didnât have to bring anything," he commented, glancing at you as he reached for another container. "We couldâve just ordered something."
"You say that like you donât miss my good taste," you teased, but there was something softer in your voiceâsomething familiar.
Chan let out a chuckle, shaking his head. But the moment his eyes landed on what youâd brought, he froze.
His favorite snack.
He blinked, his fingers still hovering over the box as realization settled in.
"I brought this for you," you said, casually, as if it wasnât a big deal. "Itâs from your favorite place."
Chan finally looked up at you, a flicker of surprise in his gaze. "Thatâs pretty farâŠ"
He knew neither your place nor your bakery was anywhere near the restaurant.
You shrugged. "I went there this morning and got this on my way home. Itâs already cold, though."
Cold? Did he care about that? Not at all.
The only thing that mattered was that you thought of him. That you saw the place, remembered him, and stopped to grab something for him.
His chest felt tight, like something warm was curling inside it, something he couldnât quite name. Instead, he exhaled a quiet laugh and nudged the box closer to himself.
"You remembered," he murmured, more to himself than to you.
And for the first time that night, he let himself believeâjust a littleâthat maybe, just maybe, he still had a place in your heart.
Chan cleared his throat, pushing away the warmth creeping up his chest. He didnât want to dwell on itânot now, not when you were sitting here in his living room, casually unpacking food like old times. So instead, he latched onto the first neutral topic that came to mind.
"What about your bakery?" he asked, picking up a piece of the snack youâd brought. "Whoâs taking care of it while youâre here?"
You glanced at him before reaching for a pair of chopsticks. "Itâs closed today."
"Really?" Chan raised a brow. "You barely take a day off."
You nodded, leaning back slightly against the couch. "Sunoo, my part timer, his grandmother passed away. He went back to his hometown for the funeral."
Chanâs expression softened at that. He remembered that part timer, the one that always gave him americano with berry syrup. "Ah⊠Thatâs tough. He mustâve been close to her."
"He was," you said, stirring the food absentmindedly. "She basically raised him. Thatâs why I went to his hometown this morningâto pay my respects."
Chan stilled for a second, his grip on his chopsticks tightening just slightly.
You went all the way there?
His eyes flickered to you, studying your face, but you looked calmâlike it was only natural for you to go.
Of course. That was just the kind of person you were. Always showing up for the people you cared about.
Chan exhaled, setting his food down. "You must be exhausted then. Going all the way there and then coming here?"
You tilted your head, as if just realizing it yourself. "Maybe a little," you admitted. "But itâs fine."
Chan clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "You shouldâve just gone home to rest."
You shot him a small smirk. "And miss the chance to see your shipwreck of a house? No way."
Chan let out a laugh, finally letting the warmth settle. Once again, maybe, he wasnât the only one holding on to things that felt familiar.
*
Chan woke up feeling refreshed this morning. He stretched his limbs, tossing and turning in bed to shake off the lingering sleepiness before finally rolling out and heading to change into his workout gear.
On his way to the gym, his fingers were busy scrolling through his phone, instinctively opening your chat from last night after you went home. He hovered over the keyboard, debating whether to send you a message.
A morning text? Too much.
A witty text? Maybe something playfulâ
"Hey... I dreamed about you last night ;)"
Chan grimaced. Nope. That sounded like a terrible idea for a text to an ex.
Before he could think further, his thumb betrayed him.
"Hey.."
His eyes widened. He gasped.
Did he justâ
Chan stopped in his tracks, staring at his screen in horror. Maybe if he deleted it fast enoughâ
Ding.
Your reply came almost instantly.
"Hey."
Chan blinked. Then exhaled, pressing his lips together to suppress a stupid smile.
Chan: In your bakery?
You: Yup!
Chan: Can I visit after my gym session?
You: Sure. I'll get your sandwich ready then. Bacon?
Chan: Perfect. See you then!
Chan breathed a sigh of relief, his heart feeling oddly lighter as he continued his walk to the gym.
Upon arriving, he spotted Jihoonâa rare sight at this hour. Given that it was still their day off, the older guy usually wasnât functional before 1 PM.
"Youâre here early," Chan noted as Jihoon finished his set, placing the dumbbells down with steady breaths.
Jihoon nodded. "Got an agenda this afternoon."
Chan smirked, whistling playfully. "Oh? That sounds suspiciousâ"
Jihoon shot him a glare. "Donât look at me like that as if you werenât with your ex last night."
Chanâs smirk instantly dropped. His eyes widened. He stepped closer to Jihoon, lowering his voice. "How do you know?"
Jihoon gave him a flat look. "I saw you sending her off. We live in the same area, genius."
Chan groaned, running a hand through his hair. Right. He forgot about that.
Jihoon tilted his head slightly, arms crossed. "So⊠you two back together?"
Chan shook his head, trying to dismiss whatever was running through Jihoon's mind. "Weâre just talking again. As friends, I guess? Yeah..." He nodded, as if saying it out loud would make it more true.
Jihoon hummed, wiping his hands with his towel. "Uh-huh."
Chan shot him a look. "What?"
Jihoon shrugged, tossing the towel over his shoulder. "Nothing. Just funny, thatâs all."
Chan rolled his eyes and checked the time. "I donât know why I still talk to you."
Jihoon chuckled. "Because you need someone to call you out on your denial."
Chan groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not in denial."
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Jihoon said, patting his shoulder before grabbing his own water bottle.
Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair before finally giving in. "Alright, fine. Iâll tell you what happened."
Jihoon raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Go on."
Chan leaned against a nearby bench, crossing his arms. "Yesterday, I invited her over. It was kind of impulsive, but she said yes."
Jihoon nodded, waiting for more.
"So, I spent the whole damn day cleaning my placeâlike, deep cleaning, man. I donât even know why, but I just wanted it to look nice."
Jihoon smirked but didnât interrupt.
"She showed up with food, her usual thing, right? But this time, she brought my favorite snack. And guess what? She got it from that place across townâthe one thatâs way out of her way."
Jihoon let out a low whistle. "Thatâs commitment."
Chan ignored the way his stomach flipped at that. "I didnât even know what to say. I justâman, she thought about me while she was out there. That kind of messed with me a little."
Jihoon gave him a knowing look. "And youâre still calling this just talking?"
Chan shot him a glare. "Let me finish."
Jihoon held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Continue."
Chan exhaled. "We talked, she told me about Sunoo, her staffâheâs dealing with some family stuff, so she visited his hometown earlier that morning."
"Yeah, she closed the bakery for the day because of it. Which means she didnât even have to be up early, but she still went out of her way for all that."
Jihoon hummed, the teasing tone fading slightly. "She cares, Chan."
Chan rubbed his neck. "I know."
A beat of silence passed before Jihoon smirked again. "And then this morning?"
Chan let out a short laugh. "Woke up feeling... I donât know, refreshed? Like, it wasnât a bad feeling, but it wasnât exactly normal either."
Jihoon raised an eyebrow. "You felt happy."
Chan groaned. "Why do you have to say it like that?"
Jihoon chuckled. "Because itâs the truth."
Chan shook his head. "Anyway, Iâm stopping by the bakery after this. Sheâs already making my usual sandwich."
Jihoon grinned. "She remembers your usual? And youâre still trying to act like this is casual?"
Chan shot him a look. "Hyung."
Jihoon laughed, slapping Chanâs shoulder. "Alright, alright. But Iâm telling you, man, this? This is not just talking."
Chan sighed but didnât argue. Because deep down, he knew Jihoon was right.
*
Days passed, and without either of you realizing it, things started to shift.
It wasnât a sudden, dramatic changeâit was subtle, natural, as if the distance that had settled between you was melting away piece by piece. Conversations stretched longer, laughter came easier, and before Chan knew it, you were slipping back into his life the way you always belonged.
And then, one night, it happened.
A kiss.
It wasnât planned, it wasnât talked aboutâit just happened. Maybe it was the way you looked at him when you laughed, maybe it was how the night air felt warmer with you by his side, or maybe it was just that deep, undeniable pull that had never really left.
But the moment his lips met yours, he knew.
This is it.
This was the cue. The silent signal that everything was starting again, that whatever had broken before was slowly, steadily piecing itself back together.
From then on, Chan didnât hesitate. After his schedule, he would drive to your bakery just to pick you up, sometimes without even texting beforehand. Heâd lean against the counter, watching as you wrapped up the last orders, his presence so familiar that even your staff stopped questioning it.
"Long day?" youâd ask, handing him a cup of tea or whatever youâd decided he needed that day.
And heâd smile, nodding as he took the cup from your hands. "Better now."
Sometimes, the two of you would just drive around with no real destination, the quiet hum of the car and the city lights making everything feel weightless. Other times, youâd take slow walks through empty streets, talking about your days, about nothing and everything at once.
It felt easy. It felt right.
And Chan?
Chan felt like he was finding a part of himself that had been lost all this time.
You.
Chan stepped inside your house, his gaze instinctively sweeping over your living room. It looked different from last year. The cute trinkets and soft pastels that once decorated every corner were gone, replaced with a more refined, mature aesthetic. The change was subtle, but he noticed. It wasnât just the decor that had shiftedâsomething about the entire space felt different, as if time itself had settled into the walls.
His eyes drifted to the kitchen, where a few dishes sat in the sink, remnants of breakfast still lingering on the counter. Maybe you hadnât gotten around to cleaning, or maybe youâd spent the night experimenting with new recipes for your bakery. Either way, it was lived-in, realâyou. And Chan liked that. It felt warm, like home, like the way you used to make his kitchen feel.
"You want tea? Coffee?" you asked, already moving toward the kitchen.
Chan shook his head, stepping closer. "No need to get your hands busy. Just sit with me," he murmured, tapping the empty space beside him on the couch.
You hesitated for a second before joining him, barely getting comfortable before he pulled you into his arms.
"I like thisâŠ" he muttered, his voice low, as if he was admitting something to himself more than to you.
A soft laugh escaped you. "Like what?"
"This," he whispered, arms tightening around you just enough for you to notice. "Being here with you again."
Your breath caught for a moment. His warmth, the quiet rise and fall of his chest, the familiar scent of his cologneâit all felt so natural, so right. Like something neither of you had ever truly let go of.
You sighed, relaxing into him. "I missed this too."
The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the steady rhythm of your breathing against Chanâs chest. His arms tightened around you slightly, as if grounding himself in this moment, as if afraid that if he let go, youâd slip away again.
You shifted just enough to look up at him, and Chanâs gaze met yoursâwarm, searching, lingering. His fingers brushed lightly along your arm before trailing up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
"Youâre staring," you murmured, a teasing lilt in your voice.
"Yeah," he admitted without hesitation, his lips curling into a small smile. "I missed looking at you."
Your breath hitched slightly, your heart betraying you with the way it picked up pace. There was something so effortless about Chan, the way he could make you feel like the only person in the world with just a look.
"Then make up for lost time," you whispered.
His eyes flickered down to your lips, hesitation flashing in his features for just a secondâone last moment of restraint before he closed the distance between you.
The first brush of his lips was slow, careful, almost like he was testing the waters. But the second? The second was deeper, fuller, laced with all the unsaid words and emotions that had been hanging between. His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face to his as he pressed in closer, his thumb stroking gently along your cheek.
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him even closer as the kiss deepened. It wasnât rushedâit was unhurried, savoring, like both of you wanted to memorize this moment, to make sure it wasnât just a fleeting dream.
Chan sighed against your lips, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. "Tell me this isn't just nostalgia," he whispered, voice slightly breathless.
You shook your head, brushing your fingers through his hair. "Itâs not."
Relief washed over his face before he captured your lips again, this time with more certainty. Like he wasnât just fallingâhe was diving headfirst. And this time, he wasnât afraid of the landing.
Chan woke up with you in his arms almost every morning. Not that he planned it every time, but he triedâand he could. Sometimes he crashed at your place, claiming it was too late to drive home. Other times, he dragged you to his, using the excuse that his bed was bigger, softer, warmer. The truth was, he just wanted to see you first thing in the morning.
Like now.
He blinked against the morning light filtering through your curtains, the weight of your body pressed against his chest grounding him in the best way. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, your hand lazily resting on his hoodie, the fabric bunched slightly in your grasp as if even in your sleep, you didnât want him to go.
Chan smiled, his fingers brushing along your back, tracing idle patterns. You stirred slightly, a soft hum escaping your lips before your body relaxed again.
"You're staring," you mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep.
Chan chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Yeah. I like looking at you."
"You say that too much," you whined, but the way your fingers curled against his hoodie betrayed the warmth spreading through you.
"Then you should get used to it," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "Because I donât think Iâll ever stop."
You sighed, tilting your head up just enough for your lips to find his. It was slow, lazyâlike the morning itself, like neither of you were in any rush to move, to leave the bubble of warmth youâd created. Chan sighed into the kiss, his hand slipping under the hem of your sweater, resting against the bare skin of your waist.
"You have to open the bakery today?" he asked between kisses.
You hummed, but made no move to pull away. "Not until ten."
Chan smirked. "That means we have at least two more hours."
You rolled your eyes, but your lips were already curving into a smile as Chan flipped you onto your back, leaning over you with that mischievous look in his eyesâthe one that always, always made you weak.
"Two hours," you reminded him, though the way you pulled him closer told a different story.
"Plenty of time," he whispered before capturing your lips again.
*
"You're back together."
Hansol mentioned it too casually one day during their recording session for the next comeback, his voice carrying over the hum of instruments and the quiet chatter of the producers.
Chan raised a brow, glancing at him from his seat. "How do you know? Jihoon hyung told you?"
Hansol furrowed his brows. "Jihoon hyung knew?"
Chan let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. "I meanâhe saw us. So..."
Hansol nodded slowly, then sighed, arms crossed over his chest. "I saw her in your clothes this morning. That shirtâI gave it to you."
Chanâs mouth formed an "O" as realization hit. Right. That oversized, faded gray shirt you had grabbed from his closet before rushing out the door.
"You're right..." He huffed a laugh before shrugging. "And yeah, weâre talking again."
Hansol smirked. "Isnât it a bit much to be wearing your clothes in the morning while still in the âtalking againâ phase?"
Chan scoffed, shaking his head. "Hey, respect all the effort. It took me a whole year to finally realize everything."
Hansolâs smirk softened into something gentler. "Well, Iâm happy for you, though." His voice was quieter now, more sincere.
Chan met his gaze, the corners of his lips twitching up. It felt nice, hearing that from Hansolâlike the pieces of his life were finally clicking back into place.
"Did Seungkwan know about this?" Hansol asked suddenly, a knowing glint in his eyes.
Chan blinked, then quickly shook his head. "Havenât told him yet."
Hansol snorted. "Oh, thatâs gonna be fun."
The next day, Seungkwan strolled up to Chan with an unreadable expression, arms crossed over his chest like he was about to deliver some sort of life-altering news.
"Youâll never guess who I ran into yesterday," Seungkwan started, watching Chanâs face closely.
Chan barely looked up from his phone, tapping out a quick message before pocketing it. "Who?"
"Wonha."
That got Chanâs attention. He blinked, brows furrowing slightly as he tried to place the name properly. Wonha. His ex from his early twenties. One of the few exes he actually had a good relationship with after the breakup.
"Huh," Chan muttered, tilting his head. "Howâs she doing?"
Seungkwan raised a brow. "Sheâs doing well. Andâ" He leaned in slightly as if dropping a bombshell. "She asked for your number."
Chan blinked again, this time in mild surprise. "Oh?"
"Yeah. Said she wanted to catch up."
Chan leaned back in his chair, processing that. Wonha had always been a good friend, even when they realized romance wasnât for them. There was no dramatic fallout, no resentment. Just two people who grew apart but still wished each other well.
"Did you give it to her?"
Seungkwan rolled his eyes. "Would I be telling you this if I didnât?"
Chan chuckled, shaking his head. "Guess not."
And so, he waited. Not anxiously, not with any particular anticipation, but with a vague curiosity. He knew he wouldnât reach out firstâthat wasnât his style. If she really wanted to talk, sheâd text.
And she did.
A simple Hey, Chan! Itâs been forever. Howâve you been? popped up on his screen later that evening.
Chan hesitated for half a second before typing back.
Hey, Wonha! Yeah, it has been. Iâve been good. You?
The conversation flowed easily after that, casual and familiar. Like two old friends catching up. Because thatâs all it was. A friendly catch-up.
Or at least, thatâs what Chan told himself.
The next day, Chan found himself spending the entire afternoon at your bakery, pretending he was just there to help out but mostly just looking for excuses to be near you. He chatted with Sunoo, stole a few samples of the new pastries you were testing, and even helped clean up when things got a little messy in the kitchen. But really, he was just waiting for the clock to hit nine.
And the second it did, he was already grabbing your coat from the rack and tossing it over your shoulders.
"Let's go," he said, nudging you toward the door.
You raised a brow, amused by his impatience. "I need to close up first, you know?"
"Iâll help," he insisted, already moving to flip the sign to closed and gathering whatever needed tidying up.
It barely took five minutes before he was pulling you to his car, a familiar routine by nowâone that neither of you questioned anymore.
"Where to?" he asked, fingers drumming against the steering wheel as he glanced at you.
You hummed, thinking. "Han River. Convenience store. Instant noodles and maybe a can of beer."
Chan grinned, nodding as he shifted gears. "Classic."
The drive was smooth, city lights blurring past as the two of you fell into easy conversation about your day. It was moments like this that made Chan realize how much he had missed thisâthe late-night drives, the effortless company, the way you made him feel like no matter how exhausting his schedule was, this was always worth it.
When you arrived, the convenience store was quiet, only a few other night owls scattered around, either enjoying their own late-night snacks or lost in their own worlds. Chan grabbed a basket, filling it with your usual picksâtwo cups of instant noodles, a can of beer for you, and a bottle of water for himself. He threw in a bag of chips for good measure before heading to the cashier.
As you both settled at one of the outdoor tables overlooking the river, the crisp night air wrapped around you, but it wasnât cold. Not with Chan beside you.
"You ever think about how we always end up here?" you mused, watching the steam curl up from your noodles.
Chan chuckled, tapping his chopsticks against the rim of his cup. "Yeah. Itâs like our thing, isnât it?"
You nodded, smiling softly. "Our thing."
Chan watched you for a moment, something warm settling in his chest. Maybe it had always been this simple. Maybe it had always been you.
After a while, between bites of noodles and sips of beer, the conversation flowed effortlesslyâtalking about anything and everything, teasing each other, reminiscing old memories. The laughter came easily, and for Chan, it felt like breathing.
Then someone approached.
"Chan?"
He looked up, chopsticks frozen mid-air, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Wonha?"
She smiled, standing there with casual ease, as if running into him was the most natural thing in the world. They greeted each other, the familiarity still lingering despite the years apart.
Then her gaze shifted to you, curiosity flickering in her expression. "And you are...?"
Chan blinked. He hadn't thought about this. Hadn't thought about how to define this, to define you. Girlfriend? Ex? Friend? What were you now?
"We're close," he finally said, the words feeling strange on his tongue.
You, ever composed, simply smiled and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, I'm Y/n."
Wonha shook your hand, offering a polite nod. The conversation that followed was friendlyâcatching up, lighthearted small talk. Wonha mentioned she was back in town for a while, talked about work, asked about Chanâs schedule. But despite the casual nature, there was an underlying awkwardness, a tension Chan couldnât quite shake.
And when Wonha finally excused herself, the silence she left behind was even heavier.
You didnât say anything at first, just finished the last of your drink, eyes focused on the rippling water of the river. Chan shifted in his seat, glancing at you, waiting for you to say somethingâanything.
Then, after what felt like forever, you spoke.
"Letâs go home."
It was simple, but it carried weight.
Chan let out a breath he didnât realize he was holding. Finally, the silence is cut.
He nodded, standing up and grabbing the trash, his mind racing as he followed you back to the car.
*
Chan couldnât reach you for almost a week. At first, he thought you were just busy. He texted, called a couple of times, but the replies were short, if they came at all. He even stopped by your bakery, only to have Sunoo mention in passing that you had gone on a business trip to another town.
That was when the uneasy feeling started creeping in.
You hadnât mentioned anything about a trip to him. And worseâwhen he thought about it, he realized you had been slowly distancing yourself for the past week. Maybe even longer.
He wanted to believe he was overthinking, but deep down, he knew better. You were avoiding him.
And as if that wasnât bad enough, another problem decided to make an appearance.
That morning, his phone was bombarded with notificationsâtexts, calls, mentions. At first, he thought it was just another work update or a group chat going off. But then Seungkwan's name flashed on his screen.
"Congrats, man. So, when were you planning to tell us?"
Chan frowned. "Tell you what?"
Seungkwan sighed dramatically. "The dating news, obviously. Your article is everywhere."
Chan's heart dropped. He pulled up social media, and there it wasâa headline with his name splashed all over the place:
Chan froze, staring at the screen in disbelief. His members started chiming in one by oneâcongratulations, playful teasing, all assuming the article was true.
He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. "This isnât true."
The only thing he could do now was call the company, demand a clarification, and make sure the world knew that Wonha was just a friend.
But even if he could fix this problem, there was still you.
Sunooâs response was sharp, his words slicing through the tension in the air. Chan had barely stepped foot into the bakery before being met with that cold remark.
It had been a week since the scandal broke, a week since he had last seen you. And now, here he was, standing in the familiar warmth of your bakery, trying to explain himself.
âIt was a misunderstanding,â Chan started, his voice firm but laced with frustration. âThe media twisted it, like they always do.â
Sunoo didnât look convinced. He crouched behind the counter, rummaging for something, before standing back up and placing a small sign in front of the register.
Chan furrowed his brows, reading the words aloud.
"House reserves the right to refuse service to anyone."
"Waitâthis is a thing?" Chan asked, blinking in disbelief. He had never seen that sign here before.
Sunoo nodded, arms crossed. "House rule. F&B industry stuff. You wouldnât understand since you come from entertainment."
Chan let out a dry chuckle, rolling his eyes. "You keep talking about industries. Why donât you just tell me where Y/n is?"
Sunooâs expression hardened. He leaned against the counter, gaze unwavering. "Why? You want to see her? Talk to her? Do you always check in on your ex like this?"
Chan felt his breath hitch. "What are you talking about?"
But before Sunoo could respond, the bell above the door chimed, signaling a new customer. In an instant, his demeanor shifted.
"Welcome!" Sunoo greeted with a bright, polite voice, flashing a smile at the guest. But just before he turned away completely, he cast Chan one last glanceâone filled with something unreadable.
And just like that, Chan was left standing there, feeling as though the ground beneath him had suddenly become unsteady.
"He's gone..." Sunoo murmured, still watching through the bakery window as Chan disappeared down the street.
You stepped out of the kitchen, wiping your hands on a towel before settling onto one of the bar stools. Your expression was unreadable, but Sunoo could see the tension in your shoulders.
"You okay?" he asked, leaning against the counter.
You let out a chuckle, though it lacked humor. "Why wouldnât I be okay?"
Sunoo raised an eyebrow. "Well, for starters, youâve been avoiding him for a week. And second, you were just hiding in the kitchen the moment he walked in."
You scoffed, shaking your head. "I was busy."
"Right," Sunoo drawled, crossing his arms. "Too busy to tell him you were going on a business trip? Too busy to tell him you're upset?"
You exhaled, resting your elbows on the counter as you looked down at your hands. "What do you want me to say, Sunoo?"
"Maybe the truth?" he suggested. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're running away."
You bit your lip, but didnât say anything.
Sunoo sighed, softening his voice. "You know, whatever it is you're feeling, you're allowed to feel it. You donât have to act like nothing happened."
You glanced at him, eyes flickering with something close to hesitation. Sunoo didnât push further, but he didnât back down either.
"Just⊠think about it," he said before turning back to work, leaving you with your thoughts.
*
You went home, exhausted, only to halt in surprise at the sight of Chan squatting in front of your unit, scrolling through his phone. The glow of the screen illuminated his furrowed brows, but the moment his eyes caught yours, he stood up immediately.
"Now we meet," he said, his voice firm. You could hear the frustration laced in his words, see it in the way his shoulders tensed. But you were more upset than he was, and in your mind, he deserved every second of silence you'd given him.
"You're just going to give me the silent treatment? Like you always do?"
Your hand froze on the door handle. Slowly, you turned to face him.
"I thought we were over a year ago," you said, your tone indifferent.
Chan sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "And here I thought we had a chance."
You crossed your arms, looking at him with unreadable eyes. "What do you want, Chan?"
"You have no idea how crazy Iâve been this past week. After everything between us, you just disappeared, like you always do. This isnât how you handle things. You donât just vanish when things get tough."
You scoffed, shaking your head as you looked down at your shoes. "Oh, sureâŠ" Lifting your head, you met his gaze with something sharp, something cold. "Youâd know all about that, wouldnât you? Playing with someoneâs heart."
Chan's brows furrowed, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. "What are you trying to say?"
"Youâre good at it," you said, voice unwavering. "Messing with people's feelings."
His frustration cracked into something closer to disbelief. "Youâre the one who left me. A year ago and now. Donât make it seem like I was the one who walked out that night."
Your jaw clenched as you turned away, gripping the door handle once more. "You have no right to tell me that."
"Grow up."
You stopped.
"Nobody in this world is a mind reader," Chan continued, his voice quieter but no less firm. "So grow up and say whatâs in your head. I canât guess what youâre thinking, and I need you to tell me whatâs wrong, what needs fixing. I know I lack a lot, but after everythingâafter seeing you againâI want to be better. But the way you treat me... it's making me feel small."
You didn't respond immediately, your heart pounding in your chest. His words hit you in places you werenât ready to acknowledge.
"Have you ever thought," you started, voice softer now, "how things wouldâve been different if you had asked me to stay that night?"
Silence.
You let out a breath, your lips curling into something bitter. "You wouldnât know, would you? Because you never even tried. And thatâs what hurt me the most."
Finally, you turned fully to him, looking straight into his eyes. "You never knew how hard it was to speak my mind just to be ignored. And thatâs why you never understood how much it hurt."
Chan exhaled sharply, as if your words had physically struck him.
"And now, you want me to speak?" Your voice didnât waver, but there was a slight tremble in your fingertips. "Tell me, Chan, if I doâwill you actually listen this time?"
Chan stared at you, his lips parting as if he had something to say, but no words came out. The weight of your words sank into his chest, heavy and suffocating. He had spent so long trying to understand you, but he had never really asked himself whether he had truly listened.
His silence was enough of an answer.
You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as you turned back to your door. âExactly.â
Chan stepped forward, desperate. "I know I messed up. I know I shouldâve done things differently, but Y/n, do you really think I didnât want you to stay?"
You let out a dry laugh, gripping the doorknob but not turning it yet. "Wanting and actually doing something about it are two different things, Chan. And I waitedâGod, I waited for you to just say something. But you didnât."
"I was scared," he admitted, voice raw. "I didnât know how to ask you to stay without being selfish. I thought maybeâmaybe if you left, youâd be happier."
You turned around, eyes narrowing. "And who gave you the right to decide what would make me happy?"
He faltered, guilt flashing across his face. "Iâ"
"Chan," you sighed, your voice softer this time, tired. "I donât want to do this again if it's just going to end the same way."
"Then donât let it," he pleaded. "We can be better this time. I can be better. But I need you to talk to me. No more running, no more silence. Just usâfiguring this out together."
You searched his face, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation, the regret. But was it enough?
"You broke my heart," you whispered.
Chan swallowed hard, his own heart aching at your confession. "I know," he said quietly. "But if you let me, I'll spend however long it takes putting it back together."
The air between you was thick with emotion, the past lingering like a ghost neither of you could quite shake. The choice was yours now. To let him tryâor to walk away for good.
You let out a quiet sigh before pushing the door open wider. "Come in."
Chan hesitated for a second, as if he didnât expect you to actually let him in, but he stepped inside nonetheless. You didnât want anyone witnessing the two of you arguing in the hallway, and frankly, you were too tired for a public spectacle.
The door clicked shut behind you as you walked to the dining table, pulling out a chair and sitting down. You didnât look at him. Instead, you focused on the smooth surface of the table, tracing invisible patterns with your fingertips.
Chan, meanwhile, stood by the window, three meters away. His hands were in his pockets, his back against the frame, his posture tense yet composed. His eyes werenât on you either. The space between you was filled with silenceâthick, suffocating, and louder than any argument you couldâve had outside.
Seconds stretched into minutes, neither of you speaking. The weight of the past, of everything left unsaid, settled heavily in the room.
Eventually, Chan broke the silence. His voice was quieter this time, hesitant but firm.
"Why did you leave that night?"
Your fingers stilled against the table. You swallowed, debating whether to answer honestly or give him the same indifference you had been holding onto.
"Because I was tired," you finally said. Your voice was calm, but the bitterness in it was unmistakable.
In the past, you had always known that Chan was friendly and well-liked. That wasnât the problem. The problem started when you kept hearing from other peopleâfriends, fans, even strangersâthat he was still close with all of his exes. Some people even made jokes about how he had never been single for more than a month before jumping into another relationship.
At first, you brushed it off, trusting him. But over time, it started to bother youânot just the rumors, but the way Chan never reassured you about them. Instead of addressing your concerns, he dismissed them like they were insignificant.
âWhy are you listening to those people? You know me.â
âCome on, itâs just people making up stories. Donât let it get in your head.â
âSo what if Iâm on good terms with them? Itâs called being mature.â
Every time you tried to talk about it, he shut it down, making you feel like you were overreacting. He never cheated, but he never made you feel secure either. And thatâs what hurt the mostâhis failure to recognize that trust isnât just about being faithful, itâs about making your partner feel like theyâre the only one who matters.
As months passed, you tried to hold on, tried to trust him, tried to ignore the way doubt kept creeping into your heart. But it became exhaustingâfeeling like you were the only one fighting against the rumors, the only one trying to hold the relationship together.
Then, there was one final moment that broke you. Maybe it was another passing comment from someone about him still being close to a particular ex. Maybe it was seeing a picture of him with one of them, looking too comfortable, too familiar. Whatever it was, you tried one last time to make him understand.
âChan, Iâm tired of always hearing about you and your exes. Iâm tired of feeling like Iâm competing with ghosts.â
But instead of listening, he got defensive.
âYou donât trust me at all, do you? Why are you making this such a big deal?â
You sighed deeply, crossing your arms over your chest, as if trying to hold yourself together. âI was tired of fighting with my own thoughts. Because whenever I tried to bring them to the table, you brushed them away.â
Your voice was steady, but Chan could hear the exhaustion beneath it. That quiet kind of hurtâthe one that lingers long after the wound is made.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. âI did that?â
You let out a small, bitter laugh, shaking your head. âYes. And I started to feel alone. Alone⊠alone⊠while you were out, hanging outâa lotâwith your exes. And I was left by myself. I saw you that night. You were with your friends, and there was herâŠâ
You didnât have to say her name. He knew exactly who you were talking about.
Chan exhaled sharply, looking away. The weight of your words pressed against his chest, tightening like a vice.
He remembered that nightâthe night everything between you fell apart.
He could still hear his phone ringing, your name flashing on the screen. He had answered casually, thinking it was just another call. You told him you were at his place. You wanted to talk.
He said heâd be home soon. But he hadnât meant it.
Instead, he stayed. Another drink. Another story. Another hour.
When he finally did go home, you were already waitingâbut not in the way he had expected. You werenât curled up on his couch, waiting to be held. You werenât upset, demanding an explanation.
No, you were standing thereârigid, distant, already pulling away.
And before he could even process what was happening, before he could even reach for youâ
You ended it.
Just like that. No screaming, no accusations, no dramatic fights.
Just quiet devastation.
âYou didnât trust me.â His voice barely broke the silence.
You met his eyes, and it sent a shiver down his spine. There was no hesitation when you answered.
âYouâre right.â
The finality of it crashed into him like a wave.
Chan clenched his fists, his mind spiraling back to that night. He had stood there, watching you walk away, unable to move, unable to say a single word. Because at that moment, he was too caught up in himself.
He hadnât thought about you. About how you had triedâagain and againâto tell him what was wrong. About how you had begged, without ever raising your voice, for him to reassure you.
Instead, he had let his own frustration consume him. He had spent so long convincing himself that you were the problemâthat you were overthinking, being irrational, asking for too much.
But now, hearing you say it so plainlyâ
You didnât trust him. And he had given you every reason not to.
His voice was quieter this time, almost hesitant. âYou never told me whyâŠâ
Your eyes flickered with something unreadableâhurt, regret, maybe even disappointment.
âBecause you werenât on the same page as me.â
Silence.
And it was deafening.
Because he knew it was true. Even if you had explained back then, he wouldnât have understood. He wouldâve dismissed it, convinced himself that you were just being insecure.
But this wasnât insecurity.
This was trust breaking, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to hold onto.
And suddenly, he realizedâyou hadnât left because you wanted to. You left because, at that moment, you had no other choice.
And that realization hurt more than he ever thought it would.
Chan knew he had lost you once because he failed to listen. He wouldnât make that mistake again.
He stood there, leaning against your window frame, the weight of everything sinking in. The silence between you was thickâso many words left unspoken, so much hurt neither of you had truly acknowledged until now.
But this time, he wasnât going to brush it aside. He wasnât going to let his own emotions overshadow yours.
Chan took a slow breath and finally spoke, his voice steady but filled with raw sincerity. âI was selfish.â
You didnât say anything, but the slight twitch in your expression told him you were listening.
âI thought I was doing enough just by being with you. I thought⊠if I wasnât doing anything wrong, then there was nothing to fix. But I never stopped to ask myself if I was making you feel safe with me. If I was making you feel like you mattered.â
He pushed off the window frame, stepping closer. Not too closeâjust enough to show you that this time, he wasnât running from the conversation.
âYou were right to leave me that night,â he admitted. âBecause I wasnât ready to hear you. I wasnât ready to understand. But I am now.â
The room felt smaller with Chan standing there, his presence filling the silence between you. The weight of everythingâthe past, the heartbreak, the unspoken wordsâpressed down on both of you, but for the first time, neither of you looked away.
You exhaled slowly, your arms still crossed, the shield you had built around yourself refusing to fall so easily. "You say all the right things now," you muttered, your voice quieter than before. "But words donât erase what happened."
Chan nodded, his expression serious. "I know." He took a cautious step forward, just enough to close the emotional distance without overwhelming you. "I know words arenât enough. But Iâm not saying this just to make you forgive me. I just... need you to know that I finally get it."
His voice carried none of the frustration or defensiveness you had once been so used to. Instead, there was something rawâan understanding, a regret that felt real.
You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. "It took you losing me to understand?"
"Yeah," he admitted, a small, humorless smile on his lips. "I guess I had to lose you to really see how much I took for granted."
Your shoulders eased just slightly, the tension in your chest loosening. You weren't ready to forgive him, not yet. But something about the way he was speakingâ**without excuses, without pushing blame onto youâ**made you feel like, for once, he was truly listening.
He glanced down at his hands, exhaling deeply before meeting your gaze again. "I don't expect things to go back to the way they were. I donât even expect you to give me another chance. But if you ever think thereâs even the slightest possibility of trusting me again..." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Then I want to be someone worth trusting."
Silence settled again, but it wasnât as suffocating this time. The anger that had once flared between you had softened into something elseâsomething uncertain, something hesitant, but no longer painful.
You sighed, finally lowering your arms. "I donât know if I can just believe you overnight."
Chan nodded, the corner of his lips twitching into the smallest, most understanding smile. "Then let me prove it to you. No rush, no expectations. Just⊠let me be here. This time, Iâll listen."
And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, he would.
*
"Have you seen this?"
Attached was a screenshotâan official announcement from Pledis Entertainment.
"Dino of SEVENTEEN is currently in a relationship with a non-celebrity. We ask for your support and understanding."
The news took you by surprise.
Your name wasnât mentioned in the official announcement, but you knew. You were the non-celebrity. The one the world was suddenly talking about. The one they were wishing happiness for.
Your phone wouldnât stop buzzingâfriends, acquaintances, even people you hadnât spoken to in years, all reaching out with the same excitement. "Is it true?" "Are you really dating Dino?" "How did this even happen?"
You stared at the screen, overwhelmed, heart racing.
And then, there was the photo. The one of Chan in an apron, standing behind the counter of your bakery. Box on his hands, sleeves rolled up, a soft smile as he handed a customer their order. It had been taken just last weekend, completely candid. You knew because you had been standing right beside him, laughing as he struggled to tie the apron properly.
You werenât sure how the photo got out. Maybe a customer had snapped it. Maybe a fan had recognized him. Maybe it didnât even matter anymoreâbecause now, the world knew.
And surprisingly, they were happy for you.
You had been terrified of this moment. Afraid of what people might say, of the scrutiny that would come with being associated with him again. But as you scrolled through the comments, you saw nothing but excitement, nothing but support.
"Dino looks so happy!"
"He really found someone special."
"Heâs literally boyfriend goals, helping out at her bakery like that."
"I hope they stay together for a long time."
Your chest tightened. It felt surreal.
It had taken months to get here. Months of hesitation, of slow conversations, of learning to trust again. Months of Chan proving to youâthrough actions, not just wordsâthat he had changed.
That he had finally understood.
You thought back to the first time he had shown up at your bakery. He hadn't said much, just stood there awkwardly, asking if you needed help. You had been hesitant, but you let him stay. Then he kept coming back. On his free days, between schedules, whenever he could.
And somewhere in between rolling dough, wiping flour off his face, and sneaking bites of pastries when he thought you werenât lookingâhe became part of your life again.
Not as an idol. Not as the Chan you once fought with. Just as him.
You put your phone down, heart still racing.
Chan had yet to text you about the announcement. He was probably waiting, letting you process it on your own.
And for once, you werenât afraid.
You looked toward the kitchen, where he was nowâtying his apron, completely unaware that the world had just found out about you two.
You took a deep breath, stepped forward, and smiled.
"Hey, boyfriend," you teased, leaning against the counter.
Chan looked up, confused for a second, before his phone finally buzzed. His eyes widened.
"You okay?" he asked immediately, concern flickering in his gaze.
You nodded. "Are you?"
He exhaled, then grinned. "Well⊠at least they got my best angle."
You rolled your eyes, but you laughed. And for the first time in a long time, you werenât looking at the past anymore.
At first, you werenât sure how things would change.
Chan had always been social, always surrounded by people, and a part of you feared slipping back into old patterns. The nights where youâd feel left out. The moments where you questioned your place in his life. But this time, things were different.
He made sure of it.
The first time he invited you to hang out with his friends, you hesitated. You still remembered how it felt beforeâwatching from the sidelines while he laughed with people who had known him longer, had history with him in a way you didnât. But Chan noticed.
And instead of brushing it off, he reached for your hand.
"Hey, come here," he had said softly, pulling you into the conversation. "Theyâve been wanting to meet you properly."
Properly.
Not as someone in the background. Not as just another presence in the room. But as his girlfriend.
From that day on, he never made you feel like an outsider. You were part of his world now, not just someone looking in.
Whenever he was with his friends, his arm always found its way around your shoulders. If you were feeling quiet, heâd gently pull you closer, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head, whispering, "You okay?" If he laughed at an inside joke, heâd take the time to explain it to you. If his friends teased him, saying he had changed, heâd just smile and say, "Yeah. I did."
And then there were his exes.
Chan never cut them out of his lifeânot because he was holding onto the past, but because he had learned how to balance things. He didnât hide it from you. He was transparent, always telling you if he happened to run into them, if they caught up once in a while.
But the difference now? He never let it make you feel small.
If his exes were around, he made it clear where he stood. His hand in yours. His attention on you. His presence next to you, always.
"You donât have to worry," heâd say, eyes sincere. "I know what I want."
And he showed you.
When someone brought up his dating history, he never entertained it. If an old friend joked about how heâd never been single for long, heâd only shrug and say, "Thatâs in the past."
And if there was ever a momentâeven the smallest secondâwhere doubt crept into your mind, he always knew.
One night, after a dinner gathering, he noticed how you grew quiet as an old conversation about his past relationships resurfaced. He didnât wait for you to bring it up.
In the car ride home, he reached for your hand and held it against his chest.
"Talk to me," he murmured.
You sighed, unsure how to put it into words. "I know youâre close with them. And I donât want to be the kind of person whoâs insecure about it. But sometimesâŠ"
"Sometimes it still lingers?" he finished gently.
You nodded.
Chan didnât get defensive. He didnât dismiss it. He just squeezed your hand and said, "I get it. And Iâm not asking you to ignore your feelings. Just⊠let me remind you, whenever you need it."
You looked at him, heart softening. "How will you remind me?"
He turned to you, eyes full of certainty.
"Like this."
And before you could react, he leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.
Not rushed. Not just for reassurance. But because he wanted to. Because he chose you.
And he would always make sure you knew that.
*
Seungkwan had absolutely nothing in his head as he stood near the break room, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. It was one of those rare moments where his brain wasnât running a hundred miles per hourâno schedules to stress over, no members to yell at for losing their things nor refusing to take their vitamins. Just mindless scrolling.
That was until he overheard Hansolâs voice from inside the room.
âShe sent me some pictures. It looked good.â
Seungkwan barely paid attention at first, but then Chanâs voice followed, casual as ever.
âYeah, she was developing a new recipe last night. She told you about that? Jeez, youâre still her favorite member, hyung.â
Seungkwanâs thumb froze mid-scroll.
She?
Recipe?
His eyes narrowed. He replayed the sentence in his head, dissecting it like a scientist analyzing a new discovery. There was only one âsheâ in their circle who was obsessed with baking.
His heart dropped to his stomach.
His brain took a second too long to process the words. The next thing he knew, he was barging into the room, his eyes darting between Hansol and Chan.
"WAIT, WHAT?! WHATâS GOING ON?!"
Chan looked up lazily from his phone, blinking at Seungkwan like he had just asked if water was wet. "Uh⊠what do you mean?"
Seungkwanâs jaw dropped. "DID YOU JUST SAY SHEâAS IN Y/N?!"
Hansol smirked but said nothing, sipping his drink.
Chan nodded, still looking completely unbothered. "Yeah? Why?"
Seungkwanâs face contorted in a mix of betrayal and disbelief. "YOUâRE BACK TOGETHER?!"
"Uh-huh."
"AND YOU DIDNâT TELL ME?!"
Hansol chuckled, leaning back. "Dude, itâs been months."
Seungkwan gasped dramatically. "Months?!" He placed a hand on his chest as if he had just been personally attacked. "And I was the last to know?"
Chan shrugged, completely unfazed. "We didnât exactly keep it a secret. You were just⊠too busy freaking out over the whole scandal thing."
"Busy freaking outâChan, I lost SLEEP over that! I thought I ruined your life! I was having nightmares about it!" Seungkwan clutched his head as if reliving the trauma. "And the whole time, you two were just happily together behind my back?!"
Hansol patted his shoulder, failing to suppress a laugh. "Yeah, man. You really stressed yourself out for nothing."
Seungkwan groaned, collapsing onto the couch. "Unbelievable. This is betrayal. I feel so betrayed." He pointed an accusatory finger at Chan. "You shouldâve told me! I deserve better than this!"
Chan chuckled, finally setting his phone down and walking over to ruffle Seungkwanâs hair. "Alright, alright. Iâll make it up to you. How about we all hang out at the bakery tomorrow? Sheâs testing out her new recipe."
Seungkwanâs ears perked up slightly, but he kept up his sulking act. "...The one with the cream filling?"
Chan smirked. "Yup."
Silence.
"...Fine," Seungkwan muttered, crossing his arms. "But only because of the food."
Hansol shook his head. "He forgives fast."
Seungkwan scoffed but didnât deny it. "Youâre lucky I love desserts. But Iâm still mad at you."
Chan laughed, slinging an arm around him. "Sure, sure. Iâll let her know her favorite member is coming by."
Seungkwan rolled his eyes, "liar. You said it was Hansol earlier." But he couldn't help the small, satisfied smile that tugged at his lips.
And just like that, the weight of the past lifted, leaving only laughter, warmth, and the start of something even better.
to think that your marriage has come to an end, you consider divorce as the only solution. that was until something seemed wrong with your husband. although you're not quite sure what it was, his sudden change forces you to put everything on hold. throughout the process, you find yourself falling in love all over again, remembering why you loved him in the first place.
pairing: choi seungcheol x f!reader
genre: drama, comedy, angst, fluff, smut (mdni)
warnings: Â mature content, strong language, mental health themes, DID (dissociative identity disorder), split personality, marriage conflict, one-sided love, arranged marriage, avoidant attachment, emotional impermanence, anxious attachment, miscommunication between couples, mention of divorce (more detailed warnings in specific chapters).
add tagsâ€ïž: established relationship, CEO! seungcheol, target audience: me, wife!reader, sun x moon dynamic, cheol is a little mean, she fell first he fell harder type of shii aye, grumpy x sunshine trope, second chance(?), attorney!jeonghan, secretary!mingyu, dr. jeon as moral and emotional support, therapist! joshua, i write tragedy, not sins. this is actually sad, but we are coping. third-person pov, kkuma cameo!
disclaimer: i am not a professional. therefore, i am aware that this story contains themes related to mental health, which will be written with care and respect. please expect upcoming chapters to include experiences inspired by real-life accounts. please read the warnings before proceeding and take care of yourself while reading. no self-harm will be mentioned, i can assure you of that. additionally, some mental health conditions and diagnoses may not be portrayed with complete accuracy, as experiences can vary greatly from person to person.
notes: phew, this is going to be a loooong ride. anyway, i feel like the banner and the genre tags are a little misleading bc there's nothing cute about this fic at all. but hey! i finally found the courage to post this, and i hope you guys will trust me with this one :D
Summary: After submitting your resignation letter, you drunkenly called your boss of seven years. After that, his behavior toward you changed unexpectedly.
You heard the elevator ding softly in the hallwayâthe unmistakable signal that your superior had arrived, as he did every morning at precisely this time. You stood from your desk, smoothing your blazer and preparing to greet him as usual. Moments later, he appeared: Choi Seungcheol, followed closely by Jeonghan, your colleague and his main secretary, who read the dayâs schedule to him in a steady, practiced voice. Confidence radiated from both men as they walked, commanding the room's attention without trying.
When Seungcheol passed by your desk, you bowed politely, offering a respectful, âGood morning, Mr. Choi.â
He paused, surprising you by stopping in front of your desk rather than continuing down the corridor. âMorning,â he replied, his voice low but steady. After a brief pause, he glanced at you and asked, âWhereâs Mingyu? Isnât today his first day of training?â
You nodded, feeling a twinge of something bittersweet. Mingyu, a new recruit with undeniable talent, was here to train as your replacement. After seven years of routine mornings, assisting the superiors through countless meetings, projects, and unexpected crises, you were leaving. Resigning had been your choice, but the weight of this change hadnât truly hit you until now, standing here in the familiar morning light of the office.
âYes, Mr. Choi,â you replied with a slight smile, âHe should be arriving shortly. Iâll bring him over as soon as he does.â
Seungcheol gave you a curt nod, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer, a glimmer of something unreadable in his eyes before he continued down the corridor.
âMingyu⊠That guy should know to be on time,â Seungcheol muttered, a hint of irritation in his voice. âHis training is two months, right?â
You nodded as Jeonghan stepped out of Seungcheolâs office behind him, finally able to relax. He let out a sigh. âI canât believe youâre really leaving.â
You offered him a knowing smile. âMe either. But itâs been seven years.â
Seven years ago, you and Jeonghan had been recruited and trained together to assist Mr. Choi, Seungcheolâs father. When Mr. Choi passed away, the board quickly assigned Seungcheol to take his fatherâs place. Thankfully, he was gracious enough to retain both you and Jeonghan as part of his secretary team, easing the transition for everyone.
Jeonghan suddenly looked at you with a hint of panic in his eyes. âDid you book the restaurant I asked about? Mr. Choi has that lunch meeting with the client, remember?â
You gave him a thumbs-up. âAll set. I even double-checked that they have vegan options on the menu.â
Jeonghan clutched his chest dramatically. âI have no idea how Iâll manage after you leave me with Mingyu!â
Just then, a tall, slightly disheveled guy with a backpack hurriedly appeared, out of breath and looking a little flustered. âSorry Iâm late!â Mingyu panted, giving you both a quick nod. âThere was an accidentâthe bus I took lost a wheel!â
You and Jeonghan exchanged unimpressed glances, trying not to laugh at Mingyuâs unusual excuse. He was here to take over your position, but it was clear he had some big shoes to fillâand that he might need a few more lessons in time management.
After the lunch meeting, Jeonghan placed a takeout box on your desk, right as you were deeply focused on the manual you were putting together for Mingyu. You glanced up, intrigued by the unexpected treat.
âMr. Choi finally declared his favorite secretary,â Jeonghan announced, leaning casually against your desk with a sly grin.
You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. âReally?â you asked, your tone dripping with doubt. In all your years working for Seungcheol, he had never done anything like this.
Jeonghan nodded, his eyes narrowing playfully. âIs there something going on between the two of you that I donât know about?â His tone was teasing, hinting at the kind of office romance you'd only read about in novels.
Rolling your eyes, you smirked. âYou wish. Besides, you know heâs dating that model,â you replied, thinking of the stunning woman Seungcheol had brought to a recent social event.
Jeonghan shrugged nonchalantly. âMaybe heâs softened up since you handed in your resignation. Maybe heâs finally realized what an incredible secretary heâs losing.â
You laughed, nudging his shoulder. âShut up!â
Before Jeonghan could reply, your phone rang, interrupting the moment. On the third ring, you picked it up, recognizing Seungcheolâs deep voice on the other end, summoning you to his office. Through the glass wall of his office, you noticed him lookingâno, glaringâyour way. You werenât entirely sure what he was thinking, but the intensity of his gaze made you stand up quickly, leaving no time for second-guessing.
âHe called. Gotta go,â you said to Jeonghan, setting down the phone and straightening your blazer.
He gave you an exaggerated nod and moved back to his own desk across from yours. âAlright, Ms. Secretary,â he called after you with a wink, making it clear that the teasing was far from over.
You knocked on the office door before opening it and stepping inside. Seungcheol was there, his suit jacket draped over his chair, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight of him in this more casual state threw you off, even if only for a momentâyou were never fond of this job, but professionalism kept you grounded.
You bowed politely, standing a respectful two meters from his desk, hands clasped in front of you. As he looked up from his paperwork, his gaze lingered on you, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. You felt oddly exposed under his scrutiny.
âAre you always this rigid, Ms. Ji?â he asked, a slight scoff in his voice.
You blinked, caught off guard. Had you been? âIâve always been this way, sir,â you replied, keeping your tone professional. You prided yourself on maintaining boundaries; thatâs why you were leavingâto stay true to your professionalism.
He nodded thoughtfully. âWhat do you think of Mingyu?â
Resting his chin on his clasped hands, he watched you intently as you spoke. âFrom what Iâve seen, heâs quick, sharp, and adaptable, which is promising. Heâs also retained everything Iâve shown him so far, so I donât think you need to worry.â
Seungcheol nodded, but you caught a hint of dissatisfaction in his expression. It seemed there was something he didnât quite like about Mingyu, though he didnât say so outright.
âHe can be a little clumsy,â you admitted, recalling with a slight grimace how Mingyu had spilled Seungcheolâs coffee that morning. âBut heâs working on it.â
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. âYes, please guide him well. Are you sure two months will be enough?â
After this morning, you weren't so sure. But prolonging your stay here wasnât an option you wanted to consider. âIâll ensure he makes significant progress within two weeks, sir. If more time is needed, Iâll let you know.â
He nodded, seemingly satisfied, and you took this as your cue to leave. But you couldnât help noting how strange this was. Oddity number two: he rarely called you into his office; normally, communication was handled over phone or email. That, combined with the unexpected lunch takeout, left you wondering if this was all coincidenceâor if something had shifted in Seungcheol's usual demeanor.
âYou can go, Y/n,â Jeonghan called out as he wrapped up his final check of the materials for tomorrowâs meeting, catching you by surprise.
âWho says?â You turned, eyes wide.
âThe boss himself,â he replied with a smirk. âI know heâs been acting a little strange. Face it, Y/nâheâs trying to keep you here. I think heâs finally realized just how essential you are to this place,â Jeonghan added playfully.
You chuckled, shaking your head as you grabbed your things. âIâm flattered, but Iâm taking this as my cue to go. Itâs been so long since I finished work at this hour,â you said, smiling as you headed for the elevator.
Once outside, you flagged down a cab, sinking into the back seat as it pulled away. You couldnât help but reflect on the day. Oddity number three: Seungcheol letting you go home early.
Staring out the window at the city lights, you resolved to stay focused. Youâd given this company seven yearsâenough was enough. You were moving forward, and no amount of unexpected gestures could change your decision.
*
You sat uncomfortably in Seungcheol's car as he drove the two of you to a lunch meeting with Hong Group. Normally, you'd be the one arranging transportation, but today you hadnât. In fact, you couldn'tâbecause you didnât know how to drive. You still remembered the brief flash of surprise in his eyes before he smoothly took the driverâs seat, saving you the trouble of calling a driver at the last minute.
âIâm sorry, sir, I shouldâve arranged for a driver earlier,â you mumbled, embarrassed. For the first time in your career, you felt humiliated by something so trivial. Maybe you really should take driving lessons after this.
Seungcheol only chuckled behind the wheel. Ahead, a sea of cars sat at a standstill in traffic, making you curse yourself a little more for this uncomfortable situation.
âItâs alright,â he reassured, glancing over. âItâs been a while since Iâve driven myself, actually. Jeonghan usually handles itâand heâs a great driver.â
As he turned his attention back to the road, you recalled Jeonghanâs parting words before you left the office. âSee? I told youâheâs trying to win your heart, Y/n,â Jeonghan had teased, though youâd brushed it off.
The silence stretched, until Seungcheol finally broke it. âIs it rude to ask why you donât drive?â He sounded curious, as if this was unusual for someone in your position.
âOh, itâs just... a bit of a silly reason,â you admitted. âIâm actually scared of driving.â You glanced down, hesitating. Even just sitting in the front seat made your heart race a little; the thought of being behind the wheel terrified you.
He seemed to take that in, and then, with surprising gentleness, asked, âBut are you comfortable now? You seem a bit tense.â
You were caught off guard but exhaled, realizing heâd noticed your fidgeting hands and the way you avoided looking at the road ahead. âIâm fine, sir. Iâm sorry if I seem distracted,â you said quickly, grateful when the restaurant finally came into view.
Inside, Seungcheol introduced you to Mr. Hong and his son, Joshua. As the three men began discussing business, you took notes on key points. Seungcheol was interested in investing in Joshuaâs new automotive line, and you tried to focus, but following the conversation was difficult. Every so often, Mr. Hong or Joshua would turn to you for your opinion, and you felt your confidence waver. This wasnât your area of expertise; Jeonghan was the one who shone in meetings like these. You started to regret agreeing to join the lunch.
âYou didnât seem to enjoy lunch earlier,â Seungcheol commented as the two of you headed back to the office, now seated in the back while the driver took over. You were relieved youâd managed to arrange a driver before the meal ended, sparing you from any more time on the front seat.
âOh, no, sir. I enjoyed it very much,â you replied, forcing a polite smile. But even as you spoke, you had the strange feeling that heâd seen through you.
Seungcheol sighed softly, then spoke to the driver, instructing him to close the soundproof partition between the front and back seats. Your curiosity stirredâwhy would he need privacy? But the next thing he did startled you even more. He turned, looking at you with an expression youâd never seen on his face before: a mix of hesitation and vulnerability.
âLet me be honest,â he began, his voice low and sincere. âWhen you first submitted your resignation letter, I wasnât bothered. I thought you simply wanted to develop your career in ways that maybe our company couldnât provide.â
Your breath caught, heart thudding as you tried to anticipate where he was going with this.
âBut when you called that nightâŠâ he continued, pausing as if weighing his next words. âIâI felt like a very bad person. I didnât realize how my actions might have affected you, and for that, I want to apologize, Ms. Ji.â
His words struck you like a bolt, leaving you reeling. What was he talking about? What call?
âIâve been thinking about it ever since,â he went on, his gaze never leaving yours. âAnd your idea⊠it seemed very tempting. So if the offer is still valid, Iâd like to take you up on it.â
What on earth was he talking about?
You felt panic creeping in as you tried to process his words. You called him? You couldnât remember ever calling Seungcheol outside of office hours, let alone making him an offer. And what kind of offer could you possibly make to someone who, practically speaking, owned your career for the next two months?
Heart pounding, you took a steadying breath, unsure of what to say. Yet the words slipped from your lips before you could stop them. âOf course, sirâŠâ you heard yourself reply.
A small, almost relieved smile crept onto Seungcheolâs face as he turned his gaze to the window. He seemed content, as if a weight had lifted from him.
Was it about your resignation? Had you asked to delay your departure without remembering it? Jeonghan had hinted that Seungcheol might not want you to leave. Or was it something else entirely? Questions buzzed through your mind as the car pulled up to the company building.
âTalk to you later, Ms. Ji,â Seungcheol said, his face lighting up with the dopiest smile youâd ever seen on him as he exited the car.
Jeonghan, waiting by the entrance, raised an eyebrow, clearly as perplexed as you felt. Mingyu, the new hire, looked at you like heâd seen a ghost, noting the stunned expression on your face and your unusually pale complexion.
*
You did call him.
You really did, the night after you submitted your resignation letterâthe night when you grabbed can after can of beer, drowning yourself in them like a madwoman, trying to forget everything.
You let out a heavy sigh, collapsing onto the bed. What happened that night when you called him? Why was he suddenly treating you so differently? And what exactly was the offer he mentioned this afternoon?
You felt the weight of the questions pressing down on you, swirling in your mind, but no answers came. Just more confusion.
Your phone rang, startling you. The caller ID displayed Choi Seungcheol, your very boss himself, calling you outside of working hours.
"Good evening, Mr. Choi. Is something wrong?" you answered, your voice betraying a hint of confusion.
You could hear him chuckling on the other end. "I can't call you?"
The casual tone caught you off guard. "YesâI mean, no! I just thought⊠you never call at this hour, so I assumed you needed help with something."
"Actually, I do. I was looking over the presentation you sent me this morning, and I need you to get it ready by tomorrow morning."
Wait, he sent you home early, yet now he expected you to work overtime?
You couldnât help but wonder: Is this the reason I wanted to leave this company?
"Please let me know which section you want me to edit," you said, trying to remain professional.
"No, actually⊠Iâm in the office right now. Come in, and Iâll show you exactly what I need."
Great, you thought to yourself.
"Alright⊠I'll be there," you replied, hanging up.
Thirty minutes later, you arrived at the office. The lights in Seungcheolâs office were on, and you could feel a knot forming in your stomach. You knocked on the door, announcing your presence.
"I'm sorry to drag you back here," Seungcheol said as you entered. "I need this material first thing in the morning."
You walked over to his desk, studying the part of the presentation he wanted changed. As you did, he stood and stepped aside, letting you sit in his chair to examine the presentation on his computerâhe hadnât printed anything out.
"Jeonghan had to leave. Todayâs his anniversary with his girlfriend," Seungcheol added, his tone almost apologetic.
You nodded in acknowledgment. "You know, I didnât want to be the jerk boss who makes him stay late on his anniversary," Seungcheol said.
You tilted your head slightly, waiting for him to continue.
"I called you because, well⊠Iâm already the jerk boss to you," he added, his voice lighter than before.
"Sorry?" Your hand froze over the mouse as you processed his words.
Seungcheol let out a soft, almost playful laugh. "You called me a jerk boss that night, Ms. Ji."
Your heart skipped a beat. His casual tone, combined with the unexpected mention of that night, made you feel a sudden heat rise to your cheeks.
You had a blind date that nightâthe first one in seven years, after working yourself to the bone for Seungcheol. But just as you were getting ready, Seungcheol sent you a voice note an hour before you were supposed to leave. He needed you to reschedule his entire agenda for next week because he was taking a vacation.
A vacation. Was it with the supermodel girlfriend heâd brought to the last social event?
With a heavy sigh, you dove into his agenda, making calls, negotiating with a dozen third parties. It took far longer than you expected. And by the time you finally finished, you received a text from your date.
"If you're too busy with your work, letâs cancel our date."
The words hit you harder than you expected. You remembered crying all week because of Seungcheol, how he had treated you so poorly, despite everything you had done for the company. That was it. You were done. You made up your mindâyou were going to resign. You wrote up your resignation letter and handed it to him first thing in the morning.
The night after, you drowned yourself in cans of beer. And somewhere between the haze of alcohol and frustration, you remembered calling him.
âJerk!â
You heard nothing on the other end.
âJerk! Are you there?â you called again, louder this time, the anger boiling in your voice. Finally, he responded, his voice tight with confusion. âMs. Ji, are you drunk?â
âDonât ask me if Iâm drunk! The reason Iâm drunk right now is you!â you snapped.
âMs. Ji? Where are you?â His voice softened, but you could hear the undercurrent of concern.
You chuckled bitterly. âDonât act like you care. All youâve done these years is take advantage of your quiet secretary. Youâve never treated me fairly, but Iâve been doing everything for you, bending over backward for the company. You're a jerk!"
And then the words youâd held in for so long spilled out in a rush. âAnd what? Youâre going off on a vacation with your model girlfriend while Iâm stuck here, working my ass off on your schedule? Youâre a total jerk, Choi Seungcheol! You heard that?â
*
You gasped as the memory of that conversation came rushing back, like a freight train you couldnât escape. Your hands shot up to cover your mouth, and your eyes widened. You did call him a jerk.
"I missed my blind date last week because of you, Choi Seungcheol! Do you know how lonely I've been, working for you? I bet you donât, because you're off gallivanting with your supermodel girlfriend while Iâm stuck with your endless schedule!"
"Ms. Ji, I donât have aâ" Seungcheol started, but you cut him off, your words coming faster than your brain could keep up.
"How are you going to take responsibility for that, huh, Mr. Choi? Do you even want to be my date? No? Well, then thereâs no reason for me to stick around. Iâm out of here! Iâm leaving, you jerk! You big, dumb, heartless jerk boss!"
You leaned back in his chair like you were starring in your own drama series, dramatic pause and all. Of course, you tried to keep your distance, but Seungcheol was standing right next to you, practically breathing down your neck. The closest you could get to escaping was a meter awayâone meterâas if that would be enough to save you from this mortifying moment. You could practically hear the earth laughing at you, but not helping you disappear.
"You remember now?" Seungcheolâs voice was amused, like heâd just stumbled upon a hidden gem. "I see, you forgot about it. No wonder youâve been acting all... normal since then."
You shouldâve been taking a dramatic exit, but instead, your brain was screaming for you to run to the nearest plane out of the country. You were so done.
"Iâm sorry, Mr. Choi. It was... I mean, I... Itâs just..." You froze, completely out of words. The awkward silence between you was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. You shoved your hands over your face, wishing you could just melt into the desk.
You quickly tried to apologize, your voice trembling slightly. "IâI'm really sorry, Mr. Choi. I didnât mean to... to... say all that. It was just the alcohol talking, you know? I wasnât thinking clearly."
Seungcheol paused for a moment, his expression shifting from teasing to something more thoughtful. He didnât look angry. In fact, he seemed... grateful? âYou know, I actually appreciate your honesty. I didnât realize how badly Iâve been treating you.â His eyes softened as he continued, âI guess it took you saying all that for me to really get it.â
You blinked, not sure how to respond. Was this really happening? Did Seungcheol just thank you for calling him a jerk? You were still in shock, but it felt... different now. Not bad, just unexpected.
Seungcheol leaned forward, his voice suddenly turning serious. âYou called me a jerk, but... about that offer to be your dateâ" He paused, glancing at you with a small, almost mischievous smile. "I meant it."
You immediately shook your head, trying to dismiss the idea. "Oh, no, no, no," you quickly interjected, waving your hands dismissively. "Please, forget that, Mr. Choi. Besides, you have a girlfriend. Iâm not about to get mixed up in that drama."
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, unfazed. He didnât back down. âIâm serious, Ms. Ji. I want to take you out. No work, no obligations, just you and me. Youâre not going to get rid of me that easily.â
You looked at him incredulously, half-laughing to yourself. "Are you... are you really serious right now?"
Seungcheol nodded, his voice low and sincere. âDead serious. I know I messed up, but Iâd like a chance to make it right. To be something more than just your boss. So, what do you say?â
You immediately felt a strange flutter of something in your chest. The idea of dating Seungcheol seemed ridiculousâtoo complicated, too messy. You had spent so much time thinking about leaving, about cutting ties with this company. You had worked your ass off for him, and now he was here, offering something completely different. Something unexpected.
You quickly shook your head again, trying to keep your composure. "IâI'm not sure what you're trying to do here, but I don't think dating you is the solution to this... whatever this is."
Seungcheolâs expression softened. âIâm not trying to fix anything, Ms. Ji. Iâm just trying to make sure you donât leave with regrets... especially when it comes to me.â His gaze held yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. âSo, just think about it, alright? No pressure.â
The words hung in the air, and despite your best efforts to shake the idea off, a small voice inside you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like...
Seungcheol let out a small, knowing smile as you kept shaking your head, clearly trying to dismiss the idea. "You know," he began, his tone suddenly light, "I don't actually have a girlfriend."
You froze, your hand halfway through waving him off. "What?"
"I donât have a supermodel girlfriend," he repeated, leaning back slightly, his arms crossing casually over his chest. "I mean, I mightâve brought someone to a social event, but that doesnât mean sheâs my girlfriend. You assumed a lot, didnât you?"
*
"What's going on between you and him?" Jeonghan asked, raising an eyebrow as he stepped out of Seungcheol's office this morning.
You glanced at him, raising your own brows. "What do you mean?"
Jeonghan rolled his eyes with a knowing smirk. "I saw you two stepping out of his car with a driver."
You shrugged nonchalantly. "We met on our way."
Jeonghan hummed, unconvinced. "He always drives himself to work, but today he brings a driver? Suspicious," he said, walking back to his desk with a grin.
You tried to shake off Jeonghanâs teasing and focused on your work. You walked over to Mingyuâs desk, where he was already sorting through some papers. "These two havenât fixed yet, so you need to make a call and finalize the date and time with the other party," you instructed. Mingyu immediately nodded, giving you a thumbs up.
As you turned back to your desk, your phone rang, and you quickly rushed to pick it up. Your eyes flickered to Seungcheolâs office, where he was standing by the door. You answered the call just as he made eye contact with you.
"Ms. Ji?" Seungcheolâs voice was calm but warm.
"Yes, Mr. Choi?" you replied.
"Do you have any plans for lunch?" he asked, his tone casual but with a hint of curiosity.
You paused for a moment, taken aback by the unexpected question. "Uh, no, not yet," you answered, trying to keep your voice steady. "Why?"
"Great. Come to my office, then. Iâd like to discuss something with you," he said, before hanging up.
You knocked softly on Seungcheol's office door before stepping inside. He was sitting at his desk, looking as composed as ever, but there was a warmth in his expression when he saw you.
"Ms. Ji," he greeted, his voice smooth. "Come in. Have a seat."
You hesitated for a moment, then took a seat across from him. The silence lingered briefly before he spoke again, his tone more casual than usual.
"I was thinking, since itâs almost lunch hour, why donât we go out and grab something to eat?" he suggested, leaning back in his chair slightly. "Iâll let you pick the place. Anywhere you want."
You blinked, caught off guard by the offer. This was... unexpected. Was he being genuine? Or was this just another one of his attempts to be "nice" when it suited him? You tried not to overthink it, but you couldnât help the feeling of unease creeping in.
"You... want me to pick the place?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"
He chuckled, the sound surprisingly warm. "Of course. Iâm sure you know better than I do whatâs good around here."
"Alright, Iâll choose," you said, feeling a little bold. "But donât say I didnât warn you if it turns out to be something too casual for your taste."
Seungcheol raised his hands in mock surrender. "Iâll trust your judgment," he said with a grin. "Lead the way."
You nodded and stood up, your mind already racing through the possibilities of where to go.
"Thanks for the meal, Mr. Choi!" Mingyu cheered as he eagerly began inhaling his food, Jeonghan following suit with a satisfied hum. Seungcheol, however, sat at the head of the table with a polite but strained smile, poking at his food with none of Mingyu's enthusiasm.
You leaned closer, lowering your voice. "Is it to your liking, Mr. Choi?"
He sighed, briefly meeting your gaze before nodding curtly. "Itâs fine," he replied, though his tone suggested otherwise.
It dawned on you too late that you might have misunderstood him earlier. When he said he wanted to have lunch, you assumed it was a casual team lunch with all the secretariesâMingyu and Jeonghan included. So, youâd taken the liberty of booking a four-seat table at a decent restaurant and informing everyone.
You hadnât noticed until now that Seungcheolâs face had been slightly sour since stepping out of his office.
"Is this one of those farewell lunches for Ms. Ji?" Mingyu asked innocently in the middle of the meal, completely oblivious to the tension brewing.
Everyone froze. Jeonghan shot Mingyu a sharp look, and you cringed, knowing full well your resignation was still a sensitive topic for Seungcheol. It had only been three weeks since your notice, and the new secretary-in-training was nowhere near your level of efficiency. No boss wanted to lose a competent staff member, especially not one they relied on as much as Seungcheol relied on you.
Seungcheolâs fork paused mid-air before he cleared his throat and shook his head. "If this were a farewell lunch, it would need to be much grander than this, donât you think, Mr. Yoon?"
Jeonghan immediately nodded, catching on to the unspoken signal. "Absolutely, Mr. Choi. Iâll start planning one later. Ms. Ji has been with you for seven yearsâitâs only fitting to make it a big celebration."
Your eyes widened in surprise as you shook your head. "No, no. Really, thereâs no need for that. Itâs not exactly something to celebrate," you insisted, feeling a mix of awkwardness and guilt.
Seungcheol set down his fork and leaned back slightly, his gaze firmly on you. His lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile that sent a shiver down your spine. "Oh, donât be like that, Ms. Ji. Iâd like to treat you to something youâll never forget."
You froze, feeling your face heat up at the deliberate weight of his words. Before you could process what heâd just said, you choked on your food, your eyes watering as you coughed violently. Jeonghan jumped into action, handing you a glass of water while Mingyu leaned forward in concern.
"Are you okay?" Mingyu asked, looking genuinely worried.
You nodded hastily, gulping down the water while avoiding Seungcheolâs gaze. Meanwhile, the man in question calmly resumed eating his meal, a subtle smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, as if he hadnât just dropped that bombshell in front of his other staff.
Jeonghan and Mingyu exchanged curious glances, clearly aware that something unusual was going on. You, however, were too busy trying to regain your composure to notice. This lunch was not turning out the way youâd imagined.
"Ms. Ji... I'll drive you home," Seungcheol announced as he stepped out of his office, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
You glanced up, startled, and then looked around the empty office. Jeonghan and Mingyu had already left, leaving you alone to crosscheck everything before calling it a day. "I donât think thatâs a good idea, Mr. Choi. Iâll just take the bus," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
Seungcheol frowned, clearly displeased. "Why? The bus is going to be packed at this hour." He checked his watch, then shifted his gaze back to you. His expression softened, but his stance remained firm as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.
"And besides," he continued, his lips curving into an easy smile, "I want that dinner date. Just the two of us."
Your breath hitched before you could stop it. "Mr. Choi... I..." You trailed off, your brain scrambling to process his words. A dinner date? With him? The thought sent your heart racing in ways you didnât want to admit.
He shrugged, utterly unbothered by your flustered state. "I told you, Ms. Ji, Iâd like to be your date. I want to get to know you better," he said, his tone so casual it was almost maddening.
Then, as if he had just decided on the matter, he clapped his hands together and straightened up. "Alright then, Iâll book a restaurant for dinner. We can watch the sunset beforehand." Without waiting for your response, he turned on his heel and disappeared into his office, leaving you standing there, utterly baffled.
Dinner? Sunset? With your soon-to-be ex-boss? Your mind raced. This was either going to be the most surreal experience of your lifeâor a disaster waiting to happen.
*
No, no, no. This couldnât be happening.
All the material for this morningâs meeting had disappeared from your computer, and to make matters worse, it seemed like your system had been attacked by a virus. Your computer was practically frozen and would need time to be repaired. Glancing at your watch, you realized there was only an hour left before the meeting started. Panic clawed at your chest as you made a beeline for Seungcheolâs office.
âIâm so sorry for disturbing you,â you blurted out, cutting into Seungcheol and Jeonghanâs morning conversation as you barged into the room, not bothering with pleasantries.
âWhatâs wrong, Ms. Ji?â Seungcheol asked, his brows furrowed in concern.
âMy computerâs been attacked by a virus, and I canât access the materials for the morning meeting. Is it okay if I use your computer, Mr. Choi?â
Without hesitation, Seungcheol stood from his chair, gesturing for you to take his place. âGo ahead.â
You quickly logged into his system and started searching, your fingers flying over the keyboard. But as you combed through his files, a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. âYou canât find it either?â Seungcheolâs voice broke the tense silence, sounding as baffled as you felt. âIâm sure I finalized the file and saved it. It should be here.â
âItâs gone,â you said grimly, turning to look at him. âEven the recycle bin is empty.â
âWhat about Mingyu? Does he have a backup?â Jeonghan asked as you all hurried out of Seungcheolâs office, heading to the workstation to regroup.
You shook your head in frustration. âI havenât handed the final version over yet. Mingyu only manages the schedules and documents that need signing."
Jeonghan patted your shoulder sympathetically. âItâs okay, donât panic. Weâll figure it out. We can finish this in 30 minutes if we work together.â
Taking a deep breath, you nodded and sat at Jeonghanâs desk, taking over his computer. Opening the last version of the file, you began revising it at a frantic pace. âI donât know whatâs wrong with me lately,â you muttered, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed. âMaybe Iâve been too distracted.â
Jeonghan shook his head, offering a small smile. âYouâve been juggling so much; itâs bound to happen. Just focusâweâve got this.â
The clock ticked closer to the meeting time, and the pressure mounted. Mingyu darted into the room, his face lined with worry. âThe printer broke down,â he said apologetically. âSheâs trying to fix it, but itâll take at least five more minutes.â
Jeonghan let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. âGreat. Just what we needed.â
In the meeting room, heads of departments and their assistants were already seated, shuffling in their chairs as they sipped coffee and waited. Mingyu quickly returned, distributing refreshments in an effort to keep them placated.
âIs everything settled?â Seungcheol asked as Jeonghan re-entered his office, his voice calm but tinged with impatience.
âIâm afraid weâll need to delay the meeting. Itâs taking longer than expected to fix everything,â Jeonghan admitted.
Seungcheol nodded thoughtfully, glancing at his watch. âAnnounce to everyone that the meeting will start in fifteen minutes. Iâll handle the delay personally.â
Jeonghan gave a quick nod, rushing out to relay the message, while you continued frantically typing at Jeonghanâs desk. Though the tension was palpable, you reminded yourself to stay calm. There wasnât any room for error now.
âFocus, Ms. Ji,â you whispered to yourself, steeling your nerves as you worked against the clock.
âThe meeting is delayed for 15 minutes, and you printed out the wrong document?â Mr. Park, the head of the marketing department, raised his voice, his tone cutting through the tense air as you handed out the material.
You froze, glancing down at the section he was pointing at. Your heart dropped when you realized he was right. The document you printed wasnât their presentationâit was entirely unrelated. You were sure it was the correct file when you sent it to print, but now, staring at it, there was no denying the mistake.
âIâm so sorry. Iâll fix it immeââ
Before you could finish, Mr. Park threw the paper onto the table with a loud thud. âThis is unacceptable! How do we expect to run a successful meeting with this level of incompetence? I knew something like this would happen when they decided to overburden the directorâs secretary team instead of hiring specialized staff for each department.â
You flinched at his words, bowing your head in shame. Whispers broke out among the other heads of departments. Some seemed to agree with Mr. Park, nodding subtly, while others exchanged concerned looks.
The door opened, and Seungcheol stepped in, his commanding presence making everyone rise to their feet. His sharp eyes scanned the room, immediately locking onto you, standing there with your head lowered, tension radiating off your frame. Papers were scattered across the table, a clear sign of discord.
Seungcheolâs gaze flicked to Mingyu, who leaned in to whisper a quick explanation. As Seungcheol listened, his jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. Straightening his posture, he addressed the room with a calm but authoritative tone.
âThank you so much, Ms. Ji, for your hard work,â he began, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. âSomeone from the marketing department, please accompany Ms. Ji to ensure the correct material is printed this time.â
His eyes shifted to Mr. Park, who immediately lowered his gaze, uncomfortable under Seungcheolâs direct attention. âIt takes patience to get things right,â Seungcheol added, his tone firm but controlled, âand patience is something we all need to practice.â
You felt a rush of gratitude and embarrassment as Seungcheol diffused the situation, taking the spotlight off you. Nodding quickly, you turned to one of the marketing assistants, signaling them to follow you out of the room.
As you left, Seungcheolâs calm but commanding words lingered in the room, leaving no space for further criticism. Instead, the atmosphere shifted as everyone quietly reorganized themselves for the meeting ahead.
*
"You're not taking lunch," Seungcheol observed as he stepped out of his office, heading to grab a meal. He glanced around, noticing that both Mingyu and Jeonghan were nowhere to be seenâthey must have left already, leaving you alone.
You shook your head, adjusting your posture in your seat. "Iâm fine, Mr. Choi," you replied, your face carefully composed with professional restraint.
Seungcheol frowned slightly but took a few steps closer, leaning his frame casually against the edge of your desk. "Is it because of what happened this morning?" he asked, his tone softer now.
You hesitated before shrugging, unable to completely mask the frustration bubbling under your calm exterior. "I mean... I canât just shake it off like nothing happened. And honestly, Iâm sorry for messing up like that."
He crossed his arms and tilted his head, studying your face. "This is the first time, isnât it?"
You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I canât believe it myself. Seven years without a major mistake, and then this happens," you muttered, more to yourself than him.
Seungcheol let out a quiet chuckle, the sound both warm and reassuring. "Thatâs an improvement, then. No one goes seven years without a single mistakeâit just means youâre human."
You glanced up at him, your lips curving into a faint, tired smile. "And thatâs exactly the point, Mr. Choi. Iâve set a standard for myself, and now Iâve blown it. Maybe Mr. Park was rightâI might really be incompetent."
His expression hardened at your words, and he straightened slightly. "Thatâs not how I see it, Ms. Ji," he said firmly. "Whatever Mr. Park said has no bearing on your competence. I supervise you, and I know the quality of your work better than anyone here."
His confidence in you was disarming, and you found yourself relaxing just a little under his steady gaze. "Thank you, Mr. Choi. That means more than you realize," you admitted softly, your voice almost breaking with relief.
Seungcheol glanced at his watch and then back at you. "Weâve got thirty minutes left before the break ends," he said thoughtfully. His eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at his lips. "What do you say we grab some sandwiches together? My treat."
The offer caught you off guard. You blinked up at him, unsure whether to accept or refuse. "Are you sure?" you asked cautiously, not wanting to impose.
"Positive," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Youâve been beating yourself up all morning. A good sandwich and some fresh air might do you good. Come on."
With a reluctant but grateful nod, you stood up. For the first time since the chaotic meeting earlier, you felt a flicker of comfort creeping back into your day.
"I thought we were going to sit down and eat," you said, taking a bite of your sandwich while walking back to the company building.
Seungcheolâs suit had been left behind in his office, leaving him in a dark grey dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie was loosened slightly, giving him an unexpectedly casual air as he took a bite of his own sandwich. He shook his head at your comment, chewing quickly. "We donât have time for that," he said, his voice muffled.
You giggled at the sight of him, noticing a crumb stuck on his cheek. "Youâve got something on your face," you said, pointing.
He immediately tried to wipe it off but missed.
"Here, let me," you offered, stepping closer. Without a second thought, you used a napkin to gently clean his cheek. Your fingers brushed his skin briefly, and Seungcheol froze mid-chew, his eyes locking on yours.
"All clean," you said, stepping back with a smile before taking another bite of your sandwich, oblivious to the faint blush creeping up his neck.
"I told you not to call me Mr. Choi when weâre outside," he teased, trying to mask his flustered expression.
You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Itâs weird to call you casually when Iâve been calling you Mr. Choi for the past seven years."
Seungcheolâs expression shifted slightly, a thoughtful look settling on his face. "Last night," he began, his voice softer now. "When you told me why you donât drive anymoreâŠ"
Your steps faltered for a moment, but he stopped completely at the crosswalk as the pedestrian signal turned red.
"Did it happen here?" he asked gently, his eyes scanning the intersection.
You nodded, the food in your hand suddenly feeling much heavier. The memory, though buried, resurfaced vividly as if it had happened yesterday.
Seven years ago. Youâd just started working with Seungcheol after his father had passed away, and the transition had been anything but smooth. Unlike his father, Seungcheol had seemed colder, more distant. His way of doing things clashed with what you were used to, and the tension in the secretary team had been palpableâespecially for you.
That morning, your car had broken down, and youâd decided to walk to get Seungcheolâs favorite coffee. You were already flustered, trying to make a good impression despite your frustrations with him. Then, everything changed.
You had witnessed itâa car collision right before your eyes. The screeching tires, the bone-chilling sound of impact, the desperate cries of onlookers. And then, the blood. You still remembered how it splattered onto your blouse and face, how your legs had frozen in place, unable to move.
"Y/n? Where are you? We have a meeting in an hour, and Mr. Choi has been asking for his coffee," Jeonghan had called, his voice impatient through the phone.
Youâd managed to drag yourself to the office after buying a new blouse, your hands trembling the entire time. Yet, instead of compassion, youâd been met with Seungcheolâs sharp reprimand for forgetting his coffee. The sting of that moment had stayed with you for years.
And now, you couldnât believe you had shared it all with him last night, over casual conversation, when heâd asked why you no longer drove.
The pedestrian signal turned green, snapping you out of your thoughts. But before you could move, a hand gently gripped yours.
Seungcheolâs warm fingers curled around yours, grounding you in the present. He led you across the road, his pace steady, his grip firm yet comforting.
You glanced at him, surprised by the gesture. His gaze remained forward, focused on the path ahead. Yet, the warmth of his hand in yours spoke volumes, a quiet reassurance that lingered even after youâd crossed the street.
*
The complaints began to pour in like an unrelenting tide. Every time you opened your inbox, you found more emails from department heads, their tone varying from formal discontent to outright disdain. Words like incompetence, unprofessional, and unacceptable were repeated so often they seemed to blur together, creating a cloud of frustration and doubt in your mind.
What made it worse were the thinly veiled accusations of favoritism. Several emails implied that Seungcheolâs supposed bias toward you was undermining the secretary teamâs performance and credibility. The insinuation was like a dagger, cutting into the teamâs morale and creating an atmosphere heavy with unease.
It wasnât long before you noticed the shift among your colleagues. Mingyu, usually cheerful and talkative, had grown quieter. His usual playful remarks were absent during lunch breaks, replaced by an awkward silence. Even Jeonghan, who always maintained an easygoing demeanor, seemed troubled, though he tried to hide it behind his usual smirks and teasing words.
âIgnore those emails,â Jeonghan said one afternoon, leaning against your desk. He spoke casually, but his eyes held a seriousness that betrayed his concern. âItâs the marketing department stirring up trouble again. Theyâve been trying to undermine the secretary team for years.â
You glanced at him, startled. âWhy would they do that? What do they have to gain?â
Jeonghan shrugged, his lips curling into a bitter smile. âPower dynamics, politics, controlâyou name it. Ever since Mr. Choi took over, the marketing department hasnât been happy. They thrived under his fatherâs management because they were given more autonomy, but Mr. Choiâs stricter policies clipped their wings. Theyâve been retaliating ever since.â
âAnd weâre caught in the middle,â you murmured, feeling the weight of the situation settle over you.
Jeonghan nodded. âExactly. Theyâre using the secretary team as a scapegoat to make Mr. Choi look bad. And now that theyâve noticed how close you and him seem lately, theyâre exploiting it to fuel their narrative.â
Your stomach churned at his words. The accusations werenât just baseless; they were carefully orchestrated attacks designed to destabilize the entire team.
âBut what can we do?â you asked, your voice tinged with helplessness. âIf this continues, itâll ruin our reputationâand Mr. Choiâs.â
Jeonghan leaned closer, lowering his voice. âWe fight back, but carefully. First, we need to fix the immediate issuesâno more mistakes, no more complaints. Then, we gather evidence. If we can prove the marketing department is behind this sabotage, weâll turn the tables on them.â
Seungcheol walked you to your door after he drove you home, his steps calm but purposeful. "You donât have to worry about all the complaints," he said, his voice smooth, but there was a knowing look in his eyes as he bid you goodbye.
"You saw them too?" you asked, your voice a little strained from the weight of it all. He nodded with a small grin. "Receiving complaints is part of my job, you know," he teased, throwing you a wink as if he were trying to make light of the situation.
"So you know theyâre all from Mr. Parkâs people?" you asked, unable to hide the slight bitterness in your voice.
He smiled, that reassuring smile of his. "I told you, you donât have to worry about that," he said, his tone confident, almost as if he already had everything under control.
You lowered your head, feeling the weight of it all. You were involved now, and the rumors were only growing. Whispers of your relationship with him were circulating the office, and worse, someone had posted pictures of the two of you on the company community page. It felt impossible to escape.
Seungcheol seemed to sense your unease. "Hey," he said, his voice gentle, "itâs just a month left before you leave. A little plot twist will make it great, right?" His words were meant to lighten the mood, and you couldnât help but chuckle at the thought.
He reached for your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Weâll be fine. Iâll be fine. Donât worry."
You hesitated for a moment, then asked, "You want to come inside?" You bit your lip, unsure of how heâd respond. Would he take the offer seriously, or was it too much, too soon?
After a brief pause, he sent a quick message to his driver. Moments later, he was already seated on your couch, his suit jacket and tie discarded, his sleeves rolled up casually.
"I expect this kind of vibe," Seungcheol remarked as his eyes wandered around your apartment, taking in the cozy space. His gaze lingered on everything, from the soft lighting to the quiet hum of your personal sanctuary.
"Two rooms?" he asked, a curious glint in his eyes. You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.
"Sometimes my brother visits. He lives in a dorm, but he stays here on his days off," you explained, your voice casual, but you felt a little self-conscious explaining it. You weren't sure why, but it felt like you were giving him a piece of your personal life you hadnât shared with anyone before.
"He's still training for the national team?" Seungcheol asked, and you looked at him, surprised that he remembered.
"You remembered?" you asked, your voice soft with disbelief.
Seungcheol nodded, his smile warm. "Of course, itâs you."
It was a casual evening after work, everyone gathered in the break room. Jeonghan and Seungcheol had just returned from a trip, and he couldnât wait to share some exciting news.
"My sister just got accepted into one of the top companies!" Jeonghan had announced, beaming with pride. "Weâre celebrating this weekend!"
The team cheered, raising their glasses in a toast. It was a happy moment, and you couldnât help but feel a little nostalgic for the simplicity of those times.
Seungcheol had joined in, his voice nonchalant but with a hint of pride. "My brother decided to go into the culinary field instead of business," he had mentioned. "Can you believe it? A chef, not a businessman."
Youâd overheard it all, and for some reason, it had stayed with youâhow casually everyone shared their family stories, how different yet similar your lives were.
Seungcheolâs voice broke through your thoughts. "Do you have siblings, Ms. Ji?" he asked, his tone playful, though there was a touch of curiosity beneath the words.
"She has a brother," Jeonghan had added once, with a wink. "Do you know Ji Chang Wook, the former football player? Thatâs her brother."
Seungcheol raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. "Really?" he asked, looking at you with a mix of disbelief and admiration.
You nodded shyly. "He now works for the national team as their coach."
Seungcheolâs eyes softened, impressed. "Thatâs incredible," he said. "Youâre surrounded by greatness."
You smiled at his words, feeling a swell of pride for your brother. As the conversation shifted back to the present, you placed a glass of iced tea on the coffee table for Seungcheol before settling back onto the couch next to him.
"How am i as a boyfriend?" Seungcheol suddenly asked, his question coming out of nowhere. You let out a soft chuckle at his unexpected inquiry. His gaze was playful, yet there was something deeper beneath it, as if he was genuinely waiting for your answer.
You paused, thinking about how to answer. "I donât know that youâd be willing to go down with a mere secretary staff like me, Mr. Choi," you teased, trying to mask the flutter of uncertainty in your chest.
Seungcheol rolled his eyes at the "Mr. Choi." He had been correcting you ever since the beginning, insisting you call him Seungcheol.
"Can I ask you a question?" you asked, your voice tentative. He nodded, leaning in slightly, his expression serious.
"Why were you being an asshole at the beginning?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. It wasnât the most delicate way to phrase it, but you couldnât help yourself.
Seungcheol closed his eyes, clearly not thrilled about being reminded of his past behavior. "I was a lowly bastard, wasnât I?" he admitted, his voice quiet, almost regretful. "Iâm sorry... I was just very insecure."
"Insecure?" you repeated, surprised by his honesty.
He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he reached out to brush a stray hair from your face. "My father passed away, and my brother didnât want to take over the business. I didnât have enough experience to rule a company. I was just trying to figure things out."
You blinked, caught off guard. "I had no idea about that."
Seungcheol nodded again, his gaze softening. "I made sure no one knew about it. But I broke down at one point, and Jeonghan helped me a lot. You did, too. You always did your best at work. But I just..." He trailed off, his fingers grazing your skin as he continued, "I didnât want to get distracted by you. Maybe thatâs why I treated you so badly."
You furrowed your brow in confusion. "Distracted? By me? How come?" You chuckled, still processing the idea. Was it really possible?
Seungcheolâs smile deepened, and his gaze softened. "I used to like you a lot. My father always spoke highly of you, and I couldnât help but admire you."
"No way," you whispered, your eyes widening in disbelief.
"Iâm serious," he said, his voice steady and sincere. "You were always shining at that desk of yours."
You laughed, the sound a mix of disbelief and warmth. "Since when?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.
"Since you visited my house," he said, his tone turning nostalgic. "I saw how you treated my fatherâso professional, yet so graceful. I tried to find a secretary like you, but I guess thereâs only one of you."
Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at him, the realization settling in. Despite all the tension and confusion, there was something undeniably genuine about his words, and for the first time in a while, it felt like things between you and Seungcheol might finally be falling into place.
Seungcheol leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on your lips, the moment growing more intimate with every passing second. Just as you felt your breath hitch, the sound of someone punching in the passcode to your door broke the tension, startling both of you.
âY/n! I brought someââ The baritone voice trailed off abruptly as the door swung open, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man carrying two plastic bags. His steps halted, and his eyes widened as he took in the scene before him. His sister, tangled up with a stranger on the couch, looking far too close for comfort.
You and Seungcheol scrambled apart, both of you stumbling to your feet as if caught red-handed.
âDid I interrupt something?â the man asked, his tone sharp and accusatory. His gaze darted between you and Seungcheol before settling on you. âWhoâs this, Y/n?â
Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you tried to compose yourself. âUh... this is Choi Seungcheol, my... my boss,â you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.
Seungcheol extended a hand, his expression polite and composed despite the awkwardness of the situation. âItâs nice to meet you. Iâmââ
âYour boss?â the man interrupted, completely ignoring the handshake. His eyes narrowed as he turned his attention back to you. âHeâs the one who made you work overtime and miss my birthday?â
You froze. Shoot. You had vented about Seungcheol to your brother countless times, never expecting him to meet the man himself.
âOppa, itâs not like that,â you tried to explain, but your brother wasnât having it.
âYou talked ill of him to me all the time,â Changwook said, his tone laced with disbelief and a hint of anger. His grip on your arm tightened slightly as he pulled you further away from Seungcheol. âWhy is he here now? In your apartment?â
Your mind raced, searching for an explanation that wouldnât make things worse. âWeâre... umm...â You waved your hands in the air helplessly, your words failing you.
Seungcheol, however, didnât hesitate. âIâm her boyfriend,â he said firmly, his voice steady and confident as he stepped forward.
Your eyes widened in shock at his bold declaration. âThatâsââ you started, but the words died in your throat as your brotherâs gaze hardened, his protective instincts kicking in.
âBoyfriend?â Changwook echoed, his voice filled with skepticism as he gave Seungcheol a once-over. âSince when? And why am I just now hearing about this?â
You cringed inwardly, feeling trapped between Seungcheolâs unexpected claim and your brotherâs scrutiny. The fact that youâd spent months complaining about Seungcheol didnât help. How did I end up here?
âChangwook, calm down,â you said, trying to diffuse the situation. âItâs... new.â
âNew?â your brother repeated, his frown deepening as his eyes bored into you. âHow new? And why would you date your boss of all people? Especially someone youâve always badmouthed?â
You felt the blood drain from your face. Youâre dead, your mind screamed at you, but before you could even attempt a defense, your brother turned to you with an authoritative wave of his hand.
âGo to your room,â Changwook said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. âThis is a menâs conversation.â
*
You were trapped between two drunken men. Changwook, still pouring himself another shot of soju, mumbled incoherently about everything under the sun, while Seungcheol, clearly in no better condition, had his head dropped onto your shoulder. The weight of him was comforting yet overwhelming, especially with the alcohol fumes wafting off him.
"Our Y/n couldnât drink dairy, so you have to make sure her latte is always with oat milk,â Changwook slurred, his words slightly jumbled as he tried to sit up straight. He pointed a wobbly finger at Seungcheol as though delivering a life-or-death instruction.
Seungcheol gasped dramatically, his head lifting momentarily before snuggling back into the crook of your neck. âOur Y/n canât handle dairy? Oh my god, poor Y/n!â His words came out in a hushed, exaggerated whisper. âIâll buy you tons of oat milk, Y/n. Gallons of it! So youâll never, ever get a stomachache again!â
You tried to suppress your laugh, but a chuckle escaped as Seungcheol tightened his arms around your waist, nuzzling into your neck like a sleepy puppy. He smelled like soju mixed with the faint remnants of his cologneâa mix that somehow still made your heart skip.
âAlright, Mr. Gallant Knight,â you murmured, brushing his hair back gently. âLetâs get you home before you start a crusade against all dairy products.â
âNooo,â Seungcheol whined softly, his voice muffled against your skin. âLet me stay here. I promise I wonât do anything! Iâll sleep on the floor if I have to, cross my heart.â
You shook your head, unable to contain your amusement. He was far too cute like this. âAlright, fine,â you relented with a small smile. âBut weâre at least getting you into bed. Letâs get up on the count of three, okay?â
Seungcheol groaned in protest, but you felt him adjust slightly, his arms loosening around your waist.
âOne,â you began, bracing yourself. âTwo⊠threeâ"
You tried to pull him up, but Seungcheol, true to his drunken state, flopped back onto the couch like a boneless doll.
âToo heavy,â he mumbled, pouting. âYou have to help me, Y/n. Iâm weak, but youâre strong.â
âStrong?â you repeated with a laugh. âWhat are you even talking about? Youâre twice my size!â
âExactly,â Seungcheol replied, his tone overly serious. âThatâs why youâre amazing. Youâre tiny but mighty.â
From across the room, Changwook let out a grunt as he finally rose from his seat, wobbling slightly before glaring at Seungcheol. âStop flirting with my sister, you lightweight,â he muttered, pointing a finger at him before stumbling toward his room. âAnd donât you dare think about sharing a bed with her!â
âNoted, Coach Ji,â Seungcheol mumbled sleepily, waving his hand in the air.
You sighed, shaking your head as you tugged at Seungcheolâs arm again. âCome on, big guy. Letâs at least get you lying down before Changwook comes back with a lecture.â
Seungcheol finally complied, leaning heavily on you as you helped him to your room. âThanks, Y/n,â he murmured, his voice soft. âYouâre the best.â
âYeah, yeah,â you said, rolling your eyes but smiling nonetheless. âJust donât puke on my bed, okay?â
âIâd never,â he promised, his words slurring as he flopped onto your mattress, instantly dozing off.
You sighed again, pulling a blanket over him before retreating to the couch. As you settled in, you couldnât help but smile at the chaos that was your lifeâand at the man now snoring softly in your bed.
âWhereâs Mr. Choi? Heâs not here yet?â Mingyuâs voice broke the usual morning buzz of the office. He glanced around, noting the conspicuous absence of the boss. It was already 8 a.m., and Mr. Choi was typically seated at his desk by 7:45, meticulously reviewing his schedule or flipping through a book.
Jeonghan checked his watch and frowned. âI know, right? He hasnât called or texted me either. Do you think heâs sick or something?â he wondered aloud, a hint of concern creeping into his tone.
âHeâs late,â you mumbled, barely glancing up from your phone as you replied.
âHow do you know that?!â Mingyu and Jeonghan exclaimed in unison, their voices tinged with surprise.
âHe texted me,â you replied nonchalantly, still focused on your phone.
Mingyuâs jaw dropped, and he pouted, looking genuinely hurt. âHe texted you? But not me? He still doesnât trust me with his schedule. What if he hates me?â he whined, the last part almost a whisper.
You chuckled softly, grabbing a stack of documents from your desk and placing them in front of him. âThatâs why Iâm tutoring you today. Weâre going over how to prepare presentation materials and manage other tasks.â
Mingyu sighed dramatically but couldnât hide the small smile tugging at his lips. âAlrightâŠâ He reluctantly took the documents, the pout still lingering on his face, but his determination to improve was clear.
Suddenly, Jeonghanâs voice interrupted the moment. âOhâŠâ
Both you and Mingyu turned toward him, brows furrowed. âWhatâs wrong?â you asked, stepping over to Jeonghanâs desk.
Jeonghan didnât answer immediately, his eyes fixed on his computer screen. His lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at something. Curiosity got the better of you, and you leaned in to look.
On the screen was a post from the companyâs internal community. The headline read, âMr. Park Is Caught!â Beneath it was a photo of Seungcheol standing in the marketing department alongside the head of HR.
Your brows knitted together. âWhatâs that supposed to mean? Is Mr. Choi investigating him behind our backs?â
Jeonghan bit his lip, his gaze still glued to the screen. âLooks like itâŠâ he murmured.
You quickly scanned the comments below the post. Employees from the marketing department were sharing snippets of gossip. Someone had claimed that Mr. Park had been caught falsifying records and embezzling departmental funds.
Mingyu, who had walked over to peek at the screen, let out a low whistle. âWow. I didnât think Mr. Park would actually get caught.â
You frowned, a mix of surprise and worry swirling in your chest. âHe didnât mention any of this to us,â you said softly, almost to yourself.
Jeonghan finally looked away from the screen, his expression thoughtful. âIf heâs handling this personally, it must be serious.â
Mingyu crossed his arms, tilting his head. âWell, if Mr. Parkâs really guilty, itâs good that Mr. Choiâs taking action. But why keep it so secretive? I mean, weâre his team.â
Jeonghan sighed and leaned back in his chair. âItâs probably because this involves embezzlement. You know how sensitive that kind of accusation is. He probably didnât want anyone tipping Mr. Park off before he had solid evidence.â
You nodded slowly, processing everything. âStill, I hope Mr. Choiâs being careful. This kind of situation can get messy.â
Jeonghan gave you a knowing look but didnât say anything. Mingyu, however, turned to you with a cheeky grin. âWow, youâre so concerned about him. Are you sure youâre not his girlfriendâ
You shot him a glare, heat rising to your cheeks. âShut up and get back to your documents, Mingyu.â
He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. âAlright, alright. But seriously, Iâm curious how this all plays out.â
Jeonghan nodded, his gaze returning to the screen. âMe too. If Mr. Parkâs really guilty, this could shake things up in the company.â
You bit your lip, silently hoping Seungcheol would return soonâwith answers.
Seungcheolâs arrival on the floor sent a wave of tension through the secretary team. His usual composed demeanor was even more rigid than usual, and without wasting a second, he summoned Jeonghan into his office. The atmosphere was thick with curiosity and unease, but you kept your head down, silently supervising Mingyu as he prepared materials for tomorrowâs meeting with all the department heads.
âSo, whatâs Mr. Parkâs status now?â Mingyu asked, flipping through a document from the marketing department. His voice was casual, but his eyes betrayed his curiosity.
You shook your head. âI donât know, Mingyu, and honestly, I donât want to fill my head with too much right now. Iâm leaving this company in a week, remember?â
Mingyu sighed, setting his pen down. âYeah, I remember⊠But you know what? As much as I believe in myself, I canât help but worry. What if I canât replace you?â
You gave him a reassuring smile and patted his shoulder. âDonât worry, Mingyu. It took me seven years to get to where I am. Youâll get there too.â
Mingyu bit his lip, nodding. âYouâre right⊠Youâre really good at comforting people, Ms. Ji,â he said playfully, his usual pout returning.
You laughed. âOf course, I am! Now, finish this and send it to me before lunch.â
Just then, Jeonghan stepped out of Seungcheolâs office, his expression unreadable. The entire team turned their attention to him as he cleared his throat.
âMr. Park has officially been fired as of today. HR has concluded the investigation, and with all the evidence gathered, there was no room for negotiation. A replacement needs to be found as soon as possible. Thereâs already a potential candidate, but the final decision still needs to be made.â
A murmur spread across the room, but before you could react, Jeonghan turned to you. âCan we talk in private, Y/n?â
You blinked at him but nodded, following him to the pantry. The moment the door shut behind you, Jeonghan exhaled deeply, rubbing the back of his neck.
âMr. Choi mentioned your name as the potential head of the marketing department.â
Your eyes widened. âWhat do you mean?â
Jeonghan sighed, looking at you seriously. âI know itâs sudden, but he has his reasons. And honestly? After hearing him out, I found myself agreeing with him.â He still seemed surprised at himself for admitting that.
âBut⊠next week is my last day!â you protested, your voice rising slightly in disbelief.
Jeonghan placed a firm grip on your arms, steadying you. âListen to meâHR and Mr. Choi are definitely going to call you soon. You need to prepare yourself.â
You let out a frustrated sigh. âThatâs too much responsibility! You know I was planning to travel across Asia after this.â
Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. âAnd thatâs what youâre most worried about, huh?â His tone was amused, but there was also a hint of admiration in his eyes. âLook, whatever decision you make, Iâll support you. But just think about it, alright?â
Your mind was already spinning with the weight of the unexpected offer. A promotion just as you were about to leave? It was almost ironic.
"Ms. Ji, can you come to my office for a sec?"
You nearly jumped from your seat at the sudden sound of Seungcheolâs voice filling the secretary teamâs office. The room fell silent as all eyes darted toward him. He stood behind his office door, only half of his body visible as he peeked outside, waiting for you.
You stole a glance at Jeonghan, who was already looking at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes silently sending you a thousand words of encouragement. You sighed, smoothing down your blazer before standing up and making your way to Seungcheolâs office.
The moment you stepped inside, you noticed that the blinds had been down since this morning. You figured after the confrontation with Mr. Park, he must have needed some privacy.
"Mr. Choi," you called his name softly as you stopped in front of his desk.
Without a word, Seungcheol handed you a file. You hesitated for a moment before taking it, flipping it open to find pages upon pages of evidenceâproof of Mr. Parkâs embezzlement during his tenure as the head of the marketing department. Your brows furrowed. This file was supposed to be confidential, a matter strictly between him and HR. So why was he showing it to you? Especially when you were set to leave in just a week?
"You told me about this last night," he said, his voice calm but firm.
Your mind raced back to your conversation with him the night before. You had mentioned itâyour suspicions about the marketing departmentâs financial discrepancies. You had noticed missing reports from the past two years that didnât sit right with you. And despite your reluctance, you had handed him the findings you had gathered over time.
Wait.
Your eyes flickered up to Seungcheol, your expression shifting. "You werenât drunk?"
He smirked, leaning against the edge of his desk. "I was just acting."
Your breath hitched as the realization hit you. The way he had suddenly become lighter when he was supposedly dead weight on your shoulder last night. The way he had pulled you aside, listening intently as you spoke about the missing reports.
You didnât remember much about how the conversation had unfolded, but somehow, in that moment, you had found the courage to show him everything.
"And you were right," Seungcheol continued, pulling out another document from his deskâyour resignation letter.
Your heartbeat quickened.
"I have an offer for you," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Be our new head of the marketing department."
Silence hung in the air.
You stood frozen, the weight of his words sinking in.
"Youâre probably the only person who knows the ins and outs of the marketing department better than anyone else," he reasoned, his voice steady. And he wasnât wrong. You had spent the past seven years collecting reports, reviewing files, and meticulously studying every department before handing them over to him. You knew how the department functioned, where its strengths and weaknesses lay.
But despite the logic in his argument, you couldnât bring yourself to answer. Not now. It was too sudden, too unexpected. You knew Seungcheol always had a planâhe never made decisions lightly. But the real question was, were you ready for more?
"What do you think, Ms. Ji?" His voice was softer now, laced with something you couldnât quite place.
You swallowed, taking a deep breath before finally speaking. "Iâll think about it, sir."
Seungcheol studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding. "Alright. You can go back."
That was your cue to leave. You turned on your heels, stepping out of his office, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
Why did everything suddenly lead to this?
*
"Want to talk about it?" Seungcheolâs voice was soft as he cuddled you close, his warmth seeping into your skin. His hand moved lazily through your hair, fingers tracing slow, comforting patterns.
He had invited you over tonight after you received a text from your brother, letting you know he was having friends over. You hadnât wanted to be home with all the noise, and without asking too many questions, Seungcheol had offered his place. Now, nestled against him, your head resting on his shoulder and your arm draped around his torso, you felt the weight of the day pressing down on you.
"I'm all ears," he murmured, sensing your hesitation about his earlier offer.
Doubt flickered through you before you finally spoke. "Are you..." You hesitated. "Are you going to listen to me as my boss or as my boyfriend?"
His answer caught you off guard. It sounded too neutral, almost detached, and something about it stung more than you expected. Without thinking, you shifted away from him, turning your back.
"Hey," Seungcheol's arm immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against him. His grip was firm yet gentle, grounding.
"Tell me, baby," he coaxed, his breath warm against the back of your neck. "I'll listen to you as your partner. Go ahead."
Slowly, you turned back to face him, meeting his steady gaze. "I donât want to accept the offer."
Seungcheol said nothing, only watching you carefully, his fingers tightening slightly on your waist, a silent sign that he was listening.
"Itâs too much for me," you admitted. "A big responsibility. And I donât think Iâm cut out for thatâIâm not that passionate about it."
Seungcheol frowned. "You're a very passionate person, Y/n."
You shook your head. "Not about this. Not anymore." A deep sigh left your lips. "I'm tired of working, Cheol. I just want to travel the world, maybe get a job with less responsibility. Something that doesnât drain me like this."
Seungcheol remained quiet, his dark eyes locked onto yours, absorbing every word. His fingers traced absentminded circles on your waist, a silent reminder that he was there, that he heard you.
"I need a break," you whispered, voice barely audible. "Before I break."
Something flickered in Seungcheolâs expressionâregret, concern, maybe even guilt. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. "Iâm sorry," he murmured, his lips lingering for a moment. "I didnât realize how much youâve been carrying. And Iâ" He exhaled sharply. "Iâve been a jerk, havenât I?"
You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I think I wore myself out, Cheol. I hit my limit."
Seungcheol nodded, his thumb brushing along your cheek. "Then you should rest. You need to rest. Or else youâre going toâ"
"Explode," you finished for him, smiling faintly. "Like when I called you drunk months ago."
A chuckle rumbled from his chest, the tension in the air easing. "I should thank your drunk self. If not for that, I wouldnât have known my secretary wanted me to be her date.
You rolled your eyes, fingers threading through his hair. "Thatâs what you took from that?"
He grinned. "Well, that, and the fact that you canât handle your alcohol."
You swatted his arm playfully, and he caught your wrist, tugging you closer.
"I just want to stay home for a while," you murmured, your voice softer now. "Do things I actually enjoy. Maybe pick up a hobby. Get a pet." You sighed as if the mere thought of it was a relief. "And none of it involves going back to work anytime soon."
Seungcheol studied you, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You sound like a good wife."
You chuckled, raising a brow. "I would make a good wife."
His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Really?"
Before you could answer, he tackled you onto the bed, his hands finding your sides as he tickled you mercilessly. Laughter filled the room as you squirmed beneath him, the weight of your earlier worries momentarily forgotten.
Your heart raced as Seungcheol hovered above you, his eyes dark with warmth and something deeperâsomething that made your breath hitch. His weight against you was comforting rather than overwhelming, his presence grounding.
"You tried my cooking earlier," you teased, giggling when he trailed soft kisses across your faceâyour forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose. Each touch was featherlight, sending a shiver down your spine.
Seungcheol hummed in agreement, his lips brushing against your skin as he whispered, "Youâll make a good wife."
Before you could react, he closed the distance, capturing your lips in a kissâslow and deliberate, as if savoring every second. His hand cradled your cheek, thumb stroking gently, while his other arm held you firmly against him, as if he never wanted to let go.
And in that moment, nothing else mattered.
*
It was your favorite placeâa simple barbecue restaurant where you and Jeonghan used to have dinner together during your early years at the company. The scent of grilled meat filled the air, blending with the warmth of laughter and chatter. Tonight, the atmosphere buzzed with a mix of celebration and bittersweet goodbyes as everyone gathered for your farewell party.
Seated around the long wooden tables were your colleaguesâthe secretary team members, department representatives, and even a few unexpected guests. Among them was Seungcheol, his presence instantly commanding attention. It was rare to see him at casual company gatherings like this, and his attendance left many curious. But since it was youâone of his most trusted employeesâwho was leaving, everyone assumed that was the reason he sat beside you, his presence a quiet yet significant statement.
After a while, you stood, clearing your throat as conversations died down. With a grateful smile, you delivered your speechâthanking everyone for their support, for the years of teamwork and shared challenges, and apologizing for any moments you might have fallen short.
When you finished, the room erupted into cheers and applause, glasses raised in a heartfelt toast. Laughter followed, but beneath it all was an unspoken truth: this chapter was ending, and things would never quite be the same again.
Seungcheol cleared his throat, the deep sound cutting through the lingering laughter and drawing everyone's attention like a switch had been flipped. Conversations faded, and all eyes turned to him.
He sat upright, his expression composed yet sincere. "First of all, I want to thank Ms. Ji for her hard work all these years," he began, his voice steady but carrying weight. "Sheâs been one of the most dedicated people in this company, and honestly, itâs hard to imagine this place without her. Weâre losing not just a talented employee but also someone who made things run smoother for all of us."
A murmur of agreement swept through the group, and you felt a mix of pride and guilt settle in your chest.
Seungcheol glanced at you briefly before continuing. "And... I also want to take this chance to apologize," he said, his tone softening. "For any unnecessary pressure, for the late nights, for expecting too much sometimes. I know I wasnât always the easiest boss to work with."
You shook your head slightly, about to reassure him, but before you could say anything, he inhaled deeply and, with absolute confidence, added,
"Also, since weâre all here, I think nowâs a good time to make an announcement."
You frowned, confused, and Jeonghanâwho was sipping his drink beside youâarched an eyebrow.
Seungcheolâs gaze met yours, then he turned back to the room. "Ms. Ji and I are dating."
A moment of silence. Thenâ
"What?!" Mingyu choked on his drink, coughing as Jeonghan patted his back. Gasps and murmurs spread through the group like wildfire. Even the usually composed members of the secretary team looked at each other in shock.
You stiffened, your body going rigid as the realization sank in. Your fingers clutched at the fabric of your dress under the table, your pulse hammering in your ears. Slowly, almost mechanically, you turned to Seungcheol, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Whatâwhy would youâ"
"Wait, wait, wait." Jeonghan put a hand up, smirking. "That's expected. Since when?"
Seungcheol chuckled, resting his arm on the back of your chair. "For a while now."
Meanwhile, Jeonghan just sat there, utterly amused, swirling his drink in his glass before finally saying, "So this is why youâve been sneaking around, huh?"
"Jeonghan!" You hissed, shooting him a glare, but he only shrugged, clearly enjoying your suffering.
Mingyu, still coughing slightly, gaped at Seungcheol like he had just grown a second head. "Wait, wait, waitâyou two?! Since when?! And why didnât I know?!"
Your face burned as everyoneâs eyes darted between you and him, trying to process the sudden revelation. Someone from marketing whispered, That explains why heâs actually here tonight.
"You couldâve warned me first," you hissed under your breath, still reeling from the shock.
Seungcheol leaned in slightly, his voice teasing, "Where's the fun in that?"
The room exploded into a mix of cheers, teasing remarks, and incredulous laughter. Some congratulated you, others demanded details, and Mingyu, still processing, just groaned, "Why am I always the last to know?!"
You sighed, covering your face, but despite the initial embarrassment, you couldnât help the small smile forming on your lips. Seungcheol had just made sure this farewell party was one no one would forget.
Your fingers twitched. If there werenât so many witnesses, you might have actually smacked him.
"So you two have actually been together this whole time?" One of the HR reps asked, her mouth still slightly open in disbelief. "Like, during work hours? During meetings? While she was still his secretary?"
Oh no. That was a dangerous line of questioning.
You opened your mouth, scrambling to regain some sort of control over the situation, but Seungcheol, of course, was faster.
"It started after work," he clarified, his voice smooth and nonchalant. "And itâs not like sheâs breaking any rules. Sheâs leaving the company, after all."
The way he said itâso effortlessly confidentâmade your stomach twist. You wanted to argue, to regain some control over this mess he had just thrown you into, but then you caught the way he was looking at you.
There was something possessive in his gaze, a quiet certainty that sent a shiver down your spine. He wasnât ashamed. He wasnât hiding.
And suddenly, the tension shifted.
"Youâre unbelievable," you muttered, barely able to contain the heat rising to your cheeks.
He chuckled, finally turning back to his drink. "And yet, youâre still here."
The table erupted into laughter, cheers, and even a few claps. Someone from the legal department shouted, "Well, damn. We need to drink to this!"
"Ohâanother thing to celebrate," Seungcheol announced, his voice effortlessly cutting through the laughter and clinking glasses.
You turned to him, sensing something in his tone, but before you could ask, he raised his glass.
"Congratulations to Mr. Yoon, our new Marketing Department Head."
A moment of silence hung in the air before the entire table erupted in cheers and applause.
"What?!" Mingyu nearly knocked over his drink in shock. "Jeonghan-hyung? When did this happen?"
Jeonghan, ever composed, simply smirked as he leaned back in his chair. "A while ago."
"You knew?!" Mingyu gawked at him before turning to Seungcheol. "And no one thought to tell me?!"
Seungcheol chuckled, completely unfazed. "HR finalized it this afternoon. He was my first choice from the start."
"Butâbutâ" Mingyu stammered, looking between you and Jeonghan. "I thought she was the best candidate?!"
You smiled, lifting your drink. "Iâm leaving, remember?"
Jeonghan shrugged, tapping his fingers against his glass. "And someone had to clean up after her, so here I am."
Laughter filled the table, and soon, everyone was raising their drinks toward Jeonghan, congratulating him on the promotion.
Seungcheol leaned in closer to you, his hand finding yours under the table. His voice was low, meant only for you.
"Now you really have no reason to stay at work."
You rolled your eyes playfully but squeezed his hand in return. "You planned all of this, didnât you?"
He smirked, his thumb brushing against your fingers. "Maybe. But I also knew it was whatâs best for everyone."
You sighed, glancing at Jeonghan, who was basking in the attention, and then at Seungcheol, who was watching you with that knowing look.
Despite everything, you couldnât deny itâthis felt right.
*
It had been ten months since you left the company, but something about Mingyu working as Seungcheolâs secretary still didnât sit right with you. This morning only confirmed your suspicions. Seungcheol, who once carried himself with unwavering composure, now sat at the breakfast table with noticeable dark circles under his eyes. You couldnât recall a single time in the past when he looked this tired.
âWhatâs your schedule like today?â you asked, setting a plate of breakfast in front of him along with a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
Seungcheol gave you a faint smile before replying, âJust a quick briefing with finance. Iâll probably be home late; I have a meeting with Joshua over dinner."
Your arms crossed as you stood beside the table, watching him. âYou never memorize your own schedule,â you pointed out, your tone laced with concern.
He nodded in agreement, his attention on his food. âI used to have Jeonghan to remind me about everything. And you,â he added, glancing up at you with a soft smile. âYou made sure everything ran smoothly.â
You watched him take another bite before leaning against the table. âHow many staff members is Mingyu working with?â you asked, your tone more curious this time.
Seungcheol chuckled, wiping the corner of his mouth. âWhy are you asking?â
âBecause itâs obvious youâre overworking yourself, babe,â you said bluntly, crossing your arms again.
He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at you. âIâm fine, love. Donât worry,â he reassured, though his voice didnât quite convince you. âMingyuâs my only secretary now, but the systemâs changed. Heâs managing just fine.â
You sighed and sat down in front of him, resting your chin on your hand. âIs Mingyu still an idiot?â
Seungcheol couldnât help but laugh, his tired expression lifting just a little. âHe is,â he admitted, shaking his head. âBut heâs getting better, I promise. Youâd be surprised.â
You werenât entirely convinced, and your frustration showed as you frowned at him. âYou used to come home looking less like a zombie,â you muttered.
Seungcheol reached across the table and took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. âI know youâre worried,â he said, his voice soft. âBut really, Iâve got this. Mingyu may be a work in progress, but weâre managing.â
You squeezed his hand in return, but your concern lingered. âJust donât forget to take care of yourself, alright?â
He smiled at you, a warmth in his eyes that made you feel just a little more at ease. âI wonât. I promise.â
As Seungcheol finished the last bite of his breakfast, he leaned back in his chair and tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening as it shifted to you. "Howâs the baking class going?" he asked, his tone casual but genuinely curious.
You perked up slightly at his question, a smile tugging at your lips. "Itâs going really well. I finally mastered the chiffon cake yesterday," you said, your excitement seeping into your voice.
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "The one you said was impossible to get right?"
You nodded eagerly. "Yep. It took me three tries, but I did it. The instructor even said I nailed the texture and flavor."
He smiled, the fatigue on his face momentarily fading as he watched you talk. "Look at you, becoming a pro baker already," he teased, though there was an unmistakable pride in his tone.
You chuckled, waving off his comment. "I wouldnât say âpro,â but itâs been fun. I didnât think Iâd enjoy baking as much as I do now."
Seungcheol leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he looked at you. "So, when are you going to let me taste this famous chiffon cake?"
You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning back in your chair. "Soon. I just want to perfect it a little more before I let you try it. Youâre too honest with your feedback," you said, narrowing your eyes at him with mock suspicion.
He laughed, the deep sound filling the room and making your chest warm. "You know I only critique because I care," he said, reaching out to poke your arm. "But fine. Iâll wait until you think itâs ready."
You smirked, crossing your arms. "You better. No sneaking bites when Iâm not looking."
"I wouldnât dare," he replied, his tone exaggeratedly serious.
The two of you fell into an easy silence for a moment, the tension from earlier easing as you both enjoyed the quiet morning together.
"Maybe," Seungcheol began, breaking the silence, "you could make a batch of something for Joshuaâs dinner meeting. He has a sweet tooth, you know."
You raised an eyebrow at him, pretending to be skeptical. "Are you volunteering me to impress your business partner with baked goods now?"
"Maybe," he admitted with a cheeky grin. "But only because I know youâd knock it out of the park."
You shook your head with a laugh, but you couldnât deny how his words filled you with a small sense of pride. "Fine," you said. "Iâll make some cookies or brownies. But you owe me."
Seungcheol smirked. "Deal. Iâll make it worth your while."
The restaurant was dimly lit, with soft jazz music playing in the background. Seungcheol sat across from Joshua at the private dining table, his posture relaxed but still exuding authority. Mingyu, seated beside him, diligently took notes and managed the documents for the formal part of the meeting.
The discussion went smoothly, with both parties agreeing on the next steps for their partnership. As the waiter cleared their plates and brought out coffee and dessert, the atmosphere gradually shifted to a more casual tone. Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, finally allowing himself to relax.
Joshua stirred his coffee, a friendly smile on his face as he looked at Mingyu. "I have to say, Mingyu, youâve really grown into your role. The professionalism youâve shown tonight is impressive. So different from how you were!"
Mingyu let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, I had to step up, didnât I? Working for Seungcheol hyung isnât exactly a walk in the park."
Seungcheol chuckled, glancing at Mingyu with a raised eyebrow. "Are you complaining?"
"Not at all!" Mingyu quickly replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Iâm just saying, I had to adapt."
Joshua laughed, clearly amused by their dynamic. "Itâs good to see, though. I remember the Mingyu who couldnât sit still in meetings or keep track of his tasks. Now look at youâorganized, professional, and confident."
Mingyu puffed out his chest jokingly, but there was a hint of genuine pride in his smile. "Well, I had a great mentor," he said, nodding toward Seungcheol.
Seungcheol scoffed, though a small smile played on his lips. "Donât get too cocky, Mingyu. You still have a long way to go."
Joshua tilted his head, a curious expression crossing his face. "By the way, how did Mingyu end up working for you, Seungcheol?"
"Trust me," Seungcheol said, a playful glint in his eye, "I didnât want to hire him at first. But he insisted, and I figured if he was going to work anywhere, it might as well be under someone who wouldnât go easy on him."
"And he doesnât go easy on me," Mingyu added, holding up his hands. "This man is tough."
Joshua laughed, clearly entertained. "Well, I have to say, itâs working. Youâve come a long way, Mingyu. But I bet itâs also a little intimidating, working for your family."
"It is," Mingyu admitted, "but itâs also motivating. I canât slack off when my boss knows everything about me, including my bad habits."
Seungcheol shook his head, though his expression softened. "To be fair, heâs proven himself. Heâs still Mingyu, though, so he keeps things interesting."
Seungcheol chuckled to himself as he sipped his coffee, the memory of that day playing vividly in his mind. It was his aunt's anniversary, and the gathering at his house was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to his family. At least, that was his plan.
You had looked stunning that day, wearing a soft pastel dress that complimented you beautifully. Yet, your nervousness was unmistakableâthe way your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your bag, the quick glances you stole at Seungcheol for reassurance, and the tiny, hesitant smile that melted his heart every time he caught you looking at him.
He remembered how your confidence faltered the moment you stepped into the living room, where the cheerful buzz of conversation filled the space. His family greeted you warmly, but then your eyes landed on Mingyu standing casually by the snack table.
Your reaction was priceless. Your eyes widened as if you'd seen a ghost, and before you could stop yourself, you mouthed to Seungcheol, What is he doing here?
Mingyuâs face lit up instantly when he noticed you. "Noona!" he called out excitedly, leaving his spot to approach you.
Seungcheol stifled a laugh as you turned to him, utterly baffled, while Mingyu pulled you into a friendly hug. "What... what is happening?" you whispered urgently to Seungcheol as Mingyu grinned beside you.
Seungcheol smirked, enjoying your confusion. "Mingyu is my cousin," he explained casually. "Heâs my auntâs son."
You blinked in shock, staring at both men as if the pieces of a puzzle were suddenly falling into place. "That explains a lot," you muttered, earning a laugh from Seungcheol and a curious look from Mingyu.
From that day on, your dynamic with Mingyu took a playful turn. What started as harmless teasing quickly became your favorite way to keep him on his toes, especially after he became Seungcheolâs secretary.
"You should work harder, Mingyu," you had told him one day when he stopped by your place to drop off some files for Seungcheol. Leaning against the doorframe, you smirked knowingly at him. "You only got that job because the boss is your cousin. Nepo baby."
Mingyu groaned dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "Noona, you canât keep calling me that! Iâm actually working really hard, you know."
"You better," you shot back, grinning mischievously. "I worked hard supervising you."
Seungcheol, who had been silently observing the exchange from the couch, couldnât hide his amusement. "Donât go too hard on him, love," he teased, though his tone was far from serious.
Mingyu pouted, looking between the two of you. "Great. Now I have two bosses to impress."
"You should be honored," you quipped, sending him a wink before heading back to the kitchen.
As Seungcheol watched Mingyuâs exasperated expression, he couldnât help but smile. Despite all the teasing, the camaraderie between you and Mingyu warmed his heart. It was proof of how naturally you had integrated into his lifeâhis familyâand how, even in moments of chaos, you brought lightness and joy to everything you touched.
Summary: after happily living an arranged marriage, he found out that his charismatic, flawless, and admirable wife has a secret hiding from him.
Warning: mention of violence, car accident, blood, knife stabbing, gunshot, stuff.
Seungcheol watched you from his position, his ears tuned to the menâs conversation, but his eyes were fixated on you, following your every move. He noted how your gaze lingered on the speakerâs lips, how your expression shifted subtly with every word. That smileâpoised, eloquent, and effortlessly charmingâspread across your face, leaving no one in the room unaffected. A sharp pang of jealousy coursed through him. His grip tightened around the glass in his hand, the cool surface grounding him against the rising heat in his chest. It was supposed to be his. His lips. His gaze. The attention you dared to lavish so intensely on anyone but him.
"How do you think, Seungcheol?"
His father's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Seungcheol turned slightly, meeting the older manâs expectant eyes. The glass of wine in his fatherâs hand swirled lazily, a stark contrast to the tension in Seungcheol's.
"Don't pressure him, Mr. Choi," another man interjected with a chuckle. "The younger generation these daysâtheyâre different. They wonât rush into having children immediately."
Seungcheolâs jaw tightened as he registered the conversation. Children. Family. An image of you flashed through his mind, your soft laughter echoing in a distant memory. His shoulders squared as he finally replied, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.
"Weâre working on it," he said smoothly, casting a brief glance your way. "My wife and I want to have a child as soon as possible, but with business being so hectic, itâs been a challenge."
The men nodded in understanding, their attention shifting back to him. Seungcheol seized the opportunity to steer the conversation away.
"Speaking of challenges," he continued, his tone shifting effortlessly, "howâs the harbor, Mr. Kim? Has your son resolved the issues with the government yet?"
Mr. Kim let out a disgruntled sigh. "Itâs been nothing but delays," he grumbled, shaking his head.
Seungcheol leaned in slightly, his presence commanding yet unassuming. "Delays can be costly," he remarked. "If you need additional support, let me know. Iâve had some success navigating similar situations."
As the conversation deepened into business matters, Seungcheol's gaze flickered back to you. You were laughing now, your head tilting slightly as you responded to someone. His chest tightened again, the earlier jealousy morphing into something deeperâsomething unspoken, buried under the weight of his responsibilities.
But for now, he played his role, the perfect husband in a room full of expectations.
Seungcheol excused himself from the group, his movements purposeful as he made a beeline toward where you were standing. You turned toward him, sensing his presence before he even spoke, and the corner of his lips twitched in satisfaction. Without hesitation, his hand found its place on your waist, a silent claim that did not go unnoticed.
âChoi Seungcheol, Ji Y/nâs husband,â he introduced himself to the man in front of you, his voice firm and polished.
The man extended a polite smile. âIâm Hong Jisoo. I attended your wedding a few months ago. Nice to meet you.â
Seungcheol nodded curtly, his sharp gaze scanning the man before replying, âFrom Hong Property, I presume?â
Jisoo chuckled softly, shaking his head. âThatâs my father and brother. I work in a hospital,â he clarified, pulling out a business card and offering it.
Seungcheol accepted the card, his eyes briefly scanning the text. Dr. Hong Jisoo, Psychiatry Department. His lips curved slightly, though his grip on your waist tightened almost imperceptibly. When he glanced up, his gaze landed on you, noticing how your eyes flickered to his lips, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Just like every day. Just like how it was supposed to be.
âI wasnât aware my wife was acquainted with a psychiatrist,â he remarked, his tone casual yet laced with an underlying edge.
âOld friend,â you replied smoothly, your tone light as you cast a brief glance at Jisoo.
That glance didnât sit well with Seungcheol.
His thumb gently brushed against your side, a subtle reminder of his presence, as he straightened slightly. âIâm sorry, but we have to leave,â he said, his voice firm yet polite. His attention shifted to you, softening just enough to mask the possessiveness simmering beneath the surface. âLove, should we go home?â
You nodded, offering Jisoo a polite smile. âIt was nice catching up, Jisoo. Take care.â
âLikewise. Have a good evening,â Jisoo replied, his tone warm yet reserved.
Seungcheol didnât wait for further pleasantries. With his hand firmly on your waist, he guided you toward the exit, his strides confident and unwavering. The air between you carried a tension he couldnât quite articulate, but the quiet sense of satisfaction in reclaiming your focus was enough for now.
Seungcheol used to be just a man obsessed with his work, a relentless workaholic. His life revolved around businessâexpanding, negotiating, multiplying his familyâs wealth tenfold. Relationships? They were an afterthought, a distraction. Blind dates came and went, each one predictable and forgettable.
That was, until his parents introduced him to you.
He approached the blind date with little expectation, assuming it would end like all the others: polite small talk, forced smiles, and no sparks. But with you, everything was different.
The moment your eyes fixated on him, he felt itâa current of electricity that surged through his entire being. The way your gaze roamed over him, studying him with quiet intensity, left him unnerved in the best way. You started with his eyes, then trailed downward, your focus lingering on his lips just a second too long. That moment branded itself into his memory, leaving him restless and preoccupied for a week.
He couldn't get you out of his mind. And that was how he agreed to an arranged marriage, a decision that surprised even himself.
Now, months later, he lay beside you in the dim morning light, the quiet intimacy of your shared space filling the air. As he felt you stir awake in his arms, he opened his eyes, his thoughts drifting to the night before. He had been a little rough, a little too consumed by the jealousy that burned in his chest when he caught you looking at someone elseâs lips.
âDid I go too rough with you last night?â he murmured, his voice husky and low, thick with concern as he tightened his embrace around you.
You squirmed slightly, shifting to face him, your sleepy eyes meeting his. He searched your expression, his brow furrowing as silence stretched between you.
âWas I too rough? Are you okay, love?â he asked again, his worry evident now.
You shook your head slowly, your lips curving into a soft smile. Reaching up, your hand cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin as you pulled him closer. Without a word, your lips met his in a tender, reassuring kiss, melting away the tension in his chest.
When you pulled back, your voice was gentle, teasing. âWas something wrong last night? You seemed⊠different.â
Seungcheol hesitated, the tips of his ears flushing red as he avoided your gaze for a moment. How could he admit that the fire in him last night was born of jealousy? That the mere thought of your attention lingering on someone elseâs lips had driven him to near madness?
Instead, he exhaled softly and shook his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. âNo,â he lied, his hand sliding up your back to rest between your shoulder blades. âI just canât help myself around you.â
You laughed lightly, the sound warm and soothing. âGood,â you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, your lips brushing against his like a promise. Because, as much as Seungcheol tried to play it cool, you already knewâyou had him completely undone.
"Weâre going to be late if we donât start getting ready now," you told Seungcheol, glancing at the clock with mild urgency.
He chuckled, his deep voice laced with mischief as he leaned closer. âFive more minutes,â he murmured, his hand brushing yours before pulling you along with him toward the bathroom. A teasing grin spread across his face. âTogether, of course.â
Later, as the two of you settled at the dining table, Seungcheol joined you with a fresh, clean look and a calm demeanor that betrayed none of his usual morning rush. âIâll drive you,â he said casually, sipping his coffee.
You blinked, looking up from your plate in surprise. âWhat?â
âIâll drive you,â he repeated, meeting your gaze. âAnd Iâll pick you up today.â
His firm tone left little room for debate, but the soft warmth in his expression made your heart flutter. You quickly nodded, taking the last bite of your sandwich with a smile tugging at your lips.
At the office, Seungcheol was all business. The moment he stepped through the door, his trusted right-hand man, Lee Jihoon, was already waiting with updates and a detailed briefing.
âTodayâs schedule is packed,â Jihoon began, keeping pace with Seungcheol as he strode toward his desk. âThe shipping updates are as follows: the cargo from Incheon has cleared customs, and the team is preparing the distribution reports. The Hong Kong shipmentââ
âWhatâs the status on that?â Seungcheol interrupted, his sharp eyes flicking toward Jihoon.
âItâll arrive tonight,â Jihoon replied promptly. âDo you want to oversee it yourself?â
Seungcheol shook his head as he sat down, loosening his tie slightly. âNo need. I trust you to handle it. Just make sure everything is documented thoroughly.â
Jihoon nodded, jotting down a quick note. âUnderstood, sir.â
As Jihoon left to attend to the shipment, Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, glancing briefly at his watch. His thoughts wandered to you, wondering how your day was going and reminding himself to clear his evening to pick you up as promised. Balancing business and you wasnât always easy, but for him, it was a priority he wouldnât compromise.
*
There were a few strict rules in your office, and everyone at Ji Art Gallery knew to follow them without question.
Rule one: never speak to you with your back turned. Communication had to happen face-to-face, ensuring nothing was misunderstood.
Rule two: click the light switch whenever someone entered your office. You always had a mountain of tasks, and multitasking was not your forte. The light switch was an unspoken signal to gain your attention without disrupting your workflow.
Rule three: lunch hours were sacred. During this time, you watched the news alone. No one was allowed to enter, except for your family. It was an unbendable rule, one you wished could explain itself.
To everyone else, you were a perfectionist boss, firm but fair. What they didnât know was that behind the rules lay a quieter truthâyou are deaf, relying on observation and lip-reading to navigate the world.
It wasnât perfectionism that demanded your routines. It was survival.
As you worked, engrossed in reviewing a paintingâs exhibition proposal, the door to your office suddenly opened, and your mother stepped in unannounced. She clicked the blinds shut with a sharp movement before tossing a branded paper bag onto your desk.
"Here," she said brusquely. "Wear this for your next intercourse with Seungcheol."
You glanced at the bag, your expression calm despite the storm brewing inside. The name of an expensive lingerie brand was emblazoned across it in bold letters.
"Iâll send some herbal remedies to your house later,â she continued, her tone cold and matter-of-fact. âMake sure you get yourself pregnant within the next two months."
She flopped onto the couch in your office, crossing her legs elegantly as if she hadnât just barged in to dictate your life. Her sharp eyes focused on you, scrutinizing every detail of your reactionâor lack thereof.
"Why donât you say something? Youâre deaf, not mute," she snapped, her words slicing through the air.
You sighed softly, your eyes fixed on her lips as you watched each word fall out of her mouth with precision and purpose.
"Yes, Mother," you replied, your voice measured, betraying none of the turmoil inside.
A smile curved on her lipsâa smile that never reached her eyes. "Be a good girl for me and your stepfather, Y/n. You have a lot to repay. No one wants to raise a deaf child," she said cruelly, standing up with the air of someone who believed they were owed the world.
Her words were poison, but you stood stoically, refusing to let her see the cracks she left behind.
"But," she added, adjusting the hem of her designer jacket, "once you have the Choi family heir growing inside you, weâll all be fine. So, make sure you do your job."
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heels, the sound of her expensive shoes clicking against the floor echoing in your office. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving a suffocating silence in her wake.
You sat still, staring at the paper bag she had so carelessly thrown onto your desk. The weight of her expectations pressed against your chest, but you forced yourself to exhale, straightening your shoulders.
Every day, you practiced watching the news, focusing intently on the movement of lips to perfect your ability to read them. It was a quiet, relentless routine, your way of ensuring no one would ever discover your deafness. You wanted people to communicate with you comfortably, unaware of your secret.
It was a weakness youâd been forced to accept 15 years ago. The result of a tragic car accident that not only robbed you of your hearing but also took the life of your stepsister.
You still remembered waking up in the hospital, disoriented and frightened. The first thing you saw was your mother, her face twisted with rage as she screamed at you. Her mouth moved furiously, but you couldnât hear a single word. You could only guess at her accusations, but you were certain of one thingâshe wished it had been you who died instead of your stepsister.
That was the turning point.
From that moment on, you became the scapegoat of the Ji family, the one burdened with their collective frustrations and failures. Surviving that accident, instead of being a blessing, turned into a curse. They treated your survival as an inconvenience, a debt you were expected to repay with unwavering obedience.
âYou survived, his daughter didnât,â your motherâs lips had said once, her voice forever silent to you but still haunting in its clarity. âSo make yourself useful.â
From then on, you learned to carry their expectations silently, shouldering the weight of their contempt while striving for perfection. You worked tirelessly, honing your skills, building your reputation, and hiding your deafness as if it were a crime.
Being the "goat" of the Ji family meant you were their sacrifice, their scapegoat, but it also fueled your determination. If survival was your punishment, you would ensure it wasnât in vain. You would rise above their cruelty, even if it meant enduring the pain of their indifference and the burden of their demands.
You werenât just surviving anymoreâyou were fighting. And every day you practiced, every lip you read, every rule you enforced in your life was proof of that.
Every moment of intimacy with Seungcheol was blissful, a haven where the world outside ceased to exist. Even though you couldnât hear the sounds he madeâthe soft gasps, the whispered words you imagined he might sayâyou felt every touch, every movement, as if they spoke directly to your soul. But you always wondered if he felt the same way. Did he share the same satisfaction, the same warmth, the same euphoria at the peak of it all?
You wished you could hear him. Just him.
Seungcheol always looked at you with such tenderness, his gaze soft and unwavering. It made your heart ache with guilt. The guilt of knowing that you and your family had trapped him in this marriage. The guilt of hiding your secret from himâyour deafness, the one part of you you couldnât bring yourself to reveal. And the guilt of knowing your family was draining his wealth under the guise of a business arrangement.
Every time he smiled at you, every time he touched you like you were his world, the weight of your lies grew heavier.
How could you allow yourself to be happy in a marriage built on deception?
The warmth you felt with Seungcheol was tainted by the cold reality of your circumstances. He deserved honesty, love without strings, a partner who could give him everything. And yet here you were, bound to him by a contract you had never wanted but couldnât escape.
Every night you lay beside him, listening to the silence that enveloped you, longing for a world where your love could be as pure as the way he looked at you.
*
Seungcheol was always amazed by how poised and graceful you carried yourself in public. As a Ji, it was expected, but being married to you had brought a constant stream of surprises he never anticipated.
One of those surprises came during a business meeting involving Wen Junhui, the son of a long-time Chinese producer Seungcheol had worked with for years. Since the business had been handed down to Junhui, negotiations hadnât been as smooth as before. Seungcheol hoped that meeting in person during Junhuiâs visit, accompanied by his wife, would be the perfect opportunity to revive their partnership.
But what Seungcheol didnât expect was what happened next.
Junhuiâs wife, Daisy, had been deaf since birth. It was something Seungcheol had learned in passing but hadnât given much thought toâuntil now. As he turned to look for you, he saw you standing with Daisy, engaging her effortlessly in sign language.
His breath hitched. You moved your hands with such confidence and fluidity, your expression lighting up as Daisy responded with equal enthusiasm. Neither Junhui nor Seungcheol could hide their surprise.
âYour wife is incredible. I didnât expect this,â Junhui said, clinking his glass lightly against Seungcheolâs. âDaisy rarely gets to meet someone who can sign fluently. Thank you for bringing her; sheâs finally relaxed for the first time in a long while.â
Seungcheol offered a polite smile, but inwardly, he was stunned. âThank you,â he said simply, his eyes drifting back to you.
Junhui glanced at his wife before turning back to Seungcheol. âI heard you wanted to negotiate the pricing of our products.â
Seungcheolâs attention snapped back to the conversation. He nodded eagerly. âYes. We havenât found a supplier with the same quality as yours. Iâd like to propose that we continue the terms we had before. Would you have time tomorrow? Iâll bring the paperwork.â
Junhui thought for a moment before nodding. âSure. But how about bringing your wife as well? Daisy seems comfortable around her, and it would be nice for her to have someone to talk to while we discuss business.â
âOf course,â Seungcheol agreed, still taken aback by what heâd just witnessed. âIâll speak to her about it.â
As Junhui moved to speak with someone else, Seungcheol found his gaze lingering on you. He had never known you knew sign language, let alone that you were so fluent. Seeing you connect with Daisy in a way so few others could made him feel something deeperâa mixture of awe, pride, and a touch of guilt for underestimating just how remarkable you truly were.
As Seungcheol mingled with a group of businessmen, his mind was suddenly pulled elsewhere when he realized he couldnât spot you anywhere. A twinge of unease crept in, but he brushed it offâuntil his phone vibrated in his pocket. Glancing at the screen, he was surprised to see your caller ID.
You never called.
In fact, you hated calling, even in emergencies. It was a well-known rule that anyone needing to contact you had to text or call your secretary, Seo Myungho. For you to call directly was entirely out of character.
Seungcheol excused himself from the lively conversation, weaving through the crowd toward a quieter area. Pressing the answer button, he brought the phone to his ear.
âWhatâs wrong, love? Where are you?â His voice softened, filled with concern.
The voice that responded wasnât yours. It was sharp and unfamiliar, carrying a sinister undertone that sent a chill down his spine.
ââLove?â Very funny, Choi Seungcheol. Didnât your father ever teach you not to care too much? Makes you weak, vulnerable.â
Seungcheol froze, his jaw tightening. The words hit like a taunt, a deliberate jab meant to rattle him.
âWho is this?â he asked, his voice dropping to a cold, controlled tone.
âRelax. Iâm just a fan of your wife. She looks stunning in black tonight. Iâd love toââ
âWhere is she? Why do you have her phone?â Seungcheol snapped, his composure slipping as his eyes darted across the ballroom.
A low laugh came through the receiver. âYou know, secrets can be dangerous, Seungcheol. Especially the ones your lovely wife is keeping from you.â
âStop playing games! Tell me where she is!â His voice was edged with desperation now.
The call ended abruptly, leaving Seungcheol gripping the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. His heart pounded as he scanned the room again, his mind racing.
âJi Y/n!â he called out, his voice booming across the corridor.
There was no sign of you. The air felt heavier with each passing second, the tension clawing at his chest. He dialed your number again, but the call went straight to voicemail.
Just as he rounded a corner, his hurried steps brought him face-to-face with someone. Relief flooded through him when he realized it was you.
âCheol?â you asked, startled by his sudden embrace. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his breath uneven as though heâd been holding it in.
âThank God,â he whispered, burying his face into your shoulder for a moment.
âWhatâs going on?â you asked, confused by his reaction.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning you as if to ensure you were unharmed. âWhere were you? Whereâs your phone?â
You blinked, frowning at his intensity. âI donât know. I canât find it,â you admitted, rummaging through your clutch only to find it empty.
Seungcheolâs expression darkened. Without another word, he pulled out his phone and called Jihoon. âGet the car ready. Weâre leaving now.â
The ride home was tense and silent, the weight of his unspoken thoughts filling the space between you. You glanced at him repeatedly, but his stern expression gave nothing away. His grip on your hand was firm, almost as if he feared letting go.
Once home, Seungcheol ensured you were safely tucked into bed. âGet some rest. Iâll handle this,â he murmured, his lips brushing your forehead.
After he left, you stared at the closed door, unease creeping into your chest. Something was wrong, but you knew better than to press him when he was in this mood.
Meanwhile, Seungcheol retreated to his office, his hands trembling slightly as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. The liquid swirled in the glass, much like the chaos in his mind.
He dialed Jihoon again. âTrace her phone immediately. Whoever has it was at the event. Secure the guest list and cross-check everyone.â
Jihoon hesitated. âThatâs going to take time, sir. Weâll need to involve third parties.â
âI donât care how long it takes. I want answers,â Seungcheol growled, his voice low but seething with authority.
After ending the call, he sank into his chair, his mind running over every possible angle. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest as he stared at the glowing city skyline through his office window.
âWho are you?â he muttered under his breath. The question gnawed at him, the weight of it pressing heavily on his chest.
And more importantly, why would anyone dare to use the person he loved most to threaten him?
*
Seungcheol jolted awake, his breath hitching when his hand reached out to find the other side of the bed cold and empty. A sense of dread gripped him as the events of last night resurfaced in his mind. The mysterious phone call and its ominous implications lingered like a heavy shadow, refusing to let him rest. Heâd only managed to get some sleep because you had come into his office and practically dragged him to bed. But even now, his thoughts racedâwho was the caller? What secret could they possibly be referring to?
His heart pounded as he sat up, scanning the room for any sign of you. Then, a faint sound from the bathroom caught his attention. He was out of bed in an instant, his strides purposeful as he approached the door.
âY/n?â he called, his voice laced with concern as he pushed the door open.
There you were, crouched in front of the toilet bowl, your body wracked with discomfort as you emptied the contents of your stomach. The sight made his chest tighten.
âYou okay, baby?â Seungcheol took a step closer, but you weakly waved a hand, signaling for him to stay back.
âDonât⊠Iâm fine,â you muttered between breaths, your voice strained.
Ignoring your protests, Seungcheol was by your side in seconds. He knelt beside you, his large hand gently soothing the back of your neck while his other gathered your hair to keep it out of the way.
âShh, itâs okay,â he murmured softly, his concern palpable.
When you were finally done, he helped you to your feet, steadying you as you rinsed your mouth at the sink. His hand remained firm on your waist, his protective instincts in full swing.
âTalk to me,â he said gently, guiding you back to the bed. âWhatâs wrong? Do you want me to call the doctor?â His brows knitted in worry as he tucked you in, his hand brushing stray hairs from your damp forehead.
You shook your head weakly. âI think itâs just food poisoning from last nightâs dinner,â you murmured, offering him a faint smile in an attempt to ease his concern.
Seungcheol let out a small chuckle, though the tension in his eyes didnât fully dissipate. âFood poisoning or not, Iâm calling Dr. Kim just to be safe. No arguments.â
You sighed but didnât resist, too exhausted to protest further.
âAnd no work for you today,â he added firmly, sitting on the edge of the bed as he reached for his phone. âIâll let them know youâre not feeling well. Just focus on resting, alright?â
You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as his soothing presence eased some of the discomfort. As he dialed the doctor, his gaze lingered on you, the lines of worry deepening on his face.
Jihoonâs phone buzzed just as Seungcheol finished his meeting with a client. He glanced at the screen before answering the call from Dr. Kim, a slight frown crossing his face as he listened. Seungcheol, sitting across from him in the car, noticed the shift in Jihoonâs expression.
"Yes... she is? I see." Jihoonâs voice was calm, but Seungcheol's instincts told him something was off.
After a beat, Jihoon ended the call and turned to Seungcheol, his face betraying nothing but the weight of the news he was about to deliver.
"Your wife is pregnant, sir."
Seungcheolâs heart seemed to stop, his entire body going still as the words hit him like a cold wave. But it wasnât just the pregnancy that unsettled him. The next words were the ones that sent a flicker of anger through his veins.
"But your wife is in the office now," Jihoon continued, his voice measured. "She has an important meeting with the curator that she couldnât leave."
Seungcheolâs pulse quickened, the fury within him rising. The news of your pregnancy only added to the questions swirling in his mind, but the fact that you were in the officeâat this very momentâwas what pushed him over the edge.
"Drive me to her gallery," Seungcheol ordered, his voice dangerously cold.
Jihoon nodded, without a word, and signaled to the driver to make a sharp turn. Seungcheolâs thoughts raced as the car sped toward the gallery. His heart pounded with a mix of emotionsâanger, confusion, and a deep, gnawing worry.
Seungcheol arrived at your office just in time to see your psychiatrist friend, Dr. Hong, leaving. His heart skipped a beat as he watched the man walk out, the realization settling uneasily in his chest. He turned to Myungho, your assistant, who had stepped forward to greet him.
"I heard she had a meeting with the curator. Is the curator... apparently also a psychiatrist?" Seungcheol asked, his words barely more than a murmur as his thoughts raced.
Myungho looked momentarily taken aback, his eyes widening before he answered, "Are you referring to Mr. Hong, sir?"
Seungcheol shook his head, frustration mounting as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. The events from last night, the shocking news of your pregnancy, and the fact that you had still gone to work this morning despite his requestâeverything was colliding in his mind, leaving him on edge.
"Is she free? Can I see her?" Seungcheol asked, his voice quiet but firm.
Myungho nodded without hesitation, immediately leading him to your office. He announced Seungcheolâs arrival before stepping out, leaving the two of you alone.
You looked up from your desk as Seungcheol entered, your gaze softening at the sight of him. "Seungcheol, you're here," you said gently as you stood up.
He approached you slowly, his fingers reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His voice was softer than usual, a tenderness beneath the usual calm. "I told you not to work," he murmured, his gaze searching yours.
You met his eyes, guilt flickering across your face. You bit your lip slightly, feeling a pang of regret. "I'm sorry. But I had a meeting with a foreign curator earlier. I'm glad it went well," you said, offering him a small, reassuring smile.
Seungcheolâs expression softened as he leaned in and kissed your temple, his lips lingering for a moment longer than usual. "I heard about it," he said quietly, his smile widening. "We're going to be parents." The excitement in his voice was undeniable as he took your hands in his. He looked at you with a warmth that melted some of the tension in the air.
You smiled weakly, leaning into his embrace as your head rested against his chest. His comforting presence grounded you, even as the weight of the moment settled over you both.
"Youâre going to be an amazing mother, love," Seungcheol whispered, his hands gently cradling you as you closed your eyes, basking in the sincerity of his words. The world outside the two of you seemed to disappear as the reality of your future together began to take root.
*
You stepped into your childhood home, the weight of the news you had to share pressing heavily on your chest. Your motherâs wide grin greeted you before you even crossed the threshold, her hands moving wildly as she signed with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Oh, look whoâs finally here," she signed, her expression one of mock excitement. "Whatâs the good news, Y/n?"
You hesitated for a moment before signing, "Iâm pregnant."
Her hands froze mid-air, her face flickering with surprise, but it didnât take long for that emotion to morph into something much darker. She straightened up, her sharp gaze locking onto you. "Pregnant?" she signed, her movements quick and sharp. "Of course, you are. The Choi heir..."
You fought to steady your breath, trying to brace yourself for the storm you knew was coming. But your motherâs expression softened into something far too calculating. "This will fix everything, Y/n. Youâve done your part, finally. Youâve done something right," she signed, her eyes now gleaming with something almost predatory, like she was already envisioning what this could do for her.
The sting of her words was familiar, yet still sharp. You looked away briefly, trying to gather your thoughts before signing back, "This isnât what I wanted."
Her laughter was sharp and cruel. "Oh, please," she signed, her tone dismissive, as if your words had no weight at all. "What else could you possibly want, Y/n? Youâve got the Choi family wrapped around your finger. Youâre carrying the heir. " Her hands moved with exaggerated flourishes, her gestures mocking the sincerity of your feelings. "You should be thanking us."
You could feel the bile rising in your throat, but you bit your lip, refusing to let her see how much her words stung. "I didnât ask for this," you signed again, more forcefully this time.
She shook her head, her expression almost pitiful. "Of course, you didnât," she signed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Who would, right? A girl like youâdeaf, unremarkable, never good enough for anything more than a marriage of convenience. But look at you now. Youâve done it. Youâve secured your place."
You bit your tongue, trying not to let the tears sting at your eyes. She had always been this way, using your deafness to remind you of how little she thought of you.
Her next words were even sharper, and you could feel the coldness in every words as she signed, "Youâll never be anything more than a stepping stone for your husband's wealth and power. Look at you, finally fulfilling your role as a good little Choi wife."
You flinched at the bitterness in her words, but you held your ground, trying to keep the hurt from showing on your face. It was clear now that she wasnât speaking to you as a daughter but as a means to an end. You were nothing more than a transaction in her eyes.
You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, signing with as much defiance as you could muster, "Iâll make my own future, with or without your help."
She rolled her eyes, signing back with a mocking smirk, "You think youâll be anything without us, Y/n? The Choi family is your ticket. Donât you see? Youâve got your future set, and this babyâthis babyâis the final piece. Youâll be taken care of for the rest of your life, all thanks to us."
The words hit you like a slap to the face, but you didnât react. You didnât need to give her the satisfaction of seeing you break.
With a final glance at her, you signed, "Iâll make my own choices. You canât control me anymore."
Your motherâs lips curled into a sardonic smile, her eyes never leaving yours. "Oh, sweetie," she signed, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. "You never did have any real choices, did you?"
The finality in her words hit you hard, but you turned your back on her before she could say more. It didnât matter anymore. You had made your decision long ago. The Choi family may have given you a life of comfort, but at what cost?
You left her house feeling emptier than when you arrived, the weight of your familyâs expectations a bitter reminder of the path you had been forced onto.
"You've been silent. You donât like the food? I can ask the cook to make you something else," Seungcheolâs voice was soft but laced with concern as he noticed you staring blankly at your plate, barely touching the food. You shook your head, offering a weak smile in his direction, though it didnât reach your eyes.
"Itâs just... I donât feel like eating," you mumbled, your voice barely a whisper as the weight of everything you were feeling pressed down on you.
Seungcheol sighed, his expression tinged with worry as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving you. "Do you have anything in mind that you want to eat? You have to eat, love," he urged gently, his tone firm yet filled with care.
You shook your head once more, the knot in your throat tightening as you stood up from the dining table, your legs feeling heavier than usual. "Iâm going to bed. My head hurts," you said, avoiding his gaze as you walked away, the words feeling suffocating in your chest.
Seungcheol didnât push further, though his worry was palpable. He nodded quietly, watching you retreat to your shared bedroom. The soft click of the door closing behind you left an unsettling silence in the air, one that lingered in the room long after you were gone.
As soon as the door was shut, the weight of everything that had been building up inside you crashed over you. You let the tears fall, each one a painful reminder of the life you had been forced into, of the expectations you could never seem to escape. The facade youâd held up for so long finally crumbled, and you were left in the quiet emptiness of your own despair.
Till when do I have to endure this kind of life?
The question echoed in your mind, unanswered, as the tears continued to flow.
*
Seungcheol received a package that morning, its plain exterior offering no hint of the chaos it would bring. At first, there was nothing suspicious about it. But as he opened it, his stomach churned. Inside was a pair of womenâs underwear, carefully folded, accompanied by a note that sent a cold shiver down his spine:
"Do you like it when she stares at your lips? I like it too."
Seungcheol crumpled the paper immediately, his fists tightening around it. His heart raced, not from surprise, but from the overwhelming disgust he felt. He knew exactly what the note was referring toâand he hated it. Hated that everyone found your gaze just as captivating as he did. It made him furious, this feeling of possessiveness creeping over him.
"Who sent this?" Seungcheol demanded, holding up the package to Jihoon.
Jihoon glanced at the contents, his brow furrowing with concern. Without hesitation, he dialed the security team. Moments later, he turned back to Seungcheol, his face tight with frustration.
âThey said it was just a courier,â Jihoon informed him.
Seungcheol scoffed in disbelief, tossing the crumpled paper onto the desk. "A courier? Thatâs all they have? I want more than that."
"Can we track the sender?" Seungcheol pressed, his voice sharp with impatience.
Jihoon took the package from his hands, his eyes scanning it briefly. "Iâll get on it. Iâll let you know what I find," he assured him.
Seungcheol wasnât satisfied, but he knew there was little else to do but wait. He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration building in his chest. There were still so many questions left unanswered.
âWhat about the person who took my wifeâs phone? Have you found them?â Seungcheol asked, his voice hard.
Jihoon handed him a file, his tone quieter now. "The phone was found near the hotel the next day. Whoever took it must have gotten rid of it immediately. Itâll take some time to track the voice, though."
Seungcheol flipped through the file, his gaze hardening as he processed the information.
âAre you familiar with the voice?â Jihoon asked, sensing Seungcheolâs growing unease.
Seungcheol shook his head, frustration bubbling inside him. "No. I donât think theyâre from anyone around me. And as for the Jeon family⊠Havenât heard from them since Wonwoo got married."
He said it with a bitterness that was hard to miss. The Jeon family, once a rival of the Choi family, had always been a thorn in his side when it came to business dealings. And now, with a situation like this unfolding, it didnât feel like a coincidence. Seungcheol couldnât shake the feeling that there was more to this than simple revenge or some random act.
"Whoeverâs behind this is going to regret messing with my family," Seungcheol muttered under his breath.
The same threats arrived with relentless frequencyâthrough emails, packages, and anonymous phone calls. But Seungcheol had long since stopped letting them consume him. None of it mattered as long as he knew you were safe with him. Heâd doubled the security around your gallery and fortified the guards at his house. With his child growing inside you, his protective instincts had only intensified. You and the life you carried were his priorityâhis entire world.
For a while, that mantra kept him grounded. But by the fifth month of your pregnancy, as your belly began to show, the threats took a darker turn. They became more pointed, more unsettling. One email read, âClose her eyes and see what she heard.â Another note taunted, âSheâll never listen.â Each message seemed to inch closer to the secret they claimed to know.
He kept the weight of it all to himself. He couldnât bear the thought of burdening you. You already endured enoughâcarrying his child, enduring the discomfort of pregnancy from morning until night. The last thing you needed was to shoulder his fears. No, this was his fight, and he was determined to keep it that way.
âAs long as sheâs safe.â That was the mantra he repeated to himself every day. It was his anchor, the thought that kept him moving forward despite the shadow looming over him.
âDo you think it could be someone from your past, sir?â Jihoon asked one evening, breaking the silence in Seungcheolâs office. He looked frustrated, just as perplexed as Seungcheol about the source of the threats. Ten years of working together still hadnât prepared Jihoon for something like this.
Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. âI donât know. Iâve pissed off plenty of people, sure, but nothing to warrant this kind of obsession.â
Jihoon frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. âIt doesnât make sense for this to be random. Someone claims to know her secret. Someone knows you.â
Seungcheolâs jaw tightened. That was the part he couldnât wrap his head around. Heâd always been someone who preferred moving forward rather than dwelling on the past. That was how he livedâhow he thrived. But now, the threats werenât just confusing; they were demanding something he didnât know how to give.
âIâm not sure what they want. But theyâre not getting her. Theyâll have to go through me first,â Seungcheol said, his voice low and resolute.
Jihoon nodded, his expression grim. âWeâll figure this out, sir. But the longer it takes, the more dangerous it gets. These messages arenât empty threats.â
âI know,â Seungcheol said quietly, his gaze hardening. He looked out the window, his hand instinctively resting on his phone in case you called. As long as sheâs safe, he reminded himself. That was all that mattered. For now.
*
On your first anniversary, Seungcheol wanted to celebrate with an intimate dinner at home. He hired a renowned chef to curate a fine dining experience and had the house meticulously decorated with flowers and candles. It was meant to be a perfect evening, a celebration of your bond and the life you were building together. You were unaware of his plans, but a single photograph shattered the illusion.
The picture showed your home transformed into a romantic haven, the dining table adorned with delicate arrangements and warm, glowing lights. But as you stared at the photo, your surroundings brought a stark contrast. You were seated in a dim, suffocating room, the air damp and reeking of decay.
Jisoo stood before you, his face illuminated by the faint glow of his phone as he grinned. He closed the device with a soft click, his demeanor unsettlingly calm. You struggled to process the situation, piecing together fragments of memory.
Jisoo had offered to drive you home, assuring everyoneâMyungho, the guards, and even yourselfâthat you were safe in his care. Yet here you were, trapped in a place youâd never seen, with a man you thought you trusted.
"Even like this, you still look pretty," Jisoo murmured, his voice gentle but laced with something sinister. He crouched down to meet your gaze, his hand brushing against your cheek in a mockery of tenderness.
It took a moment for the realization to sink in: Jisoo had kidnapped you. The man who had been your psychiatrist, your lifeline when you lost your hearing, had betrayed you. He wasnât the kind and attentive figure you had thought; he had been paid by your parents to ensure you stayed functional, nothing more.
"It took me months to get to this point, Y/n, so you better cooperate," Jisoo said, his grin widening. "Or else Iâll reveal everything to Choi Seungcheol."
Your stomach churned as his words sank in.
"A pretty girl like you doesnât deserve him, to be honest," he added, almost as if he were musing aloud. "But hear me out. Youâll leave him in a month. Come with me, or no one will be able to protect you."
"What are you talking about, Jisoo?" you asked, your voice trembling as your hands instinctively moved to shield your growing belly.
Jisoo chuckled, leaning back as though amused by your confusion. "Donât act so innocent. I know you didnât marry him for love. It was all for your familyâs benefit."
You froze, his words striking a chord of truth that left you paralyzed.
"The investment the Choi family made into your familyâs businessâit saved them from ruin. But it wasnât enough, was it? Your parents wanted more," Jisoo continued, his gaze dropping to your stomach with a flicker of disdain.
"No one wants this baby to disappear except for you and me, Y/n," he said, his tone softening into a chilling whisper. "I can give you the life you deserve, away from all of this."
His words sliced through you, leaving a gaping wound of betrayal. You had trusted Jisoo, confided in him during your most vulnerable moments. He had been there when no one else was, not even your mother. You had believed in his kindness, even supported him when he confided about the pain of losing someone he loved. But now, that same man was holding you hostage.
"You donât understand, Y/n," Jisoo continued, his expression darkening. "All your secretsâyour deafness, your marriageâtheyâll all come out eventually. Seungcheol will find out everything. And when he does, he'll destroy you. But you donât have to wait for that to happen. Leave him and run away with me."
"And if I donât?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Jisooâs grin faded, replaced by a cold, menacing stare. "Then you and the baby... will get hurt."
Your heart pounded as you sat frozen in the suffocating room, his words reverberating in your mind. The man you had trusted was a stranger, his obsession and bitterness now a threat to everything you held dear. Betrayal tightened its grip around you, suffocating and inescapable. This was not a situation you had ever imagined for yourself, and yet here you were, trapped in a nightmare.
"Happy anniversary, love." Seungcheolâs voice was warm as he leaned down to kiss your temple. You barely managed to stand in front of him, your legs shaky and your heart heavier than ever as Jisooâs words echoed in your mind.
"Seungcheol will find out everything. And when he does, heâll destroy you."
Your eyes wandered across the room, taking in the meticulously arranged decorations, the fragrant flowers, and the elegant dinner set for two. The sight should have filled you with joy, but instead, it suffocated you. This wasnât a celebration. It was a cruel reminder of everything you had been hiding. Every affectionate gesture, every whispered âI love you,â all laced with deceit.
Your chest tightened as you looked at Seungcheol. He stood before you with a loving smile, holding a bouquet in his hands, radiating pure happiness. Yet all you could see was the weight of your betrayal pressing down on you.
"It was all for your familyâs benefit." Jisooâs voice rang in your head, relentless and unyielding. You tried to silence it, but it only grew louder, drowning out the world around you.
Every night, as you lay beside Seungcheol, watching his peaceful figure in the dim light, you were reminded of the lies. The way his chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his features soft in sleep, it made you ache. He was so innocent, so trusting, so undeserving of the darkness you had brought into his life.
"I love you," Seungcheol said, his voice steady and sincere. The three words you feared most hung in the air, piercing through your facade. They werenât just words to himâthey were a promise, a testament to how deeply he cared for you. And you had used that love as a weapon, a means to an end.
Your familyâs plan had succeeded flawlessly. They had wanted him to fall for you, to depend on you, to bind him to your family with a child. And now, here you were, carrying his baby, living a life built on manipulation.
"Youâll leave him in a month. Leave him and run away with me." Jisooâs words were a persistent shadow, haunting every step you took.
You wished you could hear Seungcheolâs voice in this moment, soothing and full of love, reassuring you that everything would be alright. But you couldnât. The silence in your world was unrelenting, leaving you trapped with only your thoughts and regrets.
And you wished you could hear yourself. Maybe then you would know how broken your voice sounded as tears streamed down your face, how your words betrayed your trembling resolve.
"Iâm happy," you whispered, a lie wrapped in fragile sincerity. You werenât happyânot with this life, not with the choices forced upon you. But you had made your decision. You had chosen to stay, chosen to protect the baby growing inside you, chosen to shield Seungcheol from the pain of the truth.
Because despite the lies, despite the betrayal, you couldnât bear to hurt him. Seungcheol was the first person to love you without condition, without ulterior motives. And you couldnât bring yourself to destroy the one person who had shown you what real love could be.
*
Seungcheol came home with his heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing. Earlier that evening, Seo Myungho, your assistant, had paid him an unexpected visit at his office. It was past working hours, but the usually quiet and composed man had come with urgency etched across his face.
"I'm sorry for taking your time, but there's something you need to know," Myungho said, pulling out a photograph.
Seungcheol leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. Myungho placed the picture on the desk.
"I've worked for your wife for years, and my observations have never been wrong," Myungho began cautiously.
In the photograph, you were stepping out of a building with Jisoo, and the timestamp matched the day of your anniversary.
"I was supposed to drive her home that afternoon," Myungho continued, "but Mr. Hong insisted on taking her instead. I followed them. It took them two hours to get home, and this picture was taken while I was tailing his car."
Seungcheol's brows furrowed deeply. "Are you trying to say she's cheating on me?" he asked, his voice tight with disbelief.
Myungho hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It's not something I can confirm, sir. But I will say thisâshe hasnât been the same since that day. If they were involved in an affair, she wouldnât have told me to stop letting Mr. Hong visit her gallery."
Seungcheolâs jaw clenched as he leaned back in his chair. "What exactly are you insinuating, Seo Myungho?"
After a pause, Myungho finally said what had been weighing on his conscience. "Your wife⊠I think sheâs in danger."
The words hit Seungcheol like a thunderclap.
When he stepped into the house, his voice echoed through the empty halls. "Y/n!" he called. There was no answer. He hurriedly searched every room, his calls growing louder and more frantic.
"Y/n!"
Finally, he made his way to his home office. Thatâs when he noticed your phone lying on his desk, ringing in response to his calls. The top drawer of the desk, where he kept the bank books, was slightly ajar. His stomach twisted when he realized the bank book with your name was missing.
Unlocking your phone, Seungcheolâs blood ran cold. On the screen was a series of messages, the tone eerily similar to the threats he had been receiving over the past months.
"Leave the house now, or Iâll tell everything about your secret."
Seungcheolâs grip tightened around the phone as he immediately dialed Jihoon. His voice was steady but filled with urgency as he barked orders. "Mobilize everyone. Start searching for her now."
He scanned the phone again, another message flashing on the screen.
"Iâll wait for you at the park near the bank."
Seungcheol sent Jihoon the location before sprinting to his car. He had no doubt nowâwhoever had been threatening him was after you too.
"My boss⊠your wifeâŠ" Myunghoâs earlier words echoed in his mind, the revelation twisting like a knife in his gut.
"Sheâs deaf," Myungho had said quietly. "She lost her hearing in a car accident. I overheard a conversation between her and her mother once."
Seungcheol pressed harder on the gas pedal, weaving through traffic as Myunghoâs voice played on repeat in his head.
"Do you know how much your wife has suffered in this marriage? I thought she found solace in Mr. Hong at first. But then she told me to stop allowing him to visit, and thatâs when I realizedâhe wasnât helping her anymore."
Seungcheol gripped the wheel tighter, fury and dread clawing at his chest.
"Mr. Hong likes your wife, sir. And I believe heâs the one behind these threats."
The puzzle pieces clicked into place. Jisoo had been manipulating everything, orchestrating the threats, and now he had escalated to targeting you. Seungcheolâs heart raced as he sped toward the park, the weight of the truth pressing down on him.
"What is his deal?" Seungcheol muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling in his chest as he raced toward the park. His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp ring of his phone. Seeing Junâs name on the screen, he immediately answered, his voice commanding, "Speak!"
"Sir, where are you?" Junâs voice came through, laced with confusion. "Everyone is in front of Seoul Bank, but we donât see you or Mr. Lee here."
Seungcheolâs grip on the steering wheel tightened as anger flared in his chest. "Itâs the park near SK Bank, not Seoul Bank!" he snapped, his voice booming.
Jun hesitated for a moment, clearly taken aback, before replying, "But sir, Mr. Lee instructed us to gather at Seoul Bank."
Seungcheolâs jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white against the steering wheel. His mind raced as he processed the situation. Why had Jihoon sent his team to a different location? Was it a mistake, or was there something more sinister at play?
"Forget what Mr. Lee said and head to SK Bank immediately," Seungcheol barked.
"Understood, sir. Weâre moving now," Jun replied before the line disconnected.
Seungcheolâs mind churned as he pushed the car to its limit. Was there something he was missing? Jihoon was one of his most trusted people, yet this discrepancy felt off. A sinking feeling settled in his chest, whispering that this was more than just a miscommunication.
Every second felt like an eternity as Seungcheolâs thoughts spiraled. Had Jihoon deliberately sent his team elsewhere to buy time? If so, why?
His gut told him the pieces of the puzzle werenât adding up. If Jihoon was involved in this, there would be hell to pay. For now, all that mattered was finding you.
*
Seungcheol first met Jihoon during the interview for his secretary team recruitment. Even then, he could see the passion and fire in Jihoonâs eyesâa fighting spirit that convinced him this man could help navigate the treacherous waters of the dark business he was trying to expand. Back when Seungcheol left his position at his fatherâs company to build his own empire, Jihoon had been his first hire, his personal assistant. For the past ten years, they had been inseparable, working side by side through every challenge and victory. Jihoon wasnât just an employee; he was someone Seungcheol trusted with his life.
But that trust was now hanging by a thread.
Seungcheolâs heart dropped when he saw Jihoonâs car parked by the curb. He hurried over, peering inside only to find it empty. His gaze darted around the area, but there was no sign of Jihoonâand more importantly, no sign of you.
Panic mixed with fury as emotions churned violently inside him. He clenched his fists, his breathing ragged, and immediately dialed Jun. His voice was sharp and commanding when Jun picked up.
âUnderstood, sir,â Jun replied quickly, not daring to ask further questions.
Seungcheol ended the call, his mind racing. Jihoon had been the first person heâd confided in about the threats. Heâd trusted Jihoon to investigate, to handle everything discreetly. But now, the puzzle pieces were falling into place. Jihoon had sent the team to the wrong location deliberatelyâto buy himself time.
And that could only mean one thing. Jihoon wasnât just aware of the threats. He was one of them.
A cold realization settled over Seungcheol, chilling him to the core. The man he had trusted for a decade had betrayed him, and now you were in danger because of it.
Seungcheol gritted his teeth, gripping his phone tightly as he fought the urge to call the police. That wasnât an option, not for him. Heâd made the mistake of involving the police before and paid dearly for it. His hands werenât clean, and he knew better than to invite unnecessary scrutiny into his life.
All he could do now was rely on his people, his resources, and his determination. He couldnât afford to let emotions cloud his judgment. He had to focus on two things: finding you and finding Jihoon.
And when he did, Jihoon would have to answer for everything. For the lies, for the betrayal, and most of all, for putting you in harmâs way.
A phone call shattered the tense silence as Seungcheol sat in the living room of his parents' house. The air was heavy with shared worry and shock, each family member struggling to process the sudden revelation of Jihoonâs betrayal.
Seungcheolâs spine stiffened the moment he heard the voice on the other end of the line. It was unmistakableâJihoon. The man who had been his closest confidant for ten years had finally revealed himself.
âChoi Seungcheol,â Jihoonâs voice came cold and calculated, carrying a chilling undertone.
Seungcheol sighed deeply, the weight of realization pressing down on him. âSo itâs you,â he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
A low, mocking laugh echoed through the line, and Jihoonâs voice followed, dripping with venom. âHong Jisoo did a great job moving Y/n. Heâs a better player than I expected.â
Seungcheol gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles whitening. âWhat do you want, Jihoon? What dragged you into this madness?â
Another laugh escaped Jihoonâs lips, sharper and colder this time. âBeg, Choi Seungcheol,â he hissed. âAt least suffer for a bit. Thatâs what youâre good at, isnât it? Ruining lives and walking away.â
âStop speaking in riddles!â Seungcheol barked, frustration and desperation mingling in his voice.
But Jihoonâs next words stopped him cold. âYou killed my mother that night,â Jihoon spat, his voice trembling with years of suppressed rage. âDo you even remember? Or is it just another ghost buried under the weight of your familyâs sins?â
Seungcheol froze, the accusation hitting him like a freight train. âI never killed anyone! Especially not a woman!â he shouted, his mind scrambling to make sense of Jihoonâs claim.
Jihoon let out a bitter laugh, his tone growing harsher. âOh, maybe it wasnât you. Maybe it was your father. Honestly, I donât care anymore. Your entire family is a wreck!â
âJihoon,â Seungcheol started, trying to piece it together. âWhat are you talking about? What happened to your mother?â
Jihoonâs voice cracked with raw emotion. âYou couldâve saved her, Seungcheol. You were there. You saw her lying in the street after that accident. Instead of helping, you let your driver speed off. You left herâmy motherâalone to die at the crossroad near Jongno.â
The memory stirred faintly in Seungcheolâs mind, a shadowy fragment from years ago. A car accident. A desperate night. Could it be true? Had his family been responsible? Was this all Jihoonâs revenge?
Seungcheol swallowed hard, his voice low and steady. âJihoon, if what youâre saying is true, letâs talk about it. Letâs fix this.â
But Jihoonâs response was icy. âFix it? You canât fix whatâs already broken, Choi Seungcheol. Your family destroyed mine, and now itâs my turn to take everything from you.â
There was a pause on the line, a dreadful silence that made Seungcheolâs heart race.
âLetâs see if your wife survives this,â Jihoon said, his voice eerily calm.
And then, a deafening gunshot rang through the phone.
âJihoon!â Seungcheol yelled into the receiver, his voice cracking with panic. But the call had already ended, leaving him in a suffocating void of silence and dread.
*
"You promised not to hurt her!" Jisoo shouted, his voice trembling as he held up a gun, his eyes wide with panic. He had just witnessed Jihoon aiming the weapon at you, your unconscious form sprawled on the cold floor. At the last second, Jisoo lunged, shoving Jihoonâs hand away. The gun fired, the bullet ricocheting off the far wall, narrowly missing you.
Jihoon snarled in frustration, swinging his arm to shove Jisoo aside. Jisoo stumbled and fell hard onto the floor, the gun now pointed directly at him. Jihoonâs gaze burned with fury.
âThis is your fault,â Jihoon hissed, his voice like ice. âYou left her phone at Seungcheolâs house. Do you realize how close he came to finding us?â
Jisoo glared up at him, his expression a mixture of anger and betrayal. âThis isnât about her! What you want is Seungcheol! Thereâs no need to hurt her!â
Jihoon let out a cold, humorless chuckle. âSeungcheol made me lose someone I loved. Isnât it only fair he loses his? Who told him to have a weakness in the first place?â
âYouâre insane, Jihoon,â Jisoo spat, his voice rising with disbelief. âThis was never the deal!â
âI make the deal,â Jihoon said with a cruel smirk. âI decide how it plays out.â
Jihoon had pieced everything together when he discovered who had called Seungcheol using your phone that fateful night. It was Hong Jisooâyour old friend and, ironically, your psychiatrist. Jihoonâs curiosity was piqued. Why would an old friend go so far as to threaten his friend's husband?
The answer came quickly: Jisoo was in love with you. He had been ever since you became his patient. Jihoon saw the truth in Jisooâs eyesâthe way he lingered on your name, the way he spoke about you with barely contained bitterness. Jisoo had been waiting patiently, hoping for his chance. But that chance never came. Your family, powerful and calculating, had arranged your marriage to the Choi family. To someone far wealthier, far more influential than Jisoo could ever be.
Jisoo felt betrayed. Everything heâd done for you, all the time heâd spent caring for you, meant nothing in the end. His motives became clear: he wanted to end your marriage at any cost. And when Jihoon offered an alliance, Jisoo jumped at the opportunity, even if it meant working with someone as dangerous as Jihoon.
The final piece of Jihoonâs plan clicked into place when he saw you. The day of your blind date with Seungcheol, Jihoon had been there, driving the car to pick up his boss. He noticed you speaking with someone in sign language, your hands moving fluidly as you signed, âI can sign because Iâm deaf.â
It was a fleeting moment, but it struck Jihoon deeply. His mother had been deaf too, and in that instant, he saw the vulnerability Seungcheol had brought into his life. Jihoon began to watch closely, waiting for Seungcheol to fall for you, and when he did, Jihoon knew he had found the Choi familyâs Achillesâ heel.
You.
Seungcheolâs love for you had turned you into his greatest weakness. Jihoonâs plan had been carefully orchestrated, each move designed to exploit that vulnerability and make Seungcheol pay for the sins of his family.
And now, standing over Jisoo with a gun in hand, Jihoon felt the culmination of his years of planning. The question was no longer whether Seungcheol would sufferâit was how much.
Jisooâs hands trembled as he slowly pushed himself off the ground, his gaze locked on Jihoon, who stood menacingly with the gun aimed at him. The weight of betrayal, desperation, and fear swirled in Jisooâs mind.
âI wonât let you do this,â Jisoo growled, his voice raw with emotion.
Jihoon cocked his head to the side, his smirk unwavering. âYou wonât let me? What can you possibly do, Jisoo? Youâve already played your part. Itâs over.â
But it wasnât overânot for Jisoo. In one swift motion, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a knife, the blade gleaming under the dim light. Without hesitation, he lunged at Jihoon with all his strength, his movements driven by pure instinct and fury.
Jihoonâs eyes widened in surprise as Jisooâs body collided with his. The gun went off, the sound of the shot reverberating through the air, but the bullet missed its mark, hitting the wall instead. Jihoon staggered back, his grip on the gun faltering as Jisoo shoved the knife into his side with brutal force.
A guttural cry of pain tore from Jihoonâs throat as he felt the blade sink into his flesh. Blood seeped through his shirt, staining the fabric crimson. Jihoonâs hand instinctively tightened around the gun, his vision blurring from the searing pain.
âYou think this will stop me?â Jihoon hissed, his voice strained but laced with venom.
Jisoo didnât respond, his breathing ragged as he pushed the knife deeper, his resolve unshaken. He could feel Jihoon weakening beneath his grip, but he underestimated just how dangerous Jihoon could be, even in his wounded state.
With a surge of adrenaline, Jihoon raised the gun and fired again, this time hitting Jisoo square in the shoulder. The force of the shot sent Jisoo stumbling backward, his grip on the knife loosening as he fell to the ground.
Both men were now gasping for air, their bodies trembling from the pain and exertion. Blood pooled on the floor between them, the room thick with the metallic scent of violence.
Jihoon clutched his side, his hand slick with blood as he leaned against the wall for support. His gaze flickered to Jisoo, who lay sprawled on the floor, clutching his bleeding shoulder and groaning in agony.
âYou really thought you could outsmart me?â Jihoon sneered, though his voice was weaker now, his energy draining rapidly.
Jisoo coughed, his chest heaving as he glared at Jihoon through the haze of pain. âYouâre no better than the people you claim to hate,â he spat. âYouâve become the monster you wanted to destroy.â
Jihoonâs expression darkened, his fingers tightening around the gun. âMaybe I am,â he admitted, his tone cold. âBut at least Iâll have justice for my mother. You? Youâre nothing but a coward, Jisoo. Hiding behind your obsession.â
Jisooâs hand twitched, reaching for the knife still embedded in Jihoonâs side. But before he could grab it, Jihoon raised the gun again, aiming directly at Jisooâs chest.
âI warned you,â Jihoon said, his voice icy and devoid of emotion. âStay out of my way.â
The sound of another gunshot echoed through the room. Jisooâs body went still, his eyes wide in shock before they slowly fluttered shut.
Jihoon let out a ragged, shaky breath, his knees giving way as he collapsed to the floor. His hand instinctively moved to the knife buried in his side, but he didnât dare pull it out, knowing it would only hasten the flow of blood. Pain shot through him with every shallow breath he took, sharp and unrelenting, as if his body were punishing him for every choice that had led to this moment.
His vision blurred, the room tilting as the strength in his legs failed him completely. He pressed his back against the wall, trying to steady himself, but the cold surface only amplified the chill spreading through his body. Each heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears, a reminder of how quickly his time was slipping away.
As his gaze wandered across the room, it landed briefly on the lifeless form of Jisoo, crumpled a few feet away, his blood staining the floor in dark, viscous pools. The memory of the fight replayed in Jihoon's mind like a broken recordâJisooâs desperate lunge, the glint of the blade, the deafening crack of the gun.
Jihoonâs breath hitched, his hand pressing harder against his wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. The edges of his vision darkened, the world around him losing focus. His chest heaved as he tried to stay conscious, but the weight of his injuries was too much to bear.
The room felt eerily quiet now, the echoes of their struggle replaced by the faint, distant hum of the city beyond these walls. Jihoon tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling as a bitter smile played on his lips.
*
Seungcheolâs heart hammered in his chest as he and his team stormed through the abandoned harbor. The old warehouse loomed ahead, a towering silhouette against the dark sky. Every breath felt heavier as he pushed forward, each step fraught with mounting dread. They had tracked Jihoonâs location down to this forsaken placeânow, all he could think of was finding you, ensuring you were still alive.
The sound of his boots pounding against the cracked pavement echoed in the still night air as he reached the heavy doors of the warehouse. With one forceful push, they creaked open, revealing the cavernous interior dimly lit by flickering overhead lights. The air was thick with the smell of rust and dampness, the kind of place that whispered forgotten secrets.
But what greeted him inside was far worse than heâd imagined.
Blood. It was everywhere. Pools of dark crimson staining the cold concrete floor. A wave of nausea threatened to overtake him as his eyes darted across the scene. His team fanned out, but Seungcheolâs gaze was drawn to the lifeless body of Jisoo, sprawled across the floor in an unnatural position. The unmistakable evidence of a gunshot wound on his chest confirmed that he was beyond saving.
Seungcheolâs pulse quickened, a suffocating pressure forming in his chest. He couldnât stop his legs from carrying him toward the body. His eyes briefly shut as the weight of the situation settled into his bones. Jisooâdead.
But where were you?
His breath hitched as his gaze swept the warehouse. There was no sign of you. No trace of Jihoon. The blood led into a narrow corridor at the back of the warehouse. His pulse raced, the fear gnawing at him like a festering wound.
âSearch the entire place. Donât leave a single corner unchecked,â Seungcheol ordered, his voice tight with barely controlled panic.
His men scattered, checking every shadow, every room, but still, no sign of you. His heart sank with every passing second. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of their frantic searching.
Seungcheol moved toward the back, following the blood trail. It led to a door cracked slightly open, its edges stained with crimson. Without hesitation, he pushed it open, his eyes scanning the area for any clue, anything that could point him to you.
There were drag marks. Disturbingly faint, but they were there. Leading toward the docks.
His mind screamed at him to hurry. âGet to the docks! Block all exits!â Seungcheol barked. He could barely hear his own words over the rush of blood in his ears, his vision narrowing with each second.
He needed to find you. He would find you. No matter what it took, no matter the cost.
The water lapped softly against the shore, the only sound that seemed to break the tense stillness. Seungcheol stared out at the dark horizon, feeling the weight of the past few hours pressing on him. Was it too late?
âIâll find you,â he whispered, barely audible to anyone but himself, as he squared his shoulders. âI swear I will.â
*
You ran, your heart pounding in your chest as the cold night air stung your skin. Your feet, bare and scraped from the rough pavement, barely registered the pain as you pushed your body to its limits. You could still hear the haunting memory of Jihoonâs voice in your head, feel the weight of Jisooâs betrayal in your bones.
They wouldn't come back. They couldn't come back.
The thought of them finding you again, of them dragging you back into their nightmare, was enough to keep you moving even as exhaustion threatened to pull you under. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your throat dry and tight with thirst, but you didnât stop. You couldnât.
And then, just as you were beginning to feel your legs betray you, you saw themâa group of women, dressed in thick wetsuits, their movements confident and assured. They were divers, the kind who harvested abalone, their hands strong from years of working the sea. They noticed you before you could stagger past them, their trained eyes immediately scanning your bloodstained dress and the wild, frantic look in your eyes.
"Young woman? Are you okay?" One of them called out, her voice gentle but concerned.
You lifted a hand, weakly waving in their direction. You could feel your body weakening, the adrenaline finally starting to wear off. The ground beneath you tilted, and your knees nearly gave way. You knew you couldnât keep running for much longer. Your vision blurred, but you forced the words out.
âI was kidnappedâŠâ Your voice cracked, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The truth hung in the air like a heavy weight. They could see it in your eyesâthe terror, the exhaustion, the desperation.
The women exchanged quick glances, scanning your disheveled state, the blood on your dress that stained the night darker still. They didnât question you. Instead, one of them stepped forward, her tone gentle but firm.
âCome with us,â she said. âYouâre safe now.â
You didnât have the energy to protest. Your legs wobbled beneath you as they carefully supported you, guiding you away from the dangers youâd just escaped.
With each step, you felt yourself slipping closer to unconsciousness. The dim lights of the village shimmered like a distant dream, and you clung to the hope that, maybe, for the first time in what felt like forever, you were finally safe.
*
"What happened that night?" Seungcheol demanded, his voice cold and heavy as he confronted his father. The room was dimly lit, the weight of the topic casting a suffocating shadow over them. The matter at hand was the death of a woman his fatherâs car had struck 15 years agoâa moment that had come back to haunt them both.
His father took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. "She was a cleaner at our company. But before that, she was a witness to one of our transactions. She confronted the leaders and threatened to report everything to the police unless she got paid off." His tone was calm, detached, as though recounting a mundane business deal.
Seungcheolâs fists clenched. "And?"
"I gave her enough money to raise her children. More than enough. I even found her a job. She was deaf, Seungcheol, and no one was willing to hire someone like that back then."
Seungcheolâs jaw tightened as the pieces fell into place. Jihoonâs mother had been employed as a cleaner for several months before that fateful night. But it didnât end there.
"She demanded more money," his father continued, voice devoid of remorse. "She wanted more, and I had no better option than to make her disappear."
Seungcheol felt a wave of nausea as his fatherâs words hit him. He nodded grimly, the memory of that night flashing in his mind. "Thatâs what I knew. She wanted more money," he muttered, almost to himself. "Thatâs why I left her that night. I thought she was just another extortionist."
There was silence between them until his father broke it. "And your wife? Has anyone found her?"
Seungcheol shook his head, his heart sinking further into despair. "No. Neither her nor Jihoon." His voice cracked slightly as he spoke. The thought of you out thereâalive or worseâwas unbearable. You were the first person he had ever truly loved, and now you were gone, all because of the vengeance Jihoon had carried for years.
His father frowned, his brows knitting together. "No body was found in the water either?"
Seungcheol exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. "No. But there was blood on the edge of the dock."
His fatherâs eyes darkened. "Do you think it was Jihoonâs?"
Seungcheol hesitated, biting his lip as his gaze met his fatherâs. "I wish it was. But..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
His father studied him carefully before speaking. "Thereâs something else, isnât there?"
Seungcheolâs throat tightened as he admitted quietly, "was it possible? Sheâs pregnant."
The weight of the revelation hung in the air. His father nodded in understanding, his expression grim. "Weâll send more people tomorrow," he said firmly, rising to his feet. He placed a hand on Seungcheolâs shoulder, his grip surprisingly steady. "Weâll find closure, one way or another."
Seungcheol didnât respond, his thoughts spiraling. He didnât want closure. He wanted you. And the uncertainty of whether you were alive or gone was a torment he wasnât sure he could endure.
One week.
Two weeks.
A month.
Three months.
Time crawled by as the search for you carried on, only to come to a devastating halt. After three agonizing months, Seungcheol made the painful decision to officially call off the large-scale search. The slowdown in the business was affecting countless lives, and he couldnât justify sacrificing so many for his own personal grief. Yet, in his heart, the search never truly stopped.
Every weekend, Seungcheol would find himself wandering from one village to another near the abandoned harbor, relentless in his quest. Heâd strike up conversations with locals and ask questions.
âDo you have a picture of her?â a villager would ask.
Seungcheol would pull out the photograph, his fingers trembling slightly as he handed it over. You always looked beautiful to him, flawless in every way. Even now, with the ache of your absence, he could only see perfection in your face. The day heâd first laid eyes on you, heâd been captivated, unable to believe someone like you could exist.
The truth of your deafness, which your parents finally revealed to him on the night you disappeared, hadnât changed his view of you at all. If anything, it made him ache more for what you had endured.
âIt was my idea to hide the fact she is deaf! Please forgive me, Son-in-law,â your mother had pleaded, her voice cracking with guilt.
Seungcheol had stared at her, his chest tightening with anger and disbelief. âTell me one reason why her deafness was a secret.â
âBecause a womanâs obligation as a wife is to listen,â she replied, the words cutting through him like a knife.
His hands clenched at his sides. He couldnât imagine the kind of torment you must have endured growing up in a household like this. The burden of expectations, the cruel standard you were forced to meetâit was suffocating to even think about.
Your mother continued, as if the words excused her actions. âWe were relieved when we found out she was pregnant. At least she fulfilled one of her obligations. She lost so much after the accident...â
âStop,â Seungcheol snapped, his voice laced with restrained fury. âStop speaking about her in the past tense. Sheâs still with us. She has to be.â
But even as he confronted your motherâs callousness, doubt and fear gnawed at his heart. Every village he visited, every person he spoke to, left him with nothing but disappointment.
âWeâve never seen anyone like her,â a villager said, shaking their head. âSheâs so beautiful. Is she your wife?â
Seungcheol nodded, a faint, hollow smile tugging at his lips. âYes, sheâs my wife.â
That evening, as he drove back home, the weight of his failure pressed down on him. The house, once filled with your warmth, now felt unbearably quiet. The memories of you lingered in every cornerâthe way you smiled, the way you turned your head to face him whenever he spoke, the way you stared at his lips, a habit heâd never fully understood until now.
It was during those lonely nights that everything started to make sense.
Your habit of always needing to face him when he spoke. The lack of phone calls. The way youâd tilt your head and say, âWhat?â if he wasnât looking directly at you.
You couldnât hear him.
And heâd never realized it.
He thought back to all the times Hong Jisoo had tried to hint at the truth through his cryptic threats. Jisoo had known, just as your parents had, that you had been forced into the marriage. Seungcheol clenched his fists, anger and regret churning inside him.
He felt like he had failed youânot just as a husband but as the man who should have protected you from all of this.
And now, you were gone.
His phone rang in the dead of night, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the room. Seungcheol groggily reached for it, his heart sinking at the thought of more bad news. But when he saw the caller ID, his exhaustion was replaced by curiosity.
Seo Myungho.
Your former assistant had never called him again after that time, let alone at this hour.
Seungcheol answered, his voice hoarse, âHello?â
âI found her.â
Three words. Just three words. But they hit him like a lightning bolt, sending him bolting upright from the bed.
âWhat did you say?â he asked, his voice sharp and desperate now, as if he couldnât trust what heâd just heard.
âI found her, sir.â
*
Myunghoâs search for you had been relentless, driven by a determination he couldnât explain but refused to ignore. He carefully tracked your weeks, estimating your birthing date. His method was simple but meticulousâhe regularly visited hospitals and clinics in the areas surrounding the harbor where you had last been seen. It was a grueling process, but last week, his persistence paid off.
He spotted you stepping out of a small clinic, your rounded stomach unmistakable. Myunghoâs heart skipped a beat. If his calculations were correct, you were due any day now.
Discreetly, he followed you back to a modest village nestled along the coastline. There, he discovered an elderly woman had taken you under her wing, providing you with shelter and care during these past months. Myungho watched from a distance, observing how you seemed to have created a life for yourself despite everything. He saw you teaching local children sign language, your hands moving gracefully as the kids mirrored your gestures with bright, eager faces.
âWhat are you doing here, young man?â A gruff voice startled him one afternoon. He turned to see an elderly man approaching, his gaze sharp but curious. âYouâre not from around here. Are you from the city?â
Caught off guard, Myungho scrambled for a believable response. âUh, yes. Iâm here looking for a great restaurant,â he said quickly. âThe kind that serves abalone.â
The old manâs face brightened. âWell, youâre in luck! Iâve got the best abalone in the area. Come on, come on, Iâll serve you myself!â
With little choice but to follow, Myungho was soon seated at a modest table in the manâs small home. A steaming plate of abalone was placed in front of him, the rich aroma filling the air.
As the man chatted, he grew more animated. âYou know, there was a big fuss a few months ago. A young woman came hereâa deaf woman, staying at Mrs. Jeongâs house. They say she ran away from her husband. Nobody knows what really happened to her, though.â
âEnough, old man!â a womanâs voice scolded. Myungho turned to see the manâs wife slapping his arm lightly. âItâs supposed to be a secret!â
âI was just talking,â the old man grumbled, rubbing his arm.
The woman sighed and turned to Myungho apologetically. âMrs. Jeong is a respected figure in this village, and she asked us to keep the young womanâs presence a secret. I hope you understand.â
Myungho nodded, hiding his relief. Mrs. Jeong. Now he had a nameâa connection to you. He had finally found the key to bringing you back.
When the due was coming, the pain from the contractions gripped your body like a vice, leaving you breathless. The small clinic in the village had tried their best, but it quickly became clear they couldnât handle the complications of your delivery. You needed a cesarean, and time was running out.
As you sat hunched on the clinic bench, clutching your swollen belly, Myungho appeared. His presence was unexpected, his expression calm but urgent.
âIâll take her to the hospital,â he said firmly, addressing the worried midwife.
The midwife looked at you, hesitant. âItâs a long drive, and the baby could come anytime,â she said.
Myungho met your gaze. âWe donât have a choice. Letâs go.â
You blinked, stunned by his sudden appearance. âWhy are you here?â you asked weakly, the pain stealing the strength from your voice.
He didnât answer immediately, guiding you carefully toward his car. His hands were steady but firm as he helped you into the passenger seat. âIâll explain later,â he said, closing the door and rushing to the driverâs side.
The contractions were coming faster now, each one making you grip the seat harder. The car sped down the uneven village roads, Myunghoâs hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.
âBreathe,â he said, glancing at you. âFocus on breathing.â
You tried, but the pain was overwhelming. Sweat dripped down your temple, and your vision blurred. Between the waves of agony, your mind buzzed with questions. How did he find you? Why was he here?
The ride felt like an eternity, each second stretching into minutes. Myunghoâs jaw was tight, his focus unwavering as he navigated the winding roads.
When the lights of the hospital came into view, a weak sigh of relief escaped your lips. Myungho pulled up to the emergency entrance and jumped out, shouting for help.
Within moments, a team of medical staff surrounded you, gently lifting you onto a gurney. Myungho stayed by your side until the doors to the operating room loomed ahead.
You reached out, grabbing his sleeve. âWhy are you here?â you asked again, your voice trembling.
He paused, looking down at you with an intensity that made your heart ache. âBecause someone had to protect you,â he said softly. âAnd I owe it to him.â
Before you could process his words, the doors swung open, and you were whisked away. As the bright lights of the operating room blurred your vision, one thought lingered in your mindâwas he talking about Seungcheol?
*
Seungcheol stormed into the administration ward, his breath ragged as his frantic eyes scanned the room. When he spotted Myungho standing near the counter, clutching a pen and a clipboard, he closed the distance in long, hurried strides.
Without hesitation, Seungcheol grabbed Myunghoâs arm, his grip firm but trembling. His voice was raw, almost pleading. âTell me sheâs alive.â
Myungho looked up, startled but composed. âPlease calm down, sir,â he said, his tone steady yet empathetic. âI assure you, sheâs fine. Sheâs in the operating room right now.â
Seungcheolâs eyes widened in shock, his voice dropping to a whisper. âThe operating room? Why? Whatâs wrong?!â His chest tightened with dread as scenarios raced through his mind.
Setting the clipboard aside, Myungho placed a reassuring hand on Seungcheolâs shoulder and guided him toward the waiting lounge outside the operating room. âToday is her due date,â Myungho explained as they walked. âSheâs giving birth to your child.â
The words hit Seungcheol like a tidal wave, rendering him momentarily speechless. He stopped in his tracks, his gaze fixed on Myungho as if needing confirmation that heâd heard correctly. âMy⊠child?â he echoed, his voice laced with disbelief and a glimmer of hope.
Myungho nodded firmly. âYes, sir. She went into labor earlier, but the clinic in the village couldnât handle the delivery. Itâs a cesarean operation. Thatâs why I brought her here.â
Seungcheolâs shoulders sagged, a mix of relief and anxiety washing over him. He pressed a hand over his mouth, his thoughts racing between fear for your safety and the realization that he was about to become a father.
âI need to see her,â he said, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to maintain his composure.
Myungho shook his head gently. âThe doctors are doing everything they can. All we can do now is wait.â
As they reached the waiting lounge, Seungcheol sank into one of the chairs, his head falling into his hands. The sterile smell of the hospital and the faint hum of medical equipment filled the silence around him.
âSheâs strong,â Myungho said softly, standing beside him. âSheâs been through so much, but sheâs strong. And sheâs going to make it through this.â
Seungcheol nodded, his jaw clenched as he fought back tears. âI shouldâve found her sooner,â he whispered, his voice heavy with regret. âI shouldâve protected her.â
âYouâre here now,â Myungho said firmly. âAnd thatâs what matters.â
Time crawled by with agonizing slowness as Seungcheol remained in the waiting lounge. His gaze never left the double doors leading to the operating room. The fluorescent lights above cast a harsh glow on his anxious expression, emphasizing the deep lines of worry etched into his face.
He tapped his foot impatiently, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Every passing second felt like an eternity, the weight of uncertainty pressing heavily on his chest. Myungho sat a few seats away, silent but observant, giving Seungcheol space while staying close in case he was needed.
Finally, the double doors swung open. A doctor stepped out, his surgical mask still in place, his face partially obscured but his eyes calm and professional. Seungcheol shot to his feet, his heart hammering against his ribcage.
âDoctor, how is she? Is she okay? And the baby?â he asked in a rush, his voice trembling.
The doctor gave a small, reassuring nod. âBoth the mother and baby are safe. The operation went smoothly.â
Relief flooded through Seungcheol like a wave, his knees threatening to give out beneath him. He exhaled deeply, pressing a hand to his chest as if to steady his racing heart. âThank God,â he whispered, his voice barely audible.
âThe mother is resting now, but you can see her shortly,â the doctor continued. âThe baby has been moved to the nursery for observation, but everything looks good.â
âThank you,â Seungcheol said earnestly, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out and shook the doctorâs hand firmly, his gratitude evident in his grip.
Moments later, a nurse led Seungcheol to your recovery room. The sight of you lying in the hospital bed, pale but peaceful, made his chest tighten. He approached cautiously, his footsteps soft as if afraid to disturb you.
You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open. When your gaze met his, a flicker of recognition crossed your tired face. âSeungcheolâŠâ you murmured, your voice weak but laced with emotion.
He sank into the chair beside your bed, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. âIâm here,â he said softly, his voice thick with unshed tears. âIâm so sorry for everything. For not finding you sooner, for everything youâve been throughâŠâ
You managed a faint smile, your fingers curling weakly around his. âItâs okay,â you whispered. âYouâre here now.â
Seungcheol leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. âAnd Iâm never leaving again,â he vowed.
The nurse returned moments later, wheeling in a small bassinet. Inside, a tiny bundle of life stirred, letting out a soft cry. Seungcheol stood, his breath catching as he saw the baby for the first time. The nurse carefully lifted the infant and placed them in your arms.
You both gazed down at the child, a mix of emotions reflected in your tired but radiant faces. âItâs a boy,â the nurse said with a smile before quietly stepping out to give you privacy.
Seungcheol leaned over, his hand resting gently on the babyâs tiny head. âHeâs perfect,â he whispered, his voice filled with wonder.
For the first time in months, the weight on Seungcheolâs heart lifted as he held onto the two people who now meant everything to him.
*
"We don't have to talk about anything yet. Your recovery is my priority now," Seungcheol said softly, his voice steady but filled with emotion. He gently tucked the blanket around you, his touch as careful as if you might break. Leaning in, he placed a tender kiss on your temple, the warmth of his lips lingering like a silent promise.
"Choi Doahn," you whispered, the name slipping from your lips as you cradled your baby for the first time. It was barely audible, but Seungcheol caught it. The way you spoke the nameâso full of love and meaningâetched itself into his heart. From that moment, he began calling the baby Doahn.
Doahn now rested peacefully in the small crib beside your bed, his tiny chest rising and falling in rhythm with his soft breaths. Seungcheol couldnât take his eyes off him. The baby was so small, so delicate, yet he already held a monumental presence in Seungcheolâs life. He crouched beside the crib, his hand hovering over Doahn as if afraid his touch might disturb the baby's perfect tranquility.
Seungcheolâs heart ached with a bittersweet mix of love and regret. How much of this had he missed? The small kicks, the first signs of life, the moments you must have longed to share with him during your pregnancyâhe hadnât been there. He had failed to protect you both when you needed him most.
When the nurse handed Doahn to him for skin-to-skin bonding, Seungcheol felt his breath hitch. The baby stirred slightly in his arms, a soft murmur escaping his tiny lips before settling again. As Seungcheol cradled him against his chest, the warmth of Doahnâs fragile body against his skin unleashed a flood of emotions he had held back for too long.
Tears streamed down Seungcheolâs face, unbidden and unstoppable. They werenât just tears of relief, but also of guilt, sorrow, and overwhelming love. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Doahnâs head, his lips trembling as he whispered, "Iâm so sorry I wasnât there. But Iâm here now, and Iâll never leave you or your mother again. I promise, Doahn."
You watched from the bed, your heart full despite your exhaustion. Seeing Seungcheol with your baby, the tenderness in his touch, and the raw emotion on his face reminded you of the man you fell in love withâthe man who always cared so deeply, even if he didnât always know how to show it.
Seungcheol turned to you, his tear-streaked face breaking into a soft, grateful smile. "Thank you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "Thank you for giving me him⊠for fighting through everything. I donât deserve either of you, but Iâll spend the rest of my life making sure you both feel loved and safe."
In that quiet room, the three of you found a moment of peace amidst the chaos that had brought you here. It wasnât the end of the journey, but it was the beginning of a new oneâa chance to heal, to grow, and to finally be a family.
It was late afternoon when Seungcheol finally broached the subject. The soft glow of the sun streamed through the hospital room window, casting a warm light over you as you rested in bed. Doahn was asleep in the crib beside you, his small form wrapped in a blanket. Seungcheol sat on the edge of your bed, his hands clasped tightly together, as though gathering the courage to speak.
"I think we need to talk now," he said gently, his voice low so as not to wake the baby. He searched your face, his eyes brimming with unspoken emotions.
You nodded, your fingers fidgeting with the blanket draped over your lap. You had been waiting for this moment, dreading it but knowing it was inevitable. "Where do we start?" you asked softly, your voice carrying both hesitation and resolve.
Seungcheol took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "I want to start with an apology," he said, his tone steady but thick with emotion. "I failed you, love. I shouldâve protected you, been there for you when you needed me most. Instead, you had to face all of this alone." His voice cracked slightly, and he paused, looking down at his hands. "Iâm so sorry for everything youâve been through. And Iâm sorry for not realizing sooner⊠about your hearing. I shouldâve known."
You swallowed hard, feeling a lump rise in your throat. "It wasnât your fault," you said after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper. "I kept it a secret because I was scared. My parentsâŠ" You hesitated, the memories of their harsh words and expectations still painful. "They told me I wouldnât be good enough for anyone if people knew. I didnât want to burden you with it."
Seungcheolâs heart clenched at your words. "Y/n, youâre not a burden. You never were, and you never will be. I hate that they made you feel that way." He reached out, his hand covering yours. "Youâre perfect to me, just the way you are."
Tears welled up in your eyes as you met his gaze. "I was so scared, Seungcheol," you admitted, your voice trembling. "When Jihoon took me, when I was alone in that village⊠I thought Iâd never see you again. I thought youâd given up on me."
"I never gave up," Seungcheol said firmly, his grip on your hand tightening. "Not for a second. I searched for you every day. Even when the official search ended, I couldnât stop. I knew you were out there, and I had to find you."
You nodded, the sincerity in his words soothing some of the pain you had carried. "I know now," you said softly. "And Iâm grateful. For everything youâve done for me and for Doahn."
Seungcheolâs eyes softened as he looked at you. "Weâve both been through so much," he said. "But I want us to move forward together. As a family. No more secrets, no more fear. Just us, starting fresh."
Seungcheol had been watching you with quiet anticipation, his gaze filled with patience and love. You took a deep breath, meeting his eyes with a resolve you hadnât felt in years.
"If.." you began, your voice steady but laced with emotion. "If weâre going to move forward, I need you to know there are things I canât compromise on anymore."
Seungcheolâs brows furrowed slightly, his concern evident, but he nodded. "Iâm listening," he said softly, leaning closer.
You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. "I want my freedom," you said firmly, your voice carrying a weight that left no room for doubt. "I want to be free from my parentsâ control. Theyâve dictated so much of my lifeâhow I should live, how I should act, even who I should marry. I canât go back to that."
Seungcheol nodded slowly, his expression serious. "You wonât have to," he assured you. "Iâll make sure they understand that youâre your own person now. Whatever it takes, Iâll stand by you."
Tears pricked at your eyes, but you pressed on. "And also...," you said, your voice faltering for a moment. "I⊠I want to hear. I want to try to get my hearing back."
Seungcheolâs eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "You mean⊠surgery?"
You nodded, swallowing hard. "Iâve been thinking about it for a while," you admitted. "Living in that village, teaching sign language to those kids⊠it made me realize how much Iâve missed out on. But more than thatâŠ" You paused, your voice breaking as tears rolled down your cheeks. "I want to hear you, Seungcheol. And I want to hear Doahn."
The raw emotion in your voice made Seungcheolâs chest tighten. He reached out, taking your hands in his. "Love," he said softly, his voice steady and full of warmth, "if thatâs what you want, then weâll make it happen. Whatever the cost, whatever the process, Iâll be with you every step of the way."
You let out a shaky breath, relief washing over you at his unwavering support. "Thank you," you whispered, your fingers clutching his as though he was your lifeline.
Seungcheol smiled faintly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "You donât have to thank me," he said. "This is your life, your choice. And Iâll do everything in my power to help you live it the way you want."
In that moment, you felt a surge of hopeâhope for a future where you could finally take control of your own life, where you could experience the world in ways youâd only dreamed of. And with Seungcheol by your side, you knew you wouldnât have to face it alone.
*
Months passed, and the promise of a new beginning grew stronger with each passing day. With Seungcheolâs unwavering support, you underwent the delicate surgery to restore your hearingâa decision that filled you with equal parts hope and fear. The process wasnât easy; it was marked by long days of recovery, uncertainty, and moments of self-doubt. Yet, every time you felt like faltering, Seungcheol was there, holding your hand, his quiet reassurance anchoring you to the dream of what could be.
When the moment finally came, when you heard Doahnâs soft, melodic coos for the very first time and Seungcheolâs deep, steady voice calling your name, it was as if the world had burst into vibrant color. A rush of emotions overwhelmed you, tears spilling down your cheeks as you clutched Doahn close to your chest, his tiny hands gripping your shirt.
"He sounds⊠perfect," you whispered, your voice trembling with wonder, every syllable carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions.
Seungcheol knelt beside you, his gaze filled with warmth and relief. Resting his hand gently on your shoulder, he whispered, "Just like his mother." His voice, rich and tender, was the sweetest sound youâd ever heard.
With your hearing restored, the world transformed into a symphony of wonders. Every sound was a discoveryâthe rustling of leaves in the breeze, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore, the laughter of children playing. Even the hum of the city streets, once distant and imagined, felt alive and vibrant. But nothing compared to the sound of Seungcheolâs laughter. The way his voice softened when he spoke your name made your heart swell, reminding you of how far youâd come together.
Seungcheol honored his promise to give you the freedom you craved. The chains of old expectations were broken, and you stepped into a new chapter of your life with a renewed sense of purpose. You found joy in teaching sign language, helping others rediscover their voices, and advocating for those who had been silenced by circumstance. Doahn grew up surrounded by unconditional love and support, his first wordsâsoft and innocentâbrought tears to everyoneâs eyes, especially Seungcheolâs.
Though the scars of your past lingered, they no longer defined you. Instead, they became a testament to your resilience. Seungcheol, too, carried the weight of his guilt but turned it into strength. He made it his mission to make up for lost time, pouring his love into every moment he shared with you and Doahn.
One quiet evening, the three of you sat by the ocean, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of gold and amber. Doahn toddled between you and Seungcheol, his giggles echoing like music against the gentle waves. You leaned into Seungcheol, resting your head on his shoulder as a soft sigh escaped your lips.
"This is freedom," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with certainty and peace.
Seungcheol turned to you, his lips brushing your temple in a kiss as tender as his words. "And itâs just the beginning," he replied, his voice brimming with quiet determination and love.
In that moment, you knew that despite everythingâthe pain, the struggles, the lossâyou had finally found your place in the world. A place where love, freedom, and hope could coexist, and where the future stretched out before you like the endless horizon.
*
The moon was about to cast its pale light on the quiet dock as you dragged Jihoon's limp, injured body toward the water. His breathing was shallow, labored, and each step you took felt heavier than the last. Blood seeped through his torn shirt, staining your hands as you struggled to pull him closer to the edge. He groaned, a faint sound of resistance, his body twitching in pain as he fought to stay conscious.
"Stop..." Jihoon rasped, his voice weak but filled with defiance. His head lolled to the side, his eyes flickering open to meet yours.
You crouched beside him, your breath coming in shallow pants. For a moment, you simply stared at him, the man whose vengeance had cost you so much. Despite his condition, Jihoonâs gaze burned with stubborn determination.
But you didnât speak. Instead, you raised your hands, signing slowly and deliberately so he could follow your words.
âëìë ë, ìŽë ìŽëĄë ìžìì ë뚌 ìë€ëĄ ê°ë ì°° êČìŽë€.â (An eye for an eye will leave the whole world blind.)
Jihoonâs brows furrowed as he struggled to focus on your hands, on the message you were conveying. His lips twitched, forming the faintest shadow of a bitter smile.
âDo you thinkâŠâ he coughed, blood specking his lips, â⊠that this will change anything?â
You didnât answer with words. Instead, you signed again, your hands moving with precision, your expression unwavering.
âëł”ìë ë ë€ë„ž ììČë„Œ ëšêžž ëżìŽë€. ë ë€ ëł”ìì 돎êČë„Œ êČŹë ì ìêČ ìŽ?â (Revenge only leaves another wound. Can you bear the weight of your vengeance?)
Jihoonâs head sank back, his strength waning as he closed his eyes. You could see the conflict in himâthe doubt creeping into the cracks of his resolve. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, and for a moment, silence enveloped the dock, broken only by the gentle lapping of the water against the wood.
âYou⊠donât understand,â he whispered, his voice trembling. âIt wasnât just revenge⊠It was justice.â
You shook your head, your hands signing one final phrase, your movements deliberate and steady.
âì ìë íŹììŒëĄë¶í° ëììŒ íë€, ìŠì€ê° ìëëŒ.â (Justice must come from sacrifice, not hatred.)
Jihoonâs eyes opened, tears brimming at the corners as he gazed at you, his face a mixture of pain and regret. The weight of your wordsâor perhaps the truth in themâseemed to settle on him like a crushing tide.
You stared down at him, your heart pounding. For a fleeting moment, your resolve wavered. Memories of the good timesâof his laughter, his loyaltyâflashed through your mind. But those moments were gone, drowned beneath the weight of his betrayal.
âGoodbye, Jihoon,â you signed slowly, the finality in your movements echoing in the air between you.
Then, with a steady breath, you placed your hands on his shoulders and shoved.
Jihoonâs body slid across the wooden planks, his weak protests lost to the flow. The splash as he hit the water shattered the stillness, ripples spreading out in every direction.
You stood at the edge, watching as he sank beneath the surface. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the water settling, the ripples fading into stillness once more.
Your hands curled into fists at your sides as you turned away, the weight of your actions sinking in. You didnât look back. You couldnât.
The dock felt endless as you walked away, the stars overhead offering no solace. Whether Jihoon would rise from the water or disappear into its depths was no longer your concern.
This was the end of the path you had both walked togetherâand the beginning of a new one, without him.
Summary: Mingyu was preparing for a divorce when he began to sense that something was wrong with his wife.
Mingyu hadnât been home since yesterdayâor maybe since the day before that. He stopped counting after the fight, the kind that didnât end with slammed doors but with silence, thickening the wall that had been building between you for over a year. He chose to stay in his humble studio, surrounded by paintings never meant for the worldâonly for him to face. Each canvas stared back in accusation, as if every unfinished stroke was cursing him.
You didnât callâyou never did, and he told himself it was because you had stopped caring. You chose that, and Mingyu found it unbearably hurtful. Sometimes, when his gaze lingered on the band wrapped around his finger, he thought of youâthe version of you who loved him fiercely, who would have done anything for him. And when you stopped doing that, when you stopped caring, something in him made a quiet decision: he needed to protect himself.
Kim Mingyu was an aspiring painter when he met you. You were radiant the moment you walked into the meeting room, introducing yourself as the curator of the gallery where his work would be displayed. When he heard your name, recognition struck immediatelyâhe knew you were one of them.
And yes. You were the daughter of the former prime minister.
His career flourished with your help. He had always believed his work would reach its peak somedayâand it did. His pieces became widely known, his name circulating through galleries across the world, until Kim Mingyu was no longer just an aspiring painter, but one of the most sought-after artists globally.
âThis is An Angel Who Couldnât Paint.â
He said it the way he introduced all his recent works, calm and practiced. The angel on the canvas was adored by everyoneâsoft wings, gentle lightâyet her expression was unmistakably sad.
You stood beside him as the gallery emptied. Footsteps faded, lights dimmed, until there was no one left but the two of you, both too nervous to be the first to leave. Tomorrow was a big day.
âWhy couldnât it paint?â you asked, turning toward him.
He looked at you then, smiling softly.
âHer family didnât let her.â
Mingyu hadnât expected to win your heart that night. Yet when you looked at himâreally looked at himâit felt like a confession made without words. Your gaze carried an offering, quiet and devastating, as if you were placing your heart in his hands along with your soul, your bones, everything that made you whole.
And yet, here he wasâsitting on the couch with the curtains drawn open, staring into the night with a glass of whiskey in his hand. There was no you here, and lately, there had been no you in his life at all.
The man he was five years ago wouldnât have believed this version of himself if someone had told him: the woman you think you love the most will change. And so will you.
On the table lay a fresh print of the divorce papers, waiting to be signed. Finally. His lawyer had notified him countless timesâabout the plan to divorce you, about how it had been inevitable since the first fight a year ago. But he couldnât bring himself to do it. He had been too naive to understand that the two of you had lost each other long before this moment.
And there was no reason left to stay.
Even your familyâyour powerful, conglomerate familyâcouldnât be the reason he stayed. He was adored there, praised for his easy charm, his manners. But was any of it genuine? Honestly, he no longer knew.
He had witnessed the way your brother-in-law was spoken about behind closed doors, criticized for being too absorbed in his own law firm, for refusing to fold himself into the family company. And Mingyu couldnât forget that one night eitherâthe way your brotherâs wife had broken down during a family gathering, crying quietly because five years of marriage had passed and she still hadnât conceived.
Three years of marriageâto an artist. No children. Would your parents still treat him the same?
*
âIs she with you? We couldnât find her.â
It was late when Mingyu received the call from your parents. He sighed as he pulled on his shirt and coat, grabbing his keys before heading toward their house.
âWe found out you two were fighting,â your mother said gently. âShe came here a week ago. Was it that bad?â
Her voice was soft, but Mingyu could hear the worry beneath it.
âIâll be there, Mother,â he replied, already driving away from his studio.
There were only a few places you might go at this hour to clear your mind. He had lived through this before. When you werenât in bed, when the house felt too quiet, he would find you somewhere close, in the garden, or walking through the neighborhood under the dim streetlights.
âItâs dangerous,â he had told you once, rushing out of the house after realizing you were goneâonly to find you returning, an ice cream melting slowly in your hand.
âI couldnât sleep.â
Mingyu had sighed then, the tension draining from his shoulders.
âWake me up, love,â heâd said softly. âIâll walk with you.â
Mingyu immediately typed out the places where your parentsâ people might find you. He drove carefully, his mind running through scenariosâwhat would happen once he found you, what he would say to your parents afterward.
He sighed again, for what felt like the hundredth time.
Your parents had spoiled you too much.
Mingyu had never been the type to celebrate every moment extravagantlyâif at all. He expressed his gratitude, acknowledged the milestone, and kept moving forward.
Your family, however, lived by a different tradition: everything was celebrated, and always with excess.
Your engagement was meant to be intimate. Instead, your parents insisted on renting out a hotel ballroom, inviting nearly everyone they knewâmost of whom Mingyu didnâtâand turning the day into a spectacle.
The wedding was no different. Whatever imagination he had left of a small ceremonyâone with only the closest people presentâdisappeared the moment your parents took over the planning. A grand venue. An expensive dress. Hundreds of invitations, while his side amounted to barely ten.
They loved you. And they loved spoiling you.
He tried calling your phone as he drove toward the park near your parentsâ houseâthe one you used to run to as a child whenever your parents fought or your siblings became too much. You didnât answer. Not once.
Mingyu parked the car and immediately scanned the area, his steps quick and restless as he searched the park. He called your name a few times, voice cutting through the night, but there was no sign of youâonly a group of teenagers smoking near the benches. When he asked if they had seen a woman walking alone, they shook their heads, irritation clear in their faces.
He called your parentsâ security team next. They hadnât found you near the lake eitherâthe place you had mentioned before, half in passing.
âCheck the gazebos too,â he told them. They moved at once.
He started running then. He wasnât sure whyâwhether it was the need to find you quickly so he could take you back to your parents, or simply to end the search and the fear gnawing at his chest.
He exhaled sharply when he spotted a familiar figure walking ahead. His pace slowed without thinking, steps cautious now as he drew closer.
âJi Y/nâŠâ
As if summoned, you turned your head at the sound of your name.
âKim Mingyu..â
âWhy are you here at this hour?â Mingyu asked, breath still uneven from the run.
You didnât answer right away. Your gaze drifted past him, circling the trees, the dim lamps, the path beneath your feetâuntil something in your expression shifted, like recognition arriving late.
âI was just out for air.â
Mingyu swallowed. âYour parents called me because they couldnât find you. I thought we were done talking about thisââ
He stopped himself too late, only then realizing the edge in his voice.
âDonât yell at me.â
The words were quiet, but they landed heavy.
Mingyu exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. âIâm not,â he said, softer now. âLetâs go home.â
He reached out, fingers closing around your wrist. You looked down at his hand. Then back up at him.
âWhich home?â
He froze.
For a moment, the park seemed too quietâno wind, no footsteps, no distant traffic. Mingyu loosened his grip and turned to face you fully.
âOur home.â he said.
The two of you walked toward his car in silence. Mingyu moved a few steps ahead, hands shoved into his pockets, mind already elsewhere. It wasnât until he reached the door and turned back that he realizedâ
You were wearing nothing but a thin sleeping dress and with no shoes. Bare feet touching the cold pavement.
He cursed under his breath.
Mingyu shrugged off his jacket and draped it around your shoulders, movements careful now, almost hesitant. âWhere are your shoes?â he asked, already sighing as he opened the passenger door for you.
You stared at the ground, brows knitting together as if the answer were buried somewhere just out of reach.
âI donât know,â you said quietly.
As Mingyu got into the driverâs seat, his eyes drifted back to you. Only then did he notice the bruises and dirt smudged along your feet, as if you had been running barefoot long before he found you. His jaw tightened.
He called your mother and spoke quietly.
âSheâs with me now. Sheâs safe.â
A pause.
âIâm taking her home.â
Another pause, heavier this time.
âIâm sorry for the inconvenience.â
You leaned back against the seat, exhaustion overtaking you as your eyelids fluttered shut. Sleep claimed you quickly, as if your body had been waiting for permission to rest.
Mingyu sighed and started the engine, guiding the car back toward the house. A place the two of you used to call home.
*
Mingyu entered your home office after months of doing nothing more than walking past it. It was one of the rooms you treasured mostâa space you had insisted on keeping for yourself when your father was choosing the house you would live in after the wedding.
You were already asleep in the bedroom after tonightâs walk. He had carried you in from the car, careful and slow, yet you hadnât stirred at all. It surprised him. You had always been a light sleeper.
He stood by the bed for a moment before leaving, watching you breathe, watching the familiar rise and fall of your chest. You were still you when you sleptâsoft, unchanged, untouched by the distance that had grown between you.
But when you were awake? He realized with a quiet ache, he had started to hate that version of you.
He closed the door of your office and stepped inside with a carefulness only a cautious husband could muster. Once, he had never knocked. He would barge in without warning, a photograph of a new painting already in his hand, words tumbling over one another as he spilled every concept crowding his mind.
âIt must be nice to be a genius,â you would say, leaning back in your chair, eyes warm as you smiled at him.
âIâm far from a genius, love,â Mingyu would reply shyly, brushing off the compliment even though you both knew he enjoyed it.
âIâm just good.â
You would laugh thenâsoft and unguarded. It had been a beautiful, gentle love. One he realized how much he missed.
He sat in your chair, its familiarity unsettling, and wondered how busy you had been lately. You barely stayed in the house anymore, choosing instead to live with your parents. He told himself it was practicalâthe gallery was closer to their place. A project, maybe. An exhibition.
He used to witness the way your eyes lit up when you worked, the passion that consumed you so completely.
Since when had he started to hate your work?
It was your work that had once lifted his name, carried him into rooms he never imagined entering. But nowânow it felt like nothing more than the current pulling the two of you farther apart.
The next morning, Mingyu sat by the counter after a night without a wink of sleep. He had meant to rest on the couch, but his body never followed his intentions. His thoughts wandered everywhere except toward rest.
A cup of coffee sat untouched beside him. Freshly brewed. Something he used to miss every time he stayed away. Coffee in his own house used to feel grounding. Familiar. Safe.
He heard the bedroom door open. He didnât turn. He already knew the questions that would usually followâwhy he drove you home, why he was here, why he crossed a boundary you both had drawn after the last fight. He knew you hated this house now. Hated the two of you existing in the same space.
However, none of that came.
Instead, you stepped into the kitchen in the same thin sleeping dress from the night before. Bare feet against the floor. Your voice came soft, almost fragile.
âMorning.â
Before he could react, your hand rested briefly on his shoulder. Your lips brushed hisâlight, absent, almost instinctive. A peck that lasted less than a second. Months.
That was all it took to freeze him in place.
You moved away as if nothing had happened, opening the fridge, taking out fruits, eggs. Normal. Too normal. As if this was still your routine. As if you hadnât shattered him just now.
âYou want some?â you asked, casual. âI can make you a sandwich too.â
You went on tiptoe to reach a cup.
The sound of a sharp winceâand glass crashing to the floorâsnapped Mingyu back into motion.
âWhatâs wrong?â He was already beside you, hands hovering, instinct kicking in. âCareful. Donât moveâthereâs glass.â
You looked at him for a moment, then down.
Your feet.
Bruised. Scraped. Dirt still clinging faintly to your skinâmarks he had cleaned in silence while you slept.
âI didnât realize it,â you murmured. âWhat happened?â
He didnât answer.
âSit down,â Mingyu said instead, steady but firm. âIâll make your breakfast.â
You didnât argue. You walked away while he cleaned the broken glass, movements practiced, controlledâlike he hadnât spent the entire night watching you breathe, wondering when everything had gone so wrong.
He placed the plate in front of you not long after. Boiled eggs. Fruits. Toast.
Your favorite.
He watched you quietly, already planning to knock some sense into you laterâonce youâd eaten, once the color returned to your face, once he was sure you were really here.
Mingyu waited. Not because he needed time, but because he was afraid that if he spoke too soon, the morning would crack completely. The kettle clicked softly on the counter. Outside, the day went on like nothing inside this house had shifted its axis.
âYou were out last night,â he said slowly, as if pacing the truth would make it easier to swallow. âWhere were you?â
You sat across from him, legs tucked under the chair, toast held loosely between your fingers. You took another bite, chewing carefully, eyes unfocusedânot avoiding him, but not looking either.
âI was home,â you said. âWaiting for you.â
The words landed wrong. Too neat. Too certain.
Mingyu felt his chest tighten. âYou werenât.â
You paused. Just for a second. Then you tilted your head, confused, almost amused by his contradiction. âI fell asleep,â you replied. âI remember sitting there. I mustâve dozed off.â
He searched your face for cracks. For hesitation. For guilt. There was none.
That was when he noticed itâthe darkness beneath your eyes, heavier than fatigue alone. Your skin looked different too. Not sick, not pale. Just⊠muted. Like someone had turned the saturation down little by little and no one had noticed until now.
âWere you high last night?â he asked quietly, the question tasting wrong in his mouth.
Your brows pulled together immediately. âWhat?â
He didnât explain. His mind had already run ahead of him, replaying the night beforeâyour office, untouched. The drawers he opened slowly, the shelves he scanned twice. No medication. No substances. No signs of panic or recklessness. If you had taken something, you had hidden it well. Or it wasnât there at all.
âYou were at your parentsâ house,â he said instead, voice firmer now. âFor a week. They called me. They couldnât find you.â
You blinked.
Once.
Then again.
âReally?â you said, a small laugh slipping out. âI was in my office. Iâve been finishing my work.â
There it was again. That certainty. That calm insistence.
Mingyu stared at you like he was looking at a stranger wearing your face. The way you spoke wasnât defensive. You werenât lying the way people usually liedânot rushed, not evasive. You believed in yourself.
That frightened him more than any argument youâd ever had.
His eyes drifted down unconsciously. To your hands. To the faint tremor you didnât seem to notice. To your bare feet resting against the cold floor, still marked faintly with bruises that hadnât been there before last night.
He followed his own gaze down the hallway, back to your office. On your deskâexactly where he had found it last nightâlay the resignation letter.
Your resignation.
You were going to leave the job you loved most. The one that kept you alive when everything else felt heavy. And he didnât know why.
The question had been drilling into his head since last night, since he folded that paper with hands that wouldnât stop shaking. Why? It followed him to the couch, to the kitchen, to the sound of you saying morning like nothing was wrong.
Why would you give this up?
Was it for him?
For us?
The kitchen suddenly felt too familiar this morningâlike a version of home Mingyu hadnât visited in a long time.
You said it casually. Too casually during breakfast. âMaybeâŠâ you started, as if you were commenting on the weather. âMaybe raising a kid would help us. Change how we see things.â
The words caught him off guard. Mingyu looked up slowly, as if he hadnât heard you right. For a moment, he just stared.
Surprise came firstâsharp and unguarded. His mind scrambled, trying to match this calm version of you with the memory of how firmly you had once said no. How your voice shook, not with anger, but fear. Fear he hadnât understood then and hadnât bothered to ask about since.
Why now?
You werenât looking at him the way you used to when you tried to compromise. There was no hesitation in your posture, no defensive edge. Just a stillness that unsettled him more than anger ever did.
Then came the nervousness.
His fingers curled slightly against the counter, grounding himself. He wondered if this was something you had been thinking about for a while, or if it was something you decided this morningâborn out of exhaustion, out of guilt, out of wanting peace at any cost.
Was this your way of reaching out?
âMaybe raising a kid would help us.â
As if that conversation hadnât torn something apart last year. As if it hadnât ended with silence stretching for months, with him leaving more often, with you learning how to sleep alone in a marriage.
The words hung in the air. You didnât mention the fear. Didnât mention hospitals, or test results, or how your hands had shaken when the doctor spoke too gently. You just stood there, calm on the surface, offering the idea like it hadnât once broken you.
He searched your face for signsâhope, reluctance, sincerityâbut all he found was calm. A calm that scared him more than resistance ever had.
*
Mingyu had once thought it was a coping mechanism. You had this way of waving away guiltâof smoothing things over without ever touching them. Every time a fight stretched too far, too heavy, you would return the next day as if nothing had happened. As if the night before hadnât existed at all.
He first noticed it during your first anniversary. Mingyu had prepared everything himself that night. A quiet dinner, nothing extravagantâjust the two of you, the way he preferred it. The table was set long before the food began to lose its warmth, candles burning lower with every passing minute as he waited.
You were working late at the gallery. At first, he told himself it was fine. You had always been passionate about your workâhe loved that about you. But as the hours passed, as his messages remained unread and your calls went unanswered, something inside him began to tighten.
You had forgotten. Not just the dinner. Not just the time. Him. When you finally came home, the apology came easily from youâtoo easily. Soft, quick, almost practiced. Mingyu had been upset then. Not loudly, not enough to start a war, but enough. He told you to be more mindful. To keep track of time. To think about the person waiting for you. To think about him.
You listened. Nodded. Stayed quiet. He thought it had meant something. But the next morning, you kissed him like you always did. Sat beside him at the breakfast table, close enough for your shoulder to brush against his, asking him something trivialâwhat he wanted to do that day, maybe, or whether he would be at the studio. Your voice was light, untouched, as if the night before had slipped cleanly out of your memory.
Mingyu stared at you, something sharp and burning settling behind his eyes. There was no trace of it. No hesitation. No guilt. No attempt to fix what had been said. Just you. Normal. Warm. Unchanged.
And that was the first time it unsettled him, how easily you could wake up the next day and act as if there had never been anything to fix at all.
The last real fight you hadâbefore everything turned into silenceâwas about a child. It wasnât even supposed to be a fight. Mingyu had brought it up casually that night, almost carefully, like testing the temperature of something fragile. The house had been quiet, the kind of quiet that didnât feel heavy yet. You were sitting across from him, absentmindedly scrolling through something on your phone, half-listening.
âHave you ever thought about it?â he asked.
You looked up. âAbout what?â
âA kid.â
The reaction was immediate. Not loud. Not explosive. But immediate. Your expression changed in a way he couldnât quite name back thenâsomething closing off behind your eyes, something pulling away from him before he could even reach it.
âNo,â you said. Too quick.
Mingyu frowned slightly, leaning back in his chair. âNo?â he repeated, softer this time, like maybe you hadnât understood the question.
âI donât want one.â
There was no hesitation in your voice. No room left for discussion. And thatâmore than the answer itselfâirritated him.
âWhy not?â Mingyu asked, the edge slipping in despite himself. âWeâve been married for three years.â
You let out a small breath, setting your phone down slowly. âBecause I donât want to.â
âThatâs not a reason.â
Your eyes flickered then, something sharper surfacing. âIt is.â
Mingyu exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He wasnât trying to start anything. He justâdidnât understand. âPeople donât just decide they donât want kids for no reason,â he said, voice tightening. âYouâre not even willing to think about it?â
âI have thought about it.â
âThen explain it to me.â
Silence stretched between you for a second too long. When you spoke again, your voice was quieterâbut not softer. âYou wouldnât understand.â
Something in him bristled at that. âTry me.â
You hesitated. And for a momentâjust a momentâhe thought you wouldnât say anything at all. That you would brush it off the way you always did, walk away, let it dissolve into nothing.
But you didnât.
âI donât want my body to change like that,â you said finally.
Mingyu blinked. âWhat?â
âPregnancy,â you continued, more steadily now, even if your fingers had begun to curl slightly against the table. âThe weight gain. The way your body stops feeling like yours. Iâve seen it. Iâveââ You stopped yourself, jaw tightening. âI donât want that.â
He stared at you, the explanation settling wrong in his chest.
âThatâs it?â he asked, before he could stop himself.
Your head snapped up. âThatâs it?â you echoed, something incredulous slipping into your voice now.
Mingyu shook his head slightly, already frustrated. âYouâre saying you donât want a child because youâre scared of gaining weight?â
âItâs not just weight.â
âThen what is it?â he pressed.
You looked at him thenâreally looked at himâand whatever was in your eyes made him falter for half a second.
âExactly,â you said quietly. âYou donât get it.â
The conversation went nowhere after that. It circled. Tightened. Broke in places neither of you tried to fix. Mingyu remembered the way your voice had risenânot loud, but strained, like something was pulling at it from the inside. He remembered the way you kept repeating the same thing in different words, as if you were trying to explain something bigger but couldnât quite bring yourself to say it.
And he remembered how, at some point, he stopped listening. It sounded trivial to him. Avoidable. Something that could be reasoned through if you justâtried. But you didnât.
You shut down instead. And the next morningâthe next morning wasnât normal.
There was no quiet greeting, no soft kiss pressed against his lips like a habit you refused to break. No gentle presence beside him in the kitchen, no small attempt to smooth over what had been said.
Mingyu woke up to silence. The kind that felt wrong the moment he opened his eyes. He found you already dressed, standing by the door with your bag slung over your shoulder. Your shoes were on. Your hand rested on the handle, like you had been about to leave for a while now.
âYouâre going already?â he asked, voice still rough with sleep.
You didnât turn immediately.
âI have work,â you said. Simple. Flat. No mention of last night. No mention of anything.
Mingyu pushed himself up slightly, frowning. âYouâre not going to eat first?â
âIâm not hungry.â
That was it. No pause. No glance back to check if he would say something else. No hesitation in the way you opened the door and stepped out.
The sound of it closing lingered longer than it should have. Mingyu sat there for a while after that, staring at nothing in particular, something unfamiliar settling deep in his chest. It wasnât angerânot fully.
It was something quieter. Colder. And it didnât stop there. Days turned into a pattern he didnât remember agreeing to.
You left early. Came home late. Sometimes not at all. And when you were there, you werenât really there.
Conversations shortened. Then it disappeared. Meals became optional. Shared space became something you both moved around carefully, like stepping through a room filled with fragile things neither of you wanted to touch.
Mingyu stopped asking after a while. Stopped waiting, too. The houseâonce something warm, something groundingâbegan to feel unfamiliar. Too quiet in the wrong ways. Too empty, even when you were inside it.
So he stayed at the studio more often. At first, it was just to work. Then to think. Then, eventually⊠to breathe.
The smell of paint, the unfinished canvases, the silence that didnât expect anything from himâit all felt easier than walking into a home that no longer felt like one.
Somewhere along the way, without either of you saying it out loud, the studio became his place of rest, and the house you shared became somewhere he only returned to out of habit.
*
âWhat is this?â
Mingyu froze at the sound of your voice. He hadnât expected to find you thereâstanding in the middle of his studio, as if you had every right to be. As if this place still belonged to both of you.
His gaze dropped to your hand. The papers. A copy of the divorce documents his lawyer had prepared, edges slightly crumpled where your fingers held them too tightly.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
It had beenâwhatâalmost a year since you last stepped into his studio?
A year since you last stood among the canvases, the smell of paint, the quiet that used to feel like a shared language between you.
Mingyu had stopped expecting you to come back. Somewhere along the way, he thought you had forgotten this part of him existed. That the version of him who painted, who stayed up all night chasing colors and light and meaningâhad slowly disappeared in your eyes. All that was left was a husband. A role you had grown tired of. A man you no longer looked at the same way.
And yet, here you were. Holding the proof of everything he hadnât said out loud.
Mingyu exhaled slowly, setting his keys down on the nearest surface, the sound sharper than intended in the stillness.
âItâs exactly what it looks like,â he said. His voice came out calmer than he felt. Controlled. Practiced.
Like this moment had been waiting for him long enough that he had already rehearsed it in his head. But something in your expression made that composure feel fragile.
Because you werenât angry. You werenât even upset in the way he expected. You just⊠looked lost.
Your eyes moved over the paper again, slower this time, like the words refused to settle properly in your mind.
âWhat do you mean?â you asked, quieter now.
And that made something twist in his chest. Mingyu frowned, confusion flickering through the irritation he had been holding onto for months. âItâs a divorce, Y/n,â he said, the words landing heavier than he intended. âWhat else would it mean?â
You didnât answer right away. Your grip on the paper loosened slightly, like your hands had forgotten why they were holding it in the first place. Your brows pulled togetherânot in anger, not in hurt but in something closer to disbelief.
âNo,â you murmured, almost to yourself.
Mingyuâs jaw tightened.
He had expected resistance. Denial, maybe. Even anger. But not this. Not the way you looked at him like he had just said something that didnât make sense. Like the idea itself didnât belong to your reality.
âWeâre notââ you started, then stopped, your voice faltering in a way he hadnât heard in a long time. âWeâre not at that point.â
Mingyu let out a short, humorless breath.
âArenât we?â
The question hung between you, sharp and unforgiving.
You looked at him like he was saying something unreal. Like the ground beneath you hadnât already been breaking for months.
Mingyu watched that expression linger on your face, and for a secondâjust a secondâsomething in him wavered. Then it settled. Back into something heavier. Quieter.
âIâm tired, Y/n.â
The words came out low. Not sharp. Not accusing. Just⊠tired. He ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly as if even speaking took more effort than it should. âI donât think you understand how long Iâve been tired.â
You didnât move. Didnât interrupt.
So he continued. âIâve been trying to figure us out for a year now,â Mingyu said, his voice steady but worn at the edges. âTrying to understand what went wrong. What changed. What I didâwhat you didâwhat we did.â
His gaze dropped briefly to the floor before returning to you. âAnd every time I think Iâm getting somewhere, it justââ He let out a quiet breath, shaking his head. âIt just resets.â
There it was. The thing he never knew how to explain without sounding irrational.
âYou act like nothing happened,â he went on, slower now, choosing his words carefully. âOr you disappear. Or you come back and itâs like weâre not even talking about the same things anymore.â
His jaw tightened slightly.
âI donât know how to keep up with that.â
The studio felt smaller with every word. Mingyu took a step back, more for himself than for distance between you.
âI feel like Iâm the only one fighting,â he said. âThe only one holding onto them. The only one trying to fix something thatââ He stopped, swallowing. ââthat you donât even seem to think is broken.â
Silence pressed in again. Heavy. Unforgiving.
âI used to think you stopped caring,â he admitted after a moment, his voice quieter now. âThat maybe you just⊠fell out of love. And I tried to accept that.â
His lips pressed into a thin line.
âBecause at least that would make sense.â
But this? This didnât. Mingyu looked at you thenâreally looked at youâand whatever he saw didnât ease anything inside him. It only made him more tired.
âI donât recognize us anymore,â he said. âI donât recognize you.â
The words werenât harsh. But they landed harder because of it.
âAnd I donât want to keep living like this,â he added, almost gently. âComing home and not knowing which version of you Iâm going to get. Wondering if anything we say to each other is going to matter the next day.â
He let out a breath that felt like it had been sitting in his chest for months.
âI canât keep doing that.â
Your fingers tightened slightly around the papers again, but you still hadnât said anything.
That scared him more than anger would have. So he finished it.
âI justâŠâ Mingyu paused, his voice dipping lower, quieterâlike the truth had finally settled into something he couldnât avoid anymore. âI just want it to end.â
A beat. Then, softerâ
âI want a divorce.â
No anger. No raised voice. Just a man who had run out of ways to hold something together on his own.
*
Your head was spinning by the time you stepped out of Mingyuâs studio.
The air outside felt differentâtoo open, too sharp against your skinâas you made your way toward your car. Each step came a little uneven, like your body hadnât quite caught up with everything that had just happened.
Your breath hitched. Something tight lodged itself in your throat as you reached for the door handle, fingers fumbling for a second before finally pulling it open. You slid into the driverâs seat, the quiet inside the car closing in around you almost immediately.Too quiet.
You shut the door. And for a moment, you just sat there. Your hands came up to your face instinctively, pressing against your eyes, your templesâlike you could steady the spinning inside your head if you just held on tight enough.
Take a breath. Justâbreathe. You tried.
But it came out uneven. Shallow.
âDivorceâŠ?â The word felt wrong in your mouth. Unfamiliar. Like it didnât belong to you.
Your brows pulled together, confusion settling deeper as you leaned back against the seat, staring blankly at the windshield. You didnât understand. Not really.
Why would Mingyuâout of nowhereâwant a divorce? The question circled, over and over, but never landed anywhere solid. Out of nowhere. Thatâs what it felt like.
There hadnât been a conversation. No warning. No moment where things felt that broken. Yes, youâd been busy. Yes, things had been quieter between you. But that was normal, wasnât it?
It had to be.
Your fingers tightened slightly against your sleeves as you tried to retrace your stepsâlast night, the days before, the past weekâ
But the thoughts didnât line up the way they should. They slipped. Blurred at the edges. You exhaled shakily, pressing your lips together. This didnât make sense. None of it did. Mingyu looked serious. Tired. But that didnât match the version of things in your head.
Because in your mind, you were still trying.
You drove to the gallery on autopilot.
The roads blurred past you, familiar turns taken without thought, your hands steady on the wheel even as your mind refused to settle. By the time you pulled into the parking lot, the tightness in your chest hadnât easedâit had only sunk deeper, quieter.
You couldnât afford to think about it now. Not here. Not when people were waiting. You stepped out of the car, smoothing down your clothes, forcing your expression into something composedâsomething professional. The moment you walked through the doors, the noise of the gallery wrapped around you. Conversations. Footsteps. The low hum of a place alive with people.
Normal. Everything looked normal. You held onto that as you made your way toward your office.
But thenâ
Seungkwan. He was standing a few steps away, already looking at you. Not casually.bNot like heâd just noticed you. He was staring. And something about the look on his face made your steps falter, just slightly.
Before you could reach your office door, he movedâquickly, cutting you off.
âY/n,â he called, breath uneven like he had rushed over. âWhat are you doing here?â
You blinked at him. âWhat do you mean?â you replied, frowning slightly. âI have work.â
His expression didnât change. If anything, it deepened.
âHow are you?â he asked instead, his tone shiftingâcareful now, like he was testing something fragile.
The question threw you off more than it should have.
âIâm fine,â you said, a little too quickly. âSeungkwan, I have a lot of things to do. No time forââ you waved your hand slightly, searching for the word, ââcasualty.â
His brows furrowed.
âWhat?â he said, almost under his breath. Then louder, more certain, âWhat are you talking about?â
A pause.
Thenâ
âItâs been a week since you resigned.â
The words didnât land all at once. They hit, then echoedâlike your mind needed time to catch up.
You stared at him.
ââŠWhat?â
Seungkwan didnât smile. Didnât laugh it off like it was a joke. He just looked at youâreally looked at you this time, something serious settling into his expression.
âY/n,â he said slowly, âyou said it yourself.â
Your chest tightened. âNo,â you interrupted, shaking your head immediately. âWhy would I do that?â
He didnât answer right away.
And that hesitation, that was worse.
âBabe,â he said softly, the word sounding more like concern than familiarity now, âyou told me you were trying to conceive. That you wanted to focus on that.â
Your breath caught.
âThatâs why you resigned.â
Something in your stomach dropped.
Hard. You shook your head again, more firmly this time, even as the movement felt disconnectedâlike your body was reacting before your mind could.
âI never said that,â you insisted, your voice tightening. âAnd I never resigned.â
The words came out certain. Too certain. Because the moment they left your mouth, something flickered.
A fragment. A feeling. Not quite a memory. Your fingers curled slightly at your sides.
âThat doesnât make sense,â you added, quieter now, like you were trying to convince yourself as much as him. âWhy would I resign?â
Seungkwan didnât respond. He just watched you. You noticed it. The way he was looking at you. Not confused. Not annoyed. But worried.
âYou know I donât want to get pregnant and get those morning sickness again, SeungkwanâŠâ
The words slipped out before you could stop them.
They hung in the airâwrong.
Your own voice sounded distant to your ears, like it didnât quite belong to you. The moment stretched, thin and fragile, as something inside your chest tightened sharply.
Seungkwan froze.
Not dramatically. Not all at once. Justâstill. His expression faltered in a way you had never seen before, the concern in his eyes shifting into something heavier. Something that made your stomach drop before he even said a word.
âAgain?â he asked quietly.
Your breath caught. You blinked at him, confusion knitting your brows as your mind scrambled to catch up with what you had just said.
âIââ You stopped, swallowing. âThatâs not what I meant.â
But it was. Wasnât it? The word lingered in your head now, louder than anything else.
Again.
Your fingers curled slightly against your palm, nails pressing into your skin as if that could ground you, anchor you to something real.
âIâve neverââ you started, your voice unsteady now, âIâve never been pregnant.â
Seungkwan didnât answer immediately.
And that silenceâ
it was too long. Too careful. Too heavy.
Your heart began to pound, slow and uneven, as something cold crept up your spine.
âY/nâŠâ he said finally, his voice softer now, like he was approaching something breakable. âYou donât remember?â
The question didnât feel like a question. It felt like a confirmation.
Your head shook almost instinctively, small at first, then firmer. âRemember what?â you asked, the words coming out sharper than you intended. âWhat are you talking about?â
But even as you said it, your chest tightened. Your body knew. Before your mind did.
A flicker, white walls. A smell you couldnât place. Your hands gripping somethingâhard. Pain.
A sharp inhale tore through your throat as you staggered back a step, your hand reaching blindly for the edge of a desk to steady yourself.
It slipped. Gone before you could hold onto it.
âWhatââ you whispered, your voice breaking, âwhat is that?â
Seungkwan moved closer instinctively, but stopped himself just short of touching you, like he wasnât sure if he should.
âYouâŠâ He hesitated, jaw tightening. âYou were pregnant.â
The world tilted.
âNo,â you said immediately. Too fast. Too desperate.
âNo, thatâs notâno.â
But the denial didnât settle the way it should have. It didnât feel solid. It felt like something you were trying to force into place over a crack that had already split open.
Seungkwanâs gaze didnât leave you. âYou miscarried,â he said, gently.
The word hit harder than anything else.
Miscarried.
Your breath left you in a shaky exhale, your grip tightening on the desk as your knees threatened to give out.
âThatâs not possible,â you whispered..
Seungkwan didnât say anything for a while after that. Like he had already said too much. The space between you stretched thin, fragile, filled with things neither of you seemed ready to touch. You werenât sure how long you stood thereâseconds, minutesâtime felt⊠off. Slower. Heavier.
âTheyâre recruiting a new director,â he said.
Your head snapped up. âWhat?â
His gaze softened, but it didnât waver. âManagement made the announcement three days ago. I thought you knew.â
You didnât. Of course, you didnât.
âIâŠâ Your voice trailed off, the words refusing to come together. âNo one told me.â
Seungkwan hesitated, then exhaled slowly. âYou werenât here, Y/n.â
That again. That same sentence, dressed differently. Your fingers curled slightly at your sides.
âI packed your things,â he added after a moment, gesturing toward your office. âJust in case you needed them.â
You didnât respond. You just walked past him. Each step felt heavier than the last as you pushed the door open and stepped into your officeâyour office. The space looked untouched at first glance. Clean. Organized. The way you always kept it. But something was off. Too neat. Too⊠finished.
There, on your desk, sat a box. Simple. Brown. Sealed loosely, like it had been opened and closed more than once.
You approached it slowly. Your hands hovered for a second before finally lifting the lid. Inside was your things. Files. Notebooks. Small personal items you barely registered as you shifted them aside, your movements growing more restless, more urgentâas if you were looking for something without knowing what it was.
Anything that would make sense. Anything that would prove this was wrong.
Your fingers brushed against a document. You pulled it out. Your name. Printed clearly at the top. The rest of the words blurred for a second before your vision steadied, your eyes tracing the lines slowlyâtoo slowly, like your mind was resisting every letter.
Patient Name: Y/n.
Date: two weeks ago.
Your breath caught. And then, there it was.
Miscarriage.
The word sat there, unchanging. Unforgiving. You stared at it. Waiting for it to make sense. Waiting for somethingâanythingâto connect. But nothing came. No memory. No image. No feeling strong enough to claim it as yours. Just⊠emptiness.
Your grip on the paper tightened slightly, the edges crumpling under your fingers without you realizing. Two weeks ago. You tried to think back. Tried to force your mind to go there,to that day, that moment, anything. But it was like reaching into a void. Nothing.
Your lips parted slightly, a breath escaping you that didnât quite feel like your own.
ââŠNo.â
It came out barely audible. Because if this was real, if this had happened, then what else had you forgotten? And why, why did your body feel like it already knew?
*
You woke up with a sharp inhale. Dark. For a second, you didnât move. The ceiling above you felt unfamiliarâtoo high, the corners of the room too shadowed. Your body was stiff, like you had been lying there for hours, unmoving.
Your breath came uneven as you pushed yourself up, the sheets falling from your shoulders. The room slowly came into focus. You knew it. Your parentsâ house.
The realization settled in, slow and heavy, as your eyes moved around the space. The furniture. The curtains. The faint scent lingering in the airâfamiliar in a way that made your chest tighten.
How did you get here? You couldnât remember. Not the drive. Not arriving. Not even deciding to come. Nothing. A flicker of unease crept up your spine.
You swung your legs off the bed, your bare feet meeting the cold floor as you stood. The house was quiet as you stepped out of the room, the hallway dimly lit by a single lamp left on somewhere in the distance.
You checked the time. Midnight. Your brows furrowed. Why⊠were you here?
The thought came quickly, almost instinctiveâ
Mingyu.
Wouldnât he be waiting for you? At home. The idea felt solid. Certain. Like something you could hold onto.
You stepped outside without thinking much of it, still in your pajamas, the night air brushing against your skin as you wrapped your arms around yourself. It felt colder than it should have.
Your phone was already in your hand before you realized it. You called him. It rang once. Twice.
âHello?â His voice was there. Low. Tired. Familiar.
Your throat tightened slightly.
âCan you pick me up?â you said, the words coming out softer than you intended. âIâm at my parentsâ. I donât know why Iâm hereâŠâ
There was a pause on the other end. Short. But heavy.
ââŠAlright,â Mingyu replied finally. âIâll be there in ten.â
The line went dead. You stood there for a moment longer, staring at your screen before lowering it slowly, something uneasy settling deep in your chest. You couldnât name it. Only that it didnât feel right.
Mingyu arrived exactly ten minutes later. His jeep pulled into the driveway, headlights cutting through the darkness before the engine went still. You didnât wait. You moved toward the car immediately, opening the door and slipping into the passenger seat.
The warmth inside hit you all at once. You shut the door quietly. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The engine started again. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye.
He looked⊠tired. More than usual. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his jaw set in a way that made something in your chest twist.
âYou seem tired,â you said gently, trying to ease the silence. âLong day?â
The words felt normal. Casual. Like something you had said a hundred times before. Mingyu didnât answer right away. The car kept moving. He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at you.
âReally?â he said. His voice wasnât loud. But it wasnât soft either. There was something under it. Something sharp.
âAre you acting right now, Y/n?â
The question didnât land all at once. It hit. And thenâ everything followed. At once. Too fast. Too much. The fight. Your voiceâstrained, repeating the same thing over and over. The door closing. Silence stretching for days. Getting lost, NoâWalking. BarefootâCold pavementâHands shaking. White walls. Pain. A word. Miscarriage. Paper. Your name. Seungkwanâs voiceâ You resigned. You were pregnant. Mingyu. The studio. The papers in your hand. Divorce.
Your breath caught violently, your fingers gripping the edge of the seat as your head spun, the pieces crashing into each other without order, without mercy.
You froze. Completely still. Because none of itâ none of it lined up. Not cleanly. Not clearly. Some of it felt real. Too real. But some of itâ felt distant. Blurry. Like something you had dreamed and then half-forgotten.
Your chest rose and fell unevenly as your mind scrambled, trying to sort through itâtrying to separate what was real from what wasnât.
The car felt too small, like the air inside had been sucked out. Your breath came uneven, fingers gripping the edge of the seat as if that was the only thing keeping you grounded. Something was wrongâdeeply, terribly wrong. âMingyuâŠâ your voice trembled, barely audible. âI⊠I donâtââ The words dissolved before they could form, because it started.
Not like remembering. Not clean, not wholeâbut like something cracking open inside your head.
A flash of white. Too bright. The sharp, sterile smell hit you first, making your stomach twist violently. You flinched, your hand flying to your abdomen without thinking. Pain followedâsudden, overwhelmingâyour body curling into itself as if reliving it. âMingyuââ your voice echoed weakly in your head, breaking, but no one answered.
The car slowed, Mingyu glancing at you, saying somethingâyour name, maybeâbut you couldnât hear him. The memories kept coming.
A phone screen. Your own reflection staring backâpale, hollow-eyed. A message half-typed: Where are you? Deleted. Typed again. Deleted again. The door closingâhis voice, distant, muffled like it was underwater. I need space.
Your chest tightened painfully. âNoâŠâ you whispered, shaking your head, but it didnât stop.
The floor was cold beneath your knees. Your hands clutched your stomach, breath breaking into uncontrollable sobs. Something warm. Wet. Your vision blurred as you looked down.
Red.
A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your body recoiling as if burned. âMingyuââ this time louder, desperate. Still, the memory didnât release you.
Voicesâstrangers. Panic, urgency. âStay with me, maâamââ âCall someoneâdoes she have someoneâ?â Your head felt heavy, your fingers weakly gripping someoneâs sleeve. âMingyuâŠâ barely a sound.
Then silence.
A room too quiet. Your hands resting on your stomach, and you already knew. Before anyone told you, before any words were spokenâyou knew. Empty.
Time blurred. Hours, daysâyou couldnât tell. Curtains drawn, your phone lighting up beside you. His name on the screen. You didnât answer. You couldnât.
Another shift.
You stood in front of the mirror, staring at someone who looked like you but didnât feel like you. Your lips moved, forcing a smile that didnât belong. âEverythingâs fine.â Again. âEverythingâs fine.â Again. Again.
âY/N!â
The world snapped back violently.
The car. The road. Mingyuâs voice, closer now. His hand gripping your arm, his face tight with something between fear and disbelief. âHeyâhey, look at meâwhatâs wrong with you?â Your breathing came in short, broken gasps as you stared at him, not fully seeing him, because the last piece settled inâslow, heavy, unavoidable.
The paper in your hand. Miscarriage. Your name printed beneath it. Two weeks ago.
Your lips parted, but no sound came at first. Your eyes trembled as they searched his face, like you were seeing him for the first timeâor finally understanding. âIâŠâ your voice came out hollow. âI was pregnant.â The words felt distant, unreal. âIââ your breath hitched sharply. âI lost it.â
Silence filled the car, thick and suffocating.
Your fingers curled into your clothes, shaking. âAnd youâŠâ your voice crackedânot accusing, not angry, just broken. âYou werenât thereâŠâ
The moment the words left you, something shifted again. Your expression faltered, confusion creeping back in, fragile and disoriented. âIâŠâ your brows furrowed weakly. âWhy werenât you there?â
Not blame. Not yet. Just a question. A real one.
Like you didnât remember asking it before. Like you didnât remember living through it at all.
And that was when it truly brokeânot just the memory, not just the loss, but the realization that you had lived through something that shattered you⊠and your mind had decided you couldnât survive remembering it.
*
Mingyu didnât answer. Not because he didnât want toâbut because he couldnât.
His hand was still wrapped around your arm, fingers tightening without him realizing, like if he let go you might disappear right in front of him. His eyes searched your face, scanning every inch of it as if the answer was written somewhere there, hidden beneath your expression.
âIâwhat?â he let out a breathless, disbelieving sound. âWhat are you talking about?â
His voice came out sharper than he intended, confusion laced heavily through it. There was something else tooâsomething unsettled, almost uneasy.
âYouâre⊠pregnant?â he repeated, the word sounding foreign in his mouth. âY/N, whatââ
He stopped. Because you didnât look like you were lying. You didnât look like you were avoiding him, or deflecting, or doing that thing he had grown so used toâsmiling like nothing happened, brushing everything under the rug until he was the only one left holding onto it.
No. You looked⊠lost. Completely, terrifyingly lost.
âI lost it,â you said again, softer this time, like you were trying to convince yourself more than him. Your eyes drifted away from him, unfocused, like you were seeing something else entirely.
Mingyuâs grip loosened slightly. Something about this felt wrong. Not wrong like your usual fights. Not wrong like miscommunication or stubbornness or hurt pride.
This felt off. Like he had walked into the middle of something he didnât understand, something that had been happening without him even knowing.
âY/N,â his voice dropped, slower now, cautious. âWhat are you saying?â
You didnât answer him directly. Instead, you looked back at him, your expression fragile, almost childlike in its confusion. âYou left,â you murmured. âYou said you needed space.â
Mingyuâs brows pulled together immediately. âYeah, Iââ he started, but stopped halfway.
Because the way you said It didnât sound like you were recalling a recent argument. It sounded like you were reliving something.
âAnd thenâŠâ your voice wavered, your hand instinctively pressing against your stomach again. âIt hurt. I was alone.â
His stomach dropped. A strange, cold feeling crept up his spine.
âAlone?â he echoed, quieter now.
You nodded faintly, eyes glossing over. âI called you,â you whispered. âI think I did⊠I donâtââ Your breathing picked up again, panic slipping back in. âI donât remember if you answered.â
Mingyu froze.
âI didnâtââ he said quickly, almost defensively. âYou didnât call me.â
But even as the words left his mouth, they didnât sit right. Did you? He wouldâve remembered, wouldnât he?
His mind raced back, trying to piece together the timelineâthe fight, him leaving, the days after. Everything felt⊠blurred. He remembered being angry. He remembered ignoring a few callsâno, not calls, messages. Or were they calls?
His chest tightened.
âY/N,â he said again, but his voice had changed. Less certain. âWhen⊠when did this happen?â
You blinked at him. Slowly. Like the question itself didnât make sense.
âI donât know,â you admitted, your voice small, trembling. âI thought it was just today. ButâŠâ Your fingers curled into your clothes again, shaking. âThey said two weeks.â
Two weeks. The words echoed in his head. Two weeks ago. Mingyuâs grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles paling as something heavy began to settle in his chest. Two weeks ago, he wasnât there.
He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering back to you. You were still looking at him like you needed him to make sense of it. Like he was supposed to explain what happened to you.
But he couldnât. Because none of this made sense. Not the pregnancy. Not the miscarriage. Not the way you were remembering things in piecesâout of order, like broken fragments that didnât quite fit together.
And most of all, ot the way you were looking at him right now. Like he was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
Like you knew him, but didnât fully remember what he had done. A quiet, unsettling realization crept into his mind, one he didnât want to touch, didnât want to fully form.
âThis isnâtâŠâ he started, his voice low, uncertain. âY/N, this isnât you just⊠pretending, is it?â
The question hung in the air. Fragile. Dangerous.
You didnât answer him. Not right away.
Your lips parted slightly, like you wanted to say somethingâexplain, maybeâbut nothing came out. The words were there, somewhere in your head, but they felt out of reach, slipping further the harder you tried to grab them.
âIâŠâ your voice cracked, barely holding together. âI donât know.â
And that was it. That was the last thing keeping you from falling apart.
Your breath hitched sharply, your chest tightening like something inside had finally snapped loose. The fragments in your headâvoices, images, pain, silenceâcrashed into each other all at once, too loud, too overwhelming.
âI donât know whatâs happening,â you whispered, but it quickly broke into something heavier, something desperate. âI donât know whatâs real, Mingyuââ
Your hands came up to your head, fingers tangling in your hair as if you could physically hold yourself together. âI remember thingsâbut then I donâtâand it hurts and I donât know why it hurts and I donâtââ
Your voice collapsed into a sob. Raw. Uncontrolled.
âI donât understand,â you cried, shaking now, your whole body folding in on itself. âWhy canât I remember? Why does it feel like I forgot something important? Something really importantââ
Your words dissolved into broken sobs, your breathing uneven, almost choking as you tried to take in air.
âI feel like I lost something,â you whispered weakly, your voice barely there now. âBut I donât even remember losing itâŠâ
Mingyu didnât think anymore. Didnât question. Didnât try to piece anything together. Because seeing you like thisâbreaking right in front of him, not pulling away, not pretending, not brushing it off. It did something to him. Something heavy. Something sharp.
âHeyâhey,â he said quickly, his voice dropping, panic threading through it as he reached for you.
You didnât resist. Didnât even react. Your body leaned into him the moment his arms wrapped around you, like you had nothing left to hold yourself up. His hand came up to the back of your head, pressing you gently against his chest, the other arm tightening around you as if he could keep you from falling apart any further.
âIâve got you,â he murmured, though his voice wasnât as steady as he wanted it to be. âHey⊠itâs okay. Itâs okay.â
But it wasnât. He knew that. You knew that. Stillâyou clung to him.
Your fingers gripping onto his shirt, clutching it tightly as your sobs broke freely now, muffled against his chest. Your whole body trembled, each breath shaky and uneven, like you were trying to breathe through something too heavy to carry.
âMingyuâŠâ his name came out broken, barely recognizable. âIâm scared.â
That did it.
His arms tightened around you instinctively, his jaw clenching as something painful twisted deep in his chest.
âI know,â he whispered, his hand gently pressing against your hair, trying to soothe you even though he had no idea how. âI know⊠Iâm here.â
Your grip on him only tightened.
âDonât leave,â you said suddenly, the words spilling out in a fragile, desperate plea. âPlease donât leave me againâI donât⊠I donât think I can handle it if youââ
Your voice broke completely. Mingyu froze.
Again.
The words hit him harder than anything else had.
Again.
His throat tightened, something heavy lodging itself there as his mind flashed backâto the door closing, to his own voice saying he needed space, to the silence he left you in. To two weeks ago. To the time you said you couldnât remember.
He swallowed hard, his hold on you tightening almost protectively now, like he was trying to make up for something that had already happened.
âIâm not going anywhere,â he said quietly, but this time there was something different in his voice.
âIâm here,â he repeated, softer, his hand moving gently against your hair. âIâm right here, Y/N.â
You didnât question it. Didnât pull away. You just held onto him tighter, like he was the only thing that still made sense in a world that suddenly didnât.
*
The hospital felt too brightâtoo clean, too unforgiving. Mingyu sat outside your room, elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging loosely between them. They were still trembling, though he barely noticed anymore. Everything felt distant, like he was sitting behind glass, watching someone elseâs life unfold.
You were inside. Unconscious.
Again. He didnât know how it got to this point. One moment you were in his armsâshaking, crying, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you togetherâand the next, your body went slack. Your voice disappeared. Your grip loosened.
And just like that, you were gone.
The doctor said it wasnât physical. Not entirely. âSevere stress response,â they called it. Something about your body shutting down because your mind couldnât handle it anymore. Mingyu didnât fully understand, but he knew one thingâthis wasnât normal. This wasnât you avoiding fights or pretending nothing happened. This was something deeper. Something he had completely missed.
He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling shakily. His chest felt tight, like something was pressing against it from the inside. How long has this been happening? The question wouldnât leave him alone. How long had you been like this⊠and he just didnât see it?
Footsteps approached from the end of the hallwayâsoft, careful, familiar. Mingyu lifted his head slightly.
Your parents. Your mother looked like she hadnât slept. Your father stood beside her, quieter, but just as tense. The moment their eyes met Mingyuâs, something shiftedâsomething uneasy, something unspoken. They already knew.
âIs she awake?â your mother asked, her voice low, controlled, though the fear beneath it was obvious.
Mingyu shook his head. âNo⊠not yet.â
Silence settled between them, heavy and suffocating. Your father nodded slowly, like he expected that answerâlike this wasnât new. And that made something twist painfully in Mingyuâs chest.
ââŠHas this happened before?â he asked, his voice quieter now, careful.
Your parents exchanged a lookânot confusion, not surprise, but hesitation. And that alone told him more than he wanted to know.
Mingyu straightened slightly, his brows pulling together. âPlease,â he said, more firmly this time. âI need to know whatâs going on with her.â
Your motherâs lips parted, but no words came out at first. She looked at your father, like she needed permissionâor strength. Your father exhaled slowly, then spoke.
âSheâs had episodes like this before.â
The words landed heavier than they should have.
âEpisodesâŠ?â Mingyu echoed, his voice tightening.
âNot exactly like this,â your mother added quickly, her tone fragile. âBut⊠similar. When she was younger.â
Younger.
Mingyuâs stomach dropped. âHow young?â
A pause. A long one.
âAfter high school,â your father said quietly.
Your mother looked away this time, her fingers tightening around each other. âShe went through⊠something,â she said carefully. âSomething that affected her deeply.â
The vagueness only made his chest tighten more. âWhat kind of something?â Mingyu pressed, his voice sharper now. âSheâs losing her memory, she collapsed in my arms, she thinks she was pregnant and lost it but doesnât even remember when it happenedâhow am I supposed to understand any of this if you keepââ
âShe was assaulted.â
The words cut through everything. Clean. Immediate. Mingyu went completely still.
ââŠWhat?â The word barely left him.
Your father didnât look away. âWhen she was a teenager,â he said. âShe didnât tell us right away. We only found out later⊠when things started getting worse.â
Mingyuâs mind struggled to process it. Assaulted. You. His gaze flickered instinctively toward your hospital room door, like it didnât match the person lying inside.
âShe developed severe depression after that,â your mother continued softly. âShe was on medication for a long time. It affected her body⊠her weight. And people werenât kind.â
Mingyu clenched his jaw, something sharp twisting in his chest. He could almost see it nowâpieces of you he never knew existed. Pain you never spoke about.
âWe sent her abroad,â your father added. âA change of environment. It helped⊠for a while.â
âFor a while,â Mingyu repeated under his breath, because clearlyâit didnât fix everything.
âWhy didnât she tell me?â he asked, quieter now, no anger leftâjust confusion.
Your mother gave a sad, knowing look. âShe doesnât talk about it,â she said. âNot even to us. She tries to move on. Pretend it doesnât exist.â
Mingyu let out a hollow breath, leaning back slightly as everything started connectingâslowly, painfully. The way you avoided certain topics. The way you reacted to your body. The way you held onto control. The way you forgot.
âAnd the memory loss?â he asked, more hesitant now.
Your father paused, then answered, âItâs happened before. Not this severe. But when sheâs under extreme stress⊠she dissociates.â
Mingyu closed his eyes briefly. Dissociates. So this wasnât new. It was just worse now.
And suddenly, everything you said in the car came rushing back.
His chest tightened sharply. It wasnât that you didnât care. It wasnât that you were ignoring things. It was that your mind simply couldnât hold themânot when they hurt too much.
âAnd the pregnancy?â he asked, almost afraid of the answer. âDid you⊠know about that?â
Your parents fell silent. Your mother looked down. Your father didnât answer. And that silence said everything.
Mingyuâs breath hitched.Because that meantâyou went through it. Alone. While he was gone.
His jaw tightened, something heavy and suffocating settling in his chest. Not anger. Not frustration. Something worse. Regret.
Your mother hesitated, like she was debating whether to say more. Her fingers twisted together, eyes briefly flickering toward your hospital room before returning to Mingyu.
âSometimes⊠she comes home. To us.â
âShe shows up late. Sometimes in the middle of the night.â
Your mother let out a small, shaky breath. âRecently. The past few months.â
Something in his chest dropped.
âShe comes crying,â your mother continued, her voice wavering now despite her effort to stay composed. âSaying youâre not home. That you havenât been home for days. That she canât reach you.â
Mingyuâs lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Because that didnât make sense.
âI was home,â he said, almost instinctively. âI mean⊠not always, but Iââ He stopped himself, his thoughts tangling. There were days he stayed longer at the studio. Nights he didnât come back until late. Times he ignored your calls because he was still upset.
But days?
ââŠI didnât leave for days,â he finished, though the certainty in his voice had already weakened.
Your father didnât argue. Your mother only looked at himâsadly.
âShe believed it,â she said. âEvery time she came to us, she was convinced you were gone. That you left her.â
Mingyu felt something cold settle in his stomach.
âShe would cry for hours,â your mother went on, her voice quieter now, like each word was getting harder to say. âShe kept asking what she did wrong. Why you wouldnât come back.â
His chest tightened painfully.
âShe said you were upset,â your father added. âThat you were tired of her. That you needed space.â
Mingyuâs jaw clenched. Because he did say that. Not once. Not lightly.
âI need space.â
The words echoed in his head now, heavier than before.
âBut thenâŠâ your mother paused, her voice breaking slightly. âThe next morning, she would wake up and act like nothing happened.â
Mingyuâs breath caught.
âSheâd smile,â she continued. âTalk normally. Ask us why we looked so worried.â
Your father exhaled slowly. âSometimes she didnât even remember coming to us.â
Silence fell heavily between them. Mingyu stared ahead, but he wasnât really seeing anything anymore. The hallway blurred slightly, his mind tryingâfailingâto process it all.
âShe forgets?â he said, barely above a whisper.
Your mother nodded. âNot everything. But⊠the parts that hurt the most.â
Mingyuâs hands slowly curled into fists, resting against his knees.
Because suddenly, everything made sense in the worst way possible. The nights you accused him of being distant. The mornings you kissed him like nothing happened. The way your arguments never seemed to carry over. The way he thought you just didnât care enough to hold onto them.
It wasnât that you didnât remember. It was that you couldnât. A sharp breath left him as something twisted painfully in his chest.
âAnd the nightâŠâ your mother hesitated again, then continued softly, âthe night she lost the babyâŠâ
Mingyuâs head snapped up.
âShe came to us,â she said. âCrying. In pain. We told her to go to the hospital, but she kept saying she needed to wait for you. That youâd come home.â
His stomach dropped.
âShe kept calling you,â your father added quietly.
Mingyu froze.
âShe said you werenât answering,â your mother whispered.
His mind went blank for a second. Then, slowly, memories started creeping in. His phone buzzed. Once. Twice. Again. He remembered glancing at it. Your name lighting up the screen. And himâ turning it face down. Because he was still angry. Because he needed space.
Because he thought, it could wait. Mingyuâs breathing grew shallow.
âShe left after a while,â your father continued. âSaid she didnât want to bother you anymore. That sheâd handle it herself.â
Your motherâs voice broke this time. âWe didnât know it would get that bad.â
Silence. Heavy. Unforgiving.
Mingyu couldnât move. Couldnât speak.
Because now, now he knew. You didnât just go through it alone. You tried to reach him. And he wasnât there.
Not because he couldnât be. But because he chose not to be. His throat tightened painfully, something sharp pressing against it as his gaze slowly dropped to his hands.
And for the first time Mingyu realized that the moments he thought were small, the ones he brushed off as just another fight were the same moments you were breaking and reaching for him at the same time.
*
You noticed it. You had always noticed. At first, it was small. So small you could still pretend it was normal.
You would forget thingsâlittle things. Where you placed your keys, whether you had eaten, what day it was. You laughed it off, brushed it aside, told yourself you were just tired. Overworked. Distracted. But then it wasnât just things.
It was moments. You would be in the middle of a conversation and suddenly feel like you had stepped out of your own body, like you were watching yourself speak from somewhere far away. Your voice would continue, your lips would moveâbut it didnât feel like you anymore.
Like someone else had taken over for a second. You noticed it. The way time slipped. The way hours would pass without weight, without memory, without anything to hold onto when you tried to look back.
At first, you caught it. You would pause, frown, try to retrace your steps. What did I just do? What did I just say? Sometimes you could piece it together. Sometimes you couldnât.
And when you couldnât, that was when the fear started.
So you learned to fill the gaps. You smiled when you were supposed to smile. You spoke when it was expected of you. You followed routines, patterns, anything that could make you look normal enough so no one would notice the spaces in between.
Especially him. Especially Mingyu. You noticed how he would look at you sometimes. Confused. Frustrated. Like he was trying to hold onto something that kept slipping through his fingers.
And you hated that look. So you got better at pretending. Better at stitching things together. Better at acting like nothing ever happened. Like the fights never happened. Like the words you couldnât remember saying were never spoken. Like the nights you cried yourself to sleep didnât exist the next morning.
You told yourself it was easier that way.
Safer.
If you didnât acknowledge it, then maybe it wasnât real. If you kept moving, kept smiling, kept beingâthen maybe you wouldnât have to face whatever was breaking inside of you.
But the shifts got worse. Longer. Deeper. There were days you couldnât remember at all. Faces that felt familiar but distant. Places you didnât remember going. Conversations that were thrown back at you like accusations, and all you could do was stareâblank, lost, guilty for something you didnât even know you had done.
You started to question yourself. Your own mind. Did I say that? Did I do that? Or was it just⊠someone else wearing your skin? You noticed it.
You noticed the way fear slowly turned into something heavier. Something quieter. Something you couldnât quite name. Until one day, you didnât notice anymore.
The gaps stopped scaring you. Because you stopped seeing them. They became your normal. Your routine. Your way of surviving. And that terrified you more than anything ever had.
Because this was what you had been running from all along. Losing control. Losing yourself. Becoming something you couldnât recognize. Something fragile. Unstable. Broken.
You had spent so long trying not to be that girl again. The one who needed help. The one people whispered about. The one who was too much, too heavy, too complicated to love without exhaustion.
And yet, without realizing it, without even noticing when it truly began, you became her again.
Not all at once. Not dramatically. Just slowly. Quietly. Piece by piece. Until there was nothing left of the version of you that knew how to stay.
*
Someone knocked on your door at nine in the morning. The sound felt⊠distant. Like it belonged to a place you hadnât fully arrived in yet.
âCome in,â you said, though your voice came out softer than you expected.
The door opened, and a woman in a white dress stepped inside, pushing a small food cart. The wheels made a quiet sound against the floor as she approached you.
You were sitting on the bed. You noticed that. But the question came anyway. Why are you on the bed? And then, where are you?
âMs. Ji, itâs time for breakfast,â she said gently. âI brought your favorite.â
She stopped beside you, lifting the cover from the tray. Cut fruits. Boiled eggs. Toast. Simple. Plain.
You stared at it for a moment. You felt like you should recognize it. Like your body knew something your mind didnât.
âThey look boring,â you murmured honestly. Then, after a small pause, âBut⊠I think I like them.â
The woman smiled softly, like she had heard that before.
âI donât remember having a favorite food,â you added, your eyes shifting to the small name tag pinned to her chest.
Suji.
âThatâs okay,â Suji said, her voice calm, practiced in a way that didnât feel cold. âYou donât have to remember anything today.â
She helped you adjust the tray on your lap, her movements careful, unhurried.
You picked up the toast. Took a bite. It was good. Not special. Not overwhelming. Just⊠right.
You chewed slowly, quietly, while Suji moved around the room. She reached for the remote and turned on the TV, letting the sound fill the silence just enough. Channels flickered one after another. Colors. Voices. Faces that meant nothing. Until it stopped. A news channel.
âOh,â Suji said lightly, glancing at the screen. âThatâs where you used to work. Remember?â
You paused mid-chew. You worked?
The question formed in your head, but it didnât feel important enough to ask out loud. Instead, you shifted your gaze back to the screen, your hand reaching for a piece of fruit.
A man appeared on the screen. Well-dressed. Tall. Standing under bright lights as cameras flashed around him. There was applause. An award being handed to him. Your eyes lingered. Something, something moved. A small, quiet pull somewhere deep inside your chest. And then, before you could thinkâ
âKim Mingyu.â
The name slipped out of your mouth like it had always belonged there.
Suji froze slightly.
ââŠYou know him?â she asked, her tone shifting just a little.
You nodded slowly, your eyes still on the screen. There was no confusion in your expression this time. No hesitation. Just certainty.
âKim Mingyu,â you repeated softly.
A small pause.
Thenâ
âMy husband.â
The words settled into the room. Heavy. Out of place. Too certain for someone who couldnât even remember her own favorite food.
Suji looked at you, something unreadable passing through her eyesâsurprise, maybe, or something closer to concern. But you didnât notice. Because your attention stayed on the screen. On him. On the man you couldnât remember, but somehow, your heart still did.
Suji didnât bring it up again that morning. But she remembered. The way your voice changed when you said his name. The certainty. The quiet conviction that didnât match the rest of youâthe rest of the woman who couldnât remember what she liked, where she worked, or even why she was there.
My husband.
It stayed with her. Later that day, during her break, Suji sat in the small staff room with your file open in front of her.
Name: Ji Y/N
Age: 56 years old
Condition: Severe dissociative amnesia with recurring identity disturbance
Guardian: â
Emergency Contact: â
Empty. All of it.
She frowned slightly, flipping through the pages again like something might appear if she looked hard enough.
Nothing did. No family listed. No spouse. No one.
For ten years, you had been thereâadmitted, treated, stabilized, relapsed, stabilized again. Notes written by doctors, observations by nurses, small fragments of who you used to be scattered across clinical language.
But no one had ever come. No one had ever claimed you. Suji leaned back slightly, her fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the file.
ââŠKim Mingyu,â she murmured to herself. It didnât take long. Articles came up almost immediately. Interviews. Exhibitions. Photographs. A man stood behind most of themâtall, composed, carrying an air that only came with years of recognition.
Kim Mingyu. A maestro painter. Renowned. Respected. Sixty years old.
Sujiâs brows furrowed as she scrolled further, eyes scanning quickly until something caught her attention.
A profile. A short personal history. And there is a name. Yours. Listed not as current. But as something that had already ended. Former spouse.
Suji went still.
ââŠFormer?â she whispered. Her gaze flickered back to the photo of him. Then to your name beside his. Then back again. It didnât line up.
Not with the way you said it. Not with the way your eyes had looked at the screen. My husband. Not was. Not used to be.
She closed the file slowly. Her mind wandered back to the small things you had said over the years.
Fragments. You worked at a gallery. You liked quiet mornings. You didnât like being aloneâthough you often were. You had mentioned painting once. Or maybe twice. Never clearly. Never consistently. Like pieces of a story that refused to stay in place. Ten years. You had been here for ten years.
And somehow, in all that time, that name stayed. Out of everything your mind had lost, everything it had rewritten, everything it had buried. He remained. Not fully. Not correctly. But enough.
Enough for you to recognize him without remembering yourself.
Enough to call him yoursâeven when the world had already written him as something else.
Suji exhaled slowly, her grip tightening slightly around her phone. There was something about it that didnât sit right with her. A gap. A missing piece.
Or maybe too many pieces that didnât fit together anymore. She glanced back at your file one more time. Then at the name still on her screen.
Kim Mingyu.
*
The visiting room was quiet when you stepped in. Sunlight stretched across the floor, pale and distant. The chairs were arranged neatly, untouched, like no one ever stayed long enough to leave a trace.
And then you saw him. Sitting by the window. Older. Time had settled on him in quiet waysâgrey threaded through his hair, the sharpness of his youth softened into something heavier. But there was still something unmistakable about him.
Something your chest recognized before your mind could. You walked toward him slowly. He looked up. And for a moment, everything in him stilled.
Mingyu hadnât expected this. Not this version of you. Not the softness in your eyes. Not the absence of anger. Not the way you looked at him like you were trying to place him into a story you couldnât fully remember.
He had come here with something else in his chest. Old resentment. Old confusion. Questions that had stayed unanswered for decades. Because back then, he thought he knew. He thought you were distant.
Careless.
Cold.
He thought you chose to forget. Chose to walk past every fight like it meant nothing. Chose to leave him alone in a marriage that felt like it only existed on paper. So he left. He signed the papers. He told himself it was the only thing left to do. He never once thought you were sick.
ââŠY/N,â he said, your name unfamiliar after so many years.
You stopped a few steps away. You studied him. Carefully.
âI know you,â you said softly.
Mingyuâs breath caught.
âMy husband,â you added.
The word hit him harder than anything else. Not because it was wrongâ but because of how easily you said it.
Like nothing had ever broken. Like nothing had ever ended.
Mingyu swallowed.
ââŠI was,â he corrected, his voice quieter now.
You blinked.
ââŠWas,â you repeated, like you were trying to understand it. There was a pause. Something flickered behind your eyes. A shadow of something heavierâ
A studio.
Raised voices.
His voiceâ
Iâm tired. I canât do this anymore.
A paper in your hand.
The word divorce.
Your chest tightenedâ
And then it slipped.
Gone.
You smiled instead. Small. Polite. Like you always did when something didnât make sense.
Mingyu felt it. That shift. That disappearance. His brows pulled together slightly.
ââŠDo you remember?â he asked, more carefully this time.
You looked at him again. âI think I do,â you said. Then softerâ âbut it doesnât stay.â
Your fingers curled lightly against your palm.
âI was trying to tell you something,â you added suddenly.
Mingyu stilled.
âWhat?â he asked.
Your lips parted. This time you felt it more clearly. The weight sitting in your chest. The words pressing against your throat.
I was scared.
I was hurting.
I didnât understand what was happening to me.
I wasnât ignoring youâI was losing myself.
Your breathing faltered slightly.
âIââ you started.
Mingyu leaned forward just a little.
For the first time he was listening. Really listening. Not judging. Not assuming. Just waiting.
âI think⊠I was sick,â you said, your voice trembling faintly.
His chest tightened. âSick how?â he asked.
You tried.
God, you tried.
âIâŠâ Your fingers pressed against your temple, like you could hold the thoughts in place. âThere was something wrong with me. I couldnâtâ I couldnât remember things. I couldnât stay⊠I kept⊠disappearing.â
Your voice cracked.
Mingyuâs expression shifted. Confusion. Then something closer to realization.
But you werenât done. You couldnât be. You needed him to know.
âI didnât mean to hurt you,â you whispered, your eyes glistening now. âI think⊠I think I was trying to tell you. Before.â
Mingyuâs breath hitched. Before. All those times you brushed things off. All those mornings you acted like nothing happened. All those empty spaces he filled with his own anger.
ââŠWhy didnât you?â he asked, his voice low, almost breaking.
The question wasnât sharp. It was tired.
You shook your head weakly. âI tried,â you said. And you meant it. You really did. You tried in the silence. In the hesitation. In the moments where you looked at him, hoping he would see what you couldnât explain.
âI justââ your voice faltered again, your thoughts slipping, unraveling even as you reached for them. âI just canâtâŠâ
The words blurred. The meaning faded. The weight disappeared. Like it always did.
You blinked. And suddenly there was nothing. No explanation. No memory. No pain. Just emptiness.
ââŠI forgot,â you finished quietly.
Mingyu stared at you. At the woman in front of him. At the way your shoulders sank slightly, like even you were tired of failing to hold onto your own thoughts. And something inside him broke. Not loudly. Not suddenly. Justâquietly.
The kind of breaking that comes too late to fix anything. All those years. All those assumptions. All those times he thought you didnât care enough to tryâ when you had been trying all along. Alone.
ââŠI didnât know,â he said finally.
Your eyes lifted to him.
He shook his head slowly, his voice heavy with something he had never allowed himself to feel before.
âI thought you just⊠didnât love me the same way anymore.â
The words hung in the air. You frowned slightly. Love. The word felt distant. Familiar. But not something you could fully reach.
ââŠI think I did,â you said softly.
And somehow, that hurt him more.
Silence settled between you again. But this time, it wasnât empty. It was full of everything that had been missed. Everything that had never been understood. Everything that had come too late.
ââŠYou liked toast,â Mingyu said after a while, his voice quieter now.
You looked at him. A small smile appeared. âI think I still do.â
When it was time to leave, you stood first. You always did. You looked at him one last time. Not holding on. Not letting go. Just⊠looking.
âGoodbye, Mingyu.â
He watched you walk away. And this time, he knew. He hadnât lost you because you didnât love him. He lost you because you were already disappearing, and he never saw it.
However, you wanted him to know, you always wanted him to know. You just couldn't. You couldn't. And you didn't remember since how long. . .
Summary: Mingyu started to enjoy the arrangement between him and you. What should he do?
Why do birds suddenly appear everytime that you near? Just like me i long to be close to you. - Close To You by Carpenters
Mingyu sprinted from his car, heart pounding, as he rushed toward the scene. One of the doctors at the hospital had mentioned that a fire had broken out in a Gangnam district buildingâyour building. His breath was ragged as he pushed through the crowd, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene. Paramedics and firefighters swarmed the area, the flames now subdued, but the remnants of the fire still smoked in the air. A police officer stopped him from moving closer.
Just as the officer held him back, he spotted you in the distance. You were casually walking, still in your pajamas, holding a half-eaten ice cream cone. Mingyu's eyes widened, watching as your expression changed the moment you took in the sight of your charred apartment building.
"My apartment!" you exclaimed, your voice laced with frustration as Mingyu hurried over to you.
Mingyu quickly examined you, scanning for any signs of injury. A wave of relief washed over him when he realized you had been safely outside while the fire ravaged your home. His tense shoulders relaxed for the first time since hearing the news.
"Where were you?" he asked, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you seemed so unfazed by the chaos around you.
You blinked, a bit dazed by everything. "I was out for a meal..."
Mingyu glanced at his watchâhalf and an hour left before his surgery. "I'm glad you're alright. Iâll drive you to my place for now. Iâve got surgery in an hour."
The procedure went smoothly, but exhaustion weighed heavily on him as he sat in his office afterward. All he wanted was to go home and collapse into bed. But he hesitated, remembering that you were now at his apartment. The two of you had never really shared a space before, and the thought made him uneasy. After all, this wasnât a typical engagement.
A year ago, your families had arranged for you two to be engaged. It was strictly businessâa merger of two powerful legacies. Your family owned the hospital where Mingyu worked, while his family operated a successful medical and paramedical equipment company. It made sense for the families to align themselves, and though the proposal had taken him by surprise, Mingyu agreed to the engagement. What really caught him off guard was that you agreed too.
From what Mingyu knew, you ran a small homemade Korean restaurant near Seoul University. It wasnât a huge enterprise, but it had a loyal customer base thanks to its affordable prices and excellent food. When news of the engagement broke, everyone speculated that your family needed Mingyu to step in and continue running the hospital, especially since you showed no interest in taking it over yourself. Mingyu knew he benefited a lot from this arrangementâmore than he was willing to admit sometimes.
It was nearly morning when Mingyu finally arrived home, expecting you to be fast asleep. He took a quick shower, hoping to unwind before getting some rest. But when he stepped into the living room, he nearly jumped out of his skin. You were sitting on the couch, staring into the darkness.
"You scared me!" Mingyu muttered, his heart still racing. "Why arenât you sleeping?"
You shot him a sharp look, your voice dry. "My house just burned down. How could I possibly sleep soundly?"
Ah, right. He had forgotten that small but important detail.
"Right... of course." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, make yourself at home. Feel free to use the kitchen if you want breakfast. Iâll head to bed."
Mingyu retreated to his room, hoping for some much-needed rest. But as he lay there, he found sleep impossible. His mind kept drifting back to the strange reality that the two of you were now sharing a roof. It wasnât that he didnât like youâfar from it. You were smart, independent, and capable. But the idea of being engaged, living together, and yet still feeling like you were strangers unnerved him in ways he couldnât quite explain.
"Yeah, she's fine. She's alright. She's with me. I'll handle things with the building owner about her place. You donât have to worry, sir." Mingyu reassured your father over the phone as he finished getting ready for work.
Despite having only gotten three hours of sleep, Mingyu needed to be at the hospital for an early morning meeting as the branch director. He had already filled your father in on last nightâs fire, assuring him that you were safe and staying with him for the time being. Ending the call, he stepped out of the closet and made his way to the kitchen, where he was greeted by the sight of you preparing breakfast.
You were wearing one of his shirts.
"Iâll call you later, sir," Mingyu said quickly before hanging up, his eyes immediately locking with yours as he entered the kitchen.
You glanced at him briefly, then gestured for him to sit down as you placed the plates on the table. Mingyu couldnât help but stare for a moment. You must have noticed because you spoke up.
"I didnât have any clothes with me," you explained, a hint of self-consciousness in your voice. "I borrowed your shirt, if you donât mind."
Mingyu nodded. "It's fine."
An awkward silence lingered for a moment before he asked, "Is there anything you need to do today?"
You thought for a second. "I definitely need to get some clothes first. And maybe check on the restaurant."
Mingyu thanked you for the food as you joined him at the table. He picked up his spoon, and as soon as he took a bite, his eyes widened in surprise. The breakfast was incredible. He had visited your restaurant a couple of times and knew you were the mastermind behind the recipes, having graduated with a degree in culinary arts. But still, he hadnât expected his simple morning meal to taste this good.
"How about your belongings?" he asked between bites. "Anything important you need to check, like documents or valuables?"
"Luckily, I left all my important documents at my parents' place," you said, relieved. "But I do need to talk to the building owner about the fire and the damage."
Mingyu nodded thoughtfully. "Iâll go with you."
You both finished breakfast in comfortable silence, and as Mingyu got up to leave for work, he thanked you again for the meal. Before heading out, he made a few calls, one to the aunt who cleaned his house regularly, asking her to pick up some womenâs clothes for you, and another to the building manager to arrange an extra parking space for your car.
As he drove to the hospital, he reflected on the morning. He hadnât expected starting the day with you to feel so... easy. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like if your engagement werenât just a business arrangement. The thought lingered in the back of his mind as he went on with his day.
"Doctor Kim, thank you for the meal!" the nurses chimed in as Mingyu passed by the emergency room station during his daily rounds.
He blinked in confusion, unsure of what they were referring to. Then, he spotted the neatly packed meals from your restaurant sitting on the counter. You had sent food to his staff. It was thoughtfulâsomething he hadn't expected but appreciated. Mingyu smiled and waved to the nurses, telling them to enjoy the meal before heading to his office, where he found a meal from your restaurant waiting for him as well.
Mingyu quickly shot you a text: Thanks for the meal, everyoneâs enjoying it.
You didnât respond, and Mingyu wasnât surprised. He rarely texted you, and from what he had observed, you were just as busy as he was. He could understand if you werenât glued to your phone all the time. Besides, itâs not like he was your priority when it came to messaging.
Over the past week of living together, Mingyu had noticed that the two of you had fallen into a quiet, predictable routine. You would both wake up early, have breakfast together, head off to work, return late in the evening, and go straight to bed. The cycle repeated itself day after day, with only a few short exchanges of "How was work?" or "Did you sleep well?" in between. It was strange to be living under the same roof, sharing meals, and yet feeling like you were still strangers in many ways.
That morning, you casually mentioned that you had signed the lease on a new apartment, not far from your restaurant.
"Do you want to go furniture shopping with me?" you asked over breakfast.
"This couch looks good. It fits a lot of people," Mingyu said, running his hand over the fabric as you continued to browse.
You shook your head, clearly unimpressed. "I don't get visitors."
Mingyu chuckled, leaning in a little closer. "What about friends? Boyfriend, maybe?" he teased with a playful grin.
You scoffed and held up your left hand, flashing the engagement ring in front of him. "In case you forgot, Iâm engaged."
Mingyuâs eyes flickered to the ring, and he was momentarily struck by the sight of it. You always wore the ring, even though the engagement had been arranged. He, on the other hand, rarely wore hisâonly during major events or family meetings where it was expected. His profession didnât really allow for accessories, so he often went without it. But seeing you wear it regularly was a subtle reminder of the commitment hanging between you both.
"Right, how could I forget?" he replied, smoothly continuing the conversation as if the ring hadnât stirred something unspoken inside him.
When it came time to pay, Mingyu insisted on covering everything, even after your countless protests. He waved off your refusals, casually brushing them aside as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to take care of it.
"A rib for dinner?" Mingyu requested once he done paying. How dare you to refused.
*
After ten days of living together, Mingyu realized how quiet and empty his place felt without you around. He found himself looking for any excuse to see you, whether it was a quick text, a call, or even dropping by your restaurant. Without fully realizing it, the relationship between the two of you had begun to shift into something he hadnât expected.
One afternoon, as Mingyu made his rounds at the hospital, he overheard a group of nurses whispering as he passed by, his name mentioned in their conversation.
Mingyuâs stomach dropped. Without wasting a second, he grabbed his phone and immediately dialed your number. It rang, but someone else picked up.
"Y/n?" he asked, his voice tight with concern.
"Ah, Mr. Kim? She left her phone behind. She's at the hospital right now. A crazy person caused a scene and she got hurt."
Mingyu didnât wait for more details. He bolted to the emergency room, his mind racing. When he got there, he hurried to the nursesâ station and asked for your whereabouts.
They directed him to a bed where he finally saw youâsitting up, your arm and head wrapped in bandages, while a doctor carefully tended to your injuries. Relief washed over him, but it was mixed with a surge of worry and anger at what had happened.
He approached you cautiously, his heart still pounding in his chest.
You looked up at Mingyu and smiled, a wave of relief washing over you as soon as you saw him by your side. As the doctor finished tending to your wounds, he greeted Mingyu and explained that you would need to wait for the results of the X-ray, as you had hit your head during the incident.
Once the doctor left, Mingyu turned his full attention to you, his eyes scanning over your injuries with a mixture of concern and relief. Without saying a word, he gently pulled you into an embrace, holding you close as if making sure you were really okay.
"I'm so glad it wasn't worse," he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. He pulled back slightly to look at you. "What happened?"
You took a deep breath, trying to calm the lingering tension from the day. "There was this drunk guy, making a scene in the restaurant. He was about to hit one of my staff, so I stepped in. I got pushed and my head hit the table. This," you pointed to your bandaged arm, "is from some shattered glass."
Mingyu sighed, his jaw tightening in frustration. "I'm calling the police," he said firmly, standing up as if ready to take action immediately.
But you reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him. "It's already been reported. My staff handled it."
Mingyu paused, looking down at you, the worry still clear in his eyes. Though the situation had already been dealt with, his protective instincts were hard to turn off. He sat back down next to you, still holding your hand, as if to reassure himself you were safe now.
Your mother, the vice president, appeared in the emergency room, her presence commanding attention as she quickly made her way toward you. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of her, though you could see the worry etched in her expression.
"My heart dropped when I heard my daughter was in the emergency room. Are you okay, honey?" she asked, her voice laced with concern as she reached out to touch your arm.
"I'm fine, Mom," you reassured her with a small smile, trying to ease her worry.
Mingyu stood quietly to the side, observing the exchange with a sense of relief. He was glad to see how close you were with your family, something he hadnât really gotten to witness much before.
Then your mother turned her attention to Mingyu, who stood respectfully behind her. Her gaze softened as she acknowledged him.
"Thank you, Mingyu. I heard youâve been taking care of my daughter, especially after she lost her apartment in the fire. And now you're here again," she said, her gratitude clear.
Mingyu bowed slightly, feeling the weight of her words. "It's my pleasure, ma'am," he responded with sincerity.
The words caught Mingyu a little off guard, though he masked it with a polite nod. He glanced at you, noticing the subtle shift in the room. The formality of your engagement suddenly felt a bit more personal, more real.
After spending some more time talking with your mother and assuring her you were okay, the X-ray results came back clear. The doctor recommended rest and monitoring for the next few days to ensure there were no lingering effects from the head injury. With that, Mingyu insisted on taking you home.
As you left the hospital, Mingyu walked by your side, his hand resting gently on your lower back as he guided you to the car. The day had been exhausting, but knowing that Mingyu was there gave you a strange sense of comfort. It was a feeling that was becoming more familiar lately.
The drive home was quiet, with Mingyu occasionally glancing over to check on you. You stared out the window, your mind still processing everything that had happened, from the fire at your apartment to the incident today. You felt the weight of it all, but at the same time, there was a sense of relief that you werenât alone in dealing with it.
When Mingyu pulled into his apartment complex, he parked the car and quickly came around to your side to help you out. You couldnât help but smile at how attentive he was.
As you sat on the couch, trying to unwind from the long day, Mingyu hovered nearby, clearly still worried. You noticed his eyes flicking over to you every few minutes, as if checking to make sure you were really okay.
"You really should rest," he said, standing up and grabbing a blanket from the nearby chair. "I can see you're exhausted."
"Iâm fine, Mingyu," you protested softly, though you knew you needed the rest.
He walked over, gently draping the blanket over you, his hands lingering for a moment as he looked down at you. âJust lie down, please. Doctor's orders,â he added with a small, teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood.
You sighed, giving in. The exhaustion was catching up with you, and the couch felt more comfortable with the blanket wrapped around you. As you shifted to lie down, Mingyu crouched down beside you, his expression softening as he watched you settle.
"Better?" he asked, his voice quieter now.
You nodded, pulling the blanket closer. âYeah, better.â
He lingered for a moment before standing up again, running a hand through his hair. "I think Iâll stay out here with you, just in case you need anything.â
"You donât have toâ" you started to protest, but Mingyu was already grabbing a pillow for himself and setting it on the other end of the couch.
"I know, but I want to," he said simply, lying down beside you, keeping a respectful distance. âWe both need to rest anyway. This way, Iâll be right here if anything happens.â
You turned your head slightly to look at him, noticing how comfortable and natural he seemed lying next to you. The tension that had been hanging in the air for weeks felt like it was slowly fading, replaced by an unexpected sense of ease.
"Alright," you murmured, closing your eyes.
Mingyu lay there quietly, the soft rise and fall of his breathing the only sound in the room. He wasnât saying much, but his presence was steady, reassuring in a way that made you feel safe. After a few moments, he shifted slightly closer, his hand brushing against yours under the blanket. He didnât say anything, but the gesture spoke volumes.
You didnât pull away. Instead, you let the quiet warmth between the two of you settle in, realizing that maybe this arrangement between you wasnât so bad after all.
As you drifted off to sleep, you could feel Mingyu relax beside you. The weight of the day slowly lifted, and with him lying there next to you, it felt easier to rest.
As evening approached, the soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm light over the room. You and Mingyu had both woken up from your nap, feeling more rested but still shaken from the day's events. Mingyu sat up, glancing over at you with a gentle smile.
âDo you need anything?â he asked, his voice still soft but with a hint of concern.
You shook your head, feeling more at ease now. âNo, Iâm okay. Thanks for staying with me.â
He nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. âActually, I should probably check and clean your wound properly. Just to make sure itâs healing well.â
You hesitated for a moment but then nodded, realizing it would be reassuring to have him take care of you. Mingyu moved to get a first aid kit from the bathroom, then returned and sat next to you on the couch. As he began to carefully clean the wound on your head, his concentration was palpable.
The proximity brought an unexpected intimacy. Mingyuâs breath lightly brushed against your skin, and you could feel the warmth of his body close to yours. You glanced up at him, and for the first time, you noticed how dangerously close his face was to yours. The closeness made both of you acutely aware of each other, and suddenly, your cheeks flushed a soft pink.
There was a moment of shared awkwardness where neither of you knew quite what to say. Mingyuâs fingers brushed lightly against your forehead, and a nervous laugh escaped both of you simultaneously. The sound was light and shy, a clear indicator of the tension and the new feelings stirring between you.
Mingyuâs hands paused as he looked at you, his eyes meeting yours with an earnest expression. The silence between you was thick with unspoken emotions. He seemed to be gauging your reaction, his gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips.
Without breaking eye contact, Mingyu leaned in slowly, and you felt a rush of anticipation. For a heartbeat, everything seemed to stand still. Then, ever so gently, he pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was tender and soft, a simple yet profound gesture that spoke volumes.
You responded instinctively, your lips moving against his in a hesitant, exploring dance. The kiss deepened just slightly, filled with a mutual tenderness that neither of you had expected but both seemed to crave. When Mingyu finally pulled back, his expression was a mix of relief and uncertainty.
âSorry,â he said quietly, a slight blush still visible on his cheeks. âI just... I needed to do that.â
You smiled softly, reaching out to gently touch his face. âItâs okay. I think I needed it too.â
Mingyuâs smile was more relaxed now, a genuine warmth in his eyes. He resumed cleaning the wound with a renewed calm, the previous tension replaced by a new, comforting closeness. As he finished, you both settled back into the couch, the space between you now filled with a quiet, shared understanding.
Mingyu set aside the first aid kit and took a deep breath, his gaze locking with yours. âI... I know this might sound sudden, but I think we need to talk about where we go from here.â
You looked at him with curiosity and a hint of apprehension, waiting for him to continue.
He shifted slightly, his expression earnest. âI know our relationship started out as a business arrangement, and things between us have been... different from what I expected. But after spending time with you, especially today, Iâve realized something.â
You watched him closely, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your chest.
His words hung in the air, and you could feel the sincerity behind them. Mingyu reached out and took your hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring.
âI want to start over,â he continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. âI want us to settle everything thatâs happened and move forward. I want to take you out on dates, to spend time with you as someone I truly treasure. Not just because itâs whatâs expected, but because itâs what I genuinely want.â
Your heart raced as you listened, his confession a mix of relief and excitement. It was clear that Mingyu wasnât just fulfilling a duty anymoreâhe was speaking from the heart.
âIâve felt the same way,â you admitted, squeezing his hand. âI never expected this arrangement to lead to something real, but it has. Iâve come to care about you a lot, and Iâd like to see where this could go, too.â
Mingyuâs face brightened with a hopeful smile. âSo, are we starting over then? Taking a chance on something thatâs more than just an arrangement?â
You nodded, a smile of your own spreading across your face. âYes, letâs start over. Iâd like that.â
With a sense of newfound clarity and excitement, Mingyu leaned in and kissed you again, this time with a deeper sense of commitment. It was a kiss that promised not just the continuation of an engagement but the beginning of something much more meaningful.
As the evening drew on, you and Mingyu talked more about your hopes and plans for the future, feeling a sense of anticipation and warmth. The journey ahead was still uncertain, but now it was a journey you were both eager to take together, as partners who truly cared for each other.
*
âBecause youâre handsome?â Mingyu chuckled softly, clearly amused by your answer. He had asked you why you accepted the engagement in the first place, and he hadnât expected your candid response.
âOf course, youâre very handsome and attractive,â you said with a playful glint in your eye. âBut beyond that, I didnât have anyone special, and I didnât want to go against my parentsâ kind intentions, especially when it didnât harm me.â
âYou didnât go against it?â Mingyu asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
You paused to think before shaking your head. âNo, not at all. I wasnât planning to get married. I was just focused on my business.â
Mingyu nodded thoughtfully. âHow about now?â
âWhat do you mean now?â you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice.
âGet married,â he clarified. âDo you want to get married?â
It had been three years since the engagement, and throughout that time, you and Mingyu had maintained your commitment to each other. Even though your parents had pushed for a wedding, you both had insisted on getting to know each other better. It was only after a year of engagement that you truly began to enjoy each otherâs presence.
âWith you?â you asked innocently, and Mingyu rolled his eyes with a chuckle.
âI wouldnât ask if it werenât with me. Do you want to get married to me?â
A scowl formed on your face as you stared at him, your emotions a mix of surprise and curiosity. âAre you proposing?â
Mingyu laughed, his eyes twinkling with affection. âWhy? You donât like it, baby?â
The scowl melted away, replaced by a warm and genuine smile. âIâd love to. Iâve been happy these two years with you. Why not be happy forever?â
Mingyuâs expression softened as he cupped your cheeks gently. âYouâre really happy?â
You nodded, your eyes shining with sincerity.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. âThen Iâm happy too.â
In that moment, it felt as if everything had come full circle. The uncertainty of the past had given way to a future filled with promise, and both of you were ready to embrace it together.
I read duty finished, open you page, and crying a river cause I found gold mineđ im on my knees to YOU GIRL oH MY GOD thank you so much for writing bunch of mesmerizing story from the plot, the tension, the words, THE PAINđđ everything is perfect i think angst is your genre im not even kidding you devoured it, I enjoy every story, smiling, gigling and obiously CRYING LIKE MY LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. Thank you sooo much for writing such outstanding story and thank you for being a writerâ€ïž hope everything you do goes smoothly and may life offer you tons of happiness, luck, wealth and healthâš
omgâ
My 4 years ago self wouldn't believe that someone would say this after reading her fic.
I'm genuinely so happy reading all of your feedbacks but i just couldn't find word to reply it. Squeezing into my hectic schedule, everyday, is the only thing i can do to write and give you guys a piece from my head.
It's never perfect, they will never be perfect. My writings. But you guysâ you made them perfect for me and i can't be more grateful for that!
Hi Den! I hope you always have a great day because your fics are amazing. They're definitely making everyone's day (you write angst the best and i like the pain. Don't stopđ«”)
Anyway, i was wondering if you ever consider writing for different group like NCTđđ? Neosvt stan hereââș
Anyway, no pressure. Just curious:p
Ohâ? You read mind? Because I'm actually writing something. A personal archive. The hurting one. For my personal tear-jearking piece. When day is tough.
Lemme know of you're interested on reading other group from meeeeeeđđ
Summary: two ordinary worker have to deal with a baby. What should they do? Stay supple!
Missing Yoon Jeonghan hour:( but having so much fun writing this?
The weather was perfect, the sun shining just enough to complement the mood. Both you and Jeonghan waved as you split from the elevatorâlike clockwork. You headed left towards the design team, while he turned right to finance. Just another day as two regular employees at a food label under a large South Korean company.
"What's your relationship with Ji Y/N?" Jeonghan was first asked this after the two of you were seen leaving work together.
"She's my friend," he'd answer, as simply as possible, before walking off, leaving behind a trail of curious colleagues.
But when your coworkers found out you actually knew "the pretty guy from finance," their questions were relentless: âIs he single?â âAre you two dating?â
"He's my roommate," you revealed one day, much to their shock. "And, believe me, he looks way better than he actually is."
Exposing Jeonghan's less-than-angelic personality to his adoring fans became your daily amusement. It was a shock to everyone when they realized the two of you shared a flat. Youâd known each other since junior high, moving to Seoul together in pursuit of better education, career prospects, and, maybe, love. But living in the capital wasnât some dreamy K-drama. Everything was overpriced, especially rent. So, with some initial hesitation, you two decided to share an apartment.
"You failed your test?" Jeonghan mocked you years ago, when you returned from your architecture exam. He wasnât surprisedâyou were hopeless at STEM subjects, and he loved to rub it in.
"I told you she was a snake," you reminded him when he came home heartbroken after his three-month relationship in university went up in flames. She'd used him to get through finals. Classic.
There was an ongoing joke between you two: "There are two types of people in this worldâsmart but evil, and kind but dumb." It didnât take much guessing which label each of you wore.
âHow was work?â Jeonghan asked as you both trudged home from the bus stop, a routine you had grown used to. The walk was long, so you filled the time with idle chat, unless you'd had an argument the night before, then it was all awkward silence.
You beamed at him, barely containing your excitement. "Amazing! The project I pitched was a hit! I can practically smell a promotion coming."
Jeonghan chuckled, amused by your enthusiasm. "Good for you. Finance was a bit of chaotic today. Did you know the production costs are getting cut by 2% next month?"
Your excitement dimmed. "Wait, what?"
Jeonghan laughed at your panicked expression. "Donât worry. We're trying to keep it from affecting your departmentâmaybe even that project of yours."
You sighed dramatically. "You finance people really hold the whole company together, huh?"
As you reached your floor and walked down the hallway, the sound of a baby crying echoed. You grimaced and commented on how loud it was, while Jeonghan mindlessly scrolled through his phone.
âJeonghan,â you stopped just a few feet from your door, a strange feeling twisting in your gut.
Jeonghan turned to you, raising an eyebrow. "What?" he asked, eyes still on his phone.
You pointed toward your apartment door. He finally looked up and saw what had rendered you speechless.
A baby box was sitting right there, in front of your door.
âWell, that's... unexpected,â Jeonghan quipped, scratching his head.
*
You stepped out of the police station, practically fuming, your brows knit together in frustration. Whatever happened inside had clearly pushed you to the edge.
"Do I look like a mother? Do I look old?" you snapped at Jeonghan, still seething over the way the officers had assumed things about you and the baby. You were taking it personallyâway too personally.
"We need to investigate this situation further. Thereâs no CCTV on your apartment floor, so itâs hard for us to confirm whether the baby was really left there or if itâs, well... yours,â one of the officers had said, completely indifferent to your rising anger.
Jeonghan sighed, still holding the baby box as if it weighed a ton. His day had been chaotic enough at work, and now this? He just wanted to take a nap, but instead, he found himself standing in front of the police station, accused of something as wild as fathering a baby outside of marriage.
Yet, somehow, he wasnât as furious as you.
"So, what do we do with this creature?" Jeonghan gestured at the baby, still sounding far too calm for your liking.
"It's a baby," you muttered.
"I know itâs a baby. But what are we supposed to do? The police wonât take it without more evidence, and we canât exactly keep it," he said, his voice getting louder, almost desperate. His raised tone startled the baby, who began to cryâloudly.
Jeonghan sighed deeply, the sound of the wailing infant pushing him to his limit. He shot you a pleading look, as if expecting you to pull some miracle solution out of thin air. "Youâve never thought about being in a situation like this before?" he asked, clinging to the hope that you might have a plan.
You shook your head, helpless. "I donât know... I want to cry too," you mumbled, your frustration bubbling over.
Jeonghan groaned. "Great. Thatâs exactly what we needâtwo people crying."
He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said, resigning himself to the situation. "Letâs just... take it home first. Then we can figure out what to do."
The two of you exchanged a lookâone that spoke volumes about how absurd your day had becomeâbefore heading back to your shared apartment, a tiny, crying bundle now in tow.
You and Jeonghan sat on the floor of your living room, the baby box placed carefully between the two of you. The baby was still crying, its tiny wails echoing off the walls, and neither of you had the faintest clue how to make it stop.
"Do you think it's hungry? Or maybe... the diaperâs full?" you asked, throwing out the first guesses that came to mind.
Jeonghan instantly grabbed his phone and started Googling. "Yeah, uh, let me just... get some baby stuff," he mumbled, still scrolling as he stood up. He made it a few steps toward the door before turning back to point at you, with a smirk. "And don't do anything dumb while Iâm gone. It may be a baby, but trust meâitâs judging you."
You glared at him. "Shut up!" you snapped, though there was a hint of panic creeping into your voice. You had never felt so out of your depth in your own apartment before.
Jeonghan laughed softly under his breath and hurried out the door, leaving you alone with the crying bundle. You sighed, looking down at the baby, and for a second, you swore it was staring back at you, its cries growing more impatient as if it really was judging your lack of maternal instincts.
âOkay, okay, I get it... Iâm not cut out for this,â you muttered, feeling a tiny bit of guilt, though mostly stress, wash over you.
When Jeonghan returned home, the sight that greeted him was the last thing he expected. You were sitting on the couch, cradling the baby in your arms, swaying gently as if you'd been doing it for years. The baby was finally quiet, its tiny face peaceful for the first time since youâd found it.
âWhat did you get?â you asked in a whisper, your voice barely above a breath, as if any louder might undo your newfound peace.
Jeonghan held up a bag and gestured to its contents. "Baby milk, diapers, and... these," he said, showing you a bottle and a baby-sized nipple.
You raised an eyebrow, a little amused. "You got the essentials. Howâd that go?"
Jeonghan sighed, a bit sheepish. "The staff asked me how old the baby was. I panicked and just said, 'Uh, itâs a baby... like, you know, baby.â She gave me the weirdest look because I kept calling it it.â
You couldnât help but chuckle softly, careful not to disturb the baby. âGood job,â you said, offering him a sarcastic thumbs-up before handing the baby over.
Jeonghan, now holding the baby with a mix of terror and curiosity, watched as you headed to the kitchen to prepare the formula. He could hear you from the other room, opening a tutorial video on YouTube, the sounds of "how to make baby formula" echoing faintly through the apartment.
âWill it be too hot?â you called out once youâd finished preparing the milk, holding up the bottle and inspecting it like you were conducting a science experiment.
Jeonghan smirked, bouncing the baby a little in his arms. "If it can handle my hotness, I think it'll be fine."
You shot him a withering look and promptly kicked his leg, just enough to make him grunt in pain.
âOw,â he grumbled, trying to keep his voice low, but the baby squirmed in his arms, clearly disturbed by the commotion.
âShh, shh,â he soothed quickly, gently rocking the baby back and forth. You couldnât help but smile at the sceneâa rare sight, Jeonghan being careful and gentle, though his usual antics werenât too far behind.
"Careful, 'hot stuff,'" you teased, handing him the bottle. "You wouldnât want to disturb your new fan."
Jeonghan gave you a mock glare before turning his attention back to the baby, slowly offering the bottle. "Letâs see if this works."
*
Neither of you had gotten a wink of sleep. And for once, the reason wasn't workâit was a baby. A very fresh, very loud baby. After fumbling through the process of changing a diaper and discovering the baby was a boy, you immediately passed him over to Jeonghan, wincing.
âI feel like I violated his privacy,â you mumbled, shoving the squirming infant into Jeonghanâs arms. âI didnât have his consent.â
Jeonghan just rolled his eyes at your dramatic excuse to get out of diaper duty. âRight. Smart-dumb way to avoid the work.â
The next morning, utterly exhausted and desperate for some relief, you two were saved by an unexpected visitor. Your neighbor, a sweet woman in her 50s, knocked on the door, her face full of concern. Sheâd heard the crying all night and was curious about the sudden arrival of a baby in your apartment.
You and Jeonghan immediately launched into a frantic explanation, stumbling over your words as you described how youâd found the baby on your doorstep. To your immense relief, she offered to help babysit while the two of you went to work.
Now, finally, there was a moment of peace as you both leaned back in the bus seat, your heads resting against the windows. You shared a glance, silently hoping the short 10-minute bus ride would somehow erase the exhaustion weighing you down.
âDo you think sheâll be okay?â you asked, your voice barely audible.
âShe raised four kids. Sheâs more qualified than we are,â Jeonghan muttered, closing his eyes, the weariness catching up with him.
You sighed in agreement, sinking deeper into your seat. For now, all you could do was hope for the best and enjoy the few minutes of quiet before diving back into the chaos of your day.
"You should boil the bottle before using it, to kill the bacteria. Otherwise, the baby could get a stomachache and won't stop crying," your neighbor advised, her tone gentle but firm, as though the two of you were first-time parents instead of accidental babysitters.
Jeonghan and you stood there, nodding along, taking in her wisdom with wide eyes. "And donât forget, after feeding, make sure he burps by patting his back gently. Itâll help him feel comfortable and sleep better."
With the baby in Jeonghan's arms, you both returned to the apartment, the weight of her advice hanging over you. You dropped everything you were carrying onto the floor, grateful when you noticed sheâd even given you a small container of side dishes. You quickly stored them in the fridge while Jeonghan sat down, still rocking the baby gently in his arms.
"You should sleep," Jeonghan said after a few minutes. "Iâll watch the baby for now."
Without a second thought, you hummed in agreement, too tired to argue. You leaned over and gave Jeonghan a quick, tired kiss on the cheek as thanks before dashing off to your bedroom, ready to collapse. Jeonghan rolled his eyes with a smirk, though the small gesture made him chuckle.
As the door to your bedroom clicked shut, Jeonghan looked down at the baby, who had finally stopped fussing. âWell, itâs just you and me now, little guy,â he muttered, gently swaying from side to side. Exhaustion pulled at him, too, but the babyâs small face, now peaceful, kept him focused.
He yawned. "I need sleep as much as you do, buddy," he said softly, but continued rocking the baby, hoping the rhythmic motion would send himâand maybe himselfâinto a peaceful sleep.
*
Days of raising a baby you didnât makeâa running joke between you and Jeonghan to keep your sanityâwere slowly becoming more manageable. The sleeping schedule was still a mess, but somehow, the two of you had adapted. You had even begun to master it. The real hero in your eyes, though, was Mrs. Moon, your neighbor, who had not only been babysitting but also offering wisdom, keeping both of you sane as you navigated this new, unexpected life.
One night, after a week of taking care of âBabyââwhat youâd both started calling the little oneâyou and Jeonghan collapsed onto the couch. Baby lay peacefully in the rocking bed Mrs. Moon had lent you, her granddaughter's old one.
As you both sat there, half-delirious from exhaustion, the conversation inevitably shifted to the cost of suddenly having a baby aroundâmentally, physically, and especially financially.
âNo wonder people in Korea arenât having kids anymore,â you mused aloud, running a hand through your hair. âItâs a lot.â
Jeonghan, sprawled on the couch beside you, hummed in agreement. âI mean, itâs not news. Everyone knows how hard it is.â
âIâm so tired,â he said, his voice dripping with fatigue. âLike, mentally drained. All I want is to down five bottles of soju and just... disappear for a bit.â
You nodded, feeling the same way. âRight? I should be at a club right now, dancing, living my best lifeâmaybe even finding someone to date,â you mumbled half-jokingly, staring at the ceiling.
Jeonghan turned his head to you, one eyebrow raised. âYouâre going to find the love of your life at a club?â
You shrugged, barely amused. âIt doesnât have to be love, you know... could just be, you knowâdistraction,â you said, hinting at something more casual.
Jeonghan gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. âCheap,â he teased, his eyes wide in mock judgment.
You swatted his arm, your voice dropping to a whisper, trying not to wake Baby. âI lost my virginity at 22! I wasnât that cheap,â you hissed, more amused than angry.
Jeonghan burst into soft laughter, knowing full well you were just messing around. Heâd known you for too long to take any of this seriously. âIâm just saying... you donât exactly scream âwild-child looking for a one-night stand.ââ
You rolled your eyes, chuckling under your breath. âYeah, well, I could surprise you.â
âUh-huh,â Jeonghan replied, still smiling. He glanced over at Baby, who remained peacefully asleep, and then back at you.
âWhen was the last time you had it? With Joshua?â Jeonghan asked, breaking into personal territory the two of you rarely ventured. He was referring to your ex, the American-Korean guy who had ended things when he had to leave the country.
You hummed thoughtfully, rubbing your face. âHonestly? I think Iâve forgotten how it even felt,â you admitted, casting a sideways glance at him. âWhat about you?â
Jeonghan leaned back, scoffing slightly. âWith my last ex, obviously. Iâm not some playboy, Y/N, no matter what you think,â he replied, sounding a bit annoyed by the label you often teased him with.
You smirked, resting your chin on your hand. âWas it hard? You know, to only do it with a few people?â
He nodded, glancing at you seriously. âYeah. I only ever do it when Iâm emotionally attached to someone.â
Your eyebrow quirked up. âLike when you did it with me?â you asked, playfully hinting at that one time between you two.
Jeonghanâs gaze shifted toward you, a small, knowing smile forming as he nodded slowly. âYup. Including you.â
For a brief moment, the air felt heavier between you, the shared history lingering in the silence. But then, as always, the familiarity between you and Jeonghan smoothed over any tension, settling the moment into a comfortable memory rather than an awkward one.
*
âYou want me to what?â Jeonghan asked, his tone laced with disbelief as he stood frozen by the door, still in his campus jacket.
He had just returned from a long day filled with senior-year responsibilities, juggling group projects and graduation prep. Lately, the two of you had barely exchanged more than a few words, with both your schedules completely packed. You were interning at an American-Korean company, and by the time you got home, youâd make a beeline straight to your room, too exhausted for much interaction.
âPlease, Jeonghan,â you pleaded, sitting on the couch with clasped hands. âI donât know who else to ask. I only trust you.â
Jeonghan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He always knew you could be impulsive, but this? This was next-level.
âItâs not something casual, Y/N,â he said, shaking his head as if trying to comprehend what he was hearing. âItâs... complicated. You seriously want me to take your virginity?â
You pouted, your eyes wide with a mixture of desperation and resolve. âItâll be a one-time thing,â you assured him. âI promise it wonât change anything between us. I wonât treat you differently.â
Jeonghan groaned, running a hand through his hair, clearly torn. âWeâve been friends for eight years,â he reminded you, his voice soft but serious. âWhat if it doesnât go well? What happens then? Where am I supposed to live? Are we just going to keep splitting rent and pretend nothing happened?â
You couldnât help but chuckle, amused that he was worried about the rent in such a moment. âIt wonât change anything. I swear.â
He stared at you for a long moment, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. He wanted to make sure you understood what you were asking for, that you were truly serious about this.
âIâm serious, Jeonghan,â you added softly, your voice more determined now.
He sighed again, his internal conflict clear. âYou know this could get messy, right?â
You nodded, eyes unwavering. âI trust you.â
Jeonghan sat down beside you, still visibly unsure but also knowing that in all the years you had been friends, you had always been honest with each other.
After a long, tense pause, he finally spoke. âAlright. If youâre absolutely sure about this...â
*
The two of you took half a day off work, though the morning had started as any other. While you were still in your tank top, getting ready for the day, a knock on the door interrupted your routine. Thinking it was Mrs. Moon, you casually opened the door, only to be met by a police officer.
"Mr. Yoon? Are you Ms. Yoon?" the officer asked.
Caught off guard, you quickly excused yourself to change, leaving Jeonghan to greet the officer. When you rejoined them in the living room, the officer handed both of you a document.
"It's about the report you filed last week regarding the abandoned baby," the officer explained. "We apologize for the delay, but we've since received information about a missing personâa woman in her twenties who disappeared along with her infant."
You and Jeonghan exchanged looks, tension building in the room.
"So, we'd like you to bring the baby to the station. We'll meet with the family to confirm if the baby is theirs."
Later, at the police station, the baby was confirmed to be the missing woman's son, just two months old. The officer showed you and Jeonghan footage of a woman carrying the same baby box, wandering near your apartment complex before leaving it behind. While you werenât given the full details about the mother, the footage left no doubt.
It was an unexpected turn of events, but also a relief.
âNo more baby to babysit,â Jeonghan remarked on your way to work, a mix of exhaustion and amusement in his tone.
You nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of the last few days finally lifting. âWe should get Mrs. Moon that apple mango sheâs been wanting,â you said, your voice light. Jeonghan made a mental note, closing his eyes as he leaned back in the car seat.
Finally, peace was comingâreal peace, and not just the brief moments of quiet between diaper changes and late-night feedings.
"I'm sorry to ask, but I just want to make sureâare you two married?" The officer's tone was polite but curious.
Both you and Jeonghan shook your heads simultaneously. "No, we're not. We're just roommates," Jeonghan replied, a hint of amusement in his voice as he glanced at you.
The officer nodded thoughtfully, taking in your response before offering a friendly smile. "Thank you for your cooperation. If you have any further questions or information, donât hesitate to reach out."
As the officer turned to leave, you and Jeonghan stood in front of the company building, the bustling city life continuing around you. The weight of the past week was beginning to fade, replaced by a sense of relief.
Jeonghan let out a small chuckle, breaking the momentary silence. "Can you imagine what it would have been like if we had been married? The rumors would have been wild!"
You laughed, shaking your head at the thought. "Thank goodness for our status as roommates, then. At least it keeps things simple."
With a shared smile, you both stepped into the building, ready to face the day aheadâless burdened by the unexpected chaos and more in tune with each other than ever.
*
You arrived home a little later than usual, the warmth of the evening lingering around you. After a lively team dinner filled with laughter and a few glasses of soju, you decided to take a cab home, the comforting thought of Jeonghan waiting, to take care of the drunk you, made the ride feel shorter.
As you stepped inside, you were greeted by an unexpected sight. Jeonghan was slouched on the couch, drinking alone and engrossed in a variety show. The table in front of him was a chaotic scene of five bottles of soju and a box of fried chicken.
"You really have five bottles of soju?" you muttered, you sobered up from your own six glasses as the reality of the situation sank in.
"Hey, want to join?" Jeonghan offered, a lazy grin spreading across his face when he finally noticed your presence.
"You weren't joking when you said you would drink five bottles of soju," you replied, taking a seat beside him and pouring a shot of the clear liquid into a glass that had been left untouched, took in in one shot.
"Chill, girl. Did anyone bother you there?" Jeonghan asked, his words slightly slurred, yet still managing to express genuine concern.
You shrugged, leaning back against the couch. "Not really. But some higher-ups still made me pour drinks for them."
Jeonghan furrowed his brow, his expression shifting from playful to serious. Though he was clearly drunk, he was fighting to stay focused. "Which man should oppa kick his ass today?" he asked, referring to himself with a playful tone.
You chuckled, knowing how much he enjoyed the title. "Jeong Kiha," you mentioned, naming the vice president, which caught him by surprise.
"He came to your team dinner? That's rare," Jeonghan said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I canât help you there; heâs my boss as well."
You leaned in, amused by the whole situation. "What would you even do if you could? Challenge him to a drinking contest?"
"Absolutely! Iâd take him down for you," he declared with exaggerated bravado, raising his glass in a mock toast. âBut letâs be honest, I might need more practice after five bottles.â
"But if he bothered you, I might just have to make it personal." He continued.
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Personal, huh? What do you have in mind?"
With a playful glint in his eye, Jeonghan leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. âI could always take you out. Just the two of us. A more... intimate setting.â
Your heart raced at the suggestion, the alcohol fueling your boldness. "Intimate, you say? What would that look like, Jeonghan?"
"Maybe a cozy little restaurant where we can share more than just food and drinks," he teased, inching even closer. "I could help you unwind after your stuffy dinners with the higher-ups. Just you and me, no distractions."
A flutter of excitement surged through you. âAnd what else would we do, hmm?â you played along, your voice low and inviting.
Jeonghan smirked, leaning back slightly, eyes dancing with mischief. "I can think of a few ways to help you relieve some stress. You know, like teaching you how to really enjoy your drinks."
You laughed, feeling a rush of adrenaline. âIs that your idea of a fun night? Getting me drunk so you can have your way with me?â
âMaybe,â he said, his tone turning serious for a moment. âBut only if you want it, too. I wouldnât want to pressure you into anything youâre not comfortable with.â
His sincerity was disarming, and the tension hung in the air, electric. âYou know, itâs tempting,â you admitted, meeting his gaze. âVery tempting.â
Jeonghan grinned, raising his glass again. âThen letâs toast to temptation and see where the night takes us.â
You clinked your glasses together, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment, both of you fully aware that this night could lead to something unexpectedâand perhaps a little dangerous.
*
Jeonghan knew he was screwed the moment you asked him to take your virginity. The eight-year crush he had nurtured for you transformed into something much more profound once he kissed you for the first time. It felt rightâlike the universe had aligned in that single, electric moment. Your lips tasted sweet, like vanilla; maybe it was the chapstick you always used, or perhaps it was simply how you tasted. Either way, it was everything he had fantasized about.
He touched you with a gentleness that belied the whirlwind of emotions inside him, laying you down on his bed, because you didn't want to mess up your own. Watching your face shift through various expressions as he explored you sent shivers down his spine. He couldnât believe you were under him, something that the adolescent version of himself would have dreamt about while fantasizing in the dark, his hand working over his shaft as he thought of you.
The day after he took your virginity, you kept your promise, treating him as a friend and nothing more. And that, honestly, was the most disappointing part for him. While you moved on as if nothing had changed, his feelings remained steadfast, unwavering in their intensity. Eight years had passed since that night, yet his heart still raced at the thought of you.
Now, sitting beside you, he was acutely aware of the space that had grown between you, filled with unspoken words and lingering touches. Jeonghan leaned in, cupping your cheeks in his hands, feeling the warmth of your skin against his palms. His heart pounded as he captured your lips with his once more. After all these years, you were still as sweet as he remembered, and the taste sent him spiraling back to that first kiss, igniting the flame that had never truly faded.
In that moment, all the years of friendship, all the laughter and shared memories, faded into the background. The only thing that mattered was the soft connection between your lips and the lingering sensation of what could be. He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for any sign of what you were feeling.
âDo you ever think about that night?â he whispered, vulnerability creeping into his voice.
You hesitated, your gaze flickering with uncertainty. âI try not to,â you admitted, your tone light but edged with honesty. âI didnât want things to change between us.â
âAnd yet, here we are,â he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. âI never stopped wanting you.â
The weight of his confession hung in the air, and you could feel the tension between you shifting. Jeonghanâs heart raced, hopeful yet anxious, waiting for your response. Would you finally see him for more than just a friend?
You met his gaze, a mix of emotions dancing in your eyes. âWhat do we do now?â you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
âLetâs figure it out together,â he replied, closing the distance again, this time with a sense of urgency and purpose.
Jeonghan pulled you onto his lap, his hands roaming over every contour of your body, exploring the soft curves he had admired for so long. You kissed him with a passion that felt life-altering, pouring every ounce of desire and longing into that moment. The heat radiating between you ignited something primal in himâthe idea that you wanted him just as fiercely as he wanted you was intoxicating.
He carefully unbuttoned your blouse, mindful that you would scold him if he broke even one button. âYouâre so beautiful,â he whispered, his fingers gliding over your bare skin, teasing your breast while his lips trailed kisses along your neck, igniting every nerve ending.
âJâJeonghanâŠâ A moan escaped your lips, and the sound sent shivers down his spine as he marked your neck with his lips, claiming you in ways that made his heart race. âI got you, baby. I got you,â he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.
Your top lay discarded, and in a frenzy of desire, Jeonghan couldnât even remember when he had removed it. He lifted your skirt, grabbing your ass as he kissed you deeply, pouring all his pent-up longing into that one kiss. He guided your hands to the hem of his t-shirt, encouraging you to strip him of his clothes. Your fingers traveled across his bare chest, and he let out a soft whimper at your touch, the sensation igniting a fire within him. This was the moment he had been waiting forâfinally feeling your skin against his, a craving he had long held.
âCan you feel that?â he asked, thrusting his hips upward to let you feel how hard you made him. He noticed your cheeks tinting with a lovely blush at the revelation. âThatâs how you make me, baby.â
He laid you back onto the couch, lifting your skirt higher until your thighs and underwear were fully exposed to him. One of his hands found its way to your breast, overwhelming you with sensations, while the other traveled lower, exploring your core beneath the thin, damp fabric that clung to you.
âYouâre so wet, baby. And itâs all for me,â Jeonghan whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he nibbled on it playfully, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. His tongue painted a path along your neck, igniting every nerve ending with desire.
âI need you, Jeonghan,â you whimpered under his skilled touch, desperation lacing your voice. But he hushed you with a passionate kiss, drowning your pleas in the heat of the moment.
âBe patient, baby⊠Just a little longer,â he replied, his voice a tantalizing promise as he continued to explore every inch of you, savoring the sweetness of your body and the thrill of this intimate connection.
He watched you gasp as he slid one of his fingers inside you, pulling it out slowly while your walls clenched around him. A smirk crept onto his face when you pleaded for more, and he was more than happy to oblige, moving his finger skillfully.
âIs it like the first time? When I fingered you, is it like what I did to you eight years ago?â Jeonghan teased, his voice low and sultry. You whimpered under him, craving everything he had to give.
âIt feels amazing. Always.â You struggled to mutter the words, the pleasure overwhelming you as Jeonghan added another finger.
âYouâre so tight, baby. Iâm not sure you can take me well,â he breathed out, his fingers moving faster, each thrust eliciting a wince as you felt a pooling sensation deep in your tummy.
âIâI can, please⊠JâJeonghanâŠâ Your arms pulled him closer, your lips pouting for a kiss, and he obliged immediately, his lips capturing yours while his fingers continued their delicious torment.
âI want to cum,â you mumbled between kisses, and Jeonghan smirked against your lips. âGive it to me, baby.â
He could feel you tightening around his fingers, your body responding to him in a way that made his heart race. He pistoned his fingers with a brutal pace, feeling the pulsating tension building in your core. A loud moan escaped your lips, followed by your first orgasm with him after eight long years, and it was all for his fingers. The thought sent a surge of excitement through him; he couldnât wait to make you cum with everything he had.
Withdrawing his fingers, he licked them clean, his gaze locked onto your blissed-out expression, riding high from the waves of pleasure he had just given you.
Without a word, he scooped you up from the couch and carried you to his bedroom. In one swift motion, he threw you onto the bed, his desire palpable as he pulled down his pants and joined you.
With an impatient urgency, he hovered over you, lips meeting in a heated kiss that spoke volumes of the longing built up over the years. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as your bodies melted into one another, igniting the passion that had simmered beneath the surface for so long.
"You want me raw orâŠ?" Jeonghan asked, his voice low and filled with anticipation. His question sent a jolt through you, darkening your gaze as you whispered, "Raw." It was a bold confession, one that set the stage for everything that followed. "Just so you know, Iâm on the pill."
He swore he could have died right in your arms at your admission, the thrill of it igniting something primal within him. As your hand traveled down to his abs, you let your fingers tease his skin for a moment before they finally grasped his hardened cock.
âOh my godââ Jeonghan choked at your touch, his breath hitching. The smirk on your lips told him you were acutely aware of the effect you had on him, and it only intensified his desire.
âPut it in, please,â you begged, your voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. Jeonghan nodded, leaning in for one last, lingering kiss before he positioned himself, rubbing the tip against your slick entrance, feeling the heat radiating from you.
âDonât tease,â you urged, your hand playfully pinching his arm, and he chuckled softly, the sound filled with desire.
With a teasing smile, Jeonghan finally pushed his member into your tight heat. He gasped at the overwhelming sensation, feeling you envelop him completely. Every inch of you was warm and inviting, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him, and he knew this was only the beginning.
He stilled inside of you, wanting you to adjust him for moment. You motioned him to move, a whimpered escaped his mouth as he pushed deeper to you slowly. Your walls clenching him tightly, pulling him deeper and making his head spinning. He pulled slowly before his hips thrusting, hitting you right, gaining a sensual moan from you.
"Keep it down, baby. Donât want Mrs. Moon to hear us," Jeonghan murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he pushed deeper inside you.
"Faster, JeonghanâŠ" you breathed out the words, your voice a desperate plea laced with urgency. The thrill of being so close, yet so vulnerable, sent your pulse racing.
He obeyed, quickening his pace as he filled you completely, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure through your body. You clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to ground yourself amidst the intoxicating sensations.
The bed creaked beneath you. Jeonghanâs lips found yours again, silencing any sounds that threatened to escape, kissing you fiercely as if to drown out everything but the two of you.
"God, you feel so good," he groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched your expression morph from pleasure to pure ecstasy. "Iâve wanted this for so long."
You responded with a whimper, the sound echoing in the small space, and you felt the heat pooling in your core grow stronger with each thrust. "I want you to finish inside me, Jeonghan. Please," you begged, your words spilling out in a breathless rush.
His breath hitched at your request, and he felt himself teetering on the edge of control. "Youâre going to make me lose it," he warned, voice thick with need. But the fire in your eyes only urged him on, driving him to give you everything he had.
"Then let go, baby. Iâm ready," you encouraged, your body arching against him, meeting his thrusts with fervor. The world outside faded away as you lost yourselves in each other, the only sound filling the room being the rush of your breaths and the soft, wet sounds of your bodies moving together.
With one final, deep thrust, Jeonghan buried himself inside you, his body tensing as he let go, the pleasure washing over him like a tidal wave. You followed right behind him, your body tightening around him as your climax hit, drawing out every last bit of ecstasy from both of you.
As you both came down from the high, he collapsed beside you, breathless and spent, while you curled into his side, feeling a mix of satisfaction and disbelief at how far you had come.
âThat was... Amazing?â you said, your voice breathless but filled with satisfaction. The choice of word earned a tired laugh from Jeonghan, who could sense your smile before you leaned against his chest, the warmth between you still lingering in the air.
Jeonghan, his heart still racing from the intensity of what had just happened, felt a wave of heat creep up his cheeks. He couldnât hide the flush staining his skin, and in an attempt to conceal it, he covered his face with his arm, laughing softly. You shifted, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes, clearly enjoying his sudden bashfulness.
âWhereâs the confident, cocky Jeonghan I know?â you teased, raising an eyebrow at his uncharacteristic shyness.
Without missing a beat, Jeonghan pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He rested his chin on the top of your head, refusing to let you see just how red he had become. It was rare for him to feel this flustered, but there was something about being with you that turned his usual bravado into something far more vulnerable.
âIâm sorry,â he mumbled, the words muffled against your hair.
You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him with curiosity. âSorry? For what?â
âI just... I canât help it,â Jeonghan confessed softly, his voice almost shy. âIâI really like you. Itâs been driving me crazy for years, and now that itâs all out in the open... Iâm still not sure how to act.â
His confession felt light, as if every action, every kiss, every touch was its own declaration of the feelings he had been holding onto for so long. Saying it aloud didnât feel like it added anything new, but he needed you to hear it anyway.
You felt his heart beating faster under your palm, and instinctively, you tightened your hold on him. âI... I really like you too. Honestly, I donât even know when it started, but after all these years, I finally have the courage to admit it. I donât just like you, Jeonghan. I love you.â
Your words hung in the air between you, sweet and sincere, filling the room with a warmth that rivaled any physical closeness. Jeonghanâs heart soared at your confession, a feeling of complete contentment washing over him. He had dreamed of this moment for years, but nothing could have prepared him for how real and incredible it felt to finally hear you say it.
You chuckled softly, resting your head back against his chest. âYou really shouldâve told me earlier, you know,â you teased, playfully poking at his side. âLike... earlier earlier.â
*
You watched the football game on the field, your eyes catching a lanky boy with long hair, dribbling the ball as if his life depended on it. His movements were fluid, almost effortless, and it was hard not to be impressed.
"Who's that?" you asked one of your friends, pointing toward the boy, curiosity getting the better of you.
"That? Yoon Jeonghan," they replied casually, as though everyone already knew his name.
Days later, you found yourself standing in front of Jeonghan's desk, clutching your math homework nervously. He was deep in conversation with his friends, his usual calm demeanor unshaken by the chatter around him. Mustering up your courage, you pulled the book from your bag and held it out to him.
"Teach me math! I heard you're the best," you declared boldly, your heart racing, half-expecting him to brush you off.
Summary: After submitting your resignation letter, you drunkenly called your boss of seven years. After that, his behavior toward you changed unexpectedly.
You heard the elevator ding softly in the hallwayâthe unmistakable signal that your superior had arrived, as he did every morning at precisely this time. You stood from your desk, smoothing your blazer and preparing to greet him as usual. Moments later, he appeared: Choi Seungcheol, followed closely by Jeonghan, your colleague and his main secretary, who read the dayâs schedule to him in a steady, practiced voice. Confidence radiated from both men as they walked, commanding the room's attention without trying.
When Seungcheol passed by your desk, you bowed politely, offering a respectful, âGood morning, Mr. Choi.â
He paused, surprising you by stopping in front of your desk rather than continuing down the corridor. âMorning,â he replied, his voice low but steady. After a brief pause, he glanced at you and asked, âWhereâs Mingyu? Isnât today his first day of training?â
You nodded, feeling a twinge of something bittersweet. Mingyu, a new recruit with undeniable talent, was here to train as your replacement. After seven years of routine mornings, assisting the superiors through countless meetings, projects, and unexpected crises, you were leaving. Resigning had been your choice, but the weight of this change hadnât truly hit you until now, standing here in the familiar morning light of the office.
âYes, Mr. Choi,â you replied with a slight smile, âHe should be arriving shortly. Iâll bring him over as soon as he does.â
Seungcheol gave you a curt nod, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer, a glimmer of something unreadable in his eyes before he continued down the corridor.
âMingyu⊠That guy should know to be on time,â Seungcheol muttered, a hint of irritation in his voice. âHis training is two months, right?â
You nodded as Jeonghan stepped out of Seungcheolâs office behind him, finally able to relax. He let out a sigh. âI canât believe youâre really leaving.â
You offered him a knowing smile. âMe either. But itâs been seven years.â
Seven years ago, you and Jeonghan had been recruited and trained together to assist Mr. Choi, Seungcheolâs father. When Mr. Choi passed away, the board quickly assigned Seungcheol to take his fatherâs place. Thankfully, he was gracious enough to retain both you and Jeonghan as part of his secretary team, easing the transition for everyone.
Jeonghan suddenly looked at you with a hint of panic in his eyes. âDid you book the restaurant I asked about? Mr. Choi has that lunch meeting with the client, remember?â
You gave him a thumbs-up. âAll set. I even double-checked that they have vegan options on the menu.â
Jeonghan clutched his chest dramatically. âI have no idea how Iâll manage after you leave me with Mingyu!â
Just then, a tall, slightly disheveled guy with a backpack hurriedly appeared, out of breath and looking a little flustered. âSorry Iâm late!â Mingyu panted, giving you both a quick nod. âThere was an accidentâthe bus I took lost a wheel!â
You and Jeonghan exchanged unimpressed glances, trying not to laugh at Mingyuâs unusual excuse. He was here to take over your position, but it was clear he had some big shoes to fillâand that he might need a few more lessons in time management.
After the lunch meeting, Jeonghan placed a takeout box on your desk, right as you were deeply focused on the manual you were putting together for Mingyu. You glanced up, intrigued by the unexpected treat.
âMr. Choi finally declared his favorite secretary,â Jeonghan announced, leaning casually against your desk with a sly grin.
You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. âReally?â you asked, your tone dripping with doubt. In all your years working for Seungcheol, he had never done anything like this.
Jeonghan nodded, his eyes narrowing playfully. âIs there something going on between the two of you that I donât know about?â His tone was teasing, hinting at the kind of office romance you'd only read about in novels.
Rolling your eyes, you smirked. âYou wish. Besides, you know heâs dating that model,â you replied, thinking of the stunning woman Seungcheol had brought to a recent social event.
Jeonghan shrugged nonchalantly. âMaybe heâs softened up since you handed in your resignation. Maybe heâs finally realized what an incredible secretary heâs losing.â
You laughed, nudging his shoulder. âShut up!â
Before Jeonghan could reply, your phone rang, interrupting the moment. On the third ring, you picked it up, recognizing Seungcheolâs deep voice on the other end, summoning you to his office. Through the glass wall of his office, you noticed him lookingâno, glaringâyour way. You werenât entirely sure what he was thinking, but the intensity of his gaze made you stand up quickly, leaving no time for second-guessing.
âHe called. Gotta go,â you said to Jeonghan, setting down the phone and straightening your blazer.
He gave you an exaggerated nod and moved back to his own desk across from yours. âAlright, Ms. Secretary,â he called after you with a wink, making it clear that the teasing was far from over.
You knocked on the office door before opening it and stepping inside. Seungcheol was there, his suit jacket draped over his chair, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight of him in this more casual state threw you off, even if only for a momentâyou were never fond of this job, but professionalism kept you grounded.
You bowed politely, standing a respectful two meters from his desk, hands clasped in front of you. As he looked up from his paperwork, his gaze lingered on you, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. You felt oddly exposed under his scrutiny.
âAre you always this rigid, Ms. Ji?â he asked, a slight scoff in his voice.
You blinked, caught off guard. Had you been? âIâve always been this way, sir,â you replied, keeping your tone professional. You prided yourself on maintaining boundaries; thatâs why you were leavingâto stay true to your professionalism.
He nodded thoughtfully. âWhat do you think of Mingyu?â
Resting his chin on his clasped hands, he watched you intently as you spoke. âFrom what Iâve seen, heâs quick, sharp, and adaptable, which is promising. Heâs also retained everything Iâve shown him so far, so I donât think you need to worry.â
Seungcheol nodded, but you caught a hint of dissatisfaction in his expression. It seemed there was something he didnât quite like about Mingyu, though he didnât say so outright.
âHe can be a little clumsy,â you admitted, recalling with a slight grimace how Mingyu had spilled Seungcheolâs coffee that morning. âBut heâs working on it.â
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. âYes, please guide him well. Are you sure two months will be enough?â
After this morning, you weren't so sure. But prolonging your stay here wasnât an option you wanted to consider. âIâll ensure he makes significant progress within two weeks, sir. If more time is needed, Iâll let you know.â
He nodded, seemingly satisfied, and you took this as your cue to leave. But you couldnât help noting how strange this was. Oddity number two: he rarely called you into his office; normally, communication was handled over phone or email. That, combined with the unexpected lunch takeout, left you wondering if this was all coincidenceâor if something had shifted in Seungcheol's usual demeanor.
âYou can go, Y/n,â Jeonghan called out as he wrapped up his final check of the materials for tomorrowâs meeting, catching you by surprise.
âWho says?â You turned, eyes wide.
âThe boss himself,â he replied with a smirk. âI know heâs been acting a little strange. Face it, Y/nâheâs trying to keep you here. I think heâs finally realized just how essential you are to this place,â Jeonghan added playfully.
You chuckled, shaking your head as you grabbed your things. âIâm flattered, but Iâm taking this as my cue to go. Itâs been so long since I finished work at this hour,â you said, smiling as you headed for the elevator.
Once outside, you flagged down a cab, sinking into the back seat as it pulled away. You couldnât help but reflect on the day. Oddity number three: Seungcheol letting you go home early.
Staring out the window at the city lights, you resolved to stay focused. Youâd given this company seven yearsâenough was enough. You were moving forward, and no amount of unexpected gestures could change your decision.
*
You sat uncomfortably in Seungcheol's car as he drove the two of you to a lunch meeting with Hong Group. Normally, you'd be the one arranging transportation, but today you hadnât. In fact, you couldn'tâbecause you didnât know how to drive. You still remembered the brief flash of surprise in his eyes before he smoothly took the driverâs seat, saving you the trouble of calling a driver at the last minute.
âIâm sorry, sir, I shouldâve arranged for a driver earlier,â you mumbled, embarrassed. For the first time in your career, you felt humiliated by something so trivial. Maybe you really should take driving lessons after this.
Seungcheol only chuckled behind the wheel. Ahead, a sea of cars sat at a standstill in traffic, making you curse yourself a little more for this uncomfortable situation.
âItâs alright,â he reassured, glancing over. âItâs been a while since Iâve driven myself, actually. Jeonghan usually handles itâand heâs a great driver.â
As he turned his attention back to the road, you recalled Jeonghanâs parting words before you left the office. âSee? I told youâheâs trying to win your heart, Y/n,â Jeonghan had teased, though youâd brushed it off.
The silence stretched, until Seungcheol finally broke it. âIs it rude to ask why you donât drive?â He sounded curious, as if this was unusual for someone in your position.
âOh, itâs just... a bit of a silly reason,â you admitted. âIâm actually scared of driving.â You glanced down, hesitating. Even just sitting in the front seat made your heart race a little; the thought of being behind the wheel terrified you.
He seemed to take that in, and then, with surprising gentleness, asked, âBut are you comfortable now? You seem a bit tense.â
You were caught off guard but exhaled, realizing heâd noticed your fidgeting hands and the way you avoided looking at the road ahead. âIâm fine, sir. Iâm sorry if I seem distracted,â you said quickly, grateful when the restaurant finally came into view.
Inside, Seungcheol introduced you to Mr. Hong and his son, Joshua. As the three men began discussing business, you took notes on key points. Seungcheol was interested in investing in Joshuaâs new automotive line, and you tried to focus, but following the conversation was difficult. Every so often, Mr. Hong or Joshua would turn to you for your opinion, and you felt your confidence waver. This wasnât your area of expertise; Jeonghan was the one who shone in meetings like these. You started to regret agreeing to join the lunch.
âYou didnât seem to enjoy lunch earlier,â Seungcheol commented as the two of you headed back to the office, now seated in the back while the driver took over. You were relieved youâd managed to arrange a driver before the meal ended, sparing you from any more time on the front seat.
âOh, no, sir. I enjoyed it very much,â you replied, forcing a polite smile. But even as you spoke, you had the strange feeling that heâd seen through you.
Seungcheol sighed softly, then spoke to the driver, instructing him to close the soundproof partition between the front and back seats. Your curiosity stirredâwhy would he need privacy? But the next thing he did startled you even more. He turned, looking at you with an expression youâd never seen on his face before: a mix of hesitation and vulnerability.
âLet me be honest,â he began, his voice low and sincere. âWhen you first submitted your resignation letter, I wasnât bothered. I thought you simply wanted to develop your career in ways that maybe our company couldnât provide.â
Your breath caught, heart thudding as you tried to anticipate where he was going with this.
âBut when you called that nightâŠâ he continued, pausing as if weighing his next words. âIâI felt like a very bad person. I didnât realize how my actions might have affected you, and for that, I want to apologize, Ms. Ji.â
His words struck you like a bolt, leaving you reeling. What was he talking about? What call?
âIâve been thinking about it ever since,â he went on, his gaze never leaving yours. âAnd your idea⊠it seemed very tempting. So if the offer is still valid, Iâd like to take you up on it.â
What on earth was he talking about?
You felt panic creeping in as you tried to process his words. You called him? You couldnât remember ever calling Seungcheol outside of office hours, let alone making him an offer. And what kind of offer could you possibly make to someone who, practically speaking, owned your career for the next two months?
Heart pounding, you took a steadying breath, unsure of what to say. Yet the words slipped from your lips before you could stop them. âOf course, sirâŠâ you heard yourself reply.
A small, almost relieved smile crept onto Seungcheolâs face as he turned his gaze to the window. He seemed content, as if a weight had lifted from him.
Was it about your resignation? Had you asked to delay your departure without remembering it? Jeonghan had hinted that Seungcheol might not want you to leave. Or was it something else entirely? Questions buzzed through your mind as the car pulled up to the company building.
âTalk to you later, Ms. Ji,â Seungcheol said, his face lighting up with the dopiest smile youâd ever seen on him as he exited the car.
Jeonghan, waiting by the entrance, raised an eyebrow, clearly as perplexed as you felt. Mingyu, the new hire, looked at you like heâd seen a ghost, noting the stunned expression on your face and your unusually pale complexion.
*
You did call him.
You really did, the night after you submitted your resignation letterâthe night when you grabbed can after can of beer, drowning yourself in them like a madwoman, trying to forget everything.
You let out a heavy sigh, collapsing onto the bed. What happened that night when you called him? Why was he suddenly treating you so differently? And what exactly was the offer he mentioned this afternoon?
You felt the weight of the questions pressing down on you, swirling in your mind, but no answers came. Just more confusion.
Your phone rang, startling you. The caller ID displayed Choi Seungcheol, your very boss himself, calling you outside of working hours.
"Good evening, Mr. Choi. Is something wrong?" you answered, your voice betraying a hint of confusion.
You could hear him chuckling on the other end. "I can't call you?"
The casual tone caught you off guard. "YesâI mean, no! I just thought⊠you never call at this hour, so I assumed you needed help with something."
"Actually, I do. I was looking over the presentation you sent me this morning, and I need you to get it ready by tomorrow morning."
Wait, he sent you home early, yet now he expected you to work overtime?
You couldnât help but wonder: Is this the reason I wanted to leave this company?
"Please let me know which section you want me to edit," you said, trying to remain professional.
"No, actually⊠Iâm in the office right now. Come in, and Iâll show you exactly what I need."
Great, you thought to yourself.
"Alright⊠I'll be there," you replied, hanging up.
Thirty minutes later, you arrived at the office. The lights in Seungcheolâs office were on, and you could feel a knot forming in your stomach. You knocked on the door, announcing your presence.
"I'm sorry to drag you back here," Seungcheol said as you entered. "I need this material first thing in the morning."
You walked over to his desk, studying the part of the presentation he wanted changed. As you did, he stood and stepped aside, letting you sit in his chair to examine the presentation on his computerâhe hadnât printed anything out.
"Jeonghan had to leave. Todayâs his anniversary with his girlfriend," Seungcheol added, his tone almost apologetic.
You nodded in acknowledgment. "You know, I didnât want to be the jerk boss who makes him stay late on his anniversary," Seungcheol said.
You tilted your head slightly, waiting for him to continue.
"I called you because, well⊠Iâm already the jerk boss to you," he added, his voice lighter than before.
"Sorry?" Your hand froze over the mouse as you processed his words.
Seungcheol let out a soft, almost playful laugh. "You called me a jerk boss that night, Ms. Ji."
Your heart skipped a beat. His casual tone, combined with the unexpected mention of that night, made you feel a sudden heat rise to your cheeks.
You had a blind date that nightâthe first one in seven years, after working yourself to the bone for Seungcheol. But just as you were getting ready, Seungcheol sent you a voice note an hour before you were supposed to leave. He needed you to reschedule his entire agenda for next week because he was taking a vacation.
A vacation. Was it with the supermodel girlfriend heâd brought to the last social event?
With a heavy sigh, you dove into his agenda, making calls, negotiating with a dozen third parties. It took far longer than you expected. And by the time you finally finished, you received a text from your date.
"If you're too busy with your work, letâs cancel our date."
The words hit you harder than you expected. You remembered crying all week because of Seungcheol, how he had treated you so poorly, despite everything you had done for the company. That was it. You were done. You made up your mindâyou were going to resign. You wrote up your resignation letter and handed it to him first thing in the morning.
The night after, you drowned yourself in cans of beer. And somewhere between the haze of alcohol and frustration, you remembered calling him.
âJerk!â
You heard nothing on the other end.
âJerk! Are you there?â you called again, louder this time, the anger boiling in your voice. Finally, he responded, his voice tight with confusion. âMs. Ji, are you drunk?â
âDonât ask me if Iâm drunk! The reason Iâm drunk right now is you!â you snapped.
âMs. Ji? Where are you?â His voice softened, but you could hear the undercurrent of concern.
You chuckled bitterly. âDonât act like you care. All youâve done these years is take advantage of your quiet secretary. Youâve never treated me fairly, but Iâve been doing everything for you, bending over backward for the company. You're a jerk!"
And then the words youâd held in for so long spilled out in a rush. âAnd what? Youâre going off on a vacation with your model girlfriend while Iâm stuck here, working my ass off on your schedule? Youâre a total jerk, Choi Seungcheol! You heard that?â
*
You gasped as the memory of that conversation came rushing back, like a freight train you couldnât escape. Your hands shot up to cover your mouth, and your eyes widened. You did call him a jerk.
"I missed my blind date last week because of you, Choi Seungcheol! Do you know how lonely I've been, working for you? I bet you donât, because you're off gallivanting with your supermodel girlfriend while Iâm stuck with your endless schedule!"
"Ms. Ji, I donât have aâ" Seungcheol started, but you cut him off, your words coming faster than your brain could keep up.
"How are you going to take responsibility for that, huh, Mr. Choi? Do you even want to be my date? No? Well, then thereâs no reason for me to stick around. Iâm out of here! Iâm leaving, you jerk! You big, dumb, heartless jerk boss!"
You leaned back in his chair like you were starring in your own drama series, dramatic pause and all. Of course, you tried to keep your distance, but Seungcheol was standing right next to you, practically breathing down your neck. The closest you could get to escaping was a meter awayâone meterâas if that would be enough to save you from this mortifying moment. You could practically hear the earth laughing at you, but not helping you disappear.
"You remember now?" Seungcheolâs voice was amused, like heâd just stumbled upon a hidden gem. "I see, you forgot about it. No wonder youâve been acting all... normal since then."
You shouldâve been taking a dramatic exit, but instead, your brain was screaming for you to run to the nearest plane out of the country. You were so done.
"Iâm sorry, Mr. Choi. It was... I mean, I... Itâs just..." You froze, completely out of words. The awkward silence between you was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. You shoved your hands over your face, wishing you could just melt into the desk.
You quickly tried to apologize, your voice trembling slightly. "IâI'm really sorry, Mr. Choi. I didnât mean to... to... say all that. It was just the alcohol talking, you know? I wasnât thinking clearly."
Seungcheol paused for a moment, his expression shifting from teasing to something more thoughtful. He didnât look angry. In fact, he seemed... grateful? âYou know, I actually appreciate your honesty. I didnât realize how badly Iâve been treating you.â His eyes softened as he continued, âI guess it took you saying all that for me to really get it.â
You blinked, not sure how to respond. Was this really happening? Did Seungcheol just thank you for calling him a jerk? You were still in shock, but it felt... different now. Not bad, just unexpected.
Seungcheol leaned forward, his voice suddenly turning serious. âYou called me a jerk, but... about that offer to be your dateâ" He paused, glancing at you with a small, almost mischievous smile. "I meant it."
You immediately shook your head, trying to dismiss the idea. "Oh, no, no, no," you quickly interjected, waving your hands dismissively. "Please, forget that, Mr. Choi. Besides, you have a girlfriend. Iâm not about to get mixed up in that drama."
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, unfazed. He didnât back down. âIâm serious, Ms. Ji. I want to take you out. No work, no obligations, just you and me. Youâre not going to get rid of me that easily.â
You looked at him incredulously, half-laughing to yourself. "Are you... are you really serious right now?"
Seungcheol nodded, his voice low and sincere. âDead serious. I know I messed up, but Iâd like a chance to make it right. To be something more than just your boss. So, what do you say?â
You immediately felt a strange flutter of something in your chest. The idea of dating Seungcheol seemed ridiculousâtoo complicated, too messy. You had spent so much time thinking about leaving, about cutting ties with this company. You had worked your ass off for him, and now he was here, offering something completely different. Something unexpected.
You quickly shook your head again, trying to keep your composure. "IâI'm not sure what you're trying to do here, but I don't think dating you is the solution to this... whatever this is."
Seungcheolâs expression softened. âIâm not trying to fix anything, Ms. Ji. Iâm just trying to make sure you donât leave with regrets... especially when it comes to me.â His gaze held yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. âSo, just think about it, alright? No pressure.â
The words hung in the air, and despite your best efforts to shake the idea off, a small voice inside you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like...
Seungcheol let out a small, knowing smile as you kept shaking your head, clearly trying to dismiss the idea. "You know," he began, his tone suddenly light, "I don't actually have a girlfriend."
You froze, your hand halfway through waving him off. "What?"
"I donât have a supermodel girlfriend," he repeated, leaning back slightly, his arms crossing casually over his chest. "I mean, I mightâve brought someone to a social event, but that doesnât mean sheâs my girlfriend. You assumed a lot, didnât you?"
*
"What's going on between you and him?" Jeonghan asked, raising an eyebrow as he stepped out of Seungcheol's office this morning.
You glanced at him, raising your own brows. "What do you mean?"
Jeonghan rolled his eyes with a knowing smirk. "I saw you two stepping out of his car with a driver."
You shrugged nonchalantly. "We met on our way."
Jeonghan hummed, unconvinced. "He always drives himself to work, but today he brings a driver? Suspicious," he said, walking back to his desk with a grin.
You tried to shake off Jeonghanâs teasing and focused on your work. You walked over to Mingyuâs desk, where he was already sorting through some papers. "These two havenât fixed yet, so you need to make a call and finalize the date and time with the other party," you instructed. Mingyu immediately nodded, giving you a thumbs up.
As you turned back to your desk, your phone rang, and you quickly rushed to pick it up. Your eyes flickered to Seungcheolâs office, where he was standing by the door. You answered the call just as he made eye contact with you.
"Ms. Ji?" Seungcheolâs voice was calm but warm.
"Yes, Mr. Choi?" you replied.
"Do you have any plans for lunch?" he asked, his tone casual but with a hint of curiosity.
You paused for a moment, taken aback by the unexpected question. "Uh, no, not yet," you answered, trying to keep your voice steady. "Why?"
"Great. Come to my office, then. Iâd like to discuss something with you," he said, before hanging up.
You knocked softly on Seungcheol's office door before stepping inside. He was sitting at his desk, looking as composed as ever, but there was a warmth in his expression when he saw you.
"Ms. Ji," he greeted, his voice smooth. "Come in. Have a seat."
You hesitated for a moment, then took a seat across from him. The silence lingered briefly before he spoke again, his tone more casual than usual.
"I was thinking, since itâs almost lunch hour, why donât we go out and grab something to eat?" he suggested, leaning back in his chair slightly. "Iâll let you pick the place. Anywhere you want."
You blinked, caught off guard by the offer. This was... unexpected. Was he being genuine? Or was this just another one of his attempts to be "nice" when it suited him? You tried not to overthink it, but you couldnât help the feeling of unease creeping in.
"You... want me to pick the place?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"
He chuckled, the sound surprisingly warm. "Of course. Iâm sure you know better than I do whatâs good around here."
"Alright, Iâll choose," you said, feeling a little bold. "But donât say I didnât warn you if it turns out to be something too casual for your taste."
Seungcheol raised his hands in mock surrender. "Iâll trust your judgment," he said with a grin. "Lead the way."
You nodded and stood up, your mind already racing through the possibilities of where to go.
"Thanks for the meal, Mr. Choi!" Mingyu cheered as he eagerly began inhaling his food, Jeonghan following suit with a satisfied hum. Seungcheol, however, sat at the head of the table with a polite but strained smile, poking at his food with none of Mingyu's enthusiasm.
You leaned closer, lowering your voice. "Is it to your liking, Mr. Choi?"
He sighed, briefly meeting your gaze before nodding curtly. "Itâs fine," he replied, though his tone suggested otherwise.
It dawned on you too late that you might have misunderstood him earlier. When he said he wanted to have lunch, you assumed it was a casual team lunch with all the secretariesâMingyu and Jeonghan included. So, youâd taken the liberty of booking a four-seat table at a decent restaurant and informing everyone.
You hadnât noticed until now that Seungcheolâs face had been slightly sour since stepping out of his office.
"Is this one of those farewell lunches for Ms. Ji?" Mingyu asked innocently in the middle of the meal, completely oblivious to the tension brewing.
Everyone froze. Jeonghan shot Mingyu a sharp look, and you cringed, knowing full well your resignation was still a sensitive topic for Seungcheol. It had only been three weeks since your notice, and the new secretary-in-training was nowhere near your level of efficiency. No boss wanted to lose a competent staff member, especially not one they relied on as much as Seungcheol relied on you.
Seungcheolâs fork paused mid-air before he cleared his throat and shook his head. "If this were a farewell lunch, it would need to be much grander than this, donât you think, Mr. Yoon?"
Jeonghan immediately nodded, catching on to the unspoken signal. "Absolutely, Mr. Choi. Iâll start planning one later. Ms. Ji has been with you for seven yearsâitâs only fitting to make it a big celebration."
Your eyes widened in surprise as you shook your head. "No, no. Really, thereâs no need for that. Itâs not exactly something to celebrate," you insisted, feeling a mix of awkwardness and guilt.
Seungcheol set down his fork and leaned back slightly, his gaze firmly on you. His lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile that sent a shiver down your spine. "Oh, donât be like that, Ms. Ji. Iâd like to treat you to something youâll never forget."
You froze, feeling your face heat up at the deliberate weight of his words. Before you could process what heâd just said, you choked on your food, your eyes watering as you coughed violently. Jeonghan jumped into action, handing you a glass of water while Mingyu leaned forward in concern.
"Are you okay?" Mingyu asked, looking genuinely worried.
You nodded hastily, gulping down the water while avoiding Seungcheolâs gaze. Meanwhile, the man in question calmly resumed eating his meal, a subtle smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, as if he hadnât just dropped that bombshell in front of his other staff.
Jeonghan and Mingyu exchanged curious glances, clearly aware that something unusual was going on. You, however, were too busy trying to regain your composure to notice. This lunch was not turning out the way youâd imagined.
"Ms. Ji... I'll drive you home," Seungcheol announced as he stepped out of his office, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
You glanced up, startled, and then looked around the empty office. Jeonghan and Mingyu had already left, leaving you alone to crosscheck everything before calling it a day. "I donât think thatâs a good idea, Mr. Choi. Iâll just take the bus," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
Seungcheol frowned, clearly displeased. "Why? The bus is going to be packed at this hour." He checked his watch, then shifted his gaze back to you. His expression softened, but his stance remained firm as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.
"And besides," he continued, his lips curving into an easy smile, "I want that dinner date. Just the two of us."
Your breath hitched before you could stop it. "Mr. Choi... I..." You trailed off, your brain scrambling to process his words. A dinner date? With him? The thought sent your heart racing in ways you didnât want to admit.
He shrugged, utterly unbothered by your flustered state. "I told you, Ms. Ji, Iâd like to be your date. I want to get to know you better," he said, his tone so casual it was almost maddening.
Then, as if he had just decided on the matter, he clapped his hands together and straightened up. "Alright then, Iâll book a restaurant for dinner. We can watch the sunset beforehand." Without waiting for your response, he turned on his heel and disappeared into his office, leaving you standing there, utterly baffled.
Dinner? Sunset? With your soon-to-be ex-boss? Your mind raced. This was either going to be the most surreal experience of your lifeâor a disaster waiting to happen.
*
No, no, no. This couldnât be happening.
All the material for this morningâs meeting had disappeared from your computer, and to make matters worse, it seemed like your system had been attacked by a virus. Your computer was practically frozen and would need time to be repaired. Glancing at your watch, you realized there was only an hour left before the meeting started. Panic clawed at your chest as you made a beeline for Seungcheolâs office.
âIâm so sorry for disturbing you,â you blurted out, cutting into Seungcheol and Jeonghanâs morning conversation as you barged into the room, not bothering with pleasantries.
âWhatâs wrong, Ms. Ji?â Seungcheol asked, his brows furrowed in concern.
âMy computerâs been attacked by a virus, and I canât access the materials for the morning meeting. Is it okay if I use your computer, Mr. Choi?â
Without hesitation, Seungcheol stood from his chair, gesturing for you to take his place. âGo ahead.â
You quickly logged into his system and started searching, your fingers flying over the keyboard. But as you combed through his files, a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. âYou canât find it either?â Seungcheolâs voice broke the tense silence, sounding as baffled as you felt. âIâm sure I finalized the file and saved it. It should be here.â
âItâs gone,â you said grimly, turning to look at him. âEven the recycle bin is empty.â
âWhat about Mingyu? Does he have a backup?â Jeonghan asked as you all hurried out of Seungcheolâs office, heading to the workstation to regroup.
You shook your head in frustration. âI havenât handed the final version over yet. Mingyu only manages the schedules and documents that need signing."
Jeonghan patted your shoulder sympathetically. âItâs okay, donât panic. Weâll figure it out. We can finish this in 30 minutes if we work together.â
Taking a deep breath, you nodded and sat at Jeonghanâs desk, taking over his computer. Opening the last version of the file, you began revising it at a frantic pace. âI donât know whatâs wrong with me lately,â you muttered, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed. âMaybe Iâve been too distracted.â
Jeonghan shook his head, offering a small smile. âYouâve been juggling so much; itâs bound to happen. Just focusâweâve got this.â
The clock ticked closer to the meeting time, and the pressure mounted. Mingyu darted into the room, his face lined with worry. âThe printer broke down,â he said apologetically. âSheâs trying to fix it, but itâll take at least five more minutes.â
Jeonghan let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. âGreat. Just what we needed.â
In the meeting room, heads of departments and their assistants were already seated, shuffling in their chairs as they sipped coffee and waited. Mingyu quickly returned, distributing refreshments in an effort to keep them placated.
âIs everything settled?â Seungcheol asked as Jeonghan re-entered his office, his voice calm but tinged with impatience.
âIâm afraid weâll need to delay the meeting. Itâs taking longer than expected to fix everything,â Jeonghan admitted.
Seungcheol nodded thoughtfully, glancing at his watch. âAnnounce to everyone that the meeting will start in fifteen minutes. Iâll handle the delay personally.â
Jeonghan gave a quick nod, rushing out to relay the message, while you continued frantically typing at Jeonghanâs desk. Though the tension was palpable, you reminded yourself to stay calm. There wasnât any room for error now.
âFocus, Ms. Ji,â you whispered to yourself, steeling your nerves as you worked against the clock.
âThe meeting is delayed for 15 minutes, and you printed out the wrong document?â Mr. Park, the head of the marketing department, raised his voice, his tone cutting through the tense air as you handed out the material.
You froze, glancing down at the section he was pointing at. Your heart dropped when you realized he was right. The document you printed wasnât their presentationâit was entirely unrelated. You were sure it was the correct file when you sent it to print, but now, staring at it, there was no denying the mistake.
âIâm so sorry. Iâll fix it immeââ
Before you could finish, Mr. Park threw the paper onto the table with a loud thud. âThis is unacceptable! How do we expect to run a successful meeting with this level of incompetence? I knew something like this would happen when they decided to overburden the directorâs secretary team instead of hiring specialized staff for each department.â
You flinched at his words, bowing your head in shame. Whispers broke out among the other heads of departments. Some seemed to agree with Mr. Park, nodding subtly, while others exchanged concerned looks.
The door opened, and Seungcheol stepped in, his commanding presence making everyone rise to their feet. His sharp eyes scanned the room, immediately locking onto you, standing there with your head lowered, tension radiating off your frame. Papers were scattered across the table, a clear sign of discord.
Seungcheolâs gaze flicked to Mingyu, who leaned in to whisper a quick explanation. As Seungcheol listened, his jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. Straightening his posture, he addressed the room with a calm but authoritative tone.
âThank you so much, Ms. Ji, for your hard work,â he began, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. âSomeone from the marketing department, please accompany Ms. Ji to ensure the correct material is printed this time.â
His eyes shifted to Mr. Park, who immediately lowered his gaze, uncomfortable under Seungcheolâs direct attention. âIt takes patience to get things right,â Seungcheol added, his tone firm but controlled, âand patience is something we all need to practice.â
You felt a rush of gratitude and embarrassment as Seungcheol diffused the situation, taking the spotlight off you. Nodding quickly, you turned to one of the marketing assistants, signaling them to follow you out of the room.
As you left, Seungcheolâs calm but commanding words lingered in the room, leaving no space for further criticism. Instead, the atmosphere shifted as everyone quietly reorganized themselves for the meeting ahead.
*
"You're not taking lunch," Seungcheol observed as he stepped out of his office, heading to grab a meal. He glanced around, noticing that both Mingyu and Jeonghan were nowhere to be seenâthey must have left already, leaving you alone.
You shook your head, adjusting your posture in your seat. "Iâm fine, Mr. Choi," you replied, your face carefully composed with professional restraint.
Seungcheol frowned slightly but took a few steps closer, leaning his frame casually against the edge of your desk. "Is it because of what happened this morning?" he asked, his tone softer now.
You hesitated before shrugging, unable to completely mask the frustration bubbling under your calm exterior. "I mean... I canât just shake it off like nothing happened. And honestly, Iâm sorry for messing up like that."
He crossed his arms and tilted his head, studying your face. "This is the first time, isnât it?"
You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I canât believe it myself. Seven years without a major mistake, and then this happens," you muttered, more to yourself than him.
Seungcheol let out a quiet chuckle, the sound both warm and reassuring. "Thatâs an improvement, then. No one goes seven years without a single mistakeâit just means youâre human."
You glanced up at him, your lips curving into a faint, tired smile. "And thatâs exactly the point, Mr. Choi. Iâve set a standard for myself, and now Iâve blown it. Maybe Mr. Park was rightâI might really be incompetent."
His expression hardened at your words, and he straightened slightly. "Thatâs not how I see it, Ms. Ji," he said firmly. "Whatever Mr. Park said has no bearing on your competence. I supervise you, and I know the quality of your work better than anyone here."
His confidence in you was disarming, and you found yourself relaxing just a little under his steady gaze. "Thank you, Mr. Choi. That means more than you realize," you admitted softly, your voice almost breaking with relief.
Seungcheol glanced at his watch and then back at you. "Weâve got thirty minutes left before the break ends," he said thoughtfully. His eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at his lips. "What do you say we grab some sandwiches together? My treat."
The offer caught you off guard. You blinked up at him, unsure whether to accept or refuse. "Are you sure?" you asked cautiously, not wanting to impose.
"Positive," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Youâve been beating yourself up all morning. A good sandwich and some fresh air might do you good. Come on."
With a reluctant but grateful nod, you stood up. For the first time since the chaotic meeting earlier, you felt a flicker of comfort creeping back into your day.
"I thought we were going to sit down and eat," you said, taking a bite of your sandwich while walking back to the company building.
Seungcheolâs suit had been left behind in his office, leaving him in a dark grey dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie was loosened slightly, giving him an unexpectedly casual air as he took a bite of his own sandwich. He shook his head at your comment, chewing quickly. "We donât have time for that," he said, his voice muffled.
You giggled at the sight of him, noticing a crumb stuck on his cheek. "Youâve got something on your face," you said, pointing.
He immediately tried to wipe it off but missed.
"Here, let me," you offered, stepping closer. Without a second thought, you used a napkin to gently clean his cheek. Your fingers brushed his skin briefly, and Seungcheol froze mid-chew, his eyes locking on yours.
"All clean," you said, stepping back with a smile before taking another bite of your sandwich, oblivious to the faint blush creeping up his neck.
"I told you not to call me Mr. Choi when weâre outside," he teased, trying to mask his flustered expression.
You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Itâs weird to call you casually when Iâve been calling you Mr. Choi for the past seven years."
Seungcheolâs expression shifted slightly, a thoughtful look settling on his face. "Last night," he began, his voice softer now. "When you told me why you donât drive anymoreâŠ"
Your steps faltered for a moment, but he stopped completely at the crosswalk as the pedestrian signal turned red.
"Did it happen here?" he asked gently, his eyes scanning the intersection.
You nodded, the food in your hand suddenly feeling much heavier. The memory, though buried, resurfaced vividly as if it had happened yesterday.
Seven years ago. Youâd just started working with Seungcheol after his father had passed away, and the transition had been anything but smooth. Unlike his father, Seungcheol had seemed colder, more distant. His way of doing things clashed with what you were used to, and the tension in the secretary team had been palpableâespecially for you.
That morning, your car had broken down, and youâd decided to walk to get Seungcheolâs favorite coffee. You were already flustered, trying to make a good impression despite your frustrations with him. Then, everything changed.
You had witnessed itâa car collision right before your eyes. The screeching tires, the bone-chilling sound of impact, the desperate cries of onlookers. And then, the blood. You still remembered how it splattered onto your blouse and face, how your legs had frozen in place, unable to move.
"Y/n? Where are you? We have a meeting in an hour, and Mr. Choi has been asking for his coffee," Jeonghan had called, his voice impatient through the phone.
Youâd managed to drag yourself to the office after buying a new blouse, your hands trembling the entire time. Yet, instead of compassion, youâd been met with Seungcheolâs sharp reprimand for forgetting his coffee. The sting of that moment had stayed with you for years.
And now, you couldnât believe you had shared it all with him last night, over casual conversation, when heâd asked why you no longer drove.
The pedestrian signal turned green, snapping you out of your thoughts. But before you could move, a hand gently gripped yours.
Seungcheolâs warm fingers curled around yours, grounding you in the present. He led you across the road, his pace steady, his grip firm yet comforting.
You glanced at him, surprised by the gesture. His gaze remained forward, focused on the path ahead. Yet, the warmth of his hand in yours spoke volumes, a quiet reassurance that lingered even after youâd crossed the street.
*
The complaints began to pour in like an unrelenting tide. Every time you opened your inbox, you found more emails from department heads, their tone varying from formal discontent to outright disdain. Words like incompetence, unprofessional, and unacceptable were repeated so often they seemed to blur together, creating a cloud of frustration and doubt in your mind.
What made it worse were the thinly veiled accusations of favoritism. Several emails implied that Seungcheolâs supposed bias toward you was undermining the secretary teamâs performance and credibility. The insinuation was like a dagger, cutting into the teamâs morale and creating an atmosphere heavy with unease.
It wasnât long before you noticed the shift among your colleagues. Mingyu, usually cheerful and talkative, had grown quieter. His usual playful remarks were absent during lunch breaks, replaced by an awkward silence. Even Jeonghan, who always maintained an easygoing demeanor, seemed troubled, though he tried to hide it behind his usual smirks and teasing words.
âIgnore those emails,â Jeonghan said one afternoon, leaning against your desk. He spoke casually, but his eyes held a seriousness that betrayed his concern. âItâs the marketing department stirring up trouble again. Theyâve been trying to undermine the secretary team for years.â
You glanced at him, startled. âWhy would they do that? What do they have to gain?â
Jeonghan shrugged, his lips curling into a bitter smile. âPower dynamics, politics, controlâyou name it. Ever since Mr. Choi took over, the marketing department hasnât been happy. They thrived under his fatherâs management because they were given more autonomy, but Mr. Choiâs stricter policies clipped their wings. Theyâve been retaliating ever since.â
âAnd weâre caught in the middle,â you murmured, feeling the weight of the situation settle over you.
Jeonghan nodded. âExactly. Theyâre using the secretary team as a scapegoat to make Mr. Choi look bad. And now that theyâve noticed how close you and him seem lately, theyâre exploiting it to fuel their narrative.â
Your stomach churned at his words. The accusations werenât just baseless; they were carefully orchestrated attacks designed to destabilize the entire team.
âBut what can we do?â you asked, your voice tinged with helplessness. âIf this continues, itâll ruin our reputationâand Mr. Choiâs.â
Jeonghan leaned closer, lowering his voice. âWe fight back, but carefully. First, we need to fix the immediate issuesâno more mistakes, no more complaints. Then, we gather evidence. If we can prove the marketing department is behind this sabotage, weâll turn the tables on them.â
Seungcheol walked you to your door after he drove you home, his steps calm but purposeful. "You donât have to worry about all the complaints," he said, his voice smooth, but there was a knowing look in his eyes as he bid you goodbye.
"You saw them too?" you asked, your voice a little strained from the weight of it all. He nodded with a small grin. "Receiving complaints is part of my job, you know," he teased, throwing you a wink as if he were trying to make light of the situation.
"So you know theyâre all from Mr. Parkâs people?" you asked, unable to hide the slight bitterness in your voice.
He smiled, that reassuring smile of his. "I told you, you donât have to worry about that," he said, his tone confident, almost as if he already had everything under control.
You lowered your head, feeling the weight of it all. You were involved now, and the rumors were only growing. Whispers of your relationship with him were circulating the office, and worse, someone had posted pictures of the two of you on the company community page. It felt impossible to escape.
Seungcheol seemed to sense your unease. "Hey," he said, his voice gentle, "itâs just a month left before you leave. A little plot twist will make it great, right?" His words were meant to lighten the mood, and you couldnât help but chuckle at the thought.
He reached for your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Weâll be fine. Iâll be fine. Donât worry."
You hesitated for a moment, then asked, "You want to come inside?" You bit your lip, unsure of how heâd respond. Would he take the offer seriously, or was it too much, too soon?
After a brief pause, he sent a quick message to his driver. Moments later, he was already seated on your couch, his suit jacket and tie discarded, his sleeves rolled up casually.
"I expect this kind of vibe," Seungcheol remarked as his eyes wandered around your apartment, taking in the cozy space. His gaze lingered on everything, from the soft lighting to the quiet hum of your personal sanctuary.
"Two rooms?" he asked, a curious glint in his eyes. You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.
"Sometimes my brother visits. He lives in a dorm, but he stays here on his days off," you explained, your voice casual, but you felt a little self-conscious explaining it. You weren't sure why, but it felt like you were giving him a piece of your personal life you hadnât shared with anyone before.
"He's still training for the national team?" Seungcheol asked, and you looked at him, surprised that he remembered.
"You remembered?" you asked, your voice soft with disbelief.
Seungcheol nodded, his smile warm. "Of course, itâs you."
It was a casual evening after work, everyone gathered in the break room. Jeonghan and Seungcheol had just returned from a trip, and he couldnât wait to share some exciting news.
"My sister just got accepted into one of the top companies!" Jeonghan had announced, beaming with pride. "Weâre celebrating this weekend!"
The team cheered, raising their glasses in a toast. It was a happy moment, and you couldnât help but feel a little nostalgic for the simplicity of those times.
Seungcheol had joined in, his voice nonchalant but with a hint of pride. "My brother decided to go into the culinary field instead of business," he had mentioned. "Can you believe it? A chef, not a businessman."
Youâd overheard it all, and for some reason, it had stayed with youâhow casually everyone shared their family stories, how different yet similar your lives were.
Seungcheolâs voice broke through your thoughts. "Do you have siblings, Ms. Ji?" he asked, his tone playful, though there was a touch of curiosity beneath the words.
"She has a brother," Jeonghan had added once, with a wink. "Do you know Ji Chang Wook, the former football player? Thatâs her brother."
Seungcheol raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. "Really?" he asked, looking at you with a mix of disbelief and admiration.
You nodded shyly. "He now works for the national team as their coach."
Seungcheolâs eyes softened, impressed. "Thatâs incredible," he said. "Youâre surrounded by greatness."
You smiled at his words, feeling a swell of pride for your brother. As the conversation shifted back to the present, you placed a glass of iced tea on the coffee table for Seungcheol before settling back onto the couch next to him.
"How am i as a boyfriend?" Seungcheol suddenly asked, his question coming out of nowhere. You let out a soft chuckle at his unexpected inquiry. His gaze was playful, yet there was something deeper beneath it, as if he was genuinely waiting for your answer.
You paused, thinking about how to answer. "I donât know that youâd be willing to go down with a mere secretary staff like me, Mr. Choi," you teased, trying to mask the flutter of uncertainty in your chest.
Seungcheol rolled his eyes at the "Mr. Choi." He had been correcting you ever since the beginning, insisting you call him Seungcheol.
"Can I ask you a question?" you asked, your voice tentative. He nodded, leaning in slightly, his expression serious.
"Why were you being an asshole at the beginning?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. It wasnât the most delicate way to phrase it, but you couldnât help yourself.
Seungcheol closed his eyes, clearly not thrilled about being reminded of his past behavior. "I was a lowly bastard, wasnât I?" he admitted, his voice quiet, almost regretful. "Iâm sorry... I was just very insecure."
"Insecure?" you repeated, surprised by his honesty.
He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he reached out to brush a stray hair from your face. "My father passed away, and my brother didnât want to take over the business. I didnât have enough experience to rule a company. I was just trying to figure things out."
You blinked, caught off guard. "I had no idea about that."
Seungcheol nodded again, his gaze softening. "I made sure no one knew about it. But I broke down at one point, and Jeonghan helped me a lot. You did, too. You always did your best at work. But I just..." He trailed off, his fingers grazing your skin as he continued, "I didnât want to get distracted by you. Maybe thatâs why I treated you so badly."
You furrowed your brow in confusion. "Distracted? By me? How come?" You chuckled, still processing the idea. Was it really possible?
Seungcheolâs smile deepened, and his gaze softened. "I used to like you a lot. My father always spoke highly of you, and I couldnât help but admire you."
"No way," you whispered, your eyes widening in disbelief.
"Iâm serious," he said, his voice steady and sincere. "You were always shining at that desk of yours."
You laughed, the sound a mix of disbelief and warmth. "Since when?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.
"Since you visited my house," he said, his tone turning nostalgic. "I saw how you treated my fatherâso professional, yet so graceful. I tried to find a secretary like you, but I guess thereâs only one of you."
Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at him, the realization settling in. Despite all the tension and confusion, there was something undeniably genuine about his words, and for the first time in a while, it felt like things between you and Seungcheol might finally be falling into place.
Seungcheol leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on your lips, the moment growing more intimate with every passing second. Just as you felt your breath hitch, the sound of someone punching in the passcode to your door broke the tension, startling both of you.
âY/n! I brought someââ The baritone voice trailed off abruptly as the door swung open, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man carrying two plastic bags. His steps halted, and his eyes widened as he took in the scene before him. His sister, tangled up with a stranger on the couch, looking far too close for comfort.
You and Seungcheol scrambled apart, both of you stumbling to your feet as if caught red-handed.
âDid I interrupt something?â the man asked, his tone sharp and accusatory. His gaze darted between you and Seungcheol before settling on you. âWhoâs this, Y/n?â
Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you tried to compose yourself. âUh... this is Choi Seungcheol, my... my boss,â you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.
Seungcheol extended a hand, his expression polite and composed despite the awkwardness of the situation. âItâs nice to meet you. Iâmââ
âYour boss?â the man interrupted, completely ignoring the handshake. His eyes narrowed as he turned his attention back to you. âHeâs the one who made you work overtime and miss my birthday?â
You froze. Shoot. You had vented about Seungcheol to your brother countless times, never expecting him to meet the man himself.
âOppa, itâs not like that,â you tried to explain, but your brother wasnât having it.
âYou talked ill of him to me all the time,â Changwook said, his tone laced with disbelief and a hint of anger. His grip on your arm tightened slightly as he pulled you further away from Seungcheol. âWhy is he here now? In your apartment?â
Your mind raced, searching for an explanation that wouldnât make things worse. âWeâre... umm...â You waved your hands in the air helplessly, your words failing you.
Seungcheol, however, didnât hesitate. âIâm her boyfriend,â he said firmly, his voice steady and confident as he stepped forward.
Your eyes widened in shock at his bold declaration. âThatâsââ you started, but the words died in your throat as your brotherâs gaze hardened, his protective instincts kicking in.
âBoyfriend?â Changwook echoed, his voice filled with skepticism as he gave Seungcheol a once-over. âSince when? And why am I just now hearing about this?â
You cringed inwardly, feeling trapped between Seungcheolâs unexpected claim and your brotherâs scrutiny. The fact that youâd spent months complaining about Seungcheol didnât help. How did I end up here?
âChangwook, calm down,â you said, trying to diffuse the situation. âItâs... new.â
âNew?â your brother repeated, his frown deepening as his eyes bored into you. âHow new? And why would you date your boss of all people? Especially someone youâve always badmouthed?â
You felt the blood drain from your face. Youâre dead, your mind screamed at you, but before you could even attempt a defense, your brother turned to you with an authoritative wave of his hand.
âGo to your room,â Changwook said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. âThis is a menâs conversation.â
*
You were trapped between two drunken men. Changwook, still pouring himself another shot of soju, mumbled incoherently about everything under the sun, while Seungcheol, clearly in no better condition, had his head dropped onto your shoulder. The weight of him was comforting yet overwhelming, especially with the alcohol fumes wafting off him.
"Our Y/n couldnât drink dairy, so you have to make sure her latte is always with oat milk,â Changwook slurred, his words slightly jumbled as he tried to sit up straight. He pointed a wobbly finger at Seungcheol as though delivering a life-or-death instruction.
Seungcheol gasped dramatically, his head lifting momentarily before snuggling back into the crook of your neck. âOur Y/n canât handle dairy? Oh my god, poor Y/n!â His words came out in a hushed, exaggerated whisper. âIâll buy you tons of oat milk, Y/n. Gallons of it! So youâll never, ever get a stomachache again!â
You tried to suppress your laugh, but a chuckle escaped as Seungcheol tightened his arms around your waist, nuzzling into your neck like a sleepy puppy. He smelled like soju mixed with the faint remnants of his cologneâa mix that somehow still made your heart skip.
âAlright, Mr. Gallant Knight,â you murmured, brushing his hair back gently. âLetâs get you home before you start a crusade against all dairy products.â
âNooo,â Seungcheol whined softly, his voice muffled against your skin. âLet me stay here. I promise I wonât do anything! Iâll sleep on the floor if I have to, cross my heart.â
You shook your head, unable to contain your amusement. He was far too cute like this. âAlright, fine,â you relented with a small smile. âBut weâre at least getting you into bed. Letâs get up on the count of three, okay?â
Seungcheol groaned in protest, but you felt him adjust slightly, his arms loosening around your waist.
âOne,â you began, bracing yourself. âTwo⊠threeâ"
You tried to pull him up, but Seungcheol, true to his drunken state, flopped back onto the couch like a boneless doll.
âToo heavy,â he mumbled, pouting. âYou have to help me, Y/n. Iâm weak, but youâre strong.â
âStrong?â you repeated with a laugh. âWhat are you even talking about? Youâre twice my size!â
âExactly,â Seungcheol replied, his tone overly serious. âThatâs why youâre amazing. Youâre tiny but mighty.â
From across the room, Changwook let out a grunt as he finally rose from his seat, wobbling slightly before glaring at Seungcheol. âStop flirting with my sister, you lightweight,â he muttered, pointing a finger at him before stumbling toward his room. âAnd donât you dare think about sharing a bed with her!â
âNoted, Coach Ji,â Seungcheol mumbled sleepily, waving his hand in the air.
You sighed, shaking your head as you tugged at Seungcheolâs arm again. âCome on, big guy. Letâs at least get you lying down before Changwook comes back with a lecture.â
Seungcheol finally complied, leaning heavily on you as you helped him to your room. âThanks, Y/n,â he murmured, his voice soft. âYouâre the best.â
âYeah, yeah,â you said, rolling your eyes but smiling nonetheless. âJust donât puke on my bed, okay?â
âIâd never,â he promised, his words slurring as he flopped onto your mattress, instantly dozing off.
You sighed again, pulling a blanket over him before retreating to the couch. As you settled in, you couldnât help but smile at the chaos that was your lifeâand at the man now snoring softly in your bed.
âWhereâs Mr. Choi? Heâs not here yet?â Mingyuâs voice broke the usual morning buzz of the office. He glanced around, noting the conspicuous absence of the boss. It was already 8 a.m., and Mr. Choi was typically seated at his desk by 7:45, meticulously reviewing his schedule or flipping through a book.
Jeonghan checked his watch and frowned. âI know, right? He hasnât called or texted me either. Do you think heâs sick or something?â he wondered aloud, a hint of concern creeping into his tone.
âHeâs late,â you mumbled, barely glancing up from your phone as you replied.
âHow do you know that?!â Mingyu and Jeonghan exclaimed in unison, their voices tinged with surprise.
âHe texted me,â you replied nonchalantly, still focused on your phone.
Mingyuâs jaw dropped, and he pouted, looking genuinely hurt. âHe texted you? But not me? He still doesnât trust me with his schedule. What if he hates me?â he whined, the last part almost a whisper.
You chuckled softly, grabbing a stack of documents from your desk and placing them in front of him. âThatâs why Iâm tutoring you today. Weâre going over how to prepare presentation materials and manage other tasks.â
Mingyu sighed dramatically but couldnât hide the small smile tugging at his lips. âAlrightâŠâ He reluctantly took the documents, the pout still lingering on his face, but his determination to improve was clear.
Suddenly, Jeonghanâs voice interrupted the moment. âOhâŠâ
Both you and Mingyu turned toward him, brows furrowed. âWhatâs wrong?â you asked, stepping over to Jeonghanâs desk.
Jeonghan didnât answer immediately, his eyes fixed on his computer screen. His lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at something. Curiosity got the better of you, and you leaned in to look.
On the screen was a post from the companyâs internal community. The headline read, âMr. Park Is Caught!â Beneath it was a photo of Seungcheol standing in the marketing department alongside the head of HR.
Your brows knitted together. âWhatâs that supposed to mean? Is Mr. Choi investigating him behind our backs?â
Jeonghan bit his lip, his gaze still glued to the screen. âLooks like itâŠâ he murmured.
You quickly scanned the comments below the post. Employees from the marketing department were sharing snippets of gossip. Someone had claimed that Mr. Park had been caught falsifying records and embezzling departmental funds.
Mingyu, who had walked over to peek at the screen, let out a low whistle. âWow. I didnât think Mr. Park would actually get caught.â
You frowned, a mix of surprise and worry swirling in your chest. âHe didnât mention any of this to us,â you said softly, almost to yourself.
Jeonghan finally looked away from the screen, his expression thoughtful. âIf heâs handling this personally, it must be serious.â
Mingyu crossed his arms, tilting his head. âWell, if Mr. Parkâs really guilty, itâs good that Mr. Choiâs taking action. But why keep it so secretive? I mean, weâre his team.â
Jeonghan sighed and leaned back in his chair. âItâs probably because this involves embezzlement. You know how sensitive that kind of accusation is. He probably didnât want anyone tipping Mr. Park off before he had solid evidence.â
You nodded slowly, processing everything. âStill, I hope Mr. Choiâs being careful. This kind of situation can get messy.â
Jeonghan gave you a knowing look but didnât say anything. Mingyu, however, turned to you with a cheeky grin. âWow, youâre so concerned about him. Are you sure youâre not his girlfriendâ
You shot him a glare, heat rising to your cheeks. âShut up and get back to your documents, Mingyu.â
He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. âAlright, alright. But seriously, Iâm curious how this all plays out.â
Jeonghan nodded, his gaze returning to the screen. âMe too. If Mr. Parkâs really guilty, this could shake things up in the company.â
You bit your lip, silently hoping Seungcheol would return soonâwith answers.
Seungcheolâs arrival on the floor sent a wave of tension through the secretary team. His usual composed demeanor was even more rigid than usual, and without wasting a second, he summoned Jeonghan into his office. The atmosphere was thick with curiosity and unease, but you kept your head down, silently supervising Mingyu as he prepared materials for tomorrowâs meeting with all the department heads.
âSo, whatâs Mr. Parkâs status now?â Mingyu asked, flipping through a document from the marketing department. His voice was casual, but his eyes betrayed his curiosity.
You shook your head. âI donât know, Mingyu, and honestly, I donât want to fill my head with too much right now. Iâm leaving this company in a week, remember?â
Mingyu sighed, setting his pen down. âYeah, I remember⊠But you know what? As much as I believe in myself, I canât help but worry. What if I canât replace you?â
You gave him a reassuring smile and patted his shoulder. âDonât worry, Mingyu. It took me seven years to get to where I am. Youâll get there too.â
Mingyu bit his lip, nodding. âYouâre right⊠Youâre really good at comforting people, Ms. Ji,â he said playfully, his usual pout returning.
You laughed. âOf course, I am! Now, finish this and send it to me before lunch.â
Just then, Jeonghan stepped out of Seungcheolâs office, his expression unreadable. The entire team turned their attention to him as he cleared his throat.
âMr. Park has officially been fired as of today. HR has concluded the investigation, and with all the evidence gathered, there was no room for negotiation. A replacement needs to be found as soon as possible. Thereâs already a potential candidate, but the final decision still needs to be made.â
A murmur spread across the room, but before you could react, Jeonghan turned to you. âCan we talk in private, Y/n?â
You blinked at him but nodded, following him to the pantry. The moment the door shut behind you, Jeonghan exhaled deeply, rubbing the back of his neck.
âMr. Choi mentioned your name as the potential head of the marketing department.â
Your eyes widened. âWhat do you mean?â
Jeonghan sighed, looking at you seriously. âI know itâs sudden, but he has his reasons. And honestly? After hearing him out, I found myself agreeing with him.â He still seemed surprised at himself for admitting that.
âBut⊠next week is my last day!â you protested, your voice rising slightly in disbelief.
Jeonghan placed a firm grip on your arms, steadying you. âListen to meâHR and Mr. Choi are definitely going to call you soon. You need to prepare yourself.â
You let out a frustrated sigh. âThatâs too much responsibility! You know I was planning to travel across Asia after this.â
Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. âAnd thatâs what youâre most worried about, huh?â His tone was amused, but there was also a hint of admiration in his eyes. âLook, whatever decision you make, Iâll support you. But just think about it, alright?â
Your mind was already spinning with the weight of the unexpected offer. A promotion just as you were about to leave? It was almost ironic.
"Ms. Ji, can you come to my office for a sec?"
You nearly jumped from your seat at the sudden sound of Seungcheolâs voice filling the secretary teamâs office. The room fell silent as all eyes darted toward him. He stood behind his office door, only half of his body visible as he peeked outside, waiting for you.
You stole a glance at Jeonghan, who was already looking at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes silently sending you a thousand words of encouragement. You sighed, smoothing down your blazer before standing up and making your way to Seungcheolâs office.
The moment you stepped inside, you noticed that the blinds had been down since this morning. You figured after the confrontation with Mr. Park, he must have needed some privacy.
"Mr. Choi," you called his name softly as you stopped in front of his desk.
Without a word, Seungcheol handed you a file. You hesitated for a moment before taking it, flipping it open to find pages upon pages of evidenceâproof of Mr. Parkâs embezzlement during his tenure as the head of the marketing department. Your brows furrowed. This file was supposed to be confidential, a matter strictly between him and HR. So why was he showing it to you? Especially when you were set to leave in just a week?
"You told me about this last night," he said, his voice calm but firm.
Your mind raced back to your conversation with him the night before. You had mentioned itâyour suspicions about the marketing departmentâs financial discrepancies. You had noticed missing reports from the past two years that didnât sit right with you. And despite your reluctance, you had handed him the findings you had gathered over time.
Wait.
Your eyes flickered up to Seungcheol, your expression shifting. "You werenât drunk?"
He smirked, leaning against the edge of his desk. "I was just acting."
Your breath hitched as the realization hit you. The way he had suddenly become lighter when he was supposedly dead weight on your shoulder last night. The way he had pulled you aside, listening intently as you spoke about the missing reports.
You didnât remember much about how the conversation had unfolded, but somehow, in that moment, you had found the courage to show him everything.
"And you were right," Seungcheol continued, pulling out another document from his deskâyour resignation letter.
Your heartbeat quickened.
"I have an offer for you," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Be our new head of the marketing department."
Silence hung in the air.
You stood frozen, the weight of his words sinking in.
"Youâre probably the only person who knows the ins and outs of the marketing department better than anyone else," he reasoned, his voice steady. And he wasnât wrong. You had spent the past seven years collecting reports, reviewing files, and meticulously studying every department before handing them over to him. You knew how the department functioned, where its strengths and weaknesses lay.
But despite the logic in his argument, you couldnât bring yourself to answer. Not now. It was too sudden, too unexpected. You knew Seungcheol always had a planâhe never made decisions lightly. But the real question was, were you ready for more?
"What do you think, Ms. Ji?" His voice was softer now, laced with something you couldnât quite place.
You swallowed, taking a deep breath before finally speaking. "Iâll think about it, sir."
Seungcheol studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding. "Alright. You can go back."
That was your cue to leave. You turned on your heels, stepping out of his office, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
Why did everything suddenly lead to this?
*
"Want to talk about it?" Seungcheolâs voice was soft as he cuddled you close, his warmth seeping into your skin. His hand moved lazily through your hair, fingers tracing slow, comforting patterns.
He had invited you over tonight after you received a text from your brother, letting you know he was having friends over. You hadnât wanted to be home with all the noise, and without asking too many questions, Seungcheol had offered his place. Now, nestled against him, your head resting on his shoulder and your arm draped around his torso, you felt the weight of the day pressing down on you.
"I'm all ears," he murmured, sensing your hesitation about his earlier offer.
Doubt flickered through you before you finally spoke. "Are you..." You hesitated. "Are you going to listen to me as my boss or as my boyfriend?"
His answer caught you off guard. It sounded too neutral, almost detached, and something about it stung more than you expected. Without thinking, you shifted away from him, turning your back.
"Hey," Seungcheol's arm immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against him. His grip was firm yet gentle, grounding.
"Tell me, baby," he coaxed, his breath warm against the back of your neck. "I'll listen to you as your partner. Go ahead."
Slowly, you turned back to face him, meeting his steady gaze. "I donât want to accept the offer."
Seungcheol said nothing, only watching you carefully, his fingers tightening slightly on your waist, a silent sign that he was listening.
"Itâs too much for me," you admitted. "A big responsibility. And I donât think Iâm cut out for thatâIâm not that passionate about it."
Seungcheol frowned. "You're a very passionate person, Y/n."
You shook your head. "Not about this. Not anymore." A deep sigh left your lips. "I'm tired of working, Cheol. I just want to travel the world, maybe get a job with less responsibility. Something that doesnât drain me like this."
Seungcheol remained quiet, his dark eyes locked onto yours, absorbing every word. His fingers traced absentminded circles on your waist, a silent reminder that he was there, that he heard you.
"I need a break," you whispered, voice barely audible. "Before I break."
Something flickered in Seungcheolâs expressionâregret, concern, maybe even guilt. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. "Iâm sorry," he murmured, his lips lingering for a moment. "I didnât realize how much youâve been carrying. And Iâ" He exhaled sharply. "Iâve been a jerk, havenât I?"
You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I think I wore myself out, Cheol. I hit my limit."
Seungcheol nodded, his thumb brushing along your cheek. "Then you should rest. You need to rest. Or else youâre going toâ"
"Explode," you finished for him, smiling faintly. "Like when I called you drunk months ago."
A chuckle rumbled from his chest, the tension in the air easing. "I should thank your drunk self. If not for that, I wouldnât have known my secretary wanted me to be her date.
You rolled your eyes, fingers threading through his hair. "Thatâs what you took from that?"
He grinned. "Well, that, and the fact that you canât handle your alcohol."
You swatted his arm playfully, and he caught your wrist, tugging you closer.
"I just want to stay home for a while," you murmured, your voice softer now. "Do things I actually enjoy. Maybe pick up a hobby. Get a pet." You sighed as if the mere thought of it was a relief. "And none of it involves going back to work anytime soon."
Seungcheol studied you, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You sound like a good wife."
You chuckled, raising a brow. "I would make a good wife."
His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Really?"
Before you could answer, he tackled you onto the bed, his hands finding your sides as he tickled you mercilessly. Laughter filled the room as you squirmed beneath him, the weight of your earlier worries momentarily forgotten.
Your heart raced as Seungcheol hovered above you, his eyes dark with warmth and something deeperâsomething that made your breath hitch. His weight against you was comforting rather than overwhelming, his presence grounding.
"You tried my cooking earlier," you teased, giggling when he trailed soft kisses across your faceâyour forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose. Each touch was featherlight, sending a shiver down your spine.
Seungcheol hummed in agreement, his lips brushing against your skin as he whispered, "Youâll make a good wife."
Before you could react, he closed the distance, capturing your lips in a kissâslow and deliberate, as if savoring every second. His hand cradled your cheek, thumb stroking gently, while his other arm held you firmly against him, as if he never wanted to let go.
And in that moment, nothing else mattered.
*
It was your favorite placeâa simple barbecue restaurant where you and Jeonghan used to have dinner together during your early years at the company. The scent of grilled meat filled the air, blending with the warmth of laughter and chatter. Tonight, the atmosphere buzzed with a mix of celebration and bittersweet goodbyes as everyone gathered for your farewell party.
Seated around the long wooden tables were your colleaguesâthe secretary team members, department representatives, and even a few unexpected guests. Among them was Seungcheol, his presence instantly commanding attention. It was rare to see him at casual company gatherings like this, and his attendance left many curious. But since it was youâone of his most trusted employeesâwho was leaving, everyone assumed that was the reason he sat beside you, his presence a quiet yet significant statement.
After a while, you stood, clearing your throat as conversations died down. With a grateful smile, you delivered your speechâthanking everyone for their support, for the years of teamwork and shared challenges, and apologizing for any moments you might have fallen short.
When you finished, the room erupted into cheers and applause, glasses raised in a heartfelt toast. Laughter followed, but beneath it all was an unspoken truth: this chapter was ending, and things would never quite be the same again.
Seungcheol cleared his throat, the deep sound cutting through the lingering laughter and drawing everyone's attention like a switch had been flipped. Conversations faded, and all eyes turned to him.
He sat upright, his expression composed yet sincere. "First of all, I want to thank Ms. Ji for her hard work all these years," he began, his voice steady but carrying weight. "Sheâs been one of the most dedicated people in this company, and honestly, itâs hard to imagine this place without her. Weâre losing not just a talented employee but also someone who made things run smoother for all of us."
A murmur of agreement swept through the group, and you felt a mix of pride and guilt settle in your chest.
Seungcheol glanced at you briefly before continuing. "And... I also want to take this chance to apologize," he said, his tone softening. "For any unnecessary pressure, for the late nights, for expecting too much sometimes. I know I wasnât always the easiest boss to work with."
You shook your head slightly, about to reassure him, but before you could say anything, he inhaled deeply and, with absolute confidence, added,
"Also, since weâre all here, I think nowâs a good time to make an announcement."
You frowned, confused, and Jeonghanâwho was sipping his drink beside youâarched an eyebrow.
Seungcheolâs gaze met yours, then he turned back to the room. "Ms. Ji and I are dating."
A moment of silence. Thenâ
"What?!" Mingyu choked on his drink, coughing as Jeonghan patted his back. Gasps and murmurs spread through the group like wildfire. Even the usually composed members of the secretary team looked at each other in shock.
You stiffened, your body going rigid as the realization sank in. Your fingers clutched at the fabric of your dress under the table, your pulse hammering in your ears. Slowly, almost mechanically, you turned to Seungcheol, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Whatâwhy would youâ"
"Wait, wait, wait." Jeonghan put a hand up, smirking. "That's expected. Since when?"
Seungcheol chuckled, resting his arm on the back of your chair. "For a while now."
Meanwhile, Jeonghan just sat there, utterly amused, swirling his drink in his glass before finally saying, "So this is why youâve been sneaking around, huh?"
"Jeonghan!" You hissed, shooting him a glare, but he only shrugged, clearly enjoying your suffering.
Mingyu, still coughing slightly, gaped at Seungcheol like he had just grown a second head. "Wait, wait, waitâyou two?! Since when?! And why didnât I know?!"
Your face burned as everyoneâs eyes darted between you and him, trying to process the sudden revelation. Someone from marketing whispered, That explains why heâs actually here tonight.
"You couldâve warned me first," you hissed under your breath, still reeling from the shock.
Seungcheol leaned in slightly, his voice teasing, "Where's the fun in that?"
The room exploded into a mix of cheers, teasing remarks, and incredulous laughter. Some congratulated you, others demanded details, and Mingyu, still processing, just groaned, "Why am I always the last to know?!"
You sighed, covering your face, but despite the initial embarrassment, you couldnât help the small smile forming on your lips. Seungcheol had just made sure this farewell party was one no one would forget.
Your fingers twitched. If there werenât so many witnesses, you might have actually smacked him.
"So you two have actually been together this whole time?" One of the HR reps asked, her mouth still slightly open in disbelief. "Like, during work hours? During meetings? While she was still his secretary?"
Oh no. That was a dangerous line of questioning.
You opened your mouth, scrambling to regain some sort of control over the situation, but Seungcheol, of course, was faster.
"It started after work," he clarified, his voice smooth and nonchalant. "And itâs not like sheâs breaking any rules. Sheâs leaving the company, after all."
The way he said itâso effortlessly confidentâmade your stomach twist. You wanted to argue, to regain some control over this mess he had just thrown you into, but then you caught the way he was looking at you.
There was something possessive in his gaze, a quiet certainty that sent a shiver down your spine. He wasnât ashamed. He wasnât hiding.
And suddenly, the tension shifted.
"Youâre unbelievable," you muttered, barely able to contain the heat rising to your cheeks.
He chuckled, finally turning back to his drink. "And yet, youâre still here."
The table erupted into laughter, cheers, and even a few claps. Someone from the legal department shouted, "Well, damn. We need to drink to this!"
"Ohâanother thing to celebrate," Seungcheol announced, his voice effortlessly cutting through the laughter and clinking glasses.
You turned to him, sensing something in his tone, but before you could ask, he raised his glass.
"Congratulations to Mr. Yoon, our new Marketing Department Head."
A moment of silence hung in the air before the entire table erupted in cheers and applause.
"What?!" Mingyu nearly knocked over his drink in shock. "Jeonghan-hyung? When did this happen?"
Jeonghan, ever composed, simply smirked as he leaned back in his chair. "A while ago."
"You knew?!" Mingyu gawked at him before turning to Seungcheol. "And no one thought to tell me?!"
Seungcheol chuckled, completely unfazed. "HR finalized it this afternoon. He was my first choice from the start."
"Butâbutâ" Mingyu stammered, looking between you and Jeonghan. "I thought she was the best candidate?!"
You smiled, lifting your drink. "Iâm leaving, remember?"
Jeonghan shrugged, tapping his fingers against his glass. "And someone had to clean up after her, so here I am."
Laughter filled the table, and soon, everyone was raising their drinks toward Jeonghan, congratulating him on the promotion.
Seungcheol leaned in closer to you, his hand finding yours under the table. His voice was low, meant only for you.
"Now you really have no reason to stay at work."
You rolled your eyes playfully but squeezed his hand in return. "You planned all of this, didnât you?"
He smirked, his thumb brushing against your fingers. "Maybe. But I also knew it was whatâs best for everyone."
You sighed, glancing at Jeonghan, who was basking in the attention, and then at Seungcheol, who was watching you with that knowing look.
Despite everything, you couldnât deny itâthis felt right.
*
It had been ten months since you left the company, but something about Mingyu working as Seungcheolâs secretary still didnât sit right with you. This morning only confirmed your suspicions. Seungcheol, who once carried himself with unwavering composure, now sat at the breakfast table with noticeable dark circles under his eyes. You couldnât recall a single time in the past when he looked this tired.
âWhatâs your schedule like today?â you asked, setting a plate of breakfast in front of him along with a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
Seungcheol gave you a faint smile before replying, âJust a quick briefing with finance. Iâll probably be home late; I have a meeting with Joshua over dinner."
Your arms crossed as you stood beside the table, watching him. âYou never memorize your own schedule,â you pointed out, your tone laced with concern.
He nodded in agreement, his attention on his food. âI used to have Jeonghan to remind me about everything. And you,â he added, glancing up at you with a soft smile. âYou made sure everything ran smoothly.â
You watched him take another bite before leaning against the table. âHow many staff members is Mingyu working with?â you asked, your tone more curious this time.
Seungcheol chuckled, wiping the corner of his mouth. âWhy are you asking?â
âBecause itâs obvious youâre overworking yourself, babe,â you said bluntly, crossing your arms again.
He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at you. âIâm fine, love. Donât worry,â he reassured, though his voice didnât quite convince you. âMingyuâs my only secretary now, but the systemâs changed. Heâs managing just fine.â
You sighed and sat down in front of him, resting your chin on your hand. âIs Mingyu still an idiot?â
Seungcheol couldnât help but laugh, his tired expression lifting just a little. âHe is,â he admitted, shaking his head. âBut heâs getting better, I promise. Youâd be surprised.â
You werenât entirely convinced, and your frustration showed as you frowned at him. âYou used to come home looking less like a zombie,â you muttered.
Seungcheol reached across the table and took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. âI know youâre worried,â he said, his voice soft. âBut really, Iâve got this. Mingyu may be a work in progress, but weâre managing.â
You squeezed his hand in return, but your concern lingered. âJust donât forget to take care of yourself, alright?â
He smiled at you, a warmth in his eyes that made you feel just a little more at ease. âI wonât. I promise.â
As Seungcheol finished the last bite of his breakfast, he leaned back in his chair and tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening as it shifted to you. "Howâs the baking class going?" he asked, his tone casual but genuinely curious.
You perked up slightly at his question, a smile tugging at your lips. "Itâs going really well. I finally mastered the chiffon cake yesterday," you said, your excitement seeping into your voice.
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "The one you said was impossible to get right?"
You nodded eagerly. "Yep. It took me three tries, but I did it. The instructor even said I nailed the texture and flavor."
He smiled, the fatigue on his face momentarily fading as he watched you talk. "Look at you, becoming a pro baker already," he teased, though there was an unmistakable pride in his tone.
You chuckled, waving off his comment. "I wouldnât say âpro,â but itâs been fun. I didnât think Iâd enjoy baking as much as I do now."
Seungcheol leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he looked at you. "So, when are you going to let me taste this famous chiffon cake?"
You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning back in your chair. "Soon. I just want to perfect it a little more before I let you try it. Youâre too honest with your feedback," you said, narrowing your eyes at him with mock suspicion.
He laughed, the deep sound filling the room and making your chest warm. "You know I only critique because I care," he said, reaching out to poke your arm. "But fine. Iâll wait until you think itâs ready."
You smirked, crossing your arms. "You better. No sneaking bites when Iâm not looking."
"I wouldnât dare," he replied, his tone exaggeratedly serious.
The two of you fell into an easy silence for a moment, the tension from earlier easing as you both enjoyed the quiet morning together.
"Maybe," Seungcheol began, breaking the silence, "you could make a batch of something for Joshuaâs dinner meeting. He has a sweet tooth, you know."
You raised an eyebrow at him, pretending to be skeptical. "Are you volunteering me to impress your business partner with baked goods now?"
"Maybe," he admitted with a cheeky grin. "But only because I know youâd knock it out of the park."
You shook your head with a laugh, but you couldnât deny how his words filled you with a small sense of pride. "Fine," you said. "Iâll make some cookies or brownies. But you owe me."
Seungcheol smirked. "Deal. Iâll make it worth your while."
The restaurant was dimly lit, with soft jazz music playing in the background. Seungcheol sat across from Joshua at the private dining table, his posture relaxed but still exuding authority. Mingyu, seated beside him, diligently took notes and managed the documents for the formal part of the meeting.
The discussion went smoothly, with both parties agreeing on the next steps for their partnership. As the waiter cleared their plates and brought out coffee and dessert, the atmosphere gradually shifted to a more casual tone. Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, finally allowing himself to relax.
Joshua stirred his coffee, a friendly smile on his face as he looked at Mingyu. "I have to say, Mingyu, youâve really grown into your role. The professionalism youâve shown tonight is impressive. So different from how you were!"
Mingyu let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, I had to step up, didnât I? Working for Seungcheol hyung isnât exactly a walk in the park."
Seungcheol chuckled, glancing at Mingyu with a raised eyebrow. "Are you complaining?"
"Not at all!" Mingyu quickly replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Iâm just saying, I had to adapt."
Joshua laughed, clearly amused by their dynamic. "Itâs good to see, though. I remember the Mingyu who couldnât sit still in meetings or keep track of his tasks. Now look at youâorganized, professional, and confident."
Mingyu puffed out his chest jokingly, but there was a hint of genuine pride in his smile. "Well, I had a great mentor," he said, nodding toward Seungcheol.
Seungcheol scoffed, though a small smile played on his lips. "Donât get too cocky, Mingyu. You still have a long way to go."
Joshua tilted his head, a curious expression crossing his face. "By the way, how did Mingyu end up working for you, Seungcheol?"
"Trust me," Seungcheol said, a playful glint in his eye, "I didnât want to hire him at first. But he insisted, and I figured if he was going to work anywhere, it might as well be under someone who wouldnât go easy on him."
"And he doesnât go easy on me," Mingyu added, holding up his hands. "This man is tough."
Joshua laughed, clearly entertained. "Well, I have to say, itâs working. Youâve come a long way, Mingyu. But I bet itâs also a little intimidating, working for your family."
"It is," Mingyu admitted, "but itâs also motivating. I canât slack off when my boss knows everything about me, including my bad habits."
Seungcheol shook his head, though his expression softened. "To be fair, heâs proven himself. Heâs still Mingyu, though, so he keeps things interesting."
Seungcheol chuckled to himself as he sipped his coffee, the memory of that day playing vividly in his mind. It was his aunt's anniversary, and the gathering at his house was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to his family. At least, that was his plan.
You had looked stunning that day, wearing a soft pastel dress that complimented you beautifully. Yet, your nervousness was unmistakableâthe way your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your bag, the quick glances you stole at Seungcheol for reassurance, and the tiny, hesitant smile that melted his heart every time he caught you looking at him.
He remembered how your confidence faltered the moment you stepped into the living room, where the cheerful buzz of conversation filled the space. His family greeted you warmly, but then your eyes landed on Mingyu standing casually by the snack table.
Your reaction was priceless. Your eyes widened as if you'd seen a ghost, and before you could stop yourself, you mouthed to Seungcheol, What is he doing here?
Mingyuâs face lit up instantly when he noticed you. "Noona!" he called out excitedly, leaving his spot to approach you.
Seungcheol stifled a laugh as you turned to him, utterly baffled, while Mingyu pulled you into a friendly hug. "What... what is happening?" you whispered urgently to Seungcheol as Mingyu grinned beside you.
Seungcheol smirked, enjoying your confusion. "Mingyu is my cousin," he explained casually. "Heâs my auntâs son."
You blinked in shock, staring at both men as if the pieces of a puzzle were suddenly falling into place. "That explains a lot," you muttered, earning a laugh from Seungcheol and a curious look from Mingyu.
From that day on, your dynamic with Mingyu took a playful turn. What started as harmless teasing quickly became your favorite way to keep him on his toes, especially after he became Seungcheolâs secretary.
"You should work harder, Mingyu," you had told him one day when he stopped by your place to drop off some files for Seungcheol. Leaning against the doorframe, you smirked knowingly at him. "You only got that job because the boss is your cousin. Nepo baby."
Mingyu groaned dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "Noona, you canât keep calling me that! Iâm actually working really hard, you know."
"You better," you shot back, grinning mischievously. "I worked hard supervising you."
Seungcheol, who had been silently observing the exchange from the couch, couldnât hide his amusement. "Donât go too hard on him, love," he teased, though his tone was far from serious.
Mingyu pouted, looking between the two of you. "Great. Now I have two bosses to impress."
"You should be honored," you quipped, sending him a wink before heading back to the kitchen.
As Seungcheol watched Mingyuâs exasperated expression, he couldnât help but smile. Despite all the teasing, the camaraderie between you and Mingyu warmed his heart. It was proof of how naturally you had integrated into his lifeâhis familyâand how, even in moments of chaos, you brought lightness and joy to everything you touched.
Summary: His love for you is unconditional. He gives you everything, he takes you everywhere, and he'll do anything for you.
Wonwoo noticed something was different about you tonight, but he couldn't quite grasp what it was. From the moment he picked you up to the quiet drive to the upscale restaurant his secretary had booked, you had been unusually silent. He knew you werenât one to talk endlessly, but tonight, the silence felt heavierâweighted with something unspoken.
"Hey, are you alright, love?" His voice was gentle, laced with concern.
You turned your head to him, your gaze flickering down to where his hand rested on your lap, fingers laced with yours. His grip tightened slightly when you didnât answer immediately, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin, silently urging you to speak. You let out a soft sigh.
"I'm fine⊠Just a bit more tired than usual," you finally said, offering him a small, weary smile.
Wonwoo didnât look convinced, but he smiled anyway, a quiet reassurance in his expression. "Weâll be there soon," he said softly, his free hand reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering for just a second longer than necessary.
Tonight, you looked absolutely breathtaking. The black dress he had bought you last week hugged your figure elegantly, its half-long sleeves giving you an air of effortless sophistication. The delicate jewelry adorning your neck and wristsâpieces he had insisted on getting you last month as a reward for finishing your semester as a teacherâonly enhanced your beauty. You always looked stunning to him, but tonight, something about you felt untouchable, distant, like a painting behind glass.
Once seated across from you at the candlelit table, Wonwoo barely touched his food. Instead, he watched you. Observed the way you pushed the vegetables around your plate, the way your fingers toyed with the stem of your wine glass, how you sighed so softly you probably didnât even realize it.
"You donât like the food?" Wonwoo asked, his voice warm but firm.
You blinked at him, then hastily picked up your fork, shaking your head. "No, I love it."
"Then why havenât you touched it, love?" His eyes softened as he leaned in slightly, his fingers tapping lightly against the table.
He was done waiting. Whatever was troubling you tonight, he wanted to know.
"Talk to me. Whatâs wrong?"
The way he looked at youâwith so much patience, so much affectionâmade it impossible to keep up the facade any longer. You sighed, setting your fork down before finally voicing the thought that had been weighing on you all evening.
"You donated a lot of money to the schoolâŠ" Your voice was quiet but firm, cutting through the comfortable ambiance of the restaurant.
Wonwoo raised his brows, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected topic. He nodded, confirming your statement.
"The headmaster was ecstatic," you continued, but there was something about the way you said it that made his stomach twist. It wasnât excitement or gratitude he heardâit was something else.
"Why?" He tilted his head slightly, studying you closely. "You donât like it?"
You shook your head, your fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "Itâs not that. I appreciate it, really. But⊠you shouldâve discussed something like this with me first."
Wonwooâs lips parted slightly as he took in your words. He bit his lower lip, exhaling through his nose. You were right. He had promisedâpromised that anything involving you, anything that mattered to you, would be something you both discussed together. He hadnât intended to overstep, but he understood now where your disappointment was coming from.
His hand reached across the table, fingers wrapping around yours with a gentle squeeze. "Youâre right," he admitted, his voice softer now. "I shouldâve talked to you about it first. Iâm sorry, love."
You glanced at him, your features softening slightly at his sincerity.
"How about we talk about this properly after dinner? At your place," Wonwoo suggested, his thumb brushing the back of your hand.
You hesitated before mumbling, "My place is messyâŠ" a small pout formed on your lips.
Wonwoo let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head fondly. "Alright, then letâs talk at my place, okay?"
This time, when he looked at you, the weight in your eyes seemed a little lighter. And though you didnât say it, the way your fingers curled slightly tighter around his hand told him that you appreciated him listening.
Wonwoo met you through a friend. He had been desperate, though heâd never admit it out loud, to find a woman who could steal his heart effortlessly. Someone who could make him fall so hard that he wouldnât even bat an eyelash at the thought of simping for her. Because Wonwoo had always believed he was a lover at heart. When he loved, he loved deeplyâdown bad, hopelessly devoted.
But every date his mother arranged had been a disappointment. They were all perfectly respectable women, but none of them had that spark, that something that could make his heart race. Frustrated, he turned to Mingyuâthe one person he knew who seemed to have connections with almost everyone in the world.
"I think I know someone," Mingyu had said one day, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. Without hesitation, he reached out to his sister, asking her to introduce Wonwoo to her best friendâyou.
"I hear about her all the time," Mingyu continued, scrolling through his phone. "Sheâs nice, kind, smartâwhich is totally your type. I think sheâs cool."
Wonwoo narrowed his eyes at him, skeptical. "Why donât you date her, then?"
Mingyu barely looked up as he chuckled, tilting his phone toward Wonwoo. "Oh⊠she doesnât like me."
That caught Wonwooâs attention. He raised a brow, leaning in slightly. "She doesnât like you?" he repeated, intrigued.
A girl who wasnât charmed by Mingyu?
Now that was interesting.
However, when he finally met you for the first time, picking you up from school, his heart raced in a way he hadn't expected. You walked through the gates dressed in a modest, simple outfit, yet there was something about the way you smiled and waved at him that sent a jolt of nervous excitement through him. Even now, after all this time, you still managed to make him nervous sometimes.
From the very start, you led conversations with confidence, your eyes brimming with passion whenever you spoke about something you loved. It was effortlessâhow time slipped away when he was with you. And it wasnât just him who enjoyed it; he could tell you did too.
One date turned into two, then three, and by the fourth, he knew he didnât want to waste any more time. He asked you to be his girlfriend on a Saturday night, aboard his familyâs yacht, the city lights flickering in the distance as the ocean breeze carried his words to you.
Since then, he had been completely, hopelessly, utterly whipped for you.
Every day after school, he was there to pick you up. And on the rare occasions when work held him back, he made sure his secretary, Chan, took care of it, ensuring you got home safely.
He learned to cookânot because he had to, but because you once mentioned that fine dining all the time made you a little uncomfortable. So, he tried. He practiced. He wanted to make dinner dates at his place special for you, even if it meant burning a few attempts along the way.
One time, when you had a week-long workshop in Jeju, he booked a last-minute flight just because he hadnât seen you in days and couldnât stand another minute apart.
Expensive gifts? Of course. If you so much as mentioned something in passing, he would have it ready for you in no time. But it wasnât about the priceâit was about the way your eyes lit up, the way you smiled, the way you kissed him and whispered thank you like he had just given you the world.
Because to him, you were his world.
He loved you unconditionally, without hesitation, without limits.
And he would do anything for you.
*
You sat curled up on Wonwooâs couch, completely absorbed in a book from your favorite authorâone that he had been collecting ever since you started dating a year ago. It was a quiet, cozy night, just the way you liked it. You had already changed into a pair of pajama pants that Wonwoo had bought for you a while ago, paired with one of his old, oversized T-shirtsâthe one he could never bring himself to throw away because you loved it too much.
The sound of water running in the bathroom had stopped, but you were too engrossed in your book to notice. Your fingers flipped through the pages eagerly, your heart racing as the tension in the story built.
And thenâ
A pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped around your waist from behind.
You gasped, nearly dropping the book as you jumped in surprise. "You scared me!" You turned your head to glare at him, breathless. "I was literally at the most intense part!"
Wonwoo chuckled, his deep voice rumbling against your ear. "Sorry, love. You just looked too cute sitting there, all focused." He pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head, his damp hair tickling your skin.
You sighed dramatically, putting the book down on the coffee table before turning fully toward him. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him close as you rested your head against his chest. His skin was warm from the shower, smelling faintly of his fresh, clean scentâthe one that always made you feel at home.
His arms tightened around you, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back. "Better?" he murmured.
You hummed in contentment, closing your eyes.
"Why did you donate so much money to our school?" you mumbled, barely loud enough for him to hear. You felt embarrassed bringing up the topic again, but it had been weighing on your mind too much to ignore.
Wonwoo turned to look at you, his gaze gentle but questioning. "Before I answer that⊠may I know whatâs wrong?"
You sighed, your thoughts swirling with everything the teachers had been saying. It wasnât exactly a secret anymoreâthere were already rumors going around the school about you having a crazy rich boyfriend. The moment people started seeing Wonwoo pick you up in his sleek car, the whispers began. And while you had never directly addressed it, the weight of it all had started to burden you.
The worst part? Some of the teachers had been unprofessional enough to bring it up in front of the students, which only made things worse. Now, even your students had started asking questionsâquestions you werenât sure how to answer.
You licked your lips, hesitating before finally admitting, "Iâve kind of become a hot topic among the teachers and students."
Wonwooâs brows furrowed instantly. "Are they saying something bad?"
You shook your head, trying to be honest. "Not entirely bad⊠but itâs just burdensome. They talk about you, about how I mustâve done something to get youâlike I had to scheme my way into this relationship or something." You exhaled sharply, waving your hand as if that could brush off the weight of their words. "Itâs not exactly important, but itâs tiring to hear."
Wonwoo didnât say anything right away, but you could feel the shift in his energy. His sharp mind was already putting pieces together, and before you could stop him, he asked, "Has this been going on for a while?"
You hesitated, then finally gave in to the truth, nodding slowly.
Wonwooâs jaw tensed ever so slightly. He didnât like that. Not one bit.
"Iâm starting to dislike everyone in that school. Canât you just quit, love?" Wonwoo suggested, his voice firm as he met your gaze. His hands, warm and steady, tightened ever so slightly around your waist.
You sighed, shaking your head. "No, I still have a contract until next semester. I canât just leave."
Wonwoo exhaled sharply, his jaw tensing. He remembered the things you had told him about your workplaceâparticularly about the headmaster. From the way you had described the man, Wonwoo already knew he was the type of person he couldnât stand.
One moment stood out in his mind. You had mentioned how the headmaster once made an inappropriate comment about a photo you had posted on social mediaâa picture of you wearing a stunning red dress that he had bought for you. It had been slightly revealing, but when you had asked for his opinion before posting it, Wonwoo hadnât minded at all. If anything, he had thought you looked breathtaking.
But then you told him what the headmaster had said.
"You should dress like that more often, Ms. Ji. Your work outfits are a little boring."
Wonwoo felt his grip on you tighten instinctively as the memory resurfaced. Just thinking about it again made his blood boil.
He let out a slow breath, grounding himself before speaking. "I donated to show him power," he admitted, his voice quieter this time. "I wanted everyone to respect you. Especially the headmaster." He paused, his fingers gently rubbing circles on your back. "But I was wrong."
Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your lipsâa silent apology, full of warmth and sincerity.
"Iâm sorry, love," he murmured against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.
Wonwoo pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His hands cupped your face gently, his thumbs tracing soft circles along your cheeks. His voice was quiet, steady, but filled with something deeperâsomething only you could decipher.
"Love," he murmured, pressing another lingering kiss to your lips before pulling away just enough to speak again. "Have I been a burden to you?"
Your breath hitched slightly at the question, surprised by his directness. His eyes, dark and full of concern, searched yours for the truth.
"You know you can tell me anything, right?" he continued, his voice softer now. "If being with me has made things harder for you⊠I want to know."
You swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of your thoughts pressing against your chest. You hadnât wanted to make him feel guilty, hadnât wanted to let the whispers and judgments of others taint the love you shared. But this was Wonwooâhe had always been patient with you, always listened without judgment. And now, he was asking for honesty.
You sighed, leaning into his touch, closing your eyes as he pressed another kiss to your forehead. "Itâs not you thatâs the burden," you admitted. "Itâs⊠everything that comes with being with you."
His grip on you didnât falter, if anything, it tightened as if grounding you. "Tell me," he urged, lips ghosting over yours before stealing another slow, tender kiss, coaxing the truth out of you with every touch.
You exhaled shakily. "Itâs the way people talk. The way they look at me like I donât deserve you. Like I had to do something manipulative just to be with you." Your fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as you continued. "Itâs the pressure of being seen as your girlfriend before anything else. People assume things about me because of who you are, and sometimes⊠itâs exhausting."
Wonwoo let out a quiet hum, his lips pressing against yours again, deeper this time, as if trying to soothe the frustration and exhaustion you carried. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer, grounding you in the warmth of his presence.
Wonwoo pulled back just enough to look at you again, his gaze unwavering. His fingers traced slow, reassuring patterns on your waist, urging you to continue.
"Tell me more," he said softly, his voice gentle yet firm. "What else has been weighing on you, love?"
You hesitated, biting your lip. The words were right there, but voicing them felt daunting. You didnât want to come across as ungrateful or make him feel misunderstood. But the way he looked at youâwith so much patience and loveâmade it easier to open up. "Itâs⊠the way you spoil me," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling as it escaped.
Wonwoo furrowed his brows, leaning in slightly as if trying to read your emotions. "What do you mean?"
You let out a soft breath, trying to find the right way to explain. "I donât want our relationship to feel like some kind of⊠transaction," you continued, your words quieter now. You looked down briefly, collecting your thoughts before meeting his eyes again. "The expensive gifts, the luxury things⊠I know you do it out of love, but sometimes, it feels like youâre paying me to be with you."
Your voice wavered slightly, but you pressed on, knowing this was something you had to say. "And thatâit hurts my ego, Wonwoo."
His grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, but his expression softened as he processed your words. He didnât say anything immediately, just let you continue.
"I love that you care for me, and I know you donât see it that way," you quickly added, almost as if you were trying to reassure him. "But every time you buy me something extravagant, it feels like Iâm being⊠taken care of in a way that makes me feel small. Like I canât stand beside you as an equal. And I hate that feeling." You bit your lip, trying to steady your nerves. It felt like your pride was slowly unraveling, but you needed him to understand.
Wonwoo let out a deep sigh, his hands moving to cradle your face, his touch tender yet firm. "Love," he whispered, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, his voice full of sincerity. "I donât spoil you because I think you need taking care of. I do it because I want to. Because I love you. You deserve everything, Y/n."
You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. Your eyes flickered between his, the vulnerability in your chest raw and exposed. "I know. And I donât want to sound ungrateful," you said, your voice cracking a little. "But sometimes, I feel like⊠I canât give you the same in return. Like Iâll never be able to match what you do for me."
The words hung in the air for a moment, and a quiet tension settled between you, the vulnerability and honesty of the moment tangible.
Wonwooâs eyes softened as he gently tilted your chin upward, guiding your face closer to his. "You donât have to match me, love," he whispered, his voice firm but soothing. "This isnât about keeping score. Iâm not trying to buy your love. Iâm giving you what I can, because I want you to have everything you deserve. But you donât owe me anything. Not a thing. Just⊠be with me. Thatâs all I need."
You didnât realize it at first, but as the conversation continued, the weight of everything you'd been holding in began to pour out. The tears fell quietly, tracing down your cheeks as your emotions finally found an outlet. You hadnât meant to cry, but the vulnerability had cracked something open inside you, something that needed release.
Wonwoo immediately noticed, his expression shifting from concern to tenderness as he gently cupped your face in his hands. "Hey, love," he whispered, his voice low and soothing, "donât cry, please."
His thumb brushed over your cheeks, wiping away the tears before they could fall, but they kept coming. You could feel the tightness in your throat as you tried to hold it together, but it was impossible. You didnât know why this moment, this conversation, was making you so emotional, but it felt like everything had finally come to the surface.
"Iâm so sorry," you whispered between soft sobs, your voice shaky. "I didnât mean to fall apart like this."
Wonwooâs heart ached as he watched you struggle, and without hesitation, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a tender embrace. He didnât say anything right awayâjust held you, letting you cry into his chest as he stroked your back in gentle, rhythmic motions. His scent, his warmth, enveloped you, calming the storm inside you little by little.
After a while, he pulled back just enough to look at you again, his eyes filled with nothing but care and understanding. He gently kissed the tip of your nose, then your forehead, his lips soft against your skin. "You donât have to apologize, Y/n," he murmured. "Iâm here. Iâll always be here for you."
His words were like a balm to your aching heart, and you leaned into him again, feeling his chest rise and fall with each steady breath he took. He was your anchor, always there to help you calm the chaos within yourself.
His words settled in your chest like a warm, comforting weight, and for the first time in a while, the heaviness in your heart began to lift. Wonwoo's steady presence was all you needed in that moment. He had a way of making everything feel manageable, even when it seemed like the world was too much to bear.
His hands gently cupped your face again, his thumb softly tracing the curve of your jaw. His touch was tender, but there was an undeniable heat in the way his eyes lingered on yours, the depth of his gaze speaking volumes.
"Y/n," he murmured, his voice low and husky now, sending a shiver down your spine. "You have no idea how much I need you."
Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his words. It felt like the air between you both had shifted, the space between you now charged with an electric tension that had been building since the moment he walked into your life.
"Youâre everything to me," he continued, his voice growing softer, but more sincere. "And I donât want you to feel like you have to carry any of this on your own. Let me take care of you, let me be the one to ease your burdens."
The way he spoke, with so much raw emotion and sincerity, made your heart race. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips as he leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming and comforting all at once. You didnât even realize your body was inching toward his until his lips brushed against yours again, this time with more urgency, more desire.
Wonwooâs hands gently cupped your face, his touch tender, yet firm as though he wanted to ensure you felt his presence, his affection in every moment. He paused for a brief moment, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin.
"Youâre beautiful," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, making your heart flutter. He kissed your temple softly, as if you were the most precious thing in his world, and in that moment, you felt itâhow real, how deeply he cared.
"Can i, love?" he whispered, his voice low and filled with sincerity, as if asking for your permission, as if giving you the space to decide without any pressure. His eyes searched yours, waiting for your response.
You nodded, your fingers lightly brushing against his shirt, pulling him closer once more. âi always trust you,â you whispered back, your voice filled with both certainty and vulnerability.
The moment lingered, soft and intimate, as if time had slowed around you. The way he held you, the way his lips moved against yoursâit all felt so right,
As Wonwooâs hands began to roam, they found the hem of your shirt and slowly lifted it, exposing your smooth skin beneath. He trailed kisses from your jawline down your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Your breathing grew heavier, and you could feel your pulse quicken in anticipation.
Wonwoo's mouth worked its way lower, pausing just above your lace-clad breast. You let out a soft moan as he teased the material with his teeth, pulling the fabric aside to reveal your nipple. His tongue flicked over it, making you gasp and arch your back, pushing yourself further into his touch.
Your hands moved to undo the buttons of his shirt, and when he was bare-chested before you, you reached up to caress his pecs, feeling his muscles tense under your fingers. Desire coursed through both of you, and you could no longer deny the urgency of your passion.
As Wonwoo's passion continued to build, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you towards the bedroom. The anticipation was almost unbearable as you watched him close the door behind you, ensuring that the two of you were alone in this intimate moment.
He carefully placed you on the soft sheets of the bed before kneeling down next to you. With a tender smile, he began to undress you, removing the final barrier between the two of you. He looked at your body, admiring every curve, before following suit and removing his own clothing.
You lay there, both vulnerable and confident, your gaze fixed on each other's bodies. The desire between you both grew, and he leaned in once more to kiss you, his lips brushing against your neck, your collarbone, and finally your breasts, which he took into his mouth one by one, sucking and biting gently.
Your hands roamed over his chest, his abs, feeling every hardened muscle before wrapping around his strong back. You could feel his erection against your thigh, pulsating with need, as he moved further down your body.
As Wonwoo's tongue delved deeper, you let out a soft moan, arching your back to offer more access. "Oh, Wonwoo..." you whispered, your breath hitching as pleasure courses through you.
Feeling your arousal building, he withdrawn, leaving you panting and craving more. "Not yet," he murmured against your ear before moving up your body once more. You squirmed beneath him, your body trembling with need.
Positioning himself at your entrance, he gazed into your eyes, his own filled with a burning desire. "I want to feel you," you plead, your voice husky with want.
He slowly entered you, stretching you with his length, his gaze never leaving yours as he began to move, filling you completely. The sensation of being so intimately connected with him was overwhelming. As he started to pick up the pace, his thrusts became more urgent, more powerful, and both of you were swept away by the tide of passion.
"Wonwoo!" you cried out, your nails digging into his back as he sets a rhythm. "Don't stop..." you mumbled, lost in the euphoric connection between the two of you.
The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the two of you locked in this intimate dance. Wonwoo's breath caught, his movements growing more urgent. "I can't... I can't hold back," he grits out.
In the heat of the moment, you thrown your head back, your body tightening. "Me neither... I'm coming!" you gasped, and with that, pleasure overtook you, sending shivers through your entire being. Feeling you clenched around him, Wonwoo followed moments later, his hot release filling you completely.
Collapsing on top of you, he held you close, his heartbeat pounding against your chest. The room was still, the only sound the two of you catching your breath, your bodies tangled and spent.
*
You could feel the warmth of his bare skin against yours as you shifted in your sleep, the soft rustle of the sheets under your movements. The bedroom was still dimly lit, the first light of dawn creeping through the curtains, hinting that it was probably around 5 or 6 a.m. There was still plenty of time before you needed to get ready for school, but the comfort of his arms around you made the thought of getting up feel so distant.
His arms tightened around you, pulling your body closer to his. You smiled softly, relishing in the safety and warmth of his embrace.
âYou tired?â His voice, soft and hushed in the early morning, broke the silence. You shook your head slowly, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours.
"Wanna do it again?" His teasing tone was unmistakable, and you could feel the playful glint in his voice. Before you could respond, you slapped his bare chest lightly, a small laugh escaping you, but he was quick to catch your hand, bringing it to his mouth and placing a gentle kiss on your palm.
âYou look so pretty waking up in my arms,â Wonwoo murmured, his words a soft caress against your skin. "Can't wait to wake up like this every morning."
You chuckled softly at his words, his hints about marriage becoming more frequent these past few weeks. You had a feeling that soonâmaybe sooner than you expectedâheâd be down on one knee, asking you for forever. But last night, the conversation had shifted something inside of you. You knew, without a doubt, that you would say yes, even before he could ask.
He had proved it to you, over and over again, that he loved you unconditionally, that you deserved everything he had to giveâand more.
Wonwooâs voice broke the peaceful quiet as he let out a soft chuckle, pulling you from the warmth of the moment. "Chan will be here with breakfast," he said, as if he were casually mentioning the weather.
Before you could respond, Wonwoo pressed a button on his bedside table, and the automatic curtains of his bedroom slid open. The sudden burst of sunlight caught you off guard, and your eyes widened as the room was flooded with golden light. You quickly glanced at the clock beside you, your heart dropping when you saw the time.
It was already 08:54.
"Oh no, Iâm late!" you exclaimed, panic rising in your chest. You cursed under your breath, shooting a glare at Wonwoo's automatic blinds. You shot up from the bed, scrambling to get your bearings. "Why didnât you wake me up?!"
Wonwoo chuckled softly, clearly amused by your sudden rush. He propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on you with a playful smile. "Relax, love," he said, his voice smooth and calm. "I already called your school. Youâre off today. Youâre sick."
Your eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You did what?"
"Yep," he replied nonchalantly, his tone unbothered. "Youâve been working too hard lately. I figured you could use a little break."
Your mouth fell open in shock, and you let out a breathless laugh, though it was mixed with a touch of annoyance. "You canât just call my school and pretend Iâm sick! You know Iâll get in trouble for this. We talked about this last night, Jeon Wonwoo!" you protested, feeling a mix of frustration and amusement bubbling up inside you.
Wonwoo grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he casually stretched and reached for your hand. "I couldnât discuss it with you. You were asleep, remember?"
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at his audacity. "Youâre unbelievable!" you said, your voice dripping with mock exasperation. You slid out of the bed and grabbed your robe, walking brisklyâalmost stompingâtowards the bathroom. Wonwoo watched you with an amused glint in his eyes, clearly entertained by your reactions.
He leaned back against the pillows with a satisfied grin, knowing full well he had won this round. âTake your time, love,â he called after you. âIâll be here when you get out.â
You didnât look back, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. The playful banter and the way he cared for youâwhether you liked it or notâwas part of what made him so irresistible.
*
The grand hall was bathed in a soft, golden light, with chandeliers that seemed to glitter like stars above. Every inch of the room exuded opulence, from the intricate tapestries lining the walls to the marble floors polished to perfection. Floral arrangements in hues of white and gold filled the air with their delicate scent, while the soft murmur of the guests whispered in the background, all waiting for the moment that had been years in the making.
"And now," the officiant said, with a smile, "you may kiss the bride."
Wonwoo could already sense the impending storm. He knew you were going to kill him once the wedding ceremony was over and the two of you had to leave for your honeymoon. The honeymoon you had dreamed ofâIreland, watching the aurora borealis together, indulging in romantic moments while exploring nature. The thought of it made his heart swell with happiness. He loved the idea as much as you did.
But then, Chan, his ever-loyal secretary, had come to him with bad news a week before. Apologetic and flustered, he explained that there were no available tickets for the wedding day. Wonwoo's heart sank. There was no way he could cancel all the bookings heâd meticulously planned for months.
"How could this happen?" Wonwoo asked, frustration seeping into his voice.
Chan looked guilty as he spoke, "I... I forgot to book the tickets, sir."
"Are you kidding me?" Wonwoo muttered under his breath. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to make it work.
Your face was set in a perfect expression of disbelief and annoyance. "Youâve got to be kidding me," you mumbled, turning on your heel to walk away when you saw the jet. Your reaction was the complete opposite of the excitement you had shown during the wedding ceremony.
Wonwoo's heart raced, panicking. He couldn't let you walk away, not when you were this upset. He hurried after you, grabbing your arm to stop you. "Love, I can explain," he said, his voice full of panic. "It was Chanâs fault. He forgot to book the ticket. So this is the only solution. I promise it wonât happen again."
You pulled your arm away, looking at him with disbelief. "How could you blame your secretary for this? Heâs worked so hard for you! Heâs been running around non-stop because you decided to have the wedding on such short notice."
Wonwoo looked down at his shoes, guilt flashing across his face. "I know... But please, love, they're waiting for us."
You crossed your arms, glaring at him. "You're unbelievable!"
Suddenly, with a determined grin, Wonwoo scooped you up into his arms, lifting you effortlessly. You gasped in surprise, your breath catching in your throat, but Wonwoo was clearly amused by your reaction.
"Wonwoo, put me down!" you squealed, but he just laughed, his arms holding you tightly as he walked toward the private jet.
"No way, love," he teased, his voice soft but playful. "You're not getting away from me that easily."
You let out a sigh of exasperation, but there was no denying the flutter in your chest at the sight of Wonwoo's playful grin. He was carrying you like it was nothing, as though the private jet was just a small obstacle on the way to your honeymoon. As he approached the steps leading up to the jet, you finally stopped resisting, your body melting into his embrace, realizing that no matter how much you wanted to be annoyed, you couldn't stay mad at him for long.
"You're lucky you're cute," you muttered, resting your head on his shoulder as he gently placed you down on the stairs of the jet.
Wonwoo chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I know. And I plan to keep it that way, especially when youâre around."
With one last playful look, he took your hand, leading you inside. The sleek interior of the jet was luxurious, the setting perfect for the adventure that awaited you both. The two of you settled in, the soft hum of the engines beginning to fill the cabin as the jet prepared for takeoff. It wasnât the trip you had imaginedâfar from itâbut as you sat next to Wonwoo, feeling the warmth of his hand wrapped around yours, the dayâs earlier frustrations seemed to melt away.
You both settled back into your seats, the tension lifting as you exchanged soft smiles, your heart finally feeling at ease. The world outside the windows blurred as the jet soared higher into the sky, heading for a destination that was just the beginning of something beautiful.
After a while, Wonwoo leaned over, his lips brushing softly against your ear as he whispered, "Weâre going to make unforgettable memories together, love. I promise you, this is just the start."
You smiled, your heart swelling with the truth in his words. No matter the bumps in the road or the surprises along the way, this was the man you loved. And with him, you were ready to face whatever came next.
"With you, Wonwoo," you whispered back, "Iâm ready for anything."
As the private jet glided through the sky, the two of you sat side by side, hand in hand, knowing that this was just the beginning of your forever together.
Summary: A childhood promise between a crown prince and a noble girl was never meant to be seriousâexcept Mingyu took it to heart. Years later, as suitors surround Y/N, he quietly sabotages every proposal, unwilling to let her go. When she calls their promise childish, heâs forced to finally confess under a thousand lanterns.
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Oral, Penetration, Dirty Talk, Power Dynamics, Public sex (kind of),Possessive Behavior, Angst, dom!mingyu x sub!reader,Â
Wc: 5.9k
A/n: This was so so fun to write. (IGNORE THE SMUT PART. THAT'S SO EMBARRASSING) First issue for our magazine and I am so excited to share my piece.
Featured in the SVT Issue 01 Spring 2026, which was hosted by @svt-magazines .
Read it in the E-Magazine
Y/N knew she never really belonged from the moment she was of the appropriate age to grasp her position relative to the others in the palace hierarchy. The palace was more than a series of rooms with polished floors and golden doors. It was a force to be reckoned withâthe home of kings and the place of power and prestige she could never fully share. Nor did Y/N feel like she belonged as a child, not with the way people talked softly as members of the royal family walked by, not with the way people smiled too nicely to be real. Yet she was close enough to touchâbut separated from the throne by her very birth and background.
That had been precisely why meeting Prince Mingyu was so terrifying.
At seven years old, she had been standing in the eastern courtyard, her nervous hands twisting at the fabric of her sleeve as she waited to be presented. She had bowed so low when the crown prince came, escorted by attendants and advisors, that she nearly stumbled.
âI am Y/N of Houseââ she started, her voice quivering.
âYou're going to hurt your neck if you keep doing that.â
The voice, however, was calm, curious rather than commanding.
She looked up in surprise.
Mingyu was not what she had expected.
He was a tall child for his age, dark hair hanging loosely over his eyes, which sparkled with intelligence, wearing robes far too ornate for a boy who looked so⊠ordinary. Not cruel, exactly, and certainly not distant. Just a boy who was more interested in studying her expression than in proclaiming his own importance.
âIâm the prince,â he went on, angling his head, âbut you donât have to look as though youâre about to faint.â
Her cheeks were burning. âIâm sorry, Your Highness,â
"Don't call me that," he replied immediately. "Call me Mingyu."
She hesitated. âI⊠can'tâ
âWhy?â
âBecause youâre the crown prince.â
He frowned as if she had said something unreasonable to him.Â
âThat doesnât mean we canât be friends.â
Friends.
Never had anyone proposed anything like that before.
Over the following years, Mingyu proved himself to be serious.
He pursued her relentlessly.
Whenever his tutors in court would dismiss their classes, he would show up at her side. Whenever his dinners at formal banquets were a bore, he'd slip out and look for her elsewhere. And whenever nobles whispered to him about suitable future alliances, he ignored them and spent afternoons racing her through palace gardens instead.
She was only a noble daughter to the rest.
For him, she was just Y/N.
The person who laughed at his jokes.
Who had listened when he'd vented about those etiquette lessons
The one who, upon noticing, kept silently by his side when he felt overwhelmed.
Sometimes, she wondered if he even remembered that he was a prince.
The promise happened on one afternoon in late summer.
They were ten in number.
The magnolia tree beside the west wing was in full bloom, its petals drifting lazily in the air. They sat beneath it, backs against the trunk, parchment and ink scattered between them. Mingyu was tasked to practice his calligraphy. Y/N had volunteered to help.
Actually, he was procrastinating.
"This is impossible," he muttered, staring at his crooked characters. "Why does everything have to be perfect?"
She smiled softly. âBecause someday youâre going to be king.â
He fell silent at that.
âI donât want to,â he replied after a moment.
She faced him. âWhat?â
"I don't want to marry a person that I don't know. I don't want people deciding my life for me.â He hesitated, then added in a small voice, âI don't want to lose you.â
Her heart hiccupped.
âMingyuâŠ?â
He picked up a piece of parchment and, with fumbling fingers, attempted to fold it.Â
âIf we promise to marry each other, they canât force us, right?â
She stared.
âMarryâŠ?â
âYes.â He set the lopsided paper crown on her head. âThen youâll be my queen.
She felt the heat rise to her face.Â
âThatâs silly.â
"Is it?"
She looked at him.
Really looked.
In seriousness gone in his eyes, in the vulnerability he did not even try to veil, in a waiting-like-it-depended-on-more-than-anything-else attitude that was all his.
So, she held out her pinky.
âOkay,â she said softly. âI promise.â
He interlaced his finger with hers as a wave of relief washed over his features.
âI wonât forget,â he whispered.
She believed him.
She just didnât know how right that would be.
Time did not change the palace.
It only changed them.
When she had finally turned nineteen, she had learned how to walk through marble halls without appearing to be lost, how to smile correctly at people who assessed her as if she were a prize to be won, and how to sit through innumerable banquets without appearing tired. The years had molded her into the perfect picture of refinement and poise, as if she were the very epitome of her family's name.
However, Mingyu had undergone a transformation
He was no longer the boy who climbed trees and folded paper crowns.
He was the crown prince.
Tall, broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, and impossibly handsome in his formal robes. When he entered a room, conversations softened automatically. Ministers stood up. Nobles bowed. Even seasoned diplomats measured their words.
And yetâŠ
But with her, he was still Mingyu.
At least, he tried to be.
They sat together in the palace library, where sun filtered in through the high windows, spilling down onto the long tables of wood. They had books opened on the table between them, but neither was reading recently.
Y/N appeared to be reading a historical text.
Mingyu was pretending not to stare at her.
âYouâve been quiet,â she said, turning a page.
âSo have you,â he replied.
âThatâs because I'm studying.â
He huffed softly. âYouâve read the same paragraph three times.â
She stopped, âYou noticed?â
âI always notice,â he said, before thinking.
He quickly looked away.
Her lips were slightly curved. âYouâre being strange again.â
âIâm notâ
âYou are.â
He shifted in his seat. âAm I not allowed to be strange now?â
"Youâre allowed," she said softly. "I just want to know why."
He never replied.
For how could he tell her that every time he looked at her, something in his chest tightened?
The way she laughed, the way she fixed her hair behind her ear, her confident conversation with diplomats and politiciansâall of this reminded him of the fact that she was becoming a young woman the whole court would want.
Someone he might not be allowed to keep.
The first proposal was received two weeks later.
It came in the form of a letter, well-written and bearing the crest of House Kim.
She found out during afternoon tea.
Her motherâs eyes sparkled with barely suppressed excitement. "They are very respectable." She added, "And their eldest son is well-educated.â
Y/N almost dropped her cup.
"Proposal?" she echoed faintly.
âYes, dear. Itâs time.â
Time.
The word resounded within her brain.
She walked in a daze that evening through the gardens, hardly aware of the chill in the breeze or the lanterns as they flickered into life.
She called, "Mingyu," as she caught his figure near the pavilion.
He turned around at once.
One look into her face and he knew.
âWhat happened?â
She hedged. âI got⊠a marriage proposal to my family.â
Silence.
Pure, stifling silence.
"From who?" he asked more cautiously.
âHouse Kim.â
His jaw tightened.
âAmbitious,â he grumbled. âTheir son is arrogant.âÂ
âYouâve never met him.â
âI know his type.â
She frowned. âYouâre being unfair.â
âAm I?â he snapped, then caught himself.Â
âI mean⊠you deserve better.â
Better than what
Better than him?
The thought constricted his chest.
And more came forward during the weeks.
At banquets.
In ceremonies.
Informal functions and parties.
They bowed to her.
Complimented her.
Tried to impress her.
And Mingyu watched.
Every
Single.
Time.
He stood beside her, posture perfect, expression unreadable, eyes dark with something dangerously close to jealousy.
When Lord Park praised her about her intelligence, he told him about the recent political scandal that involved him.
When Count Seo asked her to have tea, Mingyu schooled him on royal etiquette.
When the other aristocrat sought to monopolize her attention, Mingyu casually positioned herself between them.
Casualty
Politely
TerritoriallyÂ
âDo you have to do that?â she whispered one evening.
âDo what?â
âScare everyone away.â
âIâm notâ
âYou glared at Lord Min for five minutes.â
âHe was standing too close.â
She looked at him in astonishment.
Possibly.
But he couldnât stop.
Mingyu was alone, seated in his chambers, looking at the moon through the windows, which were quite tall.
He still remembered her pinky promise.
Her small hand in his.
Her soft voice said, âI promise.â
What if it meant nothing to her?
Had it just been of importance to him?
He placed his hand on his chest.
âDonât forget,â he whispered to the empty room.
âBecuase I didnâtâ
By the time summer was in full swing, Y/N was exhausted.
Not physically, of courseâbut emotionally, certainly. Every week, another invitation, another letter, another optimistic family exploring the possibilities. She smiled and said no, whenever possible, politely, but also listened patiently to her parents' explanations that this was the way the world worked.
What she hadnât expected, however, was Mingyu.
More specifically, she hadnât anticipated that he would be such a problem.
He was everywhere.
When she was invited to a luncheon, he was at her side.
If she were to walk through the garden, he somehow found her.
If she talked to a nobleman longer than one minute, Mingyu immediately became part of the conversation.
Always polite.
Always calm.
Always impossible to ignore.
At first, she thought that she was imagining it.
However, after the fourth âcoincidentalâ interruption that week, she couldnât deny it anymore.
She finally confronted him on a quiet afternoon in the inner garden.
The location was almost deserted, and it was shaded by very tall trees and a small stream. This was the location they used to hide as kids whenever they wanted to avoid their tutors.
Now, it felt heavier.
âMingyu,â she called.
He stopped walking.
âYesâ
âWhy are you avoiding me?â
His eyebrows furrowed. âI'm not.â
âYou are,â she said insistently. âEvery time I try to speak to you properly, you disappear. And every time I want to speak to anyone else, you appear.â
He looked away.
âThatâs not true.â
âThen explain.â
Silence.
The sound of the water trickling softly filled the space between them.
âI don't like them,â he finally muttered.
âWho?â
âThe men who keep circling you.â
She crossed her arms. "That's not your decision."
"I know," he snapped. And then, quieter, "Thatâs the problem."
Her chest tightened.
âMingyu⊠what is going on with you?â
He clenched his fists at his sides.
How would he tell her that every smile she gave another felt like a knife?
How could he confess that, each night, he lay awake and imagined a future where she belonged to someone who wasnât him?
She breathed slowly. âLook. I know things are changing. Weâre not kids anymore.â
His heart sank.
âBut youâve been acting likeâŠâ She tried to think of the right word. âLike youâre angry at me.â
âI'm not angry at you.â
âThen why does it feel like you are?â
âBecause Iâm terrified,â he thought.
Instead, he said nothing.
Frustration had been brewing inside her
âYou know, maybe youâre holding onto things too tightly,â she said, more sharply than she meant to. âLike that promise we made.â
He stopped.
Her stomach fell slightly at the sudden pause, but she continued.
âThat was years ago. We were children. It was just a childish promise.â
The words echoed.
Childish
Promise.
Just.
He felt as if the ground had disappeared beneath him.
ââŠJust?â he repeated quietly.
She hesitated. âI didnât meanââ
âDid it mean anything to you?â he asked.
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
âI⊠I donât know,â she admitted. âWe were ten, Mingyu. We didnât understand anything back then.â
He laughed softly.
It was a broken sound.
âI did,â he said.
She looked up at him.
His eyes were dark, unreadable, full of something dangerous, close to hurt.
"I recognized that ⊠I didnât want to lose you," he added. "And I still donât."
Her breath caught.
âMingyu..â
âI know itâs stupid,â he went on quickly. âI know Iâm not supposed to feel this way. I know you deserve choices and freedoms and everything I canât promise you. But donât tell me it meant nothingâ
âI never said that,â she whispered.
âBut you implied it.â
Silence resumed between them, this time more oppressive.
That night, Y/N couldnât sleep.
She would lie there staring at the ceiling and thinking of what he said.
âI still donât want to lose you.â
Was he really carrying that promise on his back the whole time?
Meanwhile, Mingyu was on his balcony, gazing at the same moon.
For the first time in years, he wondered whether he had been loving her alone.
The Festival of Royal Lanterns was meant to be a celebration.
Once a year, the palace became an ocean of light. Thousands of lanterns were threaded through courtyards and onto balconies, glowing softly against the night sky. Musicians filled the air with soft music, and nobles dressed in their finest silks came to socialize under shimmering banners.
It was a night of happiness for most people.
For Y/N, this was torture.
She stood beside her parents near the main pavilion, hands folded neatly in front of her, smile carefully practiced. On the surface, she looked composed and elegant, just as a noblewoman should.
Inside, she was coming undone.
Across the courtyard, Mingyu sat on the elevated royal platform beside his parents, posture perfect, expression composed. He laughed at the right moments, nodded when ministers spoke to him, and accepted greetings with nothing but effortless grace.
He did not look up at her.
Not once.
And that hurt more than all his jealousy ever had.
Since they'd argued in the garden, something had shifted between them. He'd grown distant-polite and respectful, and unbearably formal. No more catching her eye and holding it. No more quiet conversations. No more walking beside her without thinking.Â
It was as if I was losing him slowly.
âY/nâ
She turned to find Lord Jang standing beside her, with a bright smile on his face.
âI was hoping to speak with you tonight,â he said. âMay I?â
She tried to nod her head. "Of course."
They walked towards a quieter area of the courtyard, far from the central crowd. Lanterns were floating above them, and they illuminated the pathway with a certain kind of glow.
âYou look lovely this evening,â he said.
"Thank you," she answered reflexively.
He paused, then said, âMy family is very interested in strengthening our ties with your family. I was wondering if you might considerââ
Such words she barely heard.
As she felt it.
A presence.
She glanced up.
Mingyu stood at the edge of the platform, looking directly at them.
His hands were clenched at his sides.
His jaw was tight.
And his eyesâ
They were full of something dangerously close to desperation.
Mingyu hadnât planned to do this.
He had vowed to himself that he would behave. That he would be mature. That he would respect her choices, even if those choices destroyed him.
But watching another man lean close to her, hearing her soft laughter, seeing her look at someone else the way she used to look at himâ
It broke something.
He suddenly got up to his feet.
The sudden movement called for attention.
Ministers stopped talking in mid-conversation.
Nobles turned.
The music softened.
Down the platform and across the courtyard Mingyu came before anyone had time to raise a hand.
Straight at her.
"Y/N."
She started.
âMingyu?â
"May I speak with you?" he asked.
He sounded courteous.
His eyes were not.
Lord Jang faltered. âYour Highness, I wasââ
âI'll be back in a minute,â Y/N said in a hurry, noticing how much tension was in the room. âExcuse us.â
She followed Mingyu down as he led her beneath a cluster of lanterns near the central fountain.
âWhat are you doing?â she whispered.
âI am sorry,â he said. âI tried not to, I really did.â
âTried not to do what?â
âI love you.â
Her breath caught in her throat.
He fully turned to face her.
People around them had begun to take cognizance.
Whispers spread.
But he didnât care anymore.
âIâve been in love with you since we were kids,â he continued. âI never stopped. Not for a day. I thought I could hide it. I thought I could let you go if thatâs what you wanted. But I canât.â
 Her eyes stood out.
âMingyu, everybody is watchingââ
âLet them.â
His voice fluttered.
âI know I am selfish. I know I am risking everything, but every part of watching you choose someone else hurts more than any form of punishment I could face.
He took a shaky breath.
âThat promise wasnât childish to me. It was my future. You were my future.â
There was silence in the courtyard.
Lanterns flickered.
All music had ceased.
All the eyes were on them.
The workpage.
Y/N felt the world shrink to just them.
âYou⊠youâve been suffering alone?â she whispered.
He nodded slightly. âI didnât want to burden you.â
Hot tears pricked the backs of her eyes.
âYou idiot,â she whispered.
He blinked. âWhat?â
âYou should have told meâ
She drew closer.
"I was confused. I didn't know what I felt. But hearing you say this⊠knowing you've loved me all this timeâŠ"
She reached for his sleeve.
Her fingers shook.Mingyu⊠I think Iâve been in love with you too. I was just too scared to realize it.â
His breath caught.
âY/NâŠâ
The crowd erupted into murmurs.
Shock.
Disbelief.
Hope.
But neither of them noticed.
They only saw each other.
The palace had never felt so loud.
Even after the music began again, and servants made an effort to recreate the festive atmosphere, the air remained heavy with whispers. The nobility talked in clusters, their whispers hidden by their fans made of silk. The clergy looked at each other nervously, while court servants did their best not to stare.
A public confession by the Crown Prince had not been on the schedule that evening.
And certainly not one involving a noble woman with no royal blood.
Y/N hardly noticed any of this.
She remained standing around the lanterns, her heart pounding, fingers tentatively holding onto Mingyuâs sleeve, as if releasing it would cause everything around her to shatter.
He hadnât moved.
Neither had she.
They stood there for a few seconds staring at each other in a mixture of relief and disbelief.
âYou⊠you meant that,â she finally whispered.
Mingyu took a nervous breath. âEvery word.â
His voice was softer now, absent the earlier intensity. Without the boost of confession and the adrenaline that came with it, the man suddenly appeared weak; almost fragile.
âIâm sorry for doing this in front of everyone,â he said, as if in apology. âI.. I was afraid that if I were to wait longer, Iâd lose my courage.â
She relented.
âYouâve always been brave,â she said.Â
âJust. not when it comes to feelings.â
He laughed weakly. "That obvious?"
âYesâ
They were interrupted by footsteps.
Mingyuâs father, the king, was walking towards him slowly, accompanied by two advisors on either side. Though his expression couldnât be gauged, this actually made things even worse
Mingyu stood up at once and instinctively placed himself in front of her.
âFather,â he said.
The king studied both of them for a long moment.
âYou caused quite a disturbance,â he remarked casually.
âI know,â Mingyu said. âAnd I accept whatever consequencesââ
âLater,â the king interrupted.
Both of them blinked.
âThis evening is a celebration,â said the king, âand will not be turned into a spectacle of discipline. A private discussion can be arranged for tomorrow.â
He looked at Y/N.
âReturn to your family. Safely.â
Then he walked away.
Just like that.
Her knees were about to collapse.
Mingyu took a breath of relief. âWe survived⊠for now.â
She laughed nervously. âIs it strange that Iâm more scared of tomorrow than I was of tonight?â
âNot strange,â he admitted. âIâm terrifiedâ
Later the same evening, after the majority of the guests had left and the palace became quiet, Mingyu quietly asked her to join him on the eastern terrace.
One of the few locations from which one could see both the city and the gardens. It was a place of night-time solitude, isolated from politics and court expectations.
She arrived first.
Lantern light flickered across the stone railings, and the distant stars shone through faintly in the palace pond below.
When Mingyu joined her, he looked different.
No crown.
No formal robes.
Just simple clothing, tired eyes.
âYou came,â he said softly.
âOf course,â she replied.
They stood side by side and gazed out at the distant lights.
For once, there was no audience.
No titles.
No pressure.
Just them.
"I kept thinking youâd forget," confessed Mingyu.
âForget what?â
âUs. The promise. Me.â
She turned to him. âWhy would I forget you?â
"Because youâre strong," he said. "You adapt. You move forward. And I⊠I stayed stuck."
Her chest tightened.
âYou weren't stuck,â she said. âYou were waiting.â
He looked at her.
Really looked.
As if she were trying to memorize her face.
"I waited because loving you was the only thing that felt certain," he confessed.
"Everything else in my life changes. Politics. Alliances. Expectations.
"But you⊠you were always you."
Her eyes stung.
âMingyu⊠youâre unfair,â she
âHow?â
âYou make it impossible not to love you back.â
He smiled softly.
âThatâs the nicest thing anyoneâs ever said to me.â
Silence reigned once more between them.
Not awkward.
Comfortable
Charged
She saw he was standing very close.
Close enough that their sleeves brushed.
Close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body.
Her heartbeat quickened.
âMingyu,â she
âYes?â
âWhat happens now?â
He hesitated.
"Tomorrow, I'll speak to my parents. I'll fight if I must." He looked at her intently. "I'll not let them dictate our future without us."
Her breath caught.
âYouâd really do that?â
âFor you?â he replied immediately. âAlways.â
She reached for his hand.
This time, he didnât freeze.
He fit their fingers together naturally, as if he had been waiting for years to do this correctly.
His thumb caressed hers gently over her knuckles.
The small action caused shivers down her spine.
Notably
Slowly, almost hesitantly, he stepped closer.
âMay IâŠ?â he asked.
She nodded.
He raised his free hand and gently pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear with tender consideration. His caress stayed a fraction longer than it needed to.
They were now inches apart.
She could feel his breath.
He saw the way her lips were slightly parted.
Time seemed to stretch.
âI've wanted this so long,â he whispered.
"So have I," she replied.
He moved closer.
Slowly
Gently
Their foreheads met.
Their noses touched.
One more breath.
One more inchâ
And the world faded away.
Their lips met in a kiss that was soft at first, like the brush of silk against skin. Mingyu's mouth pressed against hers with a reverence that made her heart swell, his lips warm and yielding. She sighed into him, her free hand rising to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath the simple fabric of his tunic.
He deepened the kiss slowly, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she parted them, inviting him in. Their tongues met tentatively, exploring with gentle strokes that sent sparks of warmth pooling in her belly. His hand, the one not entwined with hers, slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer until their bodies aligned, her curves fitting against the solid lines of his frame.
The night air cooled their heated skin, but the warmth between them built steadily. Mingyu broke the kiss only to trail his lips along her jawline, nipping softly at the sensitive spot below her ear. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck to him, and he accepted the offering with feather-light kisses that made her knees weaken.
"You're everything," he murmured against her skin, his voice husky with emotion. His fingers splayed across her back, holding her steady as she leaned into him. She could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against her hip, firm and insistent, but he made no rush to act on it. Instead, he returned to her mouth, kissing her with a hunger tempered by tenderness, his tongue delving deeper now, tasting her fully.
Her hands roamed up his arms, gripping the muscles there, then to his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. The terrace's stone railing dug into her side, but she barely noticed, lost in the sensation of his body molding to hers. Mingyu's thumb continued its lazy circles on her hand, grounding them even as passion ignited.
He pulled back slightly, his tired eyes now dark with longing as they searched hers. "Tell me if it's too much," he whispered, though his breath came ragged.
She shook her head, her fingers threading into his hair. "Never too much. Not with you."
Emboldened, he kissed her again, this time letting his hand drift from her back to her waist, his palm slipping beneath the edge of her outer robe to caress the soft fabric of her inner layer. The touch was electric, intimate in its simplicity. She arched into him, her breasts pressing against his chest, nipples hardening at the friction.
Slowly, he guided her hand from his hair to his neck, then lower, encouraging her to feel the heat of his skin where his collar gaped open. Her fingertips brushed the pulse at his throat, then dipped inside, tracing the line of his collarbone. Mingyu groaned softly into her mouth, the sound vibrating through her.
They shifted together, his body backing hers gently against the railing. The city lights twinkled far below, indifferent to their private world. His free hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking her flushed skin as he kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her eyelid.
"I need to touch you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes pleaded for permission, even as his body trembled with restraint.
She nodded, her own desire mirroring his. "Please."
With deliberate care, he untied the sash of her robe, letting the fabric part just enough to reveal the curve of her shoulder and the swell of her breast beneath her undergarment. His fingers trembled as he traced the exposed skin, goosebumps rising in their wake. Leaning down, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt of her skin.
She gasped, her hand tightening in his. The sensation traveled straight to her core, a slow ache building between her thighs. Mingyu's lips continued their descent, kissing along the edge of her undergarment until he nuzzled the soft mound of her breast. He didn't pull the fabric away yet, content to tease with breaths and light sucks through the thin material, making her nipple peak even harder.
Her body responded instinctively, hips shifting forward to seek more contact. He felt it, pressing his thigh between her legs, offering gentle pressure against her growing wetness. She rocked against him subtly, the friction sending waves of pleasure through her.
Mingyu lifted his head, capturing her lips once more in a kiss that was deeper, more urgent, but still laced with that profound gentleness. His hand finally slipped inside her robe, cupping her breast fully, thumb circling her nipple with exquisite slowness. She moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by their kiss.
Time blurred as they explored each other like thisâhands wandering, lips meeting, bodies pressing closer. He whispered endearments against her skin, promises of forever mingling with the soft sounds of their shared breaths. The stars above seemed brighter, the pond below a mirror to their unfolding intimacy.
When he finally eased her robe further open, exposing her to the night air, he paused to admire her, his gaze filled with awe. "Beautiful," he breathed, before lowering his head to take her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.
Pleasure arched through her like a bolt, her back bowing off the stone railing as Mingyu's mouth latched onto her nipple, sucking hard now, teeth grazing the stiff peak. He pulled back just enough to let it pop free with a wet smack, then dove back in, tongue lashing the sensitive bud while his hand kneaded her other breast, pinching the nipple between his fingers until she whimpered.
Her pussy throbbed, slick heat soaking through her undergarments, and she ground harder against his thigh, chasing the friction. Mingyu growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her skin as he switched sides, sucking her other nipple into his mouth with the same relentless hunger. His free hand roamed lower, shoving her robe fully open and yanking at the ties of her inner layers until fabric pooled at her waist, exposing her completely to the cool night air.
âFuck, you're so wet already,â he muttered, his voice rough as he slid his hand between her thighs, fingers brushing over the damp silk covering her pussy. She gasped, hips bucking forward, and he didn't hesitateâpushing the fabric aside to plunge two fingers straight into her dripping cunt. She clenched around him immediately, hot and tight, her walls sucking him in as he pumped them deep, curling to hit that spot inside her that made stars burst behind her eyelids.
Mingyu's cock strained against his simple pants, hard and leaking pre-cum, but he focused on her, thumb circling her swollen clit with firm strokes while his fingers fucked her steadily. âYou like that? My fingers stretching your pussy?â he whispered hotly against her neck, biting down on the flesh there, marking her as his. She nodded frantically, one hand fisting his hair, the other clawing at his shoulder.
âYesâharder, Mingyu, please,â she begged, her voice breaking as he added a third finger, scissoring them to open her up, his palm slapping wetly against her clit with each thrust. Juices coated his hand, dripping down her thighs, the obscene sounds echoing softly in the quiet night. He kissed her then, messy and desperate, tongues tangling as he finger-fucked her toward the edge, her body trembling in his arms.
But he stopped just short, pulling his fingers free with a slick pop, leaving her clenching around nothing, aching and empty. âNot yet,â he rasped, eyes dark with lust as he dropped to his knees on the terrace stones, ignoring the roughness against his skin. He hiked her robe higher, bunching it at her hips, and buried his face between her legs without warning.
His tongue licked a broad stripe up her pussy, from her entrance to her clit, lapping at her folds like a man starved. She cried out, legs shaking as he sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking it rapidly while his hands gripped her ass, spreading her cheeks. One finger teased her back entrance, circling the tight ring before pushing in just the tip, making her jolt with the unexpected intrusion.
Mingyu ate her out like it was his last meal, tongue thrusting into her hole, fucking her with it while his nose ground against her clit. He moaned into her pussy, the vibrations sending shocks through her core, and she came hard, thighs clamping around his head as her orgasm ripped through her, cum gushing onto his tongue. He drank it all, swallowing greedily, not stopping until she sagged against the railing, oversensitive and panting.
Rising up, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his lips glistening with her arousal. âTurn around,â he ordered, voice low and commanding, all traces of hesitation gone. She obeyed, spinning to face the railing, gripping the stone as he pressed against her from behind. His hands yanked her undergarments down fully, leaving her ass bare to the night breeze, and he ground his clothed cock against her crack, the fabric barrier teasing them both.
'I've dreamed of fucking you like this, he admitted, shoving his pants down just enough to free his thick cock. It slapped against her ass, hot and heavy, the head already slick. He rubbed it along her soaked slit, coating himself in her juices, then notched at her entrance. âGonna fill this pussy upâmake you mine.â
With one hard thrust, he buried himself balls-deep, stretching her wide, her walls fluttering around his girth. She moaned loudly, pushing back to take him deeper, and he set a brutal pace immediately, hips snapping forward, cock pounding into her with wet slaps. His hands bruised her hips, holding her steady as he railed her, the railing creaking under their weight.
âFucking tightâyour cunt's gripping me so good,â he grunted, one hand sliding up to wrap around her throat from behind, tilting her head back for a sloppy kiss over her shoulder. She reached down, rubbing her clit frantically as he fucked her harder, his balls slapping against her with each plunge. Sweat slicked their skin, the air thick with the scent of sex.
He pulled out suddenly, spinning her around again to face him, lifting her effortlessly onto the railing despite the drop belowâtrusting, reckless. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he slammed back in, fucking up into her with powerful thrusts that made her breasts bounce. "Look at me while I breed this pussy," he demanded, eyes locked on hers, and she did, watching the raw need on his face as he chased his release.
She came again first, screaming his name as her pussy spasmed around him, milking his cock. That set him offâhe thrust deep one last time, cock pulsing as he flooded her with hot cum, ropes of it painting her insides white. They clung together, breathing ragged, his spend leaking out around where they were joined.
But he wasn't done. Easing out, he dropped to his knees once more, spreading her thighs to watch his cum drip from her fucked-out pussy. âMessy girl,â he murmured, then licked her clean, tongue scooping up the mix of their fluids, sucking it from her folds until she squirmed. His cock twitched back to life, hardening as he stood, pressing it against her lips.
âSuck it. Taste us,â he said, and she did, opening wide to take him in, tongue swirling around the head to clean every drop. He fucked her mouth shallowly, hands in her hair, until he was fully hard again. Pulling out, he flipped her over the railing this time, ass up, and spread her cheeks.
âNow your ass,â he growled, spitting on her hole before pushing a finger in, then two, working her open while she moaned. When she was ready, he lined up his cock, slick with her saliva, and pushed in slowly at first, then deeper, inch by inch until he was seated fully in her tight ass.
The burn gave way to pleasure as he started thrusting, one hand reaching around to finger her pussy, the dual penetration making her see white. He fucked her ass relentlessly, pace building until he was pounding her, grunting with each slap of skin. âGonna cum in here tooâfill every hole.â
She shattered around his fingers, ass clenching on his cock, and he followed, pumping her full of another load, hot and deep. They collapsed together on the terrace floor, bodies entwined, spent but sated, the night wrapping around them like a secret.
Preview: You shouldâve known the moment he walked into the boardroom with a grin too expensive for someone so inexperienced, This was temptationâtailored in Armani and absolutely lethal.
How did the two of you end up hereâhis office, lights off, half-breathing on his desk at nine oâclock at night?
You shouldâve known the moment this would spiral. The signs were all there.
Soonyoung Kwon was the grandson of your bossâ bossâ bossâ boss. Which, by hierarchy, technically made him your boss tooâthough the title felt more ornamental than functional. You still remember the day he stepped out of the elevator a month ago, flashing a dazzling smile, shaking hands with the interns like he was on a political campaign.
He had announced himself as the new Director of KF Label, like he was gifting you all with his presence. And then your former director, who clearly saw the chaos ahead and ran, called you in for a âquick chatâ and gracefully asked youâread: beggedâto guide Soonyoung during his adaptation period.
A polite corporate term, youâve since realized, for âHe has no idea what the hell heâs doing, so make sure he doesnât crash and burn the company before Q4.â
And yesâhe truly has no idea what heâs doing. He is rich in confidence, poor in skill. A golden retriever with a black card and a C-suite title. Infuriatingly cheerful, tragically unqualified.
Which is how you, the marketing manager who actually built her way up from zero, spent the past month babysitting someone who thought "brand synergy" was a soft drink.
Thirty days of training him, fixing his mistakes, dragging him out of meetings he wasnât prepared for, and stillâstillâsomehow he manages to get under your skin.
âNow, tell meâŠâ
âWhat should I say⊠during the meeting⊠with the supermarket owners tomorrow?â
Your fingers dug into the edge of his desk as he slammed into you, hips snapping forward with a pace you didnât know he was capable of. God. Why were you into this? And why were you suddenly sounding like a desperate young woman getting her brain fucked stupid?
Kwon Soonyoung was an idiot. A cocky, clueless pain in your ass.
Yet tonightâhe was making you worse than everything he is. Your moan broke the silence of the office in a high, breathless pitch no one in this building had ever heard from you. Youâwho kept your heels sharp, your lipstick in place, and your tone professional no matter the pressure. But now? Now you could barely get out a single word. Barely answer his simplest questions.
Yet he kept asking them. âWe have a slogan?â â his first dumb question, asked a month ago when you handed him a company profile and procedural system you had rewritten in the simplest terms possible. Youâd practically turned it into a corporate comic book, hoping to minimize the damage.
And now?
âShould I wear a Rolex or a Cartier for tomorrowâs meeting?â
He whispered it against your ear like it was dirty talk, the smirk in his voice cutting sharper than his thrusts. He probably thought he won something. Okayâfine. He won a little. Ever since he had you bent over his desk, squirming, gasping, ruined.
But stillâstupid. Always with the stupid questions. âYouâre⊠stupid!â you managed, voice strangled between a moan and a cry, half an insult and half a plea. You barely made sense, and you hated that he knew it.
He laughed, low and wicked, before slowing his hips, dragging out the motion just enough to make you whimper at the loss. His hand ran along your front, slipping under your blouse and palming your breast like he knew you needed that grounding, that release.
âPlease⊠Kwon SoonyoungâŠâ you gasped, back arching when his fingers grazed your nipple.
But instead of mercy, he pulled you upright, chest to chest, keeping you firmly locked against him. His hand gripped your waist as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.
âAnswer me first, Ms. Ji. And rememberâŠâ His voice dropped a note deeper, quieter, deadlier.
âIâm your boss. So itâs Director Kwon.â
The next morning felt criminal.
Not just because you only managed two hours of sleep, or because your thighs still ached from being bent over a mahogany desk like some overworked intern in a very inappropriate drama. No. It was criminal because you still showed up on time, coffee in hand, hair done, heels on, and speech script perfectly printed.
Even after Kwon Soonyoung had given you three orgasms in one hour. In the office. On his desk. Under the goddamn company logo.
You were trying your best to pretend it never happened. Really, you tried. The speech script was crisp, stapled, and revised at 3 a.m. in between waves of humiliation, aftershocks of pleasure, and the memory of him whispering âAnswer me, Ms. JiâŠâ like he wasnât buried so deep inside youâ you forgot your own name.
You had cross-checked every paragraph, every bullet point, just to make sure you hadnât unconsciously written âYour cock has a better function than your brain.â
Honestly? If that line made it in, it wouldnât be inaccurate. Was there a company that specialized in evaluating performance like that? Maybe it was time to write to the Kwon family directly. You could pitch it as a side ventureâsomething like Kwon Enterprise: More Brains Below the Belt.
Hell, they might even give you equity for surviving their grandson.
âThank you, Ms. Ji,â Soonyoung said quietly, his voice low, velvet-wrapped. He took the papers from your hand, but didnât let go. His fingers lingered. So did his eyes.
And you sworeâyou sworeâyou saw the same madness in them that you saw last night. The hunger. The chaos. The wicked tilt of his mouth that said he remembered everything.
You cleared your throat, yanking your hand away as if his touch burned. It did, in a way. You forced your face back into your best professional mask.
âTry not to freestyle this time, Director,â you said coolly, taking the seat beside him. âAnd no dumb questions about âwhat synergy means.â Itâs in bold on page two.â
He smirked without turning, flipping the paper open. But you caught the way his leg brushed yours under the table. Intentional. Definitely intentional.
Last night was incredible. You couldn't lie. But if this man thought he could rattle you in daylight the same way he did in the dark. Well. He really was stupid.
*
A gentle touch on your shoulder startled you out of your screen-staring tranceâyou didnât even know how long youâd been zoning out. Your eyes blinked back into focus, and you looked up to see Kim Mingyu, your colleague and the ever-reliable Finance and Accounting Manager of the label.
His brows were furrowed, concern written across his face. âYou okay, Y/n? Director Kwonâs called for you three times,â he said softly.
You sighed, pushing yourself up from the chair with a tired stretch. âIâm fine. Just... running on fumes,â you said, flashing him a half-smile that tried to pass for reassurance.
But Mingyu didnât look convinced. He tilted his head, gaze narrowing just a little. âIs he still bothering you?â
You blinked. âWho?â
âThat bastard,â he replied, voice lower nowâhim, meaning Jeon Wonwoo, your ex. The IT guy who cheated on you two months ago with an intern. The same incident that created a domino effect of side-eyes and rumors throughout the building. It wasnât a secret that Wonwooâs spiral post-breakup had revealed just how deeply insecure he truly was. And not just about youâabout everything.
You rubbed the back of your neck, feeling a sudden weight in the room. âNo,â you said, clearing your throat. âHeâs not worth mentioning anymore.â
Mingyu nodded slowly, reading between the lines but not pushing. âOkay. But you know Iâll throw hands if I have to.â
You couldnât help but smile at that. âAppreciated. But no violence in the officeâunless itâs against that printer in the copy room.â
That earned a soft chuckle from him. âDid Director Kwon actually say anything, or does he just need me to be present and breathing?â you asked, your eyes scanning your desk for the folder Soonyoung needed to sign. You knew how he wasâselectively urgent.
Mingyu reached over and pulled a document map from the far corner of your workspace. âThis. He needs this.â
You took it with a grateful sigh. âIâm seriously glad I have you, Mingyu. Otherwise Iâd probably die in here for the stupidest reasonâdeath by incompetent boss.â
Mingyu laughed, that boyish grin spreading across his face, fangs peeking out. âYouâre dramatic.â
âYou know Iâm not.â
âTrue,â he replied, still grinning. âBut at least the chaos keeps things interesting.â
You rolled your eyes with a quiet chuckle, fingers tightening on the file as you braced yourself to face Soonyoung again. That man could burn your patience to the ground in five minutesâand somehow still leave you⊠you didn't want to think about it!
You entered his office with quiet steps, the thick folder in your hand still warm from Mingyuâs grasp. Director Kwon Soonyoung sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled to his forearms, hair pushed back in a way that looked almost too polished for someone who once asked if a âsloganâ was a new type of dip.
Without looking up, he extended his hand. âThe file?â You placed it gently in his palm, expecting some sort of snide comment or dumb question about where to sign. But instead, he opened it, flipped straight to the right page, and signed with swift, confident strokes. No questions. No confusion. Just⊠efficiency.
Your brows lifted slightly. Who was this? Then, without looking up, âwhatâs the projected ROI on the third campaign under the Miju rebranding?â
You froze. Not from fearâbut from pure shock.
He finally glanced up, and your eyes locked. There was no usual smirk, no cocky glint in his gaze. Just focus. Calculation.
You cleared your throat. âProjected ROI is 127%, assuming we maintain target engagement through the influencer channels and retail activations we discussed last week.â
A beat passed. He nodded once. âGood. Shift the TikTok rollout to next Monday. Make the data look prettier before we send it to the board. I want them convinced before they even read it.â
Another pause. You blinked. You were still blinking. He signed the final page, closed the folder, and handed it back with a smooth slide across the desk.
Then, with the slightest tug of amusement curling at the corners of his mouth, he saidâ
âYou may go on the clock for today, Ms. Ji.â
You narrowed your eyes just slightly. âExcuse me?â
He leaned back in his chair, lazy again. Back to his usual smug, languid rhythm. âI said you may go. Early dismissal. I hear sleep deprivation reduces productivityâand Iâd hate to see the company suffer just because you forgot how to say no to your boss.â
Your jaw tensed. He was back. The devil in Dior. But you refused to let him have the last word. So you smiled sweetly, flipping your hair off your shoulder. âThen Iâll use the time wisely and remind myself what good leadership looks like.â
His laughter followed you out the door. But so did his eyes.
*
You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing, the sharp buzz pulling you out of a sleep so deep, you almost forgot where you were. The living room was dim, the drama still playing quietly on TVâthe last thing you remembered before dozing off. You hadnât napped like that in years. Not since you started working your ass off at the label.
You squinted at your phone screen. 9:02 PM. The name flashing across it: âBoo Dam.â
âMmm⊠SeungkwanâŠâ you mumbled as you slid to answer.
âHoney!â his voice practically sang through the speaker. âYou just woke up? Heol! Thatâs a record. AnywayâIâm going to this new bar with Vernon and Chan. Come join us!â
Seungkwan and Chan were your friends from collegeâyour soulmates in chaos. Meanwhile Vernon⊠well, Vernon was the guy Seungkwan successfully seduced at a club a year ago with nothing but eye contact and a whiskey sour. They've been disgustingly cute ever since.
You stretched, letting your limbs slowly remember how to function. âIs it like a bar,â you asked, voice dry, âor a bar?â You didnât need to explain the tone differenceâSeungkwan knew.
Without missing a beat, he replied, âA bar. Capital B. Good lighting, better drinks, people who bathe.â
You smiled, already getting up. âPick me up in thirty. Should I wear the red dress I sent you last week?â
The one you bought after seeing the intern Wonwoo cheated with had liked it on Instagram. It was an impulsive purchaseâunlike you. But still⊠it looked fire on the model, and tonight, you wouldnât mind setting something on fire.
Seungkwan gasped like heâd been waiting for this moment his whole life. âYES. Yes please! I want that intern to cry just by breathing the same air as you!â
You grinned. Tonight might not fix your mess of a professional life. But maybe, just maybe, it would remind you what it felt like to be you again.
*
Seungkwan rushed up to you like a windstorm in designer sneakers and pulled you into a quick hug that reeked of cologne and overpriced candles. âYou look unreal. That intern is somewhere crying right now, I know it.â He held your arms and took a step back like he was inspecting artwork. âTen out of ten. Noâeleven. Youâre welcome, world.â
Vernon chuckled beside him. âGlad you made it.â
âThanks,â you laughed. âThough now Iâm wondering if I overdressed.â
âYou definitely didnât,â Chan said without missing a beat, raising his hand to you. âYouâre just raising the bar.â
The bar Seungkwan had chosen was all velvet mood and amber lightâdim enough to hide your regrets but not dark enough to trip on your heels. Hushed conversations buzzed low under a jazzy remix of something that used to be a love song, and the scent of expensive gin and citrus filled the air.
You made your way toward the bar counter, scanning the place. But before the group could fully settle, Seungkwan clapped his hands once. âOkay, baby,â he turned to Vernon, âwe need to find the bathroom. And by bathroom I mean selfie lighting. Emergency.â
Vernon just smiled, like this wasnât the fifth time tonight. âLead the way.â And just like that, the couple vanished into the crowd like glitter in a wind tunnel.
You slid onto the barstool, crossing your legs as you adjusted the hem of your red dress, feeling the fabric hug your skin in all the right ways. You stared after them, then turned back to Chan, brows raised. âDid they even sit down?â
Chan shrugged, raising his hand toward the bartender for an order, strong whiskey. âI give them ten minutes. Tops. Then theyâll either come back drunk or deeply emotional.â
You laughed again, warmer this time. âOr both.â
âAlways both.â
âSo,â Chan said, turning slightly to face you, âwhat do you want out of tonight?â
You blinked, caught off guard by the question. âOut of tonight?â
He nodded, serious nowâhis eyes clearer despite the liquor. âI mean⊠what would make this night feel like it was worth leaving your bed and dreams behind?â
You looked at him for a second. Your red dress clung to your skin in all the ways that made you feel powerful. But somehow, that question made you feel a little bare.
âI donât know,â you admitted. âMaybe just a moment where I donât feel like Iâm holding the weight of everything. A night where Iâm not someoneâs manager, not the woman who got cheated on by an IT guy with bad eyesight.â
Chan chuckled, amused. He knocked back a shot of whiskey, exhaling sharply as it hit. Then, as if it were the most natural shift in conversation, he muttered, âSo. Still dealing with your incompetent boss?â
You tilted your head with a sigh, leaning your elbow on the bar. âWorse. I think heâs trying to be competent now, which is terrifying in itself.â
âHmm.â Chan nodded solemnly. âMine forgot to approve the budget this week and then blamed it on Mercury retrograde.â
You blinked. âIsnât he the one who doesnât believe in astrology?â
âExactly.â
A beat passed, then both of you laughed quietly into your drinks, bitter and understanding.
âPeople like us deserve a position,â Chan muttered, more to himself than to you. Then he downed his next shot like he was trying to silence something. Maybe his ambition. Maybe the reality.
Your eyes followed his line of sight, catching a man on the other side of the barâtall, broad-shouldered, eyeing Chan like he was something worth unwrapping.
Chan caught it too. He turned to you with a mischievous smirk, the kind you knew too well. âExcuse me,â he said smoothly, setting down his glass. âDuty calls.â
You laughed as he sauntered off, watching the silent exchange between him and the strangerâhow easily Chan slipped into chemistry, how effortlessly people gravitated toward him.
It made you smile. And ache, just a little. Your friends really were better at finding men than you. You swirled your drink in its glass, watching the liquid catch the light like molten gold. Fuck.
A subtle shift in air made you glance to your side. Someone had taken the stool Chan had vacated minutes agoâunannounced, but not unwelcome.
He looked crisp. A semi-formal suit in charcoal gray, black shirt unbuttoned just enough to suggest ease without arrogance. His hair was freshly cut, styled like he walked out of a luxury magazine spread, but the smile he wore? Surprisingly⊠cute.
âHey,â he said, voice smooth but warm. âAre you alone?â
You blinked once, thrown for the smallest second before recovering with a polite smile. âNah, Iâm with friends.â
He nodded, gaze never drifting, posture casual but confident. âIâm Choi Seungcheol.â
Your eyebrows lifted slightly. Choi Seungcheol? Youâd heard the name before. Everyone in the building had. Director of Grand Paradise Hotel, under the Choi Group. One of your companyâs most important VVIP clientsâusually talked about in numbers, not in the context of flashing a boyish smile at you in a bar.
âJi Y/n,â you replied, offering your name with an ounce of surprise still clinging to your voice.
âI like your dress, by the way,â he said sincerely, his tone the kind of soft that didnât ask for attention, but gave it fully. âYou look amazing in it.â
You opened your mouth, but nothing clever came. His compliment didnât feel like a line. It felt like the truth wrapped in manners. He flagged down the bartender, ordering something lightâno shots, no bravado. Just a mild liquor with a twist of lime, like he was trying to prove he was here to talk, not to get drunk.
Cute. And unexpectedly politeâfor someone carrying that much power behind his last name. Unlike someone you were really, really trying not to think about.
âSo,â he said, turning slightly toward you, âmy friends are at a table across the room. Do you mind joining us?â He paused, then added with a soft chuckle, âI promise theyâre decent guys. No finance bros in sight.â
You considered it. Not too quickly, not too slowlyâjust enough to give the impression that you werenât that easy, but you also werenât cold.
You smiled, head tilting. âSure.â
His eyes sparkled briefly at that, and in one smooth motion, he stood. Then, reaching for your hand, he helped you up from the high stoolâlike a man raised right. His grip was firm, confident, warm. And it was probably nothing. Probably just good manners.
Seungcheolâs hand remained gently on yours as he guided you across the bar, weaving through polished shoes, crystal glasses, and laughter that cost too much.
The place changed as you moved deeperâless noise, more privacy, the lighting softer, shadows richer. The kind of spot reserved for people who didnât have to wait in line. And you were being led there. You.
When he stopped at the table, three men looked up mid-conversation, drinks in hand, posture relaxed in the way only old money could be.
âEveryone,â Seungcheol said casually, âthis is Ji Y/n. Sheâs joining us tonight.â
You smiled, polite but composed, heart thumping a little harder than you liked. You recognized the faces before Seungcheol even opened his mouth. Youâd seen them in magazine articles, shareholder meetings, boardroom slidesânot up close, not like this.
Jeonghan sat at the far end, one arm draped lazily over the back of the velvet booth, legs crossed, a glass of scotch in hand. Hair tucked just right behind his ear, a soft silk shirt half-buttoned like he was born too elegant to care about dress codes. He was the kind of man who turned being looked at into an art form. Youâd seen him beforeâonce at a fashion gala you were nowhere near important enough to attend, and many times in the margins of headlines about high-end runway investments, creative directorships, and quiet takeovers. The heir of a fashion empire, and from the look in his eyes, fully aware of it.
Next to him was Joshua, spine straight, shirt pristine, smile the kind that had likely been melting boardroom resistance since he was a teenager. He exuded charm without arroganceâa quieter sort of influence that didnât need to announce itself. You remembered him from a different kind of context: a company email signature at the bottom of a rejection letter when youâd applied to Hong Finance 8 years ago. Back then, you imagined men like him sitting behind high-rise windows, too far out of reach to even notice people like you.
âNice to meet you,â you said calmly, shaking his hand with a professional grace. No bitterness. Just quiet history you kept to yourself.
And thenâthen your gaze moved to the last man at the table. Your breath stalled for half a second.
Kwon Soonyoung. He was mid-sip, glass frozen near his lips, eyes wide with what could only be described as⊠surprised indignation. He looked clean and collected in a black button-up with his sleeves rolled up, top two buttons undone like the night didnât deserve his full formality. But his stare? It was searing.
Youâd never seen him in this kind of setting. Not as your annoyingly attractive director. But as one of them. Powerful. Prestigious. Connected.
You tilted your chin slightly, letting a small smile rise to your lips as if to say, Fancy seeing you here.
He blinked, then lowered his glass slowly. âJi Y/n.â Your name sounded strange coming from his mouth in front of this table. Too familiar. Too⊠intimate.
Joshua and Jeonghan looked between the two of you with mild interest, picking up on the tension like it was perfume. Seungcheol remained seated, watching the exchange without interference. Then he leaned over, voice smooth as his smile.
âLooks like you two know each other?â
You chuckled softly and sat down beside him. Soonyoungâs eyes narrowed. His fingers tapped against the side of his glass, lips parted like he wanted to say somethingâbut didnât.
*
Your eyes met across the polished length of the boardroom table. Again. This has become a weekly ritual nowâjoining board meetings not just as the Marketing Manager, but as Kwon Soonyoungâs unofficial shadow. Secretary. Handler. Babysitter. Pick a label, they all applied.
Still, a small part of you secretly flattered at the elevation. The prestige. You were seen, involved, and whether they liked it or not, your presence had weight in that room.
Every time a meeting wrapped, youâd nudge Mingyu and mutter, âIâm going to be the one talking in there someday. Note that.â To which he always replied with a half-laugh, half-sigh, âSure you are.â
He never debated you. He knew better. You didnât bluff when it came to ambition. But right now, ambition wasnât the problem. It was Soonyoung.
Heâd been staring since you walked in. Sat down. Dragged him out of his office five minutes before the meeting began, muttering something about punctuality and image and for once just pretend youâre not a walking HR hazard.
Staring wasnât new with him. He often looked at things the way a curious toddler wouldâeyes wide, mouth slightly parted, like the world was one big mysterious object. But this time? This time his stare wasnât childish curiosity. It was more like you grew a second head and he couldnât decide if he liked it or wanted to poke it with a stick.
You shot him a sharp look, mouthing the word âFocusâ and subtly motioning toward the executives who were mid-discussion about budget forecasting.
Soonyoung blinked, then smiledâtoo innocentlyâand turned his gaze toward the speaker, nodding along like he hadnât just spent the last three minutes trying to telepathically undress your thoughts.
You furrowed your brow in suspicion before glancing down at your watch. Almost noon. And you were starving. Your fingers tapped the table quietly as the meeting stretched on, words starting to blur together. You tried to stay alert, but every time you felt yourself zoning out, Soonyoung shifted slightly in your peripheral vision. Not because he was fidgeting.
But because he was still watching you. And now you were convinced of one thing: He wasnât staring like you grew a horn.
âYou went home with Seungcheol-hyung last night.â His voice broke the silence as the two of you had just settled in after the board meetingâhim tossing off his blazer like he ran the world, you gathering your files with the intention of escaping before your stomach officially started devouring itself.
Your steps halted mid-stride. âYes, Mr. Kwon,â you replied, turning slightly over your shoulder. Tone neutral. Civil. Professional.
Soonyoung nodded slowly, a little too calmly. âI bet you went home⊠very safely.â
You blinked. Was that supposed to mean something? âI did, actually,â you said, brows lifting in subtle confusion. âThank you for your concern.â
He slid into his chair, tilting it back with that look on his face. A smile curled at the corner of his lipsânot his usual, goofy, harmless grin. This one was... sharp. Teasing. With just enough glint of mad to make you want to throw a stapler across the room.
âIâm expecting the summary from the meeting,â he said, lacing his fingers behind his head, âafter lunch.â
You blinked again. âI was planning to finish it after I eat.â
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. âMmm, but you always say I should send the report right after the meeting ends, remember? âStrike while the numbers are hot,â wasnât that your words, Ms. Ji?â
Shit. That was your line. You cleared your throat. âWith all due respect, Iâm afraid I canât hand it in that fast. Iâll need some time toââ
âReally?â he cut in, voice dipped with mock surprise. âBecause I need it quickly. You made that very clear. Efficiency is everything, right?â
You stared at him, mouth parting in silent disbelief. This was personal. You knew it. That little smile on his face was soaked in petty vengeance. You bowed stiffly, jaw clenched. âUnderstood, Mr. Kwon.â
As you turned to leave, fuming and still hungry, you could practically feel his smugness trailing behind you like expensive cologne. And everyone who saw you stomping back into your department after that? Knew exactly who you were cursing under your breath.
Kwon Soonyoung, the golden heir of the Kwon Group. A menace in designer shoes. And currently, the reason youâd be skipping lunch and possibly losing your sanity.
*
No one stayed in the office during lunch. It was the only sacred hour when even the most cutthroat employees stepped out to breathe something that didnât reek of toner, stress, or twenty kinds of corporate ambition. Even Mingyu had leftâafter tipping you off about a new KF Label instant spaghetti that only needed five minutes in the microwave. âGarlic cream or tomato,â heâd whispered like he was offering black market gold.
But not you. You sat at your desk, typing the meeting summary like your jobâor prideâdepended on it. Which, letâs be honest, it did. You werenât about to give Kwon Soonyoung the satisfaction of thinking heâd thrown you off just because he got a little petty over last nightâs company. Your stomach growled in rebellion, but your ego growled louder.
When the last word clicked into place and the printer began humming behind you, you pushed away from your chair with a smug stretch and headed to the pantry. Youâd earned that microwaved meal, sad as it was.
Except when you stepped inside, the scent of cheap instant coffee hit you firstâfollowed by the last person you expected to see.
Kwon Soonyoung. Blazer gone, sleeves rolled up, stirring his coffee like this wasnât the same man whoâd made your blood pressure spike all morning. His tie hung slightly loose, hair messier than it had been during the meeting. He looked... calm. Almost casual. Like he belonged here. He didnât.
âMs. Ji,â he greeted smoothly, his voice low, almost too composed.
You bowed without thinking, still halfway in surprise. âI didnât know you were staying in.â
He shrugged, not quite smiling. âNeither did I.â
Your gaze narrowed slightly. âDidnât grab lunch, Mr. Kwon?â
He swirled the plastic stirrer in his cup, then leaned against the counter with the kind of confidence that didnât belong in a pantry. âDidnât have time,â he said, eyes cutting toward you. âYou said I needed that report fast, remember?â
You ignored him and turned to the microwave, peeling back the film cover. âI came here for spaghetti.â
The microwave beeped. You retrieved the steaming bowl, grabbed a fork, and gave it a quick stir. The scent of tomato and roasted garlic filled the small spaceâa reminder that, yes, your company did do something right.
âSo thatâs it,â he said behind you. âThe new KF Label product.â
You nodded without turning. âPremium instant line. Heat-and-Meet.â
There was a pause. Then, Soonyoung stood.
He moved to stand beside you, too close for the pantryâs size, or for what little sanity you had left. âYouâre eating company product,â he said, voice lower now. âThatâs very⊠loyal of you.â
âIâm starving. Loyaltyâs a coincidence.â
He glanced at your fork, then back at your face. âStill looks good on you.â
You blinked. That line shouldnât have worked. But it stirred something anyway. You cleared your throat. âDo you want a bite?â
He raised a brow. âYouâre offering to share?â
âDonât make it weird. Itâs R&D. Youâre the director. You should know what it tastes like before you embarrass yourself at investor tastings.â
Without hesitation, he leaned forward and took the bite directly from your fork. It was too smooth. Too deliberate. The slide of his lips against the plastic, the way he held your gaze as he chewed.
You stared at him, half wondering when the room got warmer. He swallowed, thoughtfully. âTangy. Surprisingly rich.â He looked at you, a beat too long. âKind of like the woman who made me eat it.â
You stared at him. Not just because of what he said, but how he said itâlike it wasnât a line, like it was a fact. His gaze didnât move. Didnât even flinch. And then it didâjust slightlyâdrifting down. You felt it like a touch: the way his eyes paused at your lips. Not in a rush. Not in hunger. Just there.
Studying. Contemplating. Wanting. Your breath hitched, just enough that you swore he noticed it. He tilted his head slightly, as if waiting to see what youâd do. And suddenly, the air between you didnât feel casual anymore. It felt hot. It felt loud.
You didnât move. He didnât either.
But the tension between you was already leaning forward, even if your bodies hadnât yet.
And then, slowlyâso slowlyâit happened.
Your eyes fluttered down. His breath brushed your cheek. Neither of you said a word as you both leaned in at the same time, like it wasnât a choice but a conclusion. Like something youâd been avoiding had finally cornered the two of you in the smallest room in the building.
Your lips metâsoft, hesitant at first.
A question. An answer. And then it deepened.
Not rushed, not frantic, but sure. Deliberate. Like every back-and-forth bicker, every power play, every petty jab in the boardroom had been leading to this.
His hand touched the edge of the counter beside you, grounding himself. Yours hovered somewhere near his chest before settling on the curve of his armâtense beneath your fingers.
It wasnât a kiss that screamed recklessness. It was a kiss that whispered, we knew this was coming. And maybe⊠maybe that was worse.
Because when you finally pulled away, just barely, lips still brushing, you didnât dare look at him. Not yet. You just whispered, voice low and cracked at the edge, âThat was very⊠unprofessional, Mr. Kwon.â
Soonyoungâs lips curved near yours. âGood,â he murmured, âbecause Iâm not done being unprofessional.â
You barely had time to process his wordsââIâm not done being unprofessionalââbefore his lips captured yours again, firmer this time. Less tentative. Less testing.
Your back bumped against the edge of the counter as he stepped closer, his hand skimming your waist like he was trying to memorize the shape of you through the thin fabric of your blouse. The scent of his coffee still lingered on his breath, mixing with something uniquely hisâclean, warm, infuriatingly intoxicating.
You let out a quiet sound, something between a sigh and a gasp, as your fingers slipped into his hairâsoft and slightly messy from the day. You gripped it lightly, tugging just enough to make him groan against your mouth. God. That sound.
His hand settled firmly on your hip, pulling you into him like gravity had a personal agenda. The kiss turned deeper, messier, your bodies syncing in a rhythm that felt far too natural for two people who spent most of their time trading sarcasm and sideways glances in glass-walled meetings.
It was heat. Friction. Unspoken things finally spoken with mouths instead of words. Soonyoung broke the kiss only to trail his lips to the corner of your jaw, his voice warm and ragged against your skin. âYou always talk so much in meetings,â he murmured, his fingers brushing the exposed skin beneath your tucked blouse. âBut now youâre so quiet.â
You swallowed, breath shaky, heart hammering against your ribs. âMaybe Iâm waiting for a good question for once.â
He chuckled against your neck, low and sinful, before lifting his headâeyes dark, lips kissed pink, voice like velvet. âOkay thenâŠâ
His thumb grazed the hem of your skirt. ââŠMs. Ji, what do I have to do to make you say my name again?â
You shouldâve walked away. You shouldâve reminded him this was a pantry, in a corporate building, at lunchtime. But instead?
You pulled him back into you like your body had already made the decision your brain refused to acknowledge. Fingers tight in his hair. Mouth crashing into his like you were both starving. And maybe you were.
You didnât remember taking another breathâonly the weight of his body caging you against the counter, the soft clang of your forgotten fork hitting the floor, and the rush of his hands finally going where your thoughts had wandered for too long.
Soonyoung hovered close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath warm and deliberate. âYouâre shaking,â he whispered, voice almost reverent.
âAm not,â you breathed, your fingers still tangled in his hair, holding him there like you werenât entirely sure you could stay upright without him.
His hand slipped beneath the hem of your skirt, slow, assured, until his knuckles grazed the band of your underwear. He paused, as if testing the waters. As if daring you to stop him.
But you didnât. You let your head fall back slightly, eyes fluttering shut as he tugged at the fabricâjust enough to slip his fingers under, to brush against heat and softness and the part of you that ached with how long you'd resisted this exact moment.
A quiet gasp escaped you, and that seemed to break whatever restraint he still had. âGodâŠâ he exhaled like a confession, âyou really drive me insane, you know that?â
He kissed you again, slower this timeâalmost sweet if not for the way his hand moved with purpose, with intention, like he wanted to memorize every reaction you gave him. Your hand gripped the back of his neck, grounding yourself in him, in this, in the ridiculous insanity of making out in the pantry like it was your last chance on earth.
âYouâre always so in control,â he murmured, teasing the edge of your jaw as his other hand anchored your hip, âbut I think you like it when I push.â
You opened your eyes just enough to meet his, and there it was againâthat flicker of madness, mischief, and something dangerously close to need.
âCareful, Mr. Kwon,â you whispered, mouth brushing his, âpush too far, and I might pull you under.â He smirked like he hoped you would. And then he kissed you againâdeeper, slower, pulling you closer like the world outside that pantry didnât matter.
*
You were flabbergasted. A month ago, you were heating instant spaghetti in the pantry, trying to pretend that fucking your boss didnât feel like the worst idea youâd ever fallen into.
Now? You were sitting stiffly in a room with three people from HR, a folder in front of you, your hands cold despite how warm the room felt.
Yes, you had slept with Kwon Soonyoung. A few times. Consensually. Not impulsively, not irresponsiblyânot from your perspective. And as ridiculous as it was to admit even to yourself, he hadnât been bad at all in those areas. Too good, in fact. Dangerously good, both with his hands and the way he listenedâactually listenedâto your ideas during board meetings. He even stopped wearing Cartier and started taking actual notes.
So the fact that you were here, now, caught off guard and very much alone, felt like a slap out of nowhere.
The woman in the middle of the HR panel cleared her throat, hands folded neatly. âMs. Ji. We wanted to discuss something concerning thatâs come to our attention.â
You blinked, still unsure where this was going. âIâm sorry, I wasnât aware I did anything against theââ
âYour last relationship,â the woman interrupted gently, âwas already a topic of concern when it involved someone significant to the company.â
Wonwoo.
You stiffened, jaw tightening. You hadnât heard his name in weeks, and you preferred it that way. But yes, the intern he cheated with turned out to be someone's niece from the Kwon family. Of course that hadnât died quietly.
You opened your mouth to respond, but the man sitting beside her cut in first. âWe didnât expect this one.â
You blinked again. âExcuse me?â They didnât repeat it. They didnât need to.
The third HR rep leaned forward, sliding a paper your wayâan incident report, stamped and dated. âWeâre going to have to take action regarding your affair with Director Kwon.â
Everything in you froze. For a moment, all you could hear was the soft buzz of the overhead light. You didnât move, didnât speak, as the words circled your head like a siren you couldnât shut off. Your affair. Director Kwon. It felt like your lungs deflated.
âI⊠donât understand,â you finally said, slow and careful. âOn what grounds?â
The woman in the center flipped open a file. âThere was a complaint submitted anonymously, referencing inappropriate conduct in the office. Specifically in shared spaces. A pantry, for instance.â
Your stomach dropped. So fast, it made your fingers go numb. âAndâif I may,â the younger HR rep added, âthereâs also concern regarding power dynamics, given your reporting line.â
You wanted to laugh. But it wasnât funny. Because youâd worked so damn hard. You trained Soonyoung. You cleaned up his messes and wrote half the proposals with his name on them, and still walked into every meeting like your career had been built on steel, not glass.
And now, after everything, it came down to this? A moment. And an anonymous report.
You clenched your jaw, sat straighter, and folded your hands in your lap. âSo what kind of action are we talking about?â
The room went quiet. The silence that followed your question felt like it lasted forever. And then the answer came, quietly, like they already knew how youâd reactâand were bracing for it.
âWeâve decided,â the woman said carefully, âthat you will be reassigned to a different department effective immediately.â
Your breath caught in your throat. âReassigned?â
âDemoted,â the man clarified with corporate softness, as if using the word wouldnât hit like a fist. âYouâll be moved from Marketing Management to Administrative Strategy under Corporate Communications.â
You stared at them. Not because you didnât understand. But because you did. They werenât firing you. That wouldâve made noise. Noâthey were burying you quietly, slipping you into a department where your work wouldnât shine, where your name wouldnât show up on campaign reports, board meeting minutes, or executive proposals. They were pushing you out of the light.
You let out a slow, controlled exhale, refusing to let the tremble in your chest reach your face. âIs Director Kwon receiving the same treatment?â
Another pause. âNo,â the lead HR officer said. âAfter discussion with the executive board, it was determined that Director Kwon will be formally warned, and the matter will be noted in his file.â
A warning. You blinked. A warning for him. A demotion for you. You pressed your lips together, not trusting your voice to stay steady. âAnd thatâs fair, in your opinion?â
âMs. Ji,â the younger officer interjected gently, âyouâve had a prior history of internal relationship issues thatââ
âHeâs my superior.â You snapped before you could stop yourself. âIf anything, he shouldâve been held to a higher standard.â
They didnât answer. No one ever did, when the unspoken truth hung heavy in the air. He had power. You didnât. And even if you were the one who helped him become competent, presentable, capableâeven if you were the one cleaning up his early failures and doing your work and hisâthey didnât care. Because it was easier to punish the one they knew would quietly take it.
Your jaw clenched as you stood, straightening your blazer. âI understand.â
The head officer gave a polite nod. âYour reassignment email will be sent by the end of day. Your new manager will expect you tomorrow morning.â
You turned to leave, your heels echoing sharper than usual against the tiled floor. Your desk had never felt this bare before. You moved like your body had detached from the rest of youâsilent, efficient, folding your things with the kind of care youâd normally reserve for the start of something, not the end. Each click of a pen, each rustle of a folder being stacked, was sharp in the quiet.
You didnât speak. You didnât cry. You just packed. A shadow passed in your peripheral vision.
âY/n?â You turned slightly to find Mingyu standing there, a confused frown drawing across his face. His eyes darted to the box on your desk, to your emptied shelves, then back to you.
âWhatâs going on?â
You kept your head down, pretending to double-check a folder as you tucked it into the box.
âI just got an email from HR,â he continued, voice tightening. âTheyâre asking me to step in as acting Marketing Manager⊠temporarily.â
He said the last word like it tasted wrong in his mouth.
You didnât answer. Your fingers paused at the edge of a stapler, then moved past it.
âY/n.â Mingyu stepped closer. âWhat the hell is happening?â
You closed the box slowly, pressing your palm flat against the top as if to anchor yourself. Your chest felt too fullâtight with shame, anger, disbeliefâand none of it had a name you were ready to say out loud.
You looked up, just enough to meet his eyes. His worry was sincere. Of course it was. He didnât know. He wouldnât have accepted the offer if he did.
âIâm being moved,â you said quietly. âAnother department.â
âWaitâwhat?â Mingyu blinked, stunned. âWhy? You didnât do anything wrong.â
You looked away. âI donât want to talk about it,â you said, voice low and flat. âNot right now.â
He fell silent. You could hear the protest building in his throat, the way he shifted his weight like his body didnât know whether to stay or follow. But he didnât press. He just nodded onceâslow, reluctant.
You gave him a tight smile, the kind that didn't touch your eyes. Then you picked up your box and walked out of your officeâyour former officeâwithout looking back.
*
Soonyoung walked into the office with his blazer half off and irritation simmering behind his eyes. The lunch meeting had been a disasterânumbers thrown around without context, board members talking in circles, and nobody knowing what the hell they actually wanted from him. He needed grounding. He needed clarity. He needed you.
So when he stepped out of the elevator and saw Mingyu standing by his office door instead of you, he frowned. âMingyu?â he asked, blinking like heâd walked into the wrong floor. âWhereâs Ms. Ji?â
Mingyu straightened a little, caught off guard. âI⊠see HR hasnât told you.â
Soonyoungâs brows pinched. âTold me what?â
âMs. Ji has been reassigned to another department,â Mingyu said, careful with his words. âIâve been assigned to assist you until your new executive assistant is recruited.â
For a beat, the air felt thicker. Soonyoung tilted his head, confused. âShe was moved? When?â
âIâm not sure about the details, sir,â Mingyu replied, trying not to fidget under Soonyoungâs narrowing gaze. âI only got the notice after lunch.â
Soonyoung stared past him for a second, processing. You were just⊠gone? No meeting. No sarcastic remarks. No quiet nod as you handed him a stack of deadlines and subtle reminders to behave like a functioning adult. No draft on his desk of the proposal you were supposed to polish before 3 p.m. Gone. Without a word.
âRight,â Soonyoung finally said, brushing past Mingyu and into his office. âThanks.â
At exactly 2 p.m., two sharp, precise knocks echoed against the glass door of Soonyoungâs office. He didnât answer. He didnât need to. Only one person knocked like they were keeping time on a metronome. The door opened anyway.
Kwon Soonyoung looked up to see Lee Jihoonâhis cousin, his childhood sparring partner, and unfortunately, also the manager of the Human Resources department. Jihoon was sharp as ever, dressed in a pale button-down and black slacks, sleeves rolled past his elbows like always, giving him the air of someone both overworked and unbothered by it.
He walked in with calm purpose, a single manila folder in his hand and a look on his face that said this wasnât a social visit. Soonyoung sighed and leaned back in his chair. âWhat now?â
Jihoon said nothing. He reached the desk, dropped the folder down with a solid thump, and crossed his arms over his chest.
âYour notice,â he said, tone clipped. Soonyoung dragged his fingers through his hair and opened it with two fingers like it might bite. Inside was a printed letter bearing the companyâs watermark and the clinical, unmistakable phrasing of HR. The header hit first:
Formal Reprimand â Director Kwon Soonyoung.
Beneath it:
Violation of company policies regarding professional conduct and inappropriate relations within workplace hours...
A wave of heat spread across the back of Soonyoungâs neck. He exhaled through his nose. âA love letter,â he muttered bitterly.
âI warned you,â Jihoon replied, not even flinching.
Of course he had. Jihoon had been warning him since the second week Soonyoung started at KF Label. First subtly. Then with passive-aggressive memos. And then with real conversationsâcousin to cousin, HR to Director.
Soonyoung kept reading. Then he stopped. Your name was listed. His. Dated timestamps. A note about internal protocol breaches and the review that followed. âShe was moved because of this?â Soonyoungâs voice was low. Tight.
Jihoon gave a slow, neutral shrug. âSheâs been reassigned to Corporate Communications under Admin Strategy. Effective immediately.â
âThatâs not what I asked.â
Jihoon didnât move from where he leaned against the desk, arms crossed again. âThe complaint came in. Security reports matched the time. You want the details? Youâll get them in writing. Bottom lineâHR took action.â
âShe didnât file anything,â Soonyoung said, more to himself than anyone.
âNo,â Jihoon replied. âBut someone else did. Youâre in a glass building, Soonyoung. Donât act like youâre invisible.â
âNo, she didnât,â Jihoon agreed, voice flat. âBut sheâs not the one with Kwon as their last name. You are. And between the two of you, the board wasnât about to sacrifice their own directorâso they cut the easier string.â The words hit harder than they should have.
Soonyoung sank into his chair, fingers curling slightly around the edge of the folder. âShe made this department function,â he said. âShe made me functional.â
Jihoon tilted his head, stepping away from the desk. âAnd now sheâs somewhere no one will bother her again.â
He reached for the door handle, pausing with one foot out. Then, without turning back, âShe covered for you every single time you slipped. Maybe instead of being angry at HR, you should be asking yourself why she ever had to.â
The door clicked closed behind him.bAnd for the first time since Soonyoung sat behind that directorâs desk, it didnât feel like power anymore. It felt like consequence.
Days later, Soonyoung stared at his screen, the cursor blinking beneath the words he had retyped at least four times. He wasnât good at this part. The⊠formal part. The âtrying to keep things clean after itâs already messyâ part.
But he had to try something. Heâd already felt the hollow space you'd left behind the second he walked into the office and saw someone else standing where you should have been. The wrong energy. The wrong rhythm. Everything off balance. The chair behind your old desk was too still, like no one dared to fill the space you carved.
So he wrote the email like a cowardâbecause walking to your new department unannounced felt too aggressive. And calling felt too personal.
Ms. Ji, I would appreciate the opportunity to meet briefly regarding recent events and your transition. Please let me know if youâre available this week, at your convenience.
Regards,
Kwon Soonyoung
Director, KF Label
He wrote it like a professional. And hated every line of it. But he sent it anyway. Then he sat there, one elbow on the desk, teeth pressing against his knuckle as if it might keep the anticipation at bay. It didnât.
When your reply came in twenty-three minutes later, he opened it instantly. The corner of his lips liftedâsmall, involuntary.
I didnât realize you had mastered the art of professional communicationâshould we alert HR?
Of course youâd say that. He let out a breath of something that was almost a laugh. It tugged at his chest in a way that was both cruel and comforting. You hadnât blocked him out. Not entirely. You still knew how to twist the knife with charm. He leaned back in his chair and reread the last line.
Please book a meeting room that doesnât echo.
So you were coming. Soonyoung swiveled in his chair, glancing toward the hallway, toward the part of the building where he used to see you moving between departments, coffee in one hand, files in the other, bossing people with that crisp, no-nonsense tone that made him fall for you in the first place.
It had been a month. A month of kissing you like he couldnât help it. A month of crossing lines in ways that felt reckless but right. And then one dayâjust gone. No fight. No confrontation. Just a folder on his desk from Jihoon and a quiet, echoing absence.
He turned back to his screen and opened the calendar. Booked Meeting Room 5Aâthe only one with decent soundproofingâand sent the invite. As he pressed send, he sat back and rubbed a palm against his jaw, heart slower than usual but heavier.
You were coming. But this time, you were coming from a different department, a different floor, a different version of what the two of you had builtâone meeting, one mistake at a time.
And he didnât know if you were coming as a former colleague, a woman heâd ruined something with, or someone who still wanted answers.
Soonyoung wasn't the type to fall for the cold ones. Not at first glance, anyway. His usual preference tilted toward softer edgesâwomen who laughed too easily, said yes too quickly, and let him coast through the surface of things. People who didnât poke at his insecurities or point out the gaping holes in his competence like it was part of their daily job description.
Which is exactly why you were not his type. At least, you werenât supposed to be.
You were the definition of precisionâsmart, fast, efficient, and terrifyingly prepared. You didnât flirt. You didnât dangle compliments or flash polite smiles unless they were strategic. You were the woman who made everyone in the room sit up straighter when you walked in.
And yet, from day three, he was already in trouble.
Youâd walked into his office with your file folder tucked against your chest, wearing a blood-red pencil skirt and a black blouse so sharp it couldâve sliced someoneâs quarterly budget in half. Stockings, heels, hair pulled back in that tight, quiet way that made him forget what youâd said right after you said it.
He hadnât even known what department you were from before then. But he knew from the second he looked at you that you were dangerous.
You werenât just attractive. You were intimidatingly put-together. The kind of woman whose brain was hotter than her bodyâand her body was already a goddamn threat.
Call him a pervertâbut heâd nearly choked on his own thoughts that day. And his type? Changed. Overnight. It wasnât just the clothes. Or the legs. It was how you looked at him when you spoke. Like you knew ten things he didnât. Like he was your slowest subject in class.
And that mouth. You didnât curse. You didnât yell. You told him he was stupid with elegant, HR-friendly, vocabularyâinefficient, unprepared, unfamiliar with protocol. Words that stung more than insults because they were true.
Soonyoung wasn't a saint. He loved women. But your breed? Rare. Too rare to ignore. Too rare to resist. Maybe thatâs why when youâd stayed late with him that first timeâpapers everywhere, the city lights bleeding in through the blinds, and you standing too close with your hair falling from that bunâyou became inevitable.
Maybe thatâs why his hand reached for you like instinct. Why you didnât push him away. Why your kiss tasted like the end of something professional. And maybe thatâs why heâd bent you over that desk that nightânot just because he wanted to (God, he did)âbut because some part of him had already fallen.
*
"Fuck..."
Your breath hitched as you settled onto him, your knees braced on either side of his thighs, the edge of the table digging lightly into your back. The polished surface was cold. His hands were anything but.
Soonyoungâs fingers gripped your hips with a firmness that said heâd been dreaming of thisâof youâfor longer than he wanted to admit. His thumbs pressed into the curve just above your waistband, guiding you, grounding you.
Each movement between you was desperate but controlled, like something learned through tension rather than timing.
Earlier, You arrived at Meeting Room 5A at 4:01 p.m. He was already inside. Blinds drawn. Door locked. Suit jacket hung neatly over the chair beside him. His shirt sleeves rolled up, wrists bare. A bottle of water sat untouched in front of him, condensation sliding down its sides like even it was nervous to be in this room.
You didnât sit right away. Soonyoung looked up, eyes scanning you with something unreadable. He stood as you approached, as if unsure whether to greet you like a colleague⊠or something else.
âMs. Ji,â he said quietly, too formal for the way he was looking at you.
âDirector Kwon,â you returned with equal sharpness, sliding into the chair across from him. You placed your phone on the table, screen-down. Just in case.
Silence hovered like a third presence. He was the first to break it. âI didnât know they were going to move you.â
You tilted your head. âThatâs the thing about consequences. Sometimes they arrive quietly.â
âI didnât file anything,â he said. âYou know that, right?â
You gave a small, humorless smile. âI know. But your silence wasnât exactly protective either.â
That landed. He didnât argue. The seconds stretched again, thick with things neither of you wanted to say out loud.bThen, Soonyoung leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. His voice dropped, no longer formal. âI miss working with you.â
You didnât answer right away. Your fingers tapped against the wood, rhythm steady. âIs that what this meeting is about?â you asked eventually. âMissing your assistant?â
He smirked, but it was hollow. âYou werenât just my assistant, and you know that.â
You did. And that was the problem.
His hands slid up slowly, tracing the slope of your waist, steadying you as you moved against him. He tilted his head back just slightly, his jaw clenched, mouth parting with a quiet exhale that barely made it past his throat.
You didnât need him to say anything. You felt it in the way he held you tighter with every shift. The way his fingers pressed into your skin like he couldnât believe this was real again.
Your palm found his chest, steadying yourself. He was too warm, too solid beneath you.
Then he looked up at you. Eyes darker. Focused. Not on what you were doing, but on youâlike watching you fall apart on him was more powerful than anything else he could feel.
His hand rose, brushing up the length of your spine, fingers threading into your hair before tugging just enough to steal your breath again.
You werenât sure when your head tipped back, or when your hands gripped his shoulders like they were the only thing keeping you tethered to this moment. The edge between pleasure and collapse was thin nowâbarely holding.
His breath was ragged against your throat, each exhale growing more erratic, his hands no longer guiding but grippingâlike he was trying to ground himself in you, like letting go too soon would ruin everything.
Soonyoungâs voice came low and strained against your skin, âY/nâdonât stop.â
You didnât plan to. Your rhythm faltered for half a second, hips stuttering from how tightly your body coiled around the sensationâbut he was right there, his hand steady at the small of your back, keeping you close, keeping you moving.
Your foreheads touched. Sweat. Breath. Tension.
He looked at youâreally looked. And for a beat, the air stopped. There was nothing but the heat of his palm at your waist, the tremble in your thighs, the way your name barely formed on his lips like a prayer or a warning.
And then it hit youâhow close you were. How close he was. Every movement became desperate, sloppier. More like instinct than intent.
Your lips brushed his cheek, your body arching as your pulse surged, your voice catching in your throat. âFuckâSoonyoungââ
That did it. His hands tightened, his body tensed, and in the space between control and surrender, you both tipped over the edgeâtogether. Breathless. Silenced. Shaking.
For a few seconds, there was only the sound of your breathing. Tangled limbs. Quiet gasps. And the soft creak of the table beneath you. He didnât speak. He just held youâone hand still at your back, the other cradling your waist like you might disappear if he let go too fast.
Your breath was still uneven, your limbs trembling slightly as the silence wrapped around you both like a warm, heavy fog. You rested against his chest, trying to steady your heartbeat, when his voice broke through.
Soft. Low. Like a secret he wasnât ready to share but couldnât hold back any longer.
âResign.â
You blinked.
âHand them your resignation.â
The words didnât register at firstâyour mind too hazy, your body too loose. But when they did, your brows furrowed instinctively. You lifted your head just slightly, startled.
He was already watching you. Still inside this moment. Still bare and open and raw in a way he rarely allowed.
âIâwhat?â you whispered, breath catching againâbut not from desire this time.
Soonyoung reached up, brushing a strand of damp hair from your cheek. His touch was slow, almost reverent. And then he tilted your chin until your eyes met. His gaze wasnât playful now. No teasing. No smug curl to his lips. Just quiet sincerity.
âI couldnât watch you being humiliated like this,â he said. âNot after everything youâve done. Not after everything youâve fixed⊠for me.â
You felt it then. The way your throat tightened. The sharp sting behind your eyes. You didnât even realize a tear had fallen until his thumb was already brushing it away, tender against your cheek like youâd break if he pressed too hard.
His fingers traced the curve of your face, slow, careful. You hated how gentle he was beingâit unraveled you faster than anything else. This wasnât supposed to be gentle. This wasnât supposed to feel like he cared.
But he did. And that made it worse.
You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. Tried to pull back the flood of emotion that had been simmering under your skin since the HR meetingâsince the reassignment, the whispers, the humiliation you had to wear like perfume the minute you stepped into your new floor.
And now this. Soonyoung, who was never supposed to take anything seriously, was the one seeing you the clearest.
Your lip quivered. You bit down on it hard enough to taste metal, willing yourself to stay composed. But the second tear came. Then another. You looked away, ashamed of your silence, your vulnerability, your inability to respond.
âY/n,â he said gently, pulling you closer, foreheads touching again. âIf they donât see your worth⊠leave. And Iâll help you find a better place.â
The weight of those words hit you harder than anything else. You didnât answer. You couldnât.
But your hand slid to his chest, curled softly in his shirt like you needed something to hold onto.
And for once, he didnât ask anything more from you. He just stayed with you in this quiet, undone moment.
*
You didnât mean to call anyone. You had told yourself you'd just shower, maybe eat, maybe sleepâbut instead you found yourself curled up on the edge of your bed, still in your clothes, your phone pressed to your ear as it rang.
It was late. The kind of late that made everything feel heavier. The dim light from the kitchen gave the room a soft glow, but your phone pressed to your ear felt heavier than usual.
âIâm just⊠tired,â was all you said when Seungkwan picked up, his voice chipper at firstâthen cautious. He didnât push. He never did. He let the silence fall, filling it with his presence, not questions.
There was a pause, long enough that you almost said ânever mind.â Then your voice slipped through again, barely above a whisper.
âWhat do you think if Iâm resigning?â
A beat. Then Seungkwan answered, calm and sincere. âI donât mind. I mean, yeahâitâll be hard to find something with the same value, same reputation. But if thatâs what you want, Iâll support it. Always.â
You sighed, pressing your thumb against your temple. Your head hurt in the kind of way that wasnât about lack of sleepâbut a lack of peace.
âI donât know, Seungkwan... I really donât know.â
âOf course youâre clueless. Youâve been shoved around and put in situations where you had to survive. I understand,â he said, his voice gentler now. âDo you have any career plan? Is someone offering you a job?â
No. No one. Wellâ Soonyoung had said heâd help. Said it with conviction in that private moment like it was gospel. Like he meant every word.
But he was Kwon Soonyoung. A man who once asked if âROIâ was the name of a new intern. Who didnât know how to schedule his own meetings without color-coded prompts you made for him. Who showed up to investor brunches with lipstick on his collarâyour lipstickâand still made a joke out of it.
You couldnât even trust him to send an attachment properly in an email. And now he was asking you to trust him with your life after this?
Your silence mustâve stretched too long, because Seungkwan spoke again. âIs it him?â That stopped your breath. You didnât say his name. You didnât have to. He knew.
âI donât know what he promised you,â Seungkwan continued gently, âbut if youâre holding on to that as your only parachute, make sure itâs not just⊠words.â
You closed your eyes. You wanted to believe him.bWanted to believe that Soonyoung meant itâthat he would fight for you, that he saw everything you sacrificed for that label, that he wouldnât let this end with you packing your things and being erased.
But that was the problem, wasnât it? You didnât know if it was belief⊠Or wishful thinking. And you were tired of hoping. You didnât answer. Just let the silence fall again.
*
When Soonyoung stepped into his apartment, the first thing that hit him wasnât the silenceâbut the scent. Something warm. Garlicky. Familiar. He paused by the door, blinking like he had to recalibrate. There was someone in his kitchen. You.
Wearing one of his apronsâbadly tiedâand frowning softly at the pot in front of you. The sleeves of your blouse were rolled up, and your hair was clipped messily at the back. You didnât hear him come in right away, too focused on adjusting the stove and tapping at the edge of the box labeled KF Meal Kit âKimchi Jjigae.
He chuckled, loosening his tie. You and these damn company products. It was the fifth time heâd seen you cooking them in the last month. At work. At home. He shrugged off his blazer, folded it neatly, then quietly walked to the kitchen. You looked up as he reached the counter, eyebrows raised and a small smile tugging at your lips.
You leaned a little on the counter, watching the pot begin to simmer. He stepped closer without thinking, hands finding your waist like they belonged there. You didnât move. You didnât stop him. If anything, your body softened beneath his touch, like it remembered the rhythm of standing this close.
Soonyoung exhaled quietly, pressing his forehead near your ttemple I miss you,â he murmured.
There was no teasing in it. No smug grin. Just honesty, spoken low and barely audible over the bubbling of the meal.
You blinked, the words catching you off guardâbut not in a bad way. They melted into the air, sinking into the skin between his palms and your ribs. You didnât respond immediately. You just leaned the tiniest bit into him, a silent answer in itself.
His thumb brushed over your hip, and he pulled you just slightly closerânot possessive, not rushed. Just⊠here. Present.
You tilted your head toward him slightly. âDinnerâs not even done yet and youâre already getting sentimental?â
Soonyoung chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder, âYou in my kitchen is enough. Feels like Iâve already won.â
And for a moment, it was quiet. Dinner was long goneâplates in the sink, lights dimmed, and the two of you curled on the couch like gravity pulled your bodies together on instinct. The TV played something neither of you paid attention to. Just background noise to the slow rhythm of Soonyoungâs fingers trailing along your cheek, brushing the edge of your jaw, memorizing your face like it was the first time again.
You blinked, lazy from the warmth of his hold, when he spoke.
âI talked to Joshua hyung today.â
Your brow lifted. âYeah?â
âHe said thereâs a manager position opening in his company. Heâd like to see your resume.â
You turned toward him a little, eyes wide in disbelief. âReally?â
He smiled, nodding, looking far too proud for someone just casually bringing life-altering news. âYeah⊠I told him about you. About how competent and sharp you are. He said he canât wait to meet you.â
You stared at him. âThatâs⊠unexpected.â
Soonyoung immediately pouted, his brows knitting together in that ridiculous way that never quite matched how tall and put-together he could look in a suit. âWhatâs that supposed to mean? You think I wouldnât come through?â
You chuckled under your breath, âNo, itâs not that. I justâŠâ you exhaled, âI didnât expect youâd actually do it. I know you can, with your last name and network. But I guess a part of me thought⊠I was just someone who helped you with work.â
Soonyoung stared at you like youâd just said something blasphemous. Then sighed heavily and pulled you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin.
âYou should know by now that youâre more than that, Y/n. Everyone sees it. Even Seungcheol hyung said you wereâwhat did he sayâah, charismatic.â
You groaned, pressing your face briefly into his shoulder. âDonât bring that upâŠâ
Soonyoung chuckled, a little too amused. âWhat? Itâs true. Remember that night he drove you home from the bar? You told him what you didâaccidentally, if I recallâand he just went, âSo youâre the one supervising Soonyoung? Ah⊠the annoying marketing manager, huh?ââ
You sighed dramatically. âGreat. Thatâs my legacy.â
âSexy annoying marketing manager,â he corrected with a grin, pulling you closer.
âShut up.â
He laughed harder now, contentment laced into every curve of his smile.
Then, a pause. Softer.
âYouâre not mad?â he asked.
You looked up at him. âMad?â
âFor⊠helping you like this. I mean, I know youâre strong. I didnât want to bruise your pride or make it seem like I thought you couldnât land something on your own.â
You stared at him, heart clenching in that way it sometimes did when people said something too kind. Something too thoughtful.
âYouâre competent. Smart. Efficient,â he said, as if repeating it to himself. âAnd I was worried youâd turn it down because you thought I was underestimating you. But I wasnât. Not even a little.â
You blinked, then smiled, unable to stop the warmth spreading through your chest.
âYouâre cute, Soonyoung,â you murmured, fingers reaching up to pinch his cheek gently.
âHey! Iâm being serious!â he protested, squirming under your touchâbut his grin betrayed him.
You leaned into him again, nestling under his chin as his arms instinctively wrapped tighter.
âI know you are,â you whispered. âAnd thatâs why I might actually consider it.â
He didnât answer. But the way his breath slowed, and the way his thumb gently brushed the back of your hand, said everything.
The TV murmured in the backgroundâsome drama neither of you were really watchingâas the quiet between you stretched long and comfortably still. The couch dipped just slightly beneath your bodies, your fingers lazily tracing the hem of his sleeve. You were dangerously close to dozing off again in his warmth. Untilâ
âSoonyoung-ah?â
The sudden voice made you jolt so hard you lost balance. He turned his head sharplyâjust as you tried to sit up. Your knees caught the edge of the coffee table, he tried to grab your waist, you both fumbledâand then fell.
Hard.
The thud was loud, a tangle of limbs and fabric hitting the floor, followed by a stunned silence and a hissed curse from Soonyoung.
âOh myâare you okay?!â came the voice again. It was closer now.
You froze, eyes wide. Soonyoung groaned beneath you. âWhy didnât you lock the damn door?â you whispered sharply as you sat up from his chest, trying to fix your shirt, your dignity already lost in the living room rug.
âI didnât think I needed to!â he hissed back, rubbing the back of his head.
Then a pair of heels stepped into view.
âOh,â said a woman with a well-maintained bob cut and too-perfect makeup. Her tone was pleasantly surprised, but her gaze was anything but subtle. âI⊠didnât know you had company.â
You scrambled upright. âHelloâI'm sorryâI didnât hear anyone come inââ
âClearly,â she said with a polite smile that didnât quite reach her eyes.
Soonyoung stood, brushing off his slacks and walking past you like nothing happened. âYou visit,â he said flatly.
His mother blinked. âI brought food. And I wanted to check on you.â
He walked toward the kitchen without glancing back. âIâm not twelve.â
She gave you a knowing glance and followed. âStill, you always forget to eat when you're under pressure. And youâre hosting. I had to make sure she wasnât starving.â
You stiffened slightly. Soonyoung looked back at you, unreadable. âShe ate.â
âI can see,â she said, eyes flicking toward the leftover meal kit container on the counter. âMicrowave dinners. Very romantic.â
His mouth twitched. âItâs from the label.â
His mom looked at him, then at you, and smiled again, this time softer. âYou must be the reason heâs actually showing up to board meetings.â
You opened your mouth, unsure what to say.
âMom,â Soonyoung interjected, tone clipped. âYouâve delivered the soup. Youâve confirmed I havenât died. Are you staying?â
She tilted her head slightly. âI can go. Donât let me interrupt.â Her gaze lingered on the couchâon the crumpled blanket, the two glasses, the clear closenessâbefore she turned to the door.
âIâll call you later, Soonyoung,â she added as she slipped her heels back on. âNice to meet you, MissâŠâ
âJi,â you supplied quickly.
âMiss Ji,â she echoed with a small smile before she stepped out, closing the door with an audible click.
Silence.
You turned to him, breath still uneven from both the fall and the mortification. âSo that was your mom.â
âYep.â
âShe didnât seem⊠warm.â
âSheâs not.â
A pause. âShe said she brought food.â
He rolled his eyes. âSheâll Venmo the maid to drop it off later.â
ââŠYou okay?â
Soonyoung scratched the back of his head, then looked at you with a crooked grin. âHonestly? Iâd rather fall again.â
You laughed. Loudly this time. And maybeâjust maybeâit made the awkwardness a little easier to carry.
*
Your first day at Hong Finance went better than expected. The morning had been a whirlwind of handshakes, onboarding documents, and a glossy welcome kit with your name printed in soft gold on the folder. The office was sleek, everything glass and grey and expensive-smelling, but the people? Surprisingly warm. Joshua, your new Director, had personally introduced you to each team member, casually mentioning that you came highly recommendedâwithout saying by who.
Though you had a guess. A certain someone who used to forget what KF Label even stood for.
You worked through the day with quiet diligence, letting your brain adjust to the faster pace, the bigger picture, and the knowledge that you werenât being micromanaged by HR this time around. You werenât running damage control. You were actually doing your jobâand being respected for it.
It was 6:10 when you stepped out of the building, your heels clicking gently on the pavement. The golden haze of sunset stretched across the city skyline.
And right there, leaning against a black car with sunglasses perched atop his head, was Kwon Soonyoung.
He looked like he belonged on the cover of a lifestyle magazineâtailored slacks, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, one hand in his pocket and the other lazily scrolling his phone. But the second he spotted you, he straightened up and pulled the door open.
âFor the newly hired marketing manager of Hong Finance,â he grinned.
You raised an eyebrow as you walked up. âLook whoâs playing chauffeur.â
âI prefer âsupportive boyfriend who can finally say that title out loud.ââ He gave you a dramatic bow before you slid into the passenger seat. âYou worked hard. Iâm proud of you.â
You chuckled as he got in, started the engine, and the two of you merged into the soft blur of city traffic. âSo how was your day?â
He shrugged with a grin. âBetter now. I was thinking of you the whole time. Could barely sit through my meeting without wondering if you were dying in there or thriving.â
âIâm thriving,â you smirked. âTry not to look so surprised.â
He glanced sideways at you, eyes softening, then turned back to the road. âYou know, I meant it when I said I wanted to take you out tonight. Properly.â
You leaned your head against the seat, lips curving. âI know.â
He glanced at you again.
âAnd I meant it too,â you added, mischievous. ââFinally growing up,â huh?â
Soonyoung groaned playfully. âYouâll never let me live that down, will you?â
âNope.â
It happened six months later. You werenât expecting it. Not after all the teasing. Not after the jokes he made every time marriage came up, always with a sly grin and a "weâll see" or a "why rush, weâre young, arenât we?"
And certainly not on a regular Saturday afternoon, in the middle of folding laundry in his apartment, your hair tied up in a loose bun, wearing one of his old oversized shirts that still smelled like his cologne no matter how many times you washed it.
But maybe that was why it happened. Because you werenât dressed up. There was no audience. No violin strings, no rooftop dinner. Just sunlight spilling through the windows, the quiet hum of domestic life, and the two of you surrounded by all the little pieces of your routine. Your world.
He stood behind you, not saying anything at first. Just watching. You felt his stare and turned around, sock in hand. âWhy are you looking at me like that?â
Soonyoung tilted his head, lips quirking faintly. âIâm thinking.â
âDangerous.â
He laughed softly, but didnât look away. âI mean it.â
You waited.
âI was thinking,â he said again, this time quieter, âabout how I used to think love was chaos. Fireworks. Like a storm you couldnât control.â
You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice.
âBut youâre not chaos,â he went on, stepping closer. âYouâre⊠steady. Youâre grounding. You told me when I was being stupid. You stayed when it wouldâve been easier to quit. You even learned to like our new meal kit.â
You rolled your eyes, but your chest tightened. âSo now youâre confessing your undying love through carbs?â
âNo,â he chuckled, then reached into his pocket. âIâm proposing through this.â
Your breath caught as you saw the small velvet box. He opened it slowly, revealing a ring so simple and beautiful it nearly took your breath away. No diamonds shouting for attention. Just a gold band with a small, elegant gem. The kind of thing someone would wear every day. Quiet. Constant.
Just like the love heâd built with you.
âIâm not good with a lot of things,â he admitted, voice trembling just slightly. âBut I know I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. I want our dumb, quiet mornings. Our microwave dinners. You calling me an idiot when I deserve it. And maybe one day, you walking into my office againâbut with my name.â
You stared at him, completely speechless. Then he laughed, nervously. âYou donât have to say yes now, by the way. I know your careerâs stillââ
âYes.â
He paused. âWaitâwhat?â
You dropped the sock you were holding, stepping closer. âYes, Kwon Soonyoung. You idiot.â His smile split wide as you tackled him in a hug, the ring box still clutched in his hand.
*
Meeting his parents was something youâd quietly prepared for, even if Soonyoung said you didnât need to. âTheyâre not scary,â he promised with his usual shrug. âYou met my mom. My dadâll just talk about the stock market until someone stops him.â
Still, as you sat beside Soonyoung at the long dining table in their sleek Hannam-dong houseâwith its museum-level lighting and not a single speck of dustâyou knew this wasnât just any dinner.
His mother greeted you first, of course, in a flurry of perfume, pearls, and the kind of warmth that felt performative but not unkind.
âOh, youâre getting prettier!!â she said, gripping your hands with both of hers. âSoonyoung was never this glowy, you know. He must be eating well.â
You smiled, bowed politely, and thanked herâtwice. She seemed like someone who appreciated a bit of extra etiquette. She gave you a quick once-overâyour outfit passed the silent inspection, thank God. then insisted you sit beside her son like you were already part of the family.
His father arrived late, after the wine was already poured and the soup already served.
He was tall, imposing, with the kind of sharp silence that made your posture straighten without thinking. His handshake was firm, his gaze sharper.
âYouâre working in finance now, I heard?â he asked, cutting his steak slowly.
âYes, sir. Hong Finance. I handle B2B marketing strategies under Director Hong Joshua.â
His father hummed, noncommittal. âI see. No family ties to the industry?â
You blinked, just once. âNo, sir. Iâm from Busan. My family runs a small printing business.â
Another hum.
Soonyoung glanced at you, eyes flicking in concern. You nudged his knee gently under the tableâa silent it's fine. I got this.
The conversation moved, meandering through safe topics, until the elder Kwon brought up the label again.
âYou know, the KF Label still has too many bleeding points. Sales growth is good, but not stable. Iâm not convinced Soonyoung understands where itâs leaking,â he said bluntly. âYou do understand what I mean by that, donât you?â
Soonyoung opened his mouth, clearly trying to assemble something in his head. You could almost see him reaching for words, for numbers you knew he hadnât looked at since last quarter.
But before the silence stretched too long, you calmly lifted your glass, smiled, and spoke.
âThe margin inconsistencies in the semi-premium line have been narrowing, actually. Since February, weâve scaled down redundant distribution channels and optimized the logistics route from our Cheonan facility. The recent push with âHeat-and-Meetâ expanded brand visibility with minimal promo spend.â
You placed your glass back down and added, with polite finality, âSoonyoung has been involved in all those strategy approvals. Weâve made it a point to streamline executive summaries so he can lead without getting buried in jargon.â
The table went quiet for a beat. His father looked at you properly nowâeyes no longer cold, but assessing. Appraising. âHm,â he said. âI wasnât aware of the Cheonan streamlining.â
âI prepared the original logistics adjustment proposal,â you said with a slight smile. âBut the final call was Soonyoungâs.â
A pause. Then, almost grudgingly, the elder Kwon nodded. âImpressive.â
Soonyoung gave you a look under the tableâhalf grateful, half floored.
His mother clapped lightly. âYou speak better about business than some of his uncles do, dear.â
You blushed politely and simply replied, âI just care about what I do, maâam.â
His father said little else after that, but the look he gave Soonyoung as he excused himself from the table later carried something unfamiliar. Respect. Maybe for the first time.
And as you and Soonyoung helped clear the dishes together in the kitchen, his mother called from behind you with a small, satisfied smile:
âYouâre already helping him become a better man, Y/n.â
You just bumped your shoulder into his and whispered with a smirk, âGlad someone finally noticed.â
*
The revolving glass doors of KF Label glided open with a quiet sigh as you stepped inside, heels tapping steadily against the pristine marble floor. The lobby hadnât changedâstill sterile, still polished, still smelling faintly of lavender diffuser and corporate ambition.
But you had. Not Ji Y/n, the former marketing manager. You were now Kwon Y/n. The name settled differently on everyoneâs tongue now. Especially here, where whispers spread faster than memos.
You nodded at familiar facesâstaff from various departments, even the security guard who once complimented your meal-prep lunches. Some smiled with genuine warmth, others with thinly veiled curiosity. And a few didnât bother to hide their surprise.
Your steps slowed only when you reached the seventh floor. There, near the meeting room, you saw him. Kim Mingyu. He looked up from a file he was reviewing, pausing mid-page when he saw you. His expression didnât change muchâno shock, no smile. Just a polite flicker of his brows. You offered a small, courteous smile and bowed slightly. He returned the gesture with the same practiced civility. That was all.
It was a month after your resignation when youâd found out through Dokyeom in a hesitant voice over a coffee meeting, that it was Mingyu who had filed the HR report. The report that cost you your role. Since then, thereâd been no real confrontation. No apology. Just stiff smiles across event halls and neutral nods across meetings.
Jun, Soonyoungâs secretary, greeted you the moment he saw you approach. He looked much livelier than he did during your era of damage control.
âY/n,â he beamed, standing quickly and smoothing his tie. âYou look amazing, as always.â
You offered a gentle smile. âIs he available?â
Jun nodded, already walking to the heavy door. âJust finished a call. Iâll let him know.â
He knocked once and pushed the door open with a practiced hand.
âSir,â he said with a knowing grin, âyour wife is here.â
There was a pause, then a familiar voice from inside, low and warm with the tone he reserved only for you.
âLet her in.â
And just like that, you stepped through the doorâleaving behind the past titles, the old pain, and the fractured stares.
You werenât here to prove anything anymore.
You were here as Kwon Y/nâhis partner, in more ways than one.
Soonyoung stood the moment you entered, his face lighting up with that boyish grin that never failed to soften you. His tie was loose, his sleeves rolled, and the stress lines on his forehead were deeper than usual.
Still, he reached you firstâfingers brushing yours before he gently guided you toward the couch like you were something precious.
âWhy didnât you tell me you were coming?â he asked, sitting close, knees turned fully toward you.
You tilted your head, teasing, âWhat would you have done if I told you?â
âPrepared something,â he said dramatically, eyes twinkling. âLike a red carpet. Youâre a star here, baby.â
You let out a soft laugh, brushing your hand against his cheek. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âOnly for you.â He leaned his head against your shoulder then, a deep sigh escaping from him as his whole body relaxed. âHave you had lunch?â you asked quietly, resting your cheek on his head.
He shook his head. âNo time. This anniversary event⊠the product launch, five proposals due by tomorrowââ he exhaled sharply, motioning vaguely to his chaotic desk. âIâm going crazy. If you hadnât walked in, I mightâve actually curled under that table and disappeared.â
You ran your fingers gently through his hair. âI took a half-day off.â
His head lifted slightly. âWhy? Still feeling fatigue?â
You nodded, pressing your lips together. âYeah. And I went to the doctor earlier.â
That made him sit up straighter, concern painting his face. âYou shouldâve come home. Why didnât you say anything? Why are you visiting me if youâre not feeling well?â
Instead of answering right away, you pulled a neatly folded document from your bag and handed it to him.
His brows furrowed as he took it. âWaitâthis⊠is this what I think it is?â
âOpen it.â
Soonyoung unfolded the paper slowly, eyes scanning over the lines until they landed on one sentence that made everything around him blur.
You smiled, a nervous, tender curve. âSurprise.â
His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out at first. His hands trembled just enough for you to notice, the document still in his grip.
âIâmââ he blinked, voice rough with disbelief. âIâm going to be a dad?â
You nodded, your own breath catching. âYeah. Weâre⊠weâre going to be parents, Kwon Soonyoung.â
For a second, he just stared.
And then he laughedâa soft, breathless sound of pure joyâas he leaned in and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest with a mix of awe and something almost like reverence.
âYouâre everything,â he whispered. âI swear, you are.â
âIâm telling Jun Iâm going home. Everything can wait until tomorrow.â Soonyoung stood up with a spark in his eyes after pulling you into one last firm hug.
You opened your mouth to protestââSoonyoung, your scheduleââ
But he already had his phone to his ear, spinning half toward his desk while still watching you like he couldnât stand looking away for too long.
âJun. Yeah. Cancel everything for the rest of the day. Postpone the internal review, shift the client call. Send a memo that the director is off-duty. No, not sickâin love.â He grinned at you while Jun, somewhere across the floor, probably died a little. âYou can blame the most beautiful woman in my life.â
You covered your mouth with your hand, trying not to burst out laughing. âYouâre so dramatic.â
âIâm not dramatic,â he said, putting his phone down and coming back to you. âIâm in love. And apparently, Iâm going to be a dad, which means I have very important priorities now.â
He helped you up gently, his hands warm on your arms. âLetâs go home, baby.â
You smiled, heart full. âOkay.â
As the two of you stepped out of the office hand in hand, the corridor lights overhead felt softer. Familiar faces turned, surprised, and smiledâsome knowingly, some with wide eyes.
But you didnât care.
Not as he walked beside you, fingers laced tightly in yours, saying things like âIâm buying dinner. Noâwait, Iâm cooking! No, Iâm ordering and cooking!â
