Yunie004 @yunie-s - Tumblr Blog

yunie-s

Dec 30, 2025

WILDFLOWER_ A Han Taesan oneshot

non-idol!taesan x female!reader

Featuring: All Boynextdoor members, Minju from Illit, Bae jinsol from Nmixx (NO SHIPPING), OC!Kim Sooyoung, OC!Hanna

Genre: Fluff, a little angst, single parent!reader

Warnings: mentions of divorce, death, abuse

Read Prologue

A flicker of hope finally replaced the dull guilt of becoming a burden to her parents in Sooyoung’s chest. The name Wildflower felt like an omen—a small, resilient thing growing despite the odds.

As she closed her laptop, the click of the screen seemed to echo in the quiet living room. Her mother, who had been folding Areum’s small laundry on the sofa, looked up with a soft, encouraging smile.

"They’re good people, Sooyoung-ah," her mother said gently. "The owner, Mrs. Han, has been a friend of mine since you were in middle school. Her family runs the place with a lot of heart. It isn't like those cold, corporate kitchens in Seoul. It might be exactly what you need."

Sooyoung nodded, her fingers tracing the edge of the table. "I just need a start, Mom. Anywhere that will let me cook again."

The wait for the acceptance call didn't last long. Two days later, while Sooyoung was helping Areum color in a drawing of a lopsided sun, her phone buzzed on the rug. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she saw the sender id.

The interview was brief. Mrs. Han remembered Sooyoung as the bright girl who used to bring home-baked cookies to her mother’s gatherings. Hearing about Sooyoung’s culinary degree and her experience in Seoul, the tone shifted from polite catching-up to professional respect.

"We need someone who understands the soul of the food, not just the recipe," Mrs. Han had said over the phone. "Come by tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM. We’ll see how you handle the prep line."

The next morning, Sooyoung dressed in a simple, crisp white button-down and slacks. She tied her hair back into a tight, practical bun, looking at her reflection. She looked older than twenty-five—there was a weary depth in her eyes—but she looked capable.

"Mommy, are you going to work?" Areum asked, rubbing her sleepy eyes as she stood by her grandmother’s legs.

Sooyoung knelt down and kissed the little girl’s forehead. "I am. I’m going to make delicious things so we can buy that big set of paints you wanted."

Walking to the restaurant, the Gwangju air felt different—thicker and more humid than Seoul, but it smelled like home. When she reached the storefront of Wildflower, she paused. It was a charming place, tucked away on a corner with climbing vines and large windows.

She pushed the door open, the bell chiming above her head. The scent of roasted garlic and fresh herbs hit her immediately, settling her nerves.

"You must be Sooyoung," a voice called out.

She turned to see a woman in her late fifties wiping her hands on an apron—Mrs. Han. But it was the person standing behind her, lifting a heavy crate of fresh produce, who caught Sooyoung’s eye.

He was tall, with sharp features and a focused energy that seemed to fill the room. He set the crate down with a heavy thud and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Sooyoung, this is my son," Mrs. Han introduced, gesturing toward him. "Taesan. He helps me run the front and handles the suppliers. Taesan, this is Kim Sooyoung. She’s joining us in the kitchen."

Taesan stood up straight, his gaze meeting Sooyoung’s. For a split second, the busy sounds of the kitchen prep faded into the background.

His gaze was steady, expression unreadable as he wiped his hands on a dark towel. There was a quiet, focused intensity about him that could easily be mistaken for coldness.

"I’m Han Taesan," he said, his voice low and level. "Since you’ll be working here, give me a brief introduction."

Sooyoung didn't flinch. She had dealt with demanding head chefs in Seoul; she knew how to hold her ground. She stood straight, meeting his eyes with professional composure. "I am Kim Sooyoung, twenty-five years old. I recently moved back from Seoul, where I worked for three years as an assistant chef at a high-volume bistro in Gangnam."

Taesan’s eyes flickered briefly, as if he were taking a mental note of her confidence. He gave a single, curt nod amd turned to his mother.

"Mom, I’m heading to the office to finalize the contract with the new milk supplier. Their prices changed again."

"Go on, dear," Mrs. Han said with a wave of her hand. Taesan disappeared into a back room without a second glance, the door clicking shut behind him.

Mrs. Han turned back to Sooyoung, her smile warm and apologetic. "Don't mind him. He’s just very protective of this place. Now, come along—let me show you where the magic happens."

As they stepped into the kitchen, the atmosphere shifted from the quiet tension of the front house to a whirlwind of energy.

"This is our team," Mrs. Han announced.

Over a steaming pot of reduction stood a man with a focused frown. He was meticulously tasting a spoonful of brown liquid. "That’s Lee Sanghyuk, our Sauce Chef," Mrs. Han introduced.

Sanghyuk looked up, startled by the sudden attention. He gave a small, awkward bow, his ears turning slightly pink. "Oh... hello. I'm Sanghyuk.

"And over here," Mrs. Han continued, pointing toward the flour-dusted station at the far end, "is our resident sunshine."

A young man with a dazzling smile and bright eyes looked up from a tray of laminated dough. He was undeniably handsome, with an energy that seemed to light up the room.

"Hi! I’m Myung Jaehyun!" he chirped, waving a floury hand. "Pastry chef, mood maker, and the only reason this place smells like vanilla. You’re Sooyoung, right? The Seoul chef? Thank goodness, Sanghyuk was starting to talk to his onions because he needed a new friend."

"I was not," Sanghyuk mumbled from his station, though a small smile tugged at his lips.Sooyoung felt a genuine spark of relief. After the coldness of her life in Seoul and the isolation of the last month, the vibrant, slightly chaotic energy of the Wildflower kitchen felt like a warm invitation.

Mrs. Han patted Sooyoung’s shoulder, her eyes crinkling with trust. "To be honest, Sooyoung, you already have the job. I’ve seen your dedication since you were a girl. But the boys here take their craft seriously, and for the sake of the 'official' process, I’d like you to show us what you can do. Cook something you feel represents you."

Sooyoung didn't hesitate. "I’ll make Jeyuk-bokkeum," Sooyoung said firmly. It was a humble dish, but in a professional kitchen, it was the ultimate test of heat control, seasoning balance, and the ability to make something familiar feel extraordinary.

"A classic," Jaehyun cheered, leaning over his pastry table. "The spicy pork soul food! I’m already hungry."

Mrs. Han nodded. "Perfect. Sanghyuk, stop bullying that sauce for a moment and assist her. Get her whatever she needs from the walk-in."

Sanghyuk moved with quiet efficiency, placing a pristine cutting board and a sharpened chef's knife in front of her. "The pork shoulder is thinly sliced in the third bin. The gochugaru is high-grade—it’s got a kick, so be careful," he whispered, his introverted nature making him sound like he was sharing a state secret.

Sooyoung took a deep breath, and for the first time in months, the heavy fog of her divorce seemed to lift. When she held the knife, she wasn't "The Woman Who Got Cheated On" or "The Burdened Daughter." She was a chef.

She worked with a speed that made Jaehyun whistle under his breath. Her movements were surgical:

• The marinade: A precise blend of gochujang, soy sauce, minced garlic, and grated ginger, finished with a touch of apple puree for a natural sweetness that would cut through the spice.

• The Prep: She julienned green onions and sliced onions with a rhythmic tap-tap-tap that echoed through the kitchen.

• The Sear: She waited until the wok was screaming hot. When the pork hit the oil, the sizzle was immediate and aggressive.The aroma began to waft through the vents—smoky, spicy, and savory.

Sanghyuk stood back, watching her technique. He noticed how she didn't crowd the pan, allowing the meat to caramelize properly instead of steaming in its own juices.

The office door opened quietly. Taesan stepped out, a folder in his hand. He stopped near the pass, his nostrils flaring slightly as the scent reached him. He didn't say anything, but he didn't go back into his office either. He leaned against the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed on Sooyoung’s hands as she tossed the wok with practiced ease.

With a final flourish, Sooyoung added a drizzle of toasted sesame oil and a handful of fresh scallions. She plated the dish with clean, modern lines, wiping the edge of the white ceramic until it was perfect.

"Done," she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline.

Mrs. Han approached with several sets of chopsticks. "Let’s see if Seoul changed your touch, Sooyoung-ah."

She took a slow, deliberate bite. Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, the only sound was the low hum of the refrigerator."Sooyoung-ah," Mrs. Han breathed, her voice filled with a sudden, maternal warmth. "This isn't just a recipe from a textbook. You can taste the heart in this. The way the spice lingers without burning... it’s exceptional. I knew you were talented, but this? This is the work of a master."

Watching Mrs. Han’s reaction, Jaehyun couldn't contain himself. He practically leaped over his pastry station, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Ma'am! If you're making that face, I have to try it!" Jaehyun chirped. Without waiting for a response, he grabbed two sets of chopsticks. He hooked his arm through Sanghyuk’s, dragging the shy sauce chef toward the stove.

"Come on, Riwoo-yah! You need to taste this!"

He took a massive bite, his cheeks puffing out like a squirrel. "Oh my god!" he muffled, fan-girling over the flavor. "The caramelization! Sooyoung-ssi, you’re a magician!"

Seeing his reaction, Sanghyuk leaned forward to take a bite. He chewed slowly, his analytical mind working. Then, a smile broke across his face.

"The balance of the ginger and the pear juice in the marinade... it's perfect. You handled the high flame like a pro."

"Is it really worth such a fuss?"

The cool, steady voice of Taesan cut through the excitement. He was leaning against the doorframe of the office, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, watching the scene with an unreadable expression. He walked over, the air around him feeling several degrees cooler than the heat of the stove.

He didn't look at the others; his gaze stayed fixed on the plate, then flicked briefly to Sooyoung’s guarded face. He picked up the chopsticks Sanghyuk offered and took a single, precise bite.

For a split second, his composure wavered. His eyes widened, a flash of genuine surprise breaking through his expressions. The depth of the flavor was something he hadn't expected from a "new hire."

He swallowed, cleared his throat, and immediately pulled his mask of indifference back on. He gave a sharp, stiff nod.

"It’s... acceptable," he said, though the way he took a second, smaller bite betrayed him. "The supplier will be happy to know their meat isn't being wasted. Good job."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and retreated into the office, the door clicking shut behind him.

The walk back to her parents’ house felt lighter than the walk to the restaurant. For the first time in months, the weight on Sooyoung’s shoulders didn't feel like lead; it felt like a responsibility she was finally capable of carrying.

As she stepped through the front door, the familiar scent of her mother’s barley tea greeted her. Areum was sitting on the floor, surrounded by a sea of colors n drawing sheets, while Garam sat at the low table, buried in a thick book.

"I'm home," Sooyoung called out, her voice steadier than it had been in weeks.

Areum’s head snapped up. "Mommy!" She scrambled to her feet, her little socks sliding on the wooden floor as she threw herself at Sooyoung’s knees. "Did you make the delicious things?"

Sooyoung scooped her up, burying her face in the toddler’s hair, smelling the sweet, milky scent that always grounded her. "I did, baby. And guess what? They liked them so much that Mommy is going to work there every day now."

Her mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, her eyes searching Sooyoung’s face for the truth. When she saw the small, genuine smile tugging at her daughter's lips, she let out a long, shaky breath she had clearly been holding for a month.

"You got it?" her mother whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"I got it, Mom. Mrs. Han was wonderful. And... I’m going to be a chef again. A real one."

Garam looked up from her books, a wide, mischievous grin breaking across her face. "Our Seoul chef is back in business! I knew they’d hire you the second they tasted your food. Does this mean I get a discount when I come by for lunch?"

"You get a discount if you help me with the dishes tonight," Sooyoung teased, feeling a spark of her old, playful self returning.

Later that night, after the excitement had died down and her father had come home to give her a silent, proud pat on the shoulder, Sooyoung sat on the edge of her bed. Areum was fast asleep beside her, one hand curled around the sleeve of Sooyoung’s shirt.

She thought about the kitchen—the heat of the stove, Jaehyun’s loud cheering, Sanghyuk’s quiet nod, and the way the air had seemed to still when Taesan tasted her food. He had been cold, yes, but there was an intensity in his gaze that she couldn't shake. He looked like someone who demanded perfection, and for the first time in a long time, Sooyoung felt ready to give it.

She wasn't just "Lee Samil’s ex-wife" or a "divorced woman from Gwangju" anymore. Tomorrow morning, at 9:00 AM, she was Chef Kim Sooyoung.

The first day at Wildflower didn’t feel like a job; it felt like a reclamation. Sooyoung arrived fifteen minutes early. The morning light filtered through the vines on the windows, casting soft shadows across the dining room floor.

Mrs. Han greeted her not with a formal lecture, but with a clean, heavy cotton apron. "Tie it tight, Sooyoung-ah. Today, The restaurant is closed for the day but we’re doing the braised short ribs for the dinner special, which means we have forty kilograms of vegetables to prep before noon."

Sooyoung took her place at the prep station next to Sanghyuk. The kitchen was a symphony of low-level sounds: the hum of the walk-in cooler, the rhythmic thwack-thwack of knives, and the bubbling of a massive pot of dashi.

Initially, Sooyoung felt the ghost of her past year—the hesitation, the fear of making a mistake that had haunted her marriage—lingering in her fingers. But as she began to mirepoix the carrots, the muscle memory took over.

Her cuts were precise, identical cubes falling away from her blade in a steady stream.The

Unlike the cold, sterile kitchens in Seoul where chefs barked orders, Wildflower was warm.

Mrs. Han moved through the space like a conductor, tasting sauces and adjusting the heat with a calm authority that made Sooyoung feel safe.

By mid-morning, the initial nerves had melted into a comfortable sweat.

Jaehyun proved to be the heartbeat of the kitchen’s morale. Every time he passed Sooyoung’s station to put something in the oven, he’d drop a small "treat"—a botched macaron or a scrap of puff pastry.

"Fuel for the engine!" he’d chirp, leaning over to inspect her prep work. "Look at those onions. They’re so uniform it’s almost scary. Sanghyuk, look, you have competition for the 'Prettiest Prep' award."

Sanghyuk didn't look up from his reduction, but his ears turned slightly pink. "She’s faster than me," he muttered, though there was no malice in it, only professional respect. Later, when Sooyoung struggled to find the heavy cast-iron pans, Sanghyuk silently pointed to the lower cabinet and even moved a heavy stack of lids out of her way so she wouldn't strain her back.

When 12:00 PM hit, the bell above the front door began to chime incessantly. The ticket machine started its frantic skrit-skrit-skrit rhythm.

"Sooyoung, take the garnish and the plating for the bibimbap bowls!" Mrs. Han commanded.This was the moment of truth. Sooyoung stepped onto the "line." She worked in tandem with Mrs. Han, her hands flying as she arranged vibrant mounds of blanched spinach, seasoned bean sprouts, and julienned radish.

She focused on the colors, ensuring every bowl looked like a painting before it hit the pass.There was a singular, meditative peace in the chaos. For three hours, she didn't think about Samil, the divorce papers, or the empty feeling in her chest. She only thought about the temperature of the rice and the sear on the beef.

By 3:00 PM, the rush died down. The kitchen smelled of toasted sesame and roasted peppers. Sooyoung spent the final hour scrubbing her station until the stainless steel gleamed. Her back ached, and her feet were throbbing, but it was a "good" pain—the kind that comes from honest, soul-filling labor.

As she was taking a break on the couch, Mrs. Han walked over and handed her a small container filled with the leftover short ribs.

"For Areum’s dinner," Mrs. Han said, her eyes crinkling. "You did well today, Sooyoung. You belong in a kitchen. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise."

Leaving the restaurant that night, Sooyoung didn't look back at the life she had left behind in Seoul. She looked forward, toward the bus stop, feeling for the first time in a long time that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

It had been a full week since Sooyoung started at Wildflower, and a rhythmic peace had settled over her life. She had mastered the layout of the pantry, learned Sanghyuk’s silent cues for passing salt, and gotten used to Jaehyun’s habit of humming pop songs while whisking meringue.

One Tuesday morning, the kitchen was unusually quiet. Mrs. Han had stepped out to run an errand, and the boys were in the walk-in freezer organizing a large shipment of seafood. Sooyoung was alone at the center prep island, focused on a task that required absolute concentration: segmenting a mountain of blood oranges for the evening’s citrus-glazed duck.

She was in her element. Her movements were fluid and surgical. With a sharp paring knife, she sliced the tops and bottoms off the fruit, then carved away the peel in perfect, curving strokes that left not a trace of bitter white pith behind.

The bell above the kitchen door clicked open. Sooyoung didn't look up, assuming it was Sanghyuk coming back for more crates.

"Mom, the new citrus supplier sent over the revised contract. They’re trying to hike the price on the Cara Cara oranges, and I think we need to—"

Taesan’s voice trailed off as he rounded the corner. He stopped short when he realized his mother wasn't there. Instead, he found Sooyoung.

She was bathed in the morning light streaming through the high windows, her expression one of calm, intense focus. She hadn't noticed him yet. He watched in silence for a moment as she flicked a perfect orange segment into a glass bowl with practiced ease. There was something hypnotic about her competence; she looked entirely different from the weary, guarded woman he’d met a week ago. Here, with a knife in her hand and a task before her, she looked powerful.

Sooyoung finally sensed a presence and looked up. Her hands didn't falter, but her posture straightened instinctively.

"Mrs. Han is at the market," she said, her voice steady and professional. "She should be back in about twenty minutes."

Taesan shifted the folder in his hand, his gaze dropping to the bowl of oranges. Every segment was identical, clean-cut, and glistening. He looked back at her, his expression unreadable, though his eyes lingered on her face a second longer than necessary.

"I see," he replied, his voice regaining its usual clipped, cool tone. He didn't leave immediately. He leaned against the edge of the opposite counter, tapping the folder against his palm.

"You’re fast. My mother mentioned you were efficient, but I thought she was just being biased because of your family connection."

Sooyoung met his eyes directly. "I don't expect special treatment because of a connection, Taesan-ssi. I’m here to work."

A small, almost imperceptible ghost of a smirk touched the corner of Taesan’s mouth—not a smile, but a sign of acknowledgement. He straightened up, tucking the folder under his arm.

"Good. We don't have room for anything else here."

He turned to head back to the office, but paused at the door. "Tell her I’ll be in the back if she needs to sign these."

As the door shut, Sooyoung exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She looked back down at the oranges, her reflection caught in the stainless steel of her knife. She felt a strange hum of adrenaline—not from fear, but from the realization that for the first time, Taesan hadn't just looked at her as a "favor" to his mother. He had looked at her as a chef.

And somehow, it felt different.

What kind of different? She didn't want to know yet.

It was the day before the gathering, and the kitchen was beginning to settle into the late-afternoon lull. Sooyoung was busy organizing the spice rack when Mrs. Han approached her, untying her apron and leaning against the prep table with a warm, maternal sigh.

"Sooyoung-ah," Mrs. Han began, "tomorrow afternoon, I’m going to need you to handle the kitchen on your own. Sanghyuk and Jaehyun will be here to help, of course, but I need you to be the lead on the line from one to four."

Sooyoung straightened up, her heart giving a small, nervous flutter. "On my own? Is everything okay, Mrs. Han?"

Mrs. Han laughed softly, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, everything is perfect. A group of my oldest friends—including your mother—are coming over for their regular gathering. Since it’s hosted here, I need to be out front with them, playing hostess and catching up on all the Gwangju gossip."

Sooyoung’s eyes widened. "My mother is coming here? She didn't mention it to me at all."

"She probably didn't want to make you feel like she was checking up on you," Mrs. Han said with a wink. "You know how she is. But I told her you were doing wonderful. So, tomorrow afternoon, the kitchen is yours. I’ve already planned a light menu of appetizers and tea snacks, but I want you to manage the execution. It’ll be a nice surprise for your mom to see you running the show, don't you think?"

Sooyoung felt a surge of both anxiety and pride. She hadn't expected to be given that much responsibility so soon, but the thought of her mother seeing her in a position of authority—healthy, working, and respected—made her nod firmly.

"I understand, Mrs. Han. I’ll make sure everything is perfect for the ladies."

"I know you will," Mrs. Han said, patting her shoulder. "Now, let’s finish up this prep. I want the kitchen spotless before the 'aunties' arrive tomorrow. They have eyes like hawks!"

Sooyoung turned back to her work with a new sense of purpose, her mind already racing through the steps of tomorrow’s service, determined to prove that she was more than just a survivor of a messy divorce—she was a chef.

That night, the atmosphere in the Kim household was warm, filled with the clinking of metal chopsticks and the sound of Areum humming as she kicked her legs under the table.

"Mom," Sooyoung said casually, picking up a piece of seasoned spinach. "Mrs. Han mentioned something about a gathering tomorrow afternoon. She said you’re all meeting at the restaurant."

Her mother paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth. "Oh! That’s right. I was going to tell you this morning, Sooyoung-ah, but between getting Areum ready and making sure you had your lunch, it completely slipped my mind. My head is like a sieve these days."

Garam chuckled from across the table. "Don't lie, Mom. You were probably just too busy picking out which scarf to wear to impress the aunties."

"Hey!" Mrs. Kim laughed, nudging Garam. "It’s a big deal. We haven't all been together in like—4 months."

Mr. Kim nodded silently, a small smile playing on his lips. He was used to these gatherings; they were a staple of his wife’s social life, a time when the house would be quiet while she caught up on years of history with her childhood friends.

"What's a gathering?" Areum asked suddenly, her eyes wide with curiosity, a grain of rice stuck to her chin.

"It’s when Grandma goes to see all her friends to talk and eat delicious things," Mrs. Kim explained, reaching over to wipe the rice from Areum’s face.

Areum’s eyes lit up. "Delicious things? Like ice cream? Can I go? I want to go to Mommy’s work with Grandma!"

Sooyoung shook her head gently. "No, Areum-ah. Mommy is going to be very busy cooking for the big ladies tomorrow. You should stay here with Auntie Garam."

"But I want to see Mommy cook!" Areum insisted, her lower lip beginning to poke out in a classic pout. "Please? I'll be quiet! I'll be a good girl!"

Sooyoung looked at her daughter, ready to stand her ground. She didn't want to be distracted during her first big shift in charge of the kitchen, especially with her mother’s friends watching. "Areum, it’s a place for work, not for—"

"Oh, let her come, Sooyoung-ah," Mrs. Kim interrupted, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "The other ladies are always bragging about their grandkids’ piano lessons or their English tutors. It’s about time I show off my beautiful granddaughter to everyone. Besides, she can sit in the booth near the kitchen. She won't be in the way."

Areum cheered, clapping her small hands together. "Yay! Grandma is the best!"

Sooyoung sighed, but she couldn't hide the smile tugging at her lips. The thought of having her mother and her daughter there while she took command of the kitchen made her heart swell. It was more pressure, certainly, but it also felt like the final piece of her new life falling into place.

The sun hadn't even begun to peek over the Gwangju skyline when a small, insistent finger began poking Sooyoung’s cheek.

"Mommy. Mommy, wake up. The sun is almost awake."

Sooyoung groaned, burying her face deeper into the pillow. The clock on her bedside table glowed a cruel 6:00 AM. Usually, she had another hour of precious silence before her internal alarm triggered at 7:00 AM, giving her just enough time to get ready before heading to the restaurant by 8:30 AM.

"Areum-ah," Sooyoung mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, reaching out blindly to pull her daughter into a cuddle. "It’s too early. Mommy doesn't have to leave for a while, and you... you aren't going until the afternoon with Grandma."

Areum, already standing upright on the mattress in her penguin-patterned pajamas, shook her head with the solemn gravity of a world leader. She wasn't interested in cuddles; she was on a mission.

"No. I have to get ready now. It takes a long time to look pretty for the 'aunties'."

Sooyoung cracked one eye open, looking at her daughter’s messy bedhead and determined pout. "You have nearly seven hours, baby. Grandma will help you pick an outfit after your nap."

Areum huffed, crossing her small arms over her chest. "Grandma’s fashion sense is bad, Mommy. She tried to make me wear the yellow socks with the green dress yesterday. I looked like a sprout. A bad sprout."

Sooyoung couldn't help it; a sleepy laugh bubbled up in her chest, effectively waking her up. She sat up, pushing her hair out of her face.

"A sprout? You’re a very cute sprout. But fine, if you’re that worried about Grandma’s styling, we’ll pick your outfit together now so I can leave on time."

"And the sparkly shoes?" Areum asked, her eyes widening with hope.

"And the sparkly shoes," Sooyoung promised, kissing the end of the little girl's nose. "But first, let's let Grandma sleep a little longer while we find your 'princess' clothes."

The transition from the early morning chaos at home to the professional hum of Wildflower was seamless. By the time Sooyoung tied her apron at 8:30 AM, the kitchen was already alive. The breakfast rush was steady—mostly locals stopping in for hearty abalone porridge or light vegetable omelets.

Sooyoung worked in perfect sync with Mrs. Han, her movements sharpened by a week of regaining her rhythm. Between the steam of the pots and the rhythmic chopping of garnish, the hours blurred.

By 11:30 AM, the last of the breakfast tickets had been cleared, and the kitchen entered that brief, heavy silence before the storm of the afternoon gathering.

Mrs. Han wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and untied her apron. "I'm heading out now, Sooyoung-ah. I need to go home, freshen up, and make sure I don't look like I've been standing over a stove for four hours when the ladies arrive."

She walked over to the central prep island, gesturing for Sooyoung to join her. "Now, remember, the braised ribs are on low heat. The shrimp for the salad shouldn't be blanched until ten minutes before service. Sanghyuk and Jaehyun know their roles, but if you need—"

Mrs. Han stopped mid-sentence as the heavy door from the office creaked open. Taesan walked in, his presence immediately shifting the energy of the room. He didn't say a word; he simply walked over and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his mother, his arms crossed over his chest, listening intently to the final instructions.

"Oh, you're here, Taesan," Mrs. Han said, her eyes crinkling with a secret sort of satisfaction. She reached for a clipboard on the counter, tapping the detailed prep list clipped to it.

"Good. Here is the list for the lunch gathering. Read through it carefully."

She turned back to Sooyoung.

"Sooyoung-ah, I’ve decided to move things around a bit today," Mrs. Han announced. "Since I’ll be busy hosting and the boys are handling the heavy pantry stock and desserts, Taesan will be your assistant chef for the lunch service. You are the Head Chef for today. Whatever you need, he’s your hands."

Sooyoung felt a momentary jolt of shock. She looked from Mrs. Han to Taesan. He didn't protest or roll his eyes; he simply uncrossed his arms and took the clipboard from his mother’s hand, his eyes scanning the list with a clinical, sharp focus.

"Understood," Taesan said, his voice low and steady. He looked up, his gaze landing directly on Sooyoung. It wasn't the cold look from her first day, but it was still intensely serious.

"What’s the first task, Chef?"

Mrs. Han patted Sooyoung’s arm encouragingly before heading for the exit. "I’ll see you all in a bit. Don't work him too hard, Sooyoung-ah—actually, on second thought, do. It’s good for him."

The kitchen door swung shut behind her, leaving Sooyoung and Taesan alone in the center of the workspace. The silence was thick, broken only by the low simmer of a pot on the back stove.

The lunch rush for the "Wildflower Ladies" was in full swing, and the kitchen had transformed into a high-stakes dance floor. To Sanghyuk and Jaehyun’s absolute bewilderment, Sooyoung and Taesan moved with a synchronization that usually took years to develop.

When Sooyoung reached for the salt, Taesan was already holding the cellar open. When Taesan finished searing the beef, Sooyoung was right behind him with the resting tray. They didn't even need to speak; a tilt of a head or a sharp glance was enough.

From the pastry island, Jaehyun stopped whisking his cream, his jaw nearly hitting the floor. He nudged Sanghyuk, who was prepping the final garnish. "Are you seeing this?" Jaehyun whispered. "Taesan hates following orders. But he’s... he’s actually listening to her."

Sanghyuk nodded slowly, his eyes wide. "It’s like they have the same brain. I’ve never seen him move like that with anyone, not even his mother."

For two hours, they were a powerhouse duo. But as they reached the final stretch of the main course—a delicate soy-braised cod—the seamless harmony hit a snag.

"The radish needs to be at the bottom of the pot to soak up the broth," Sooyoung stated firmly, hovering over the Dutch oven.

Taesan frowned, his tongs poised mid-air. "No, if you put them at the bottom now, they’ll turn into mush before the fish is even opaque. They go on the side, tucked in."

"If they're on the side, they won't get the caramelization from the heat source," she countered, stepping into his space. "Put them at the bottom, Taesan-ssi."

"Side," he insisted, his voice dropping into a stubborn, boyish tone.

"Bottom."

"Side!"

They stood there, glaring at each other like two toddlers arguing over a crayon. It was a bizarre sight—the cold, stoic Taesan and the usually professional Sooyoung, bickering over a vegetable.

"Fine," Taesan huffed. "Let’s ask Jaehyun-hyung. He’s seen my mom do this a thousand times."

Jaehyun, who had been enjoying the "show" from a distance, suddenly felt the heat of two intense gazes. Sanghyuk had slipped into the backroom for a much-needed break, leaving Jaehyun to be the sole judge.

"Well?" Sooyoung asked, her arms crossed. "Bottom or side?"

Jaehyun looked at Taesan’s expectant face, then at Sooyoung’s fiery expression. He swallowed hard. "Honestly... the way Sooyoung explained the caramelization... her way is actually better for the flavor profile."

Sooyoung’s face lit up with a triumphant, sassy grin. She leaned toward Taesan, a playful spark in her eyes. "See? Of course mine is better. I’m a professional chef with a degree, Mr. Han. What do you know about the science of cooking? You just carry the crates."

The air in the kitchen instantly cooled by ten degrees. Jaehyun’s heart skipped a beat. He knew that tone—it was the one thing Taesan couldn't stand. Taesan’s jaw tightened, and the playful annoyance in his eyes vanished, replaced by a dark, icy intensity.

"Hyung," Taesan said, his voice terrifyingly calm as he looked at Jaehyun. "Go take a ten-minute rest in the backroom. Now."

"Taesan-ah, she was just—"

"Go," Taesan repeated.

Jaehyun didn't need a third warning. Sensing the genuine danger, he dropped his whisk and vanished into the backroom faster than a ghost.

Taesan turned his full attention to Sooyoung. He stepped forward, invading her personal space until she was forced to lean back against the prep table. His shadow loomed over her, and his voice was a low, dangerous growl.

"Let’s get one thing straight," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "You’ve been here a week. You don't know me, you don't know my history, and you don't know what I’ve given up for this place. If you don’t know something about someone, don’t you dare say anything about them again."

The sass drained out of Sooyoung instantly. Her heart hammered against her ribs—not with the adrenaline of cooking, but with the sudden fear that she had just ruined her only lifeline. Her job, her parents' pride, Areum’s future—it all flashed before her eyes.

"I... I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I was out of line. I didn't mean it like that, Taesan-ssi. Truly. I’m sorry."

Taesan stared at her for a long, grueling moment. He saw the genuine flash of fear in her eyes and the way her hands were shaking slightly against the stainless steel. He let out a long, heavy sigh and stepped back, breaking the tension.

He walked over to the sink, splashed some cold water on his face, and downed a glass of water in one go. When he turned back, the "dangerous" Taesan was gone, replaced by the focused assistant chef.

"The radish goes on the bottom," he said quietly, picking up his tongs. "Let's finish the service. The ladies are waiting."

Sooyoung took a shaky breath, nodding quickly. "Right. The bottom."

Without another word, they fell back into their rhythm. Within minutes, the chemistry returned—as if the fire of the argument had only served to forge their teamwork even tighter.

While the kitchen was a battlefield of focus and rising tension, the dining room was a sea of floral blouses and high-pitched chatter. The "Wildflower Ladies" were in high spirits, their table covered in empty plates of appetizers that had been polished clean.

Mrs. Han was in the middle of a glowing story about Taesan’s knack for business, while the others, like Mrs. Myung and Mrs. Lee, nodded in agreement. Mrs. Kim, however, was preoccupied. Areum had been squirming on her lap ever since she caught a glimpse of Sooyoung’s white chef coat passing the hallway.

"I want Mommy," Areum whispered for the tenth time.

"Mommy is working, sunshine," Mrs. Kim shushed her gently. "She’s making the big lunch. If you go in there, you might get burned by a hot pan."

Areum went quiet, her big eyes fixed on the swinging kitchen door. She waited for the exact moment Mrs. Han started bragging about Taesan’s latest supply deal, drawing everyone's attention. Sliding like a shadow off her grandmother’s lap, Areum scurried across the floor and slipped through the door before anyone noticed.

Inside, the kitchen was silent except for the sizzle of the cod. Areum stopped, her breath hitching. She saw her mother standing close to a tall man—too close. The man was leaning over, his shoulder nearly brushing Sooyoung’s as they plated the food.

The image triggered a sharp, painful memory in Areum’s small mind: her father in their old home, standing just as close to a woman who wasn't her mommy. She remembered the shouting, the bags packed in the middle of the night, and the weeks of watching her mother cry into her pillow in their tiny studio apartment.

With a sudden burst of protective fury, Areum rushed forward. She slammed her small hands into Taesan’s thigh, pushing him away with all her might.

"Get away! Move!" she cried out.

Taesan, caught completely off guard, stumbled back a step. He looked down in pure bewilderment at the tiny girl who had appeared out of nowhere. Before he could utter a word, Areum turned and wrapped her arms tightly around Sooyoung’s waist, burying her face in her mother's apron.

"Areum!" Sooyoung gasped, nearly dropping her tongs. "What are you doing in here? How did you get past Grandma?"

Taesan stood frozen, his eyes wide. He looked at the child, then at Sooyoung, then back at the child. He had no idea who this was. He knew Sooyoung was from Gwangju, but his mother had never mentioned a family of her own.

Sooyoung gently pried Areum’s hands away and knelt to her level. "Areum-ah, you can't be in here. It’s dangerous. Why did you run in?"

"I wanted to see you," Areum sniffled, her voice trembling. She cast a dark, suspicious look at Taesan. "Mommy, tell him to go away."

The word "Mommy" hit Taesan like a physical weight. His brain stalled. Mommy? He stared at Sooyoung—this woman who was his age, who worked with a ferocity he admired—and realized she was a parent.

"Areum, go back to Grandma right now," Sooyoung said, her voice soft but firm.

"No!" Areum cried, pointing a finger at Taesan. "He’s going to get close to you. He’s going to kiss you, and then he’s going to go kiss some other aunty, and then you’re going to cry again! I don't want you to cry anymore!"

The kitchen went deathly silent. Even Jaehyun, peeking out from the backroom, froze. The raw, heartbreaking honesty of a child who had witnessed her mother’s world fall apart hung heavy in the air.

Sooyoung felt a lump form in her throat. She took Areum’s small face in her hands. "Areum-ah, look at me. This man is Taesan-ssi. He is Mommy’s boss. We are just making food together. Nothing like what happened before is going to happen here. I promise. Mommy is okay."

Areum searched her mother’s eyes for a long moment. Finally, she let out a shaky breath and wiped her nose. "He's just your boss?"

"Just my boss," Sooyoung confirmed.

Areum gave Taesan one last wary look before nodding and trudging back toward the dining room door. Once she disappeared, Sooyoung stood up, her face burning with a mixture of shame and exhaustion. She wouldn't look at Taesan.

"I am so incredibly sorry," Sooyoung whispered, picking up her knife with a trembling hand. "She... she’s had a hard time. Please ignore what she said."

Taesan didn't pick up his tools. He was still staring at the door where Areum had exited. "I didn't know you had a child," he said, his voice unusually quiet, stripped of its earlier bite. "I didn't know you were married."

Sooyoung finally looked at him, her gaze tired but honest. "I’m not. Not anymore. I divorced my husband a month ago."

Taesan looked at her, really looked at her, seeing the "weary depth" he’d noticed on the first day in a completely different light. He realized now that her "sassy" defense earlier wasn't just professional pride—it was the armor of a woman who had been forced to rebuild her entire life from scratch.

He cleared his throat, the icy tension from their argument completely evaporated. He reached out and adjusted the heat on the stove, his movements now careful and subdued.

"The cod is ready," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Let's finish plating it before it gets cold, Chef."

He didn’t offer a soft word or a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. If anything, he became even more clinical, moving around the kitchen with a sharp, brisk efficiency. He knew instinctively that a woman like Sooyoung—who had just bared her most painful scars through the words of her child—would loathe nothing more than the look of pity in a man's eyes.

They were finishing the final touches on the cod when Taesan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered it with a curt, "Yes, Mom?"

His brow furrowed as he listened. "No. We’re busy. The kitchen needs cleaning... Mom, I'm not—" He went silent, the voice on the other end clearly brook no argument. He let out a sharp exhale. "Fine. We’ll be out in a minute."

He snapped the phone shut and looked at Sooyoung. "The ladies want a parade. They want to see the 'chefs' behind the meal. We have to go out there."

Sooyoung felt a spike of dread, but she nodded. They moved to the sinks, scrubbing their hands of the scent of garlic and soy. They pulled off their kitchen caps, Sooyoung smoothing down her stray hairs, and unbuttoned their heavy work aprons.

As they stepped into the dining room, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the high-pitched hum of gossip. The table of seven women turned as one.

"Oh! Here they are!" Mrs. Han chirped, standing up to usher them closer.

The attention landed on Taesan first. It was like a spotlight had been turned on. "Taesan-ah! Look at you!" Mrs. Jung exclaimed. "You’ve grown even more handsome since the New Year. That jawline could cut glass!"

"Taesan, you really should come by the house more often," Mrs. Min added with a pointed look. "My daughter keeps asking about you. You’re the most eligible bachelor in the province; don't waste your youth in a kitchen!"

Taesan stood stiffly, offering polite, short nods. "I'm busy with the business, Mrs. Min. Thank you."

Then, the focus shifted. The air seemed to sharpen as the women turned their eyes toward Sooyoung.

Mrs. Myung and Mrs. Lee, whose sons worked in the kitchen, were kind. "So the food was yours? It was exquisite, Sooyoung-ah," Mrs. Myung said warmly. "You have a gift.", said Mrs. Lee.

But the mood shifted instantly when Mrs. Min leaned back, her eyes raking over Sooyoung’s simple clothes. "It’s a shame, really," she began, her voice dripping with a false, honeyed concern. "To come back to Gwangju under such... messy circumstances. A divorce at twenty-five? It’s a heavy brand to wear."

Sooyoung felt the blood drain from her face. She felt her mother, Mrs. Kim, stiffen beside her, but before her mother could speak, Mrs. Park chimed in.

"Well, you know what they say," Mrs. Park said, swirling her tea. "A man doesn't go looking for a snack elsewhere if the meal at home is satisfying. Maybe if you hadn't been so focused on your 'career' in Seoul and had pleased your husband better, he wouldn't have felt the need to find someone else."

Mrs. Jung let out a sharp, mocking titter. "Exactly. Men are simple creatures. If you’re always at a restaurant instead of in your own kitchen, can you really blame him for turning to someone who had the time to give him the pleasure he needed?"

Sooyoung felt like she had been slapped. The words were like salt in an open wound, echoing the very insecurities that had kept her awake in that lonely studio apartment. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but her throat felt like it was filled with lead.

"And really, can we be surprised?" Mrs. Min continued, looking toward Mrs. Kim with a pitying, condescending tilt of her head. "Like mother, like daughter. A woman’s first teacher is her home, after all. Perhaps Mrs. Kim didn't emphasize the importance of domestic devotion enough. If you don't teach a girl how to keep a man happy, you can't be shocked when he wanders."

Mrs. Park nodded, her lips curled in a thin, judgmental line. "It’s a pattern, isn't it? If the foundation is weak, the house falls. It’s a shame Mrs. Kim has to deal with the embarrassment of a returned daughter, but then again, the seeds were likely sown years ago."

The silence that followed was agonizing.Sooyoung stood frozen, her fingernails digging so hard into her palms that they threatened to draw blood. She felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyes—not just for herself, but for her mother. To hear her mother insulted, to hear her parenting blamed for the betrayal of a cheating man, was a pain more acute than any divorce paper.

Mrs. Kim sat perfectly still, her face pale, her gaze dropped to the lace tablecloth. She was a woman of Gwangju's middle class; she had lived her life by the rules of politeness and social standing. Being attacked by her "friends" in public left her paralyzed.

Mrs. Han, usually the first to defend her staff, found herself in a tight spot. These were her oldest friends and her most frequent customers. Her mouth opened, but no words came out; she looked trapped between her loyalty to Sooyoung and the social politics of her restaurant.

And then there was Taesan.

He stood like a statue, his shadow stretching long across the floor. To the aunties, he looked like the same cold, obedient son they had always known. But those close enough could see the muscle in his jaw jumping. He looked at Mrs. Min, then at the trembling Sooyoung, and finally at Mrs. Kim, who was shrinking into her chair.

Mrs. Min leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she shifted her gaze toward Areum, who was standing by the edge of the booth, looking confused by the heavy silence.

"And what about this little one?" Mrs. Min asked, her voice dripping with a mocking sweetness. She looked at Sooyoung with a sharp, cold smile. "Are you teaching her the same things you learned, Sooyoung-ah? Have you started teaching her how to properly serve and please a man yet? Or are you planning on raising her to be just as manless and discarded as you are?"

A collective gasp was held behind the teeth of the kinder women at the table. The comment was so personal, so venomous, that it seemed to vibrate in the air.

Mrs. Jung let out a short, dry laugh, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, don't be silly, Mrs. Min. How could Sooyoung teach the girl anything at all? You can only teach what you actually know, and clearly," she paused, gesturing toward Sooyoung’s uniform, "she doesn't know the first thing about keeping a husband. If she did, she wouldn't be standing here in a kitchen for a paycheck while another woman sits in her old house."

Sooyoung felt as if the floor were falling away. The mention of Areum—the implication that her daughter was destined for the same heartbreak because of Sooyoung's perceived "failures"—was the final blow. She felt a hot, prickly heat rise up her neck. She wanted to scream, to grab Areum and run out of the building, but her legs felt like lead.

Mrs. Park didn't hide her disgust, her eyes traveling slowly and judgmentally over Sooyoung’s form in her chef’s whites.

"It’s no wonder he left," Mrs. Park said, her voice dripping with venom. "Any man with dignity would leave a wife who looks like this. You look like a common girl from the streets, not a respectable mother. It’s shameful."

Mrs. Min chimed in, leaning back with a look of mock horror. "And the way she’s built? It’s completely unrefined. Look at her—those features are so loud and ugly. It’s embarrassing to even sit at the same table as someone who carries herself like that. Ugh, it makes my eyes ache."

But it was Mrs. Jung who crossed the final, unforgivable line. She reached out a hand, gesturing vaguely toward Areum, who was trembling against Sooyoung’s leg. "I truly wonder," Mrs. Jung mused with a cruel tilt of her head, "if she passed that ugliness down to her daughter. It would be a tragedy if that poor child grew up looking like her mother. Imagine the life she’ll have—just a smaller version of something so hideous."

The sound of the restaurant—the distant clatter of the kitchen, the hum of the air conditioner—seemed to vanish.

Sooyoung felt something inside her break. It wasn't the soft, crumbling break of sadness she had felt for months. It was the sharp, violent snap of a mother who had been pushed past her limit. The exhaustion, the shame of the divorce, and the fear for her future were suddenly consumed by a white-hot, protective rage.

Sooyoung’s hand slammed onto the table, the force of it making the teacups rattle and the ladies jump in their seats. She stepped forward, shielding Areum behind her, her eyes flashing with a fire that made even Mrs. Min recoil.

"That is enough!" Sooyoung’s voice rang out, shaking with the weight of her fury. "You can sit here and talk about my life, you can judge my marriage, and you can mock my pain because you have nothing better to do with your empty lives. But you will never speak about my daughter again."

She leaned over the table, her eyes glaring at Mrs. Jung’s. "My daughter is beautiful, and she is loved. She is worth more than all of your bitter, hateful words combined. If you think for one second that I will stand here and let you project your ugliness onto a four-year-old child, you are sadly mistaken."

She turned her gaze to Mrs. Min and Mrs. Park, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous hiss. "I came back to Gwangju to find peace, not to be a target for women who have forgotten what it means to have a heart. My body, my divorce, and my life are none of your business. Now, leave. Get out of this restaurant before I decide that your presence is no longer welcome in my kitchen."

Mrs. Kim looked up at her daughter in shock, and for the first time, the "aunties" looked genuinely afraid of the woman they had spent the last twenty minutes trying to destroy.

Mrs. Min was the first to recover, her face flushing a deep, indignant red. "How dare you speak to us like—"

"I said get out," Sooyoung interrupted, her voice a low, vibrating chord of steel. She didn't look like a victim anymore; she looked like a storm.

Taesan, who had remained a silent, looming shadow throughout the ordeal, finally moved. He didn't just step forward; he stepped into the space between Sooyoung and the table, effectively cutting off the aunties’ line of sight. He looked down at Mrs. Min and her companions, his expression colder than the walk-in freezer.

"You heard the Chef," Taesan said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a terrifying weight that silenced the room. "The service is over. Your presence is no longer required at Wildflower."

Mrs. Park gasped, clutching her pearls. "Taesan-ah! We are your mother's guests! We are customers!"

"You are bullies," Taesan corrected, his eyes flashing with a sharp, dark light. He gestured toward the door, his posture unyielding. "My mother runs a restaurant that feeds people’s souls. She doesn't run a circus for people to starve others of their dignity. Leave. Now. Before I personally escort you out and ensure your names are never allowed on our reservation list again."

The finality in his tone was absolute. Seeing the fury in Taesan’s eyes—and the unwavering fire in Sooyoung’s—the three women realized their power had vanished. They scrambled to grab their designer handbags, muttering insults about "lack of respect" and "terrible service," but they didn't linger. They practically tripped over each other as they hurried out the door.

Silence fell over the remaining guests. Mrs. Myung and Mrs. Lee looked down at their plates, ashamed they hadn't spoken up sooner. Mrs. Han stood by her chair, her eyes wet with tears of regret.

Sooyoung’s shoulders finally dropped. The adrenaline that had sustained her began to leak away, leaving her hollow and shaking. She felt a small, warm weight against her leg. Areum was looking up at her, her big eyes filled with a mixture of fear and awe.

"Mommy?" Areum whispered.

Sooyoung immediately knelt and pulled the girl into a fierce, protective hug, burying her face in Areum’s hair.

A shadow fell over them. Sooyoung looked up to see Taesan standing there. He didn't offer a hand to help her up—he knew she was strong enough to stand on her own—but he did something he hadn't done since she arrived. He looked at her with genuine, unfiltered respect.

"Go home, Sooyoung-ah," he said softly, using her name without a formal suffix for the first time. "Take your daughter and your mother. Jaehyun and I will handle the cleanup."

Sooyoung wiped a stray tear from her cheek and nodded. She stood up, reaching out a hand to her mother. Mrs. Kim took it, her eyes filled with a new kind of pride as she looked at the daughter she had raised.

As they walked toward the door, Sooyoung paused and looked back at Taesan. "Thank you, Taesan-ssi."

Taesan didn't smile, but the corners of his eyes softened. He picked up a stray napkin from the floor, his movements returning to their usual efficiency. "See you at 8:30 tomorrow, Chef."

The morning air was crisp as Sooyoung pushed open the heavy wooden doors of Wildflower at 8:30 AM. Her eyes were still a bit puffy from crying the night before, but her posture was straight. She expected the usual quiet prep time, but as she stepped into the kitchen, she was met with a sight that made her stop in her tracks.

Taesan, Jaehyun, and Sanghyuk were all standing around the center prep island. In the middle of the stainless steel table sat a beautifully frosted cream cake, topped with fresh strawberries Sooyoung blinked, her hand still clutching her bag. "Is... is it someone’s birthday? Did I miss a calendar alert?"

Jaehyun, beaming with his signature energy, shook his head vigorously. "Nope! No birthdays today."

"Then what is this?" Sooyoung asked, walking closer, her confusion growing. "It’s not my birthday either."

Sanghyuk, usually the man of few words, looked at her with a supportive, quiet smile. "It’s not a birthday cake, Sooyoung-ah. It’s a victory cake. For yesterday."

Sooyoung’s heart gave a small thud. "Yesterday?"

"Our mothers told us everything when we got home last night," Jaehyun explained, his expression turning serious for a brief second before snapping back to a grin. "They told us how you handled those vultures. We thought a 'Grand Opening' of the new, fiercer Kim Sooyoung deserved some sugar."

Sooyoung felt a lump forming in her throat—this time, it wasn't from sadness, but from the sheer warmth of their gesture. She looked over at Taesan, who was leaning against the counter, looking everywhere but at her.

"Mom isn't coming in until noon," Taesan said, his voice characteristically deep but missing its usual icy edge. "She decided we’d open late today to give everyone a breather after the chaos. So, we have the kitchen to ourselves for a few hours."

Jaehyun leaned in toward Sooyoung, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And just so you know, the 'Boss' here dragged us out of our warm beds at 5:00 AM. He insisted we had to be here early because he wanted to bake the layers himself. I just did the frosting because, well, his aesthetic sense is a bit... industrial."Taesan’s head snapped toward Jaehyun, his ears turning a bright, unmistakable shade of red. "Hyung! I told you to keep your mouth shut."

"He practically begged us not to tell you," Jaehyun continued, ignored Taesan’s murderous glare and laughing. "But I think credit should go where credit is due. He was very specific about the strawberry-to-cream ratio."

Sooyoung looked at Taesan, who was now intensely focused on a spot on the floor, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The man who had been so cold and intimidating just a week ago had spent his dawn hours fussing over a cake for her.

"You baked this?" she asked softly.

Taesan cleared his throat, finally meeting her eyes for a split second before looking away again. "I just... I figured you wouldn't have had much of an appetite last night. And the kitchen was empty. It’s no big deal."

Sooyoung felt a genuine smile break across her face—the first one in a long time that reached her eyes. "It’s a very big deal, Taesan-ssi. Thank you. To all of you."

They pulled up four tall metal stools around the prep island, the strawberry cake looking like a small, sweet island in the middle of the stainless steel.

"You have to eat the middle part, Sooyoung-ah," Jaehyun said, sliding a generous slice toward her. "That’s where Taesan hid the extra strawberry jam. He was very meticulous about the 'structural integrity' of the fruit."

Taesan cleared his throat loudly, focusing intensely on his own plate. "I just didn't want it to collapse. It’s a basic physics principle."

"Sure, sure," Sanghyuk chimed in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He turned to Sooyoung. "Don't mind him. He’s always like this when the six of us get together. He acts like the grumpy manager, but he’s usually the one making sure everyone got home safe."

"The six of you?" Sooyoung asked, curious."Yeah," Jaehyun leaned in, resting his elbows on the table. "It’s a bit of a circus. There’s us three, and then there’s Leehan—he’s an eccentric guy, works at the Gwangju aquarium and talks to the fish more than people. Then Sungho, who owns that quiet little bookstore downtown; And Woonhak, the 'baby' of the group. He’s still in university, always full of energy and usually the rest five of us love to tease."

"They're a handful," Taesan muttered, though his voice lacked any real bite.

"A handful? We're a delight!" Jaehyun countered. "Sooyoung, you should have seen Taesan last summer when we all went to the river. Woonhak dared him to jump in with his clothes on, and Taesan actually did it just to prove he wasn't 'boring.' He looked like a drowned cat for three hours, but he still tried to maintain that cold, handsome face while shivering."

Sooyoung let out a genuine laugh, the image of the stoic Taesan dripping wet and shivering while trying to look cool being too much to handle.

"Or the time Sungho convinced him to read a romance novel for 'market research' at the bookstore," Sanghyuk added, warming up to the storytelling. "Taesan spent the whole night texting the group chat about how the plot was logically inconsistent, yet he stayed up until 4:00 AM to finish it."

"It was a poorly written book," Taesan defended himself, though his ears were turning pink again. "The protagonist made terrible financial decisions."

"See?" Jaehyun laughed, gesturing toward Taesan. "He’s a softie wrapped in a layer of 'I don't care.' He’s been worried about you since you started, you know. He just expresses it by complaining about how you chop onions."

Sooyoung looked at Taesan. He didn't look away this time. There was a quiet understanding in the air—a sense that she wasn't just an employee anymore, but someone they were beginning to fold into their world. For the first time in months, sitting in that kitchen with a slice of "victory cake" and hearing about a group of friends who sounded like a family, Sooyoung felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

The Sunday morning sun was bright, but the mood inside the Kim household was a tug-of-war. Sooyoung was already dressed in her professional attire, her hair pinned bak.

"No, Areum-ah. Mommy told you, it’s going to be a very busy day. Sunday lunch is the hardest," Sooyoung said, her voice strained as she tried to put on her shoes.

Areum was sitting on the floor by the front door, her small arms wrapped around Sooyoung’s ankle like an anchor. "But I don't have school! Grandma is going to nap all day, and Garam-imo is going to the library. I’ll be lonely!"

"You can play with your dolls. I'll bring you back something sweet," Sooyoung tried to negotiate, but the four-year-old wasn't having it.

Areum’s lower lip trembled, and then the waterworks started. Not a loud, dramatic tantrum, but those quiet, giant tears that always made Sooyoung feel like a villain. "You're always at the kitchen. I want to see you cook. I'll stay in the corner. I'll be a mouse. Please, Mommy?"

Sooyoung sighed, looking at the clock. She was already ten minutes behind. She looked at her mother, who gave a helpless "what can you do?" shrug from the kitchen.

"Fine," Sooyoung snapped, though her heart softened the moment Areum’s face lit up. "But listen to me, Kim Areum. If you make even one loud noise, or if you get in the way of the waiters, we are coming right back home. Do you understand?"

Areum scrambled up, wiping her face with her sleeves, her eyes sparkling. "Yes! I’ll be the quietest mouse in Gwangju!"

When they arrived at the restaurant, the morning prep was already in full swing. The scent of simmering dashi and toasted sesame filled the air. Sooyoung led Areum through the back entrance, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"Stay right here on this stool," Sooyoung instructed, pointing to a high chair tucked into the corner of the dry storage area, well away from the heat of the stoves but with a clear view of the kitchen. "Don't move unless I tell you to."

Areum nodded solemnly, her legs dangling as she perched on the stool.

Mrs. Han looked up from the prep table, a wide smile breaking across her face. "Oh, look who’s here! Our little princess sprout." She walked over and patted Areum’s head. "You stay as long as you like, sweetheart."

Jaehyun waved a whisk in the air. "Hey, Areum! Want to see me make a giant cloud?" He gestured to a bowl of meringue, making the little girl giggle.

As the clock ticked toward noon, the professional wall went up. Sooyoung moved into her rhythm, her hands flying as she julienned vegetables and checked the seasoning on the braised meats. She almost forgot Areum was there, focused entirely on the tickets starting to spit out of the machine.

In the office, the door was closed as usual. Taesan was hunched over his computer, the blue light reflecting off his sharp features. He hadn't come out to greet them, and Sooyoung didn't expect him to.

However, about an hour into the lunch rush, the office door clicked open. Taesan walked out, a stack of menus in his hand. He stopped dead when he saw a pair of small, sparkly silver shoes swinging back and forth in the corner of his peripheral vision.

He turned his head slowly. Areum was sitting there, unusually quiet, her chin resting in her hands as she watched her mother work. When her eyes met Taesan’s, she didn't scowl like she had a month ago.

Instead, she put a tiny finger to her lips and whispered, "I'm being a mouse."

Taesan blinked, his usual stoic expression faltering for a second. He looked at Sooyoung, who was currently busy flambéing a pan, her face flushed from the heat and her eyes narrowed in concentration. She didn't even notice he was standing there.

Without a word, Taesan walked over to the beverage fridge. He pulled out a small carton of organic apple juice, poked the straw in, and walked over to the storage corner. He set the juice down on the crate next to Areum.

"Mice get thirsty," he said, his voice low and clipped, before turning on his heel and heading toward the front of the house to seat a party of four.

Areum picked up the juice, her eyes wide, watching the tall, "scary" boss walk away. She took a sip, then looked back at her mother, feeling like the kitchen wasn't such a scary place after all.

After some time, Taesan retreated into the quiet of his office. He let the heavy glass door swing shut, the silence of the room acting as a welcome barrier to the noise of the kitchen.

He sat down, pulled a stack of invoices toward him, and reached for a pen. He didn’t notice the small shadow following him until a tiny thud sounded against the side of his desk.

He looked down. Areum was standing there, her hands on her hips, looking up at him with an expression that was hauntingly familiar. It was the same "I’m in charge" look Sooyoung got when he once "accidentally" saw her plating a complex dish.

"The juice was okay," she announced, her voice small but confident. "But I’m bored of the corner now."

Taesan blinked. "This is an office, Areum-ah. It’s for work. Not for... whatever it is you do."

Areum rolled her eyes—a dramatic, high-velocity move. "I can see that. You have a lot of papers. Are you bad at math? Mommy says people who take a long time with papers are usually just confused."

Taesan’s pen hovered over the invoice. He let out a dry, short breath that was almost a laugh. "I’m not confused. I’m being thorough. There’s a difference."

"Whatever makes you feel better," she countered, mirroring a sarcastic shrug he’d seen Sooyoung use with Jaehyun. She pointed to the guest chair opposite his desk. "I’m going to sit here. I have to make sure you don't make mistakes."

Taesan stared at her for a beat. He should probably lead her back to the kitchen, but the thought of the chaotic energy outside compared to the small, bossy girl in front of him made him hesitate. "Fine. You can stay. But you have to be quiet."

"I told you, I'm a mouse," she said, hoisting herself up onto the oversized chair. Once she was settled, she looked at the monitors on his desk. "Is that the restaurant? Why are the pictures so small? You should get a bigger TV. My grandpa has a bigger TV."

"It’s a security monitor, not a cartoon channel," Taesan replied, trying to focus on a milk supplier’s contract.

"It looks boring," Areum concluded. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on his desk, her chin in her hands. "Do you like my mommy?"

The question was so blunt and unexpected that Taesan’s pen actually slipped, drawing a jagged line across the paper. He looked at her, his expression returning to its usual stoic mask. "She’s a very efficient employee."

Areum snorted—an actual snort. "That’s a boring answer. You talk like a robot. You should practice being a human more. It’s better for business."

Taesan leaned back in his chair, dropping the pen. He found himself genuinely amused by the four-year-old’s audacity. "Is that what your mother says?"

"No, that's what I say," Areum said, tapping her temple with a tiny finger. "I'm very smart. My mommy says I'm a 'handful,' which means I'm better than everyone else."

"I think it means you're exhausting," Taesan muttered, though there was a ghost of a smirk on his face.

"See? You're doing it!" Areum pointed at him. "You’re being sassy. Mommy says that’s how people in Gwangju show they like someone. You’re learning."

Before Taesan could defend his professional reputation, Areum reached for a highlighter on his desk. "I’ll help you. I’ll color the boring parts yellow."

For the next twenty minutes, the "cold" owner of Wildflower sat in silence as a four-year-old girl "edited" his scrap paper with neon yellow streaks.

After a few minutes, Taesan set his pen down and pushed his chair back, the rhythmic "skrit-skrit" of Areum’s highlighter providing a strange sort of background noise to his thoughts. He watched her for a moment—the way her tongue poked out in concentration, a mirror image of the expression he’d seen on Sooyoung’s face when she was focusing on a delicate reduction.

"Alright, mouse," Taesan said, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Break time. Since you’re the assistant manager today, tell me—besides math and papers, what else does your mommy say is 'boring'?"

Areum stopped her neon-yellow scribbling and looked up, her expression turning thoughtful. "Mommy doesn't find a lot of things boring. She’s mostly just tired. But she says Seoul was loud and gray. She likes Gwangju because the air smells like Grandma’s tea."

She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Did you know Mommy used to cry a lot? In the old house with dad. She thought I was asleep, but I have super-ears." She tapped her earlobe proudly. "But since we came here, she doesn't cry as much. She just smells like onions and garlic now. That’s better."Taesan felt a strange, tight sensation in his chest. He wasn't used to children—especially not ones who spoke with the blunt, heart-wrenching honesty of a four-year-old.

"Onions and garlic are a good smell for a chef," he said quietly.

"I know," Areum agreed, nodding vigorously. "And she says you’re a 'stiff board.' Like a tree that forgot how to bend." She squinted at him, examining his posture. "Are you a tree?"

Taesan choked on a dry laugh. "A stiff board? Is that right?"

"Yeah. But I'll tell her you’re okay because you gave me juice. Bad people don't give juice, they take things away." She looked around the office, her eyes landing on a small framed photo on his shelf of the "group of six" at a beach. "Who are the other funny men? Are they your brothers?"

"Friends," Taesan corrected. "The loud one you saw in the kitchen is Jaehyun. The quiet one is Sanghyuk. The others... well, you’ll probably meet them soon. They’re a bit much to handle all at once."

"Do they make Mommy cry?" Areum asked, her voice turning protective again.

"No," Taesan said firmly, his gaze steadying. "No one in this restaurant is going to make your mommy cry. I’ll make sure of that."

Areum studied him for a long beat, as if weighing the truth of his words. Finally, she gave a satisfied nod and went back to her highlighter. "Okay. You can stay being the boss then. But you should wear a hat. You’d look less like a robot with a hat."

Taesan actually smiled—a real, genuine one that reached his eyes. "I’ll take it under advisement, Assistant Manager."

He looked at the highlighter-stained papers and then back at the small girl who was now patting her stomach. "Being an assistant manager is hard work," Areum declared, dropping the neon pen. "I’m hungry. Do you have any chocolate in this robot office?"

Taesan shook his head, leaning back. "Chocolate is for people who want a sugar crash before afternoon. I don't keep it in here."

Areum’s face began to fall into a practiced pout, but Taesan reached into the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulled out a small, clear container filled with oversized, perfectly ripe strawberries—the ones he usually set aside from the morning delivery for his own quick snacks.

"I don't have chocolate," he said, sliding the container toward her. "But I have these. They're better."

Areum’s eyes widened. "Strawberries!" She grabbed one, taking a giant, messy bite. "Mmm. You’re a good boss, Mr. Tree."

She sat there, swinging her legs and happily munching away. Between bites, she continued her "debriefing" of her life. "Mommy says we’re going to buy a big set of paints soon. With the money from the 'delicious things.' I’m going to paint a picture of our new house. It’s going to have a big garden so Mommy doesn't have to smell like onions all the time."

She picked up a particularly large strawberry and looked at it, then looked at Taesan. With a sudden, impulsive sweetness, she leaned across the desk and held it out toward his mouth. "Here. You should eat one too. You look like you need vitamins so you can grow more leaves."

Taesan froze. He wasn't a "touchy-feely" person, and he certainly wasn't used to being fed by a toddler. He looked at the strawberry, then at Areum’s expectant, berry-stained face.

He could see Sooyoung’s kindness reflected in the child’s eyes—a stark contrast to the coldness he usually projected. Slowly, he leaned forward and took a bite of the fruit she was offering.

"See?" Areum chirped, pulling her hand back and giggling. "Now you’re less like a board. Your face moved!"

"It's a good strawberry," Taesan admitted, his voice softening.

Taesan, the man who usually preferred the company of spreadsheets over people, was sitting perfectly still as Areum carefully "fed" him another slice of strawberry. She was taking her job very seriously, making sure he didn't miss a single bite.

"You have to chew it ten times," Areum instructed bossily, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "That's what Mommy says. If you don't chew, your tummy gets a headache."

Taesan obeyed, chewing slowly while the little girl giggled. "My tummy is very grateful, Assistant Manager," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

"I like this office," Areum decided, leaning back in the oversized leather chair and swinging her legs so hard her sparkly shoes nearly hit the underside of the desk. "It’s quiet. Not like the kitchen where everyone is shouting 'Order up!' and 'Hot plate!' It's too loud out there."

She looked at Taesan curiously. "Do you ever get lonely in here? It's just you and the robot screens."

Taesan paused. Usually, he would have said he liked the silence—that he needed it to think. But looking at the messy, strawberry-stained face across from him, the silence of the last few years suddenly felt a bit hollow.

"Sometimes," he admitted, a rare moment of honesty slipping through. "But it's my job to make sure everything runs smoothly so your mommy and the others can do their work."

Areum reached out and patted his hand, her small palm sticky with fruit juice. "It's okay. When I'm here, I'll come visit you. We can do math together. I'm very good at counting to twenty. Do you want to hear?"

"I'd love to hear," Taesan replied.

As Areum began counting—skipping the number thirteen every single time with a look of total confidence—Taesan found himself leaning back, a faint smile on his lips. He watched her animated gestures and heard the rhythm of her voice, which held the same melodic lilt as Sooyoung’s.

"Fourteen... fifteen... seventeen!" Areum finished triumphantly, throwing her arms up in the air.

"You missed thirteen," Taesan pointed out.

Areum waved her hand dismissively, a gesture she had definitely picked up from her mother. "Thirteen is an unlucky number, Mr. Tree. We don't use it in this office. It’s bad for business."

Taesan couldn't help it; he let out a short, genuine laugh. "I see. You’ve thought of everything."

"Of course," she said, picking up the highlighter again. "Now, show me more 'boring' papers. I have a lot of coloring left to do before Mommy finds me."

In the kitchen, the frantic energy of the lunch rush had settled into the rhythmic scraping of pans. Jaehyun emerged from the pastry station, balancing a small, vanilla-bean cupcake topped with a swirl of pink frosting and a single strawberry.

"Special delivery for the Princess Sprout!" he chirped, turning toward the corner. His smile faltered when he saw the empty stool. "Uh, Sooyoung-ah? Did you move the mouse to a different hole?"

Sooyoung looked up from the sink, her heart skipping a beat. "What? No!"

She dried her hands hurriedly, her eyes darting around the stainless steel counters. "Areum-ah? This isn't funny. Come out now!"

Ten minutes passed in a blur of increasing panic. Sanghyuk checked the walk-in fridge, his face pale with worry, while Mrs. Han and two waiters searched the dining room and the restrooms. "She’s not in the front," Mrs. Han said, her voice tight. "Sooyoung-ah, stay calm. We’ll check the cameras."

Sooyoung nodded, her breath hitching. "She could have wandered outside."

Mrs. Han nodded firmly. "Follow me. Jaehyun, Sanghyuk, come with us. We need to see exactly when she left her seat."

The four of them marched toward the heavy glass door. Sooyoung was trembling, her mind racing through every worst-case scenario. Mrs. Han didn't even knock; she threw the door open, ready to demand the CCTV feed.

The scene inside was not what they expected.The "cold" owner’s desk was covered in neon-colored papers. Taesan was leaned back in his chair, and Areum was perched on the very edge of the desk, looking like she owned the place.

Both of them had bright red strawberry juice stained around their mouths. Taesan’s fingers were marked with blue highlighter, while Areum had a streak of yellow across her cheek."

And then," Areum was saying, waving a half-eaten strawberry in the air, "you have to say 'please' or the milk man won't give the good price!"

Taesan was nodding solemnly, his face more relaxed than any of them had ever seen it. "I’ll keep that in mind for the next contract, Assistant Manager."

The doorway was filled with the stunned silence of four people. Jaehyun’s jaw dropped, the cupcake still wobbling in his hand. Mrs. Han clutched her chest, a look of pure shock—and then delight—spreading across her face.Sooyoung leaned against the doorframe, the terrifying adrenaline finally leaving her body in a shaky exhale. "Kim Areum," she breathed, her voice a mix of fury and profound relief.

Areum looked toward the door, her eyes widening. She didn't look guilty; she looked proud. "Mommy! Look! I helped Mr. Tree with the boring math. He’s much better at counting now, but he still forgets that thirteen is a bad number."

Taesan cleared his throat, immediately straightening his posture and trying to wipe the berry juice from his lip with a napkin. He looked at the group in the doorway, his ears turning a familiar shade of crimson.

"She was... providing an audit," he said stiffly, though the yellow highlighter marks on his sleeve gave him away.

Sooyoung didn’t wait for an explanation; she marched across the office in three long strides and scooped Areum off the desk, crushing the little girl into a hug so tight it nearly squeezed the strawberry juice right out of her.

"Mommy? You’re squishing my vitamins," Areum mumbled, her voice muffled against Sooyoung’s chef’s coat, completely unaware of the minor heart attacks she had caused.

Taesan stood up slowly, his movements stiff as he tried to reclaim some shred of his dignity. He kept his gaze fixed on a stack of invoices, pointedly avoiding Jaehyun and Sanghyuk. He could feel their eyes on him—Jaehyun was already vibrating with a repressed laugh, and Sanghyuk was wearing a grin that was far too knowing.

However, when Taesan finally dared to look up, his eyes met his mother’s. Mrs. Han wasn't laughing. she was beaming at him with a look of pure, maternal satisfaction, as if she had just seen a side of her son she feared had been lost years ago.

Sooyoung finally pulled back, setting Areum on the floor. She knelt so they were eye-to-eye, her voice shaking with a mix of adrenaline and anger. "Kim Areum! Do you have any idea how scared I was? I told you to stay on that stool! You can’t just wander into people’s offices! What if you broke something? What if you got hurt?"

Areum’s lip curled. "But Mr. Tree looked lonely. And we were doing math..."

"It doesn't matter!" Sooyoung’s eyes were watery. "You never, ever leave my sight in this building. Do you understand me?"

"It wasn't really her fault," Taesan interjected, stepping forward instinctively. His voice was low, trying to take the heat off the child. "The door wasn't locked, and I should have walked her back as soon as—"

"No, Taesan-ssi," Sooyoung interrupted, standing up and bowing her head quickly, her face flushed with embarrassment. "She’s my responsibility. I am so incredibly sorry for the intrusion and for... whatever she did to your paperwork."

She didn't give him a chance to respond. She grabbed Areum’s sticky hand and began leading her toward the door. "We’re going back to the kitchen, and you’re sitting on that stool until we go home. Not a word, Areum. Not one word."

The clock on the wall struck 10:00 PM, and the heavy silence of the closed restaurant was broken only by the hum of the refrigerators. Sooyoung had finished the final wipe-down of the counters. She prided herself on being the last to leave; having known the exhaustion of a working mother, she insisted the other staff head home to their families the moment the last plate was dried.

Areum was fast asleep in a makeshift bed of coats in the corner. Sooyoung gently hoisted the four-year-old onto her shoulder, balancing her bulky purse and Areum’s colorful backpack on her other arm. As she reached for the heavy ring of kitchen keys, she fumbled, the metal clattering against her hip.

Suddenly, a hand reached into her field of vision and took the keys with practiced ease.Sooyoung startled, looking up to see Taesan. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He had stayed late to catch up on the paperwork Areum had "helped" him with earlier that morning.

"I'll do it," he said, his voice barely a whisper so as not to wake the child.

He didn't wait for her protest. He began the nightly ritual, moving from the kitchen to the staff locker room, then through the storage areas. Sooyoung followed a few paces behind. They moved like shadows through the VIP lounge and past the washrooms, the only sound being the rhythmic click-turn of the locks.

When they finally stepped out into the cool night air, the night security guard was waiting by the main gate. Taesan handed over the keys with a nod, then turned to Sooyoung. She was shifting Areum’s weight, the child’s head lolling onto her shoulder.

"The parking lot is this way," Taesan said, gesturing toward his black sedan. "I’ll drive you."

Sooyoung shook her head quickly, her exhaustion momentarily replaced by her habit of being polite. "Oh, no, Taesan-ssi. I can't trouble you. The bus stop is just a block away, I'll be fine."

Taesan stopped and looked at her. He didn't use his "boss" voice, but he pointed toward her overloaded arms. "You’re carrying fifteen kilograms of sleeping child, a heavy purse, and a backpack. You’re going to wait ten minutes for a bus, then walk from the stop to your house."He paused, his eyes softening just a fraction. "It’s not a trouble. It’s logical. Stay here, I’ll bring the car around."

Before she could form a second refusal, he was walking toward the darkened parking lot. Sooyoung stood under the glow of the streetlamp, feeling the cool breeze on her face.

A minute later, the quiet purr of an engine approached, and Taesan pulled the car up to the curb.

The car was quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the tires on the asphalt and Areum’s steady, rhythmic breathing from the backseat. Taesan kept his eyes on the road, his grip on the steering wheel relaxed but firm.

Usually, he was a man who thrived in silence—it was his shield—but tonight, the quiet felt different. It felt like an invitation.

"I have to admit," Taesan began, his voice low to avoid waking the sleeping girl behind them. "I was shocked the day of the gathering. When I realized you were a mother... a single mother. I didn't expect it."

Sooyoung looked out the window at the passing streetlights, her expression weary but open. "Most people don't. They see the divorce first, then the child, then the woman."

She began to speak, the words coming out more easily than she expected. She told him about the night her world shattered—how she had walked in on Samil with another woman, the betrayal cutting deeper than any blade. She described the hollow feeling of packing Areum’s things in the middle of the night, the cold anonymity of a hotel room, and the grueling months in a cramped Seoul studio apartment while the lawyers fought over what was left of her life.

"He didn't want her," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "In that courtroom, with Areum right there... he walked away from being a father without a second thought. That’s why I brought her here. Gwangju was the only place that felt like it could hold us."

Taesan listened, his jaw tight. He didn't offer empty platitudes. Instead, he shared a piece of himself he rarely showed anyone.

"My mother is a single mother too," he revealed. "My father died when I was six and my sister, Wonmi, was only three. We had nothing. We moved in with my grandfather, but he wasn't a kind man. He was... a shadow over our lives. He took his frustrations out on my mother almost every night."

Sooyoung turned from the window, her eyes wide with empathy.

"I grew cold because I had to be a wall," Taesan continued, his voice steady but heavy with memory. "I had to protect Wonmi and Mom. When I was nineteen, I wanted to cook—to follow my mother’s dream. My grandfather hated it. He wanted a businessman, someone to handle the family's 'dignity.' I made a deal: I’d study business if he’d fund Wildflower for my mother."

He gripped the wheel a little tighter. "He kept hitting her, even after the restaurant opened. But the day he laid a hand on Wonmi when she was twenty... that was the end. We took every cent we had saved, threw it back at him to pay off the 'debt' of the restaurant, and walked out for good. He passed away a year ago, but the silence he left behind is much kinder than his voice ever was."

The car reached Sooyoung’s neighborhood, and Taesan pulled up to the curb near her home. He turned off the engine, but neither of them moved to get out immediately. The shared weight of their pasts sat between them—not as a burden, but as a bridge.

"I respect you, Sooyoung-ssi," Taesan said, finally looking at her. "I know what it takes for a woman to stand up and walk away for the sake of her child. My mother did it. And you did it too."

Sooyoung felt a lump in her throat. For the first time, she didn't feel like a "failed" woman or a "returned" daughter. She felt seen.

"Thank you, Taesan-ssi," she whispered. "For the ride... and for telling me."

The street was silent as they got out of the car and walked toward the house, the only sound being the soft gravel beneath their feet. Taesan carried Areum with a surprising steadiness, his arms providing a secure cradle for the sleeping girl, while Sooyoung walked beside him, burdened by the bags but feeling strangely lighter in spirit.

When Sooyoung rang the doorbell, the porch light flickered on, and the door swung open to reveal Garam. Her eyes widened, darting from her sister to the tall, strikingly handsome man standing there with a child in his arms.

"Oh! Unnie, you're—" Garam cut herself off, her jaw practically dropping. She quickly stepped aside. "Come in, please come in!"

Taesan stepped into the warm, modest living room. Following Sooyoung's lead, he walked over to the corner where a colorful play tent was set up. With a gentleness that seemed at odds with his usual rigid posture, he lowered Areum onto the soft blankets inside.

Garam, recovered from her initial shock, hurried over to tuck a small quilt around her niece. "I've got her, Unnie. Why don't you... sit?"

The air in the living room grew thick with a new kind of awkwardness. Sooyoung and Taesan sat on the edge of the sofa, neither quite knowing where to look. Garam disappeared into the kitchen and returned seconds later with two glasses of cold water, her eyes scanning Taesan with intense curiosity.

"Thank you," Taesan said, taking a sip. He sat with his back perfectly straight, looking every bit the "stiff board" Areum had described, yet the blue highlighter stains still faintly visible on his cuticles told a different story.

After a few moments of stiff small talk, Taesan stood up. "It's late. I should let you rest."Sooyoung and Garam followed him to the door. "Thank you again, Taesan-ssi," Sooyoung said, her voice soft. "For everything today."

"Get some sleep, Chef Kim," he replied with a polite nod to both sisters before heading down the porch steps.

As he reached his car and pulled the door open, the quiet night air carried Garam’s stage-whisper perfectly to his ears.

"Unnie!" Garam hissed, clutching Sooyoung's arm the second the door was nearly closed. "Is that handsome man your boyfriend? Why didn't you tell me the boss was a total heartthrob?"

Standing by his car, Taesan paused. He let out a low chuckle as he shook his head and slid into the driver's seat. The "robot" was definitely starting to feel a little more human.

The shift at Wildflower was not a sudden explosion, but a slow, quiet thawing of the ice that had gripped the restaurant for years. It began with the morning briefings. Usually, Taesan would stand with his arms crossed, delivering instructions like a military commander.

Now, his posture was noticeably looser. When he addressed Sooyoung, he no longer looked at the floor or his clipboard; he met her eyes, and his voice carried a warmth that made Jaehyun and Sanghyuk exchange subtle, wide-eyed glances behind his back.

The most telling change was the "Desk to Station" transition. Taesan began finding excuses to leave his office. One afternoon, under the guise of "checking the ventilation," he spent twenty minutes standing near the prep station while Sooyoung was deboning fish. He didn’t say much, but he handed her the sharpening stone before she even had to reach for it.

When their fingers brushed, he didn't recoil as if burned. Instead, he lingered for a fraction of a second, a quiet intensity in his gaze that sent a flush to Sooyoung’s cheeks.

Jaehyun, never one to let a moment pass without commentary, watched from across the kitchen as Taesan personally carried a heavy stock pot to the stove for Sooyoung. As soon as Taesan retreated to his office, Jaehyun leaned over to Sanghyuk and whispered loudly, "I think our Robot has been replaced by a body double. The old Taesan would have told her to 'lift with her legs' and walked away. This one is practically orbiting her like her personal moon."

Sanghyuk didn't reply, but the small, satisfied smirk on his face as he chopped onions spoke volumes.

Mrs. Han watched it all with a mother’s intuition, her heart swelling with relief. She noticed how Taesan’s morning scowl had been replaced by a thoughtful expression, and how he had started bringing in small treats—a bag of premium roasted chestnuts or a specific brand of organic juice—leaving them on the edge of Sooyoung’s station with a mumbled, "The supplier gave me a sample."

It was a transparent lie, but a sweet one.

The tension reached a peak one evening when a particularly demanding customer began raising their voice at Sooyoung over a minor substitution. Before Sooyoung could even draw a breath to defend herself, Taesan was there. He didn't shout; he simply stepped between Sooyoung and the customer, his presence a solid, immovable wall. His voice was cold as ice toward the patron, but when he turned back to Sooyoung to ask if she was alright, his tone was so tender it made the entire kitchen staff stop what they were doing to stare.

As the days turned into a week, the "Stiff Board" was indeed growing leaves. The professional distance was still there, but it was no longer a barrier—it was a space they were both slowly, cautiously learning to fill together.

Three months had passed, and the quiet rhythm of Wildflower had transformed into something much warmer. One evening, after the final dinner service had wound down, the kitchen was filled with a different kind of energy. Jaehyun and Sanghyuk emerged from the line, peeling off their disposable caps and aprons with triumphant grins. They headed toward the staff locker room to change, leaving the kitchen to the two women.

Mrs. Han turned to Sooyoung, who was busy wiping down her station. "The boys have been planning this for weeks," she said with a soft smile. "The restaurant is officially closed for the night, but the 'Group of Six' is taking over. They’ve arranged a small party."

Sooyoung hesitated, but the excitement in the air was contagious. She and Mrs. Han spent the next hour preparing a spread of their best appetizers and small plates. About an hour into the festivities, the sound of laughter and music drifted in from the dining area. Jaehyun poked his head into the kitchen, his hair styled and his usual chef’s whites replaced by a trendy jacket.

"Mrs. Han, have you seen taesan?" Jaehyun asked, looking around. "The others are all here, but he’s gone missing in action."

"I haven't seen him since he went to run an errand this afternoon," Mrs. Han replied, glancing at the clock. Jaehyun shrugged and headed back out to the music.

Ten minutes later, a sudden roar of "Oh!" and "Look at him!" erupted from the dining room, followed by the sound of teasing whistles. The kitchen door swung open, and Taesan stepped inside.

The "Stiff Board" was gone. He was dressed in a sleek black satin shirt that caught the light with every movement, tucked into tailored black trousers. He looked polished, sophisticated, and entirely different from the man who hid behind spreadsheets. He didn't stop to talk to his mother; instead, he walked straight to Sooyoung, who was frozen with a bowl of sauce in her hands.

He held out a high-end shopping bag. "For you," he said, his voice low and steady.Sooyoung blinked, setting the bowl down. "What is this, Taesan-ssi?"

"It’s a dress," he replied quietly. "I want you to come outside and join the party."

Sooyoung felt her face heat up. She looked down at her work clothes, then at the bag. "Oh, no. I couldn't. This is a party for your close friends. I’d feel out of place."

Taesan didn't pull the bag back. He stepped a little closer, his gaze softening in a way that made the bustling kitchen feel very small. "You aren't out of place," he said firmly. "You’re my friend too, Sooyoung-ah."

He placed the bag on the counter beside her. "The staff locker room is empty. Go change. We’re all waiting for you."

The heavy door of the staff locker room soon creaked open, and Sooyoung stepped out, feeling a vulnerability she hadn't experienced in years. The dress Taesan had chosen was exquisite—a black satin piece that shimmered like oil on water. With its long sleeves, it was modest yet strikingly elegant, hugging her silhouette in a way that made her feel like a woman, not just a chef or a mother.

As she approached the main dining area, the music seemed to dip for a heartbeat. The "Group of Six" were gathered around a cluster of pushed-together tables. Taesan, who had been leaning against the bar, straightened up immediately, his dark eyes tracking her every step with an intensity that made her breath hitch.

Jaehyun was the first to bounce over, nearly tripping in his excitement. "Look at our Chef Kim! Sooyoung-ah, you look incredible!" He didn't give her a chance to be shy, pulling her toward the group. "Everyone, this is the legendary Kim Sooyoung. Sooyoung, meet the rest of the circus."

He pointed to a man who was currently inspecting a small terrarium he’d brought with him. "That’s Leehan—don't mind him, he’s probably checking if the humidity is right for his fish." Beside him sat a bright-eyed woman who waved warmly. "And that’s his girlfriend, Minju."

"That’s Sungho, our resident bookworm, and his girlfriend Jinsol." Finally, a younger, energetic guy who looked like he had just come from a dance practice jumped up. "And the baby of the group, Woonhak!"

"Nice to meet you, Chef!" Woonhak chirped, grinning. "We've heard so much about you. Mostly from Taesan-hyung, though he usually just complains about your knife skills to hide how much he likes your cooking."

Taesan cleared his throat loudly, a warning look in his eye, but the warm atmosphere was suddenly punctured by a sharp, high-pitched laugh from the corner.

Hanna sat at the end of the table, nursing a drink she had poured for herself. As the daughter of Mrs. Min, she had grown up in the same circles as the boys, but her elitist attitude had alienated her from them years ago. She hadn't been invited, but in a town like Gwangju, news of a closed-door party at Wildflower traveled fast.

"Well, well," Hanna said, her eyes raking over Sooyoung’s dress with obvious envy hidden behind a thin veil of mockery. "I didn't realize the kitchen staff got such expensive bonuses. That dress looks a bit... ambitious for an assistant chef, doesn't it?"

The table went quiet. Leehan stopped looking at his terrarium, and Sungho’s expression cooled. Taesan’s hand, which had been resting on the back of the chair he had pulled out for Sooyoung, tightened until his knuckles turned white.

Before Sooyoung could even feel the sting of the comment, Taesan spoke up, his voice low and dangerous. "She isn't here as staff tonight, Hanna. And she didn't get a bonus. I bought that dress because I wanted the most important guest at this party to look the part."Hanna’s smug smile faltered as the group turned their backs on her, effectively freezing her out.

Woonhak immediately started telling a loud, animated story to bridge the awkwardness, and Minju leaned over to Sooyoung.

"Don't listen to her," Minju whispered with a kind smile. "You look stunning. We’ve been dying to meet the woman who finally made Taesan act like a human being."

The party flowed with a warmth that Sooyoung hadn't expected. Minju and Jinsol were like a breath of fresh air; having navigated the high-energy "Group of Six" for years, they took it upon themselves to be Sooyoung’s personal guides. They sat on either side of her, sharing stories about their own first meetings with the boys, making sure she never felt like an outsider.

"Don't let the black satin fool you," Minju whispered, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. "Taesan might look like a movie star tonight, but we remember when he was just a grumpy teenager who wouldn't share his snacks."

As the food was cleared, the conversation turned into a lively trip down memory lane. Jaehyun, feeling particularly mischievous after the successful dinner, clinked his glass to get everyone’s attention.

"Since Sooyoung is new to the inner circle, I think it’s only fair she knows the truth about our 'Cool boss,'" Jaehyun announced, ignoring Taesan’s sudden, warning glare. "Like the time in middle school when Taesan tried to impress a girl by acting like a tough guy on a bicycle, only to realize he didn't know how to use the handbrakes. He ended up rolling straight into a flower delivery truck. He was covered in lilies for three days."

The table erupted in laughter. Sanghyuk joined in, adding, "He wouldn't even come out of his room because he smelled like a botanical garden. He told his mom he was 'reflecting on life,' but he was actually just hiding the petals in his hair."

Hanna, who had been simmering in silence as Taesan continued to ignore her flirtatious leans and hair-flips, suddenly jumped in. She reached out to touch Taesan’s arm, her voice honeyed and defensive. "Oh, stop it! Taesan was always so dignified. Even then, he had a certain... aura. He wasn't being clumsy; he was just focused on more important things than bicycles. You guys were always so childish compared to him."

Taesan didn't look comforted. If anything, he looked more annoyed by Hanna’s "defense" than the actual stories. He gently but firmly pulled his arm back to reach for a serving spoon, effectively breaking her contact

."I was definitely being clumsy, Hanna," Taesan said flatly. He then turned to Sooyoung, a look of genuine embarrassment softening his features. "And it wasn't lilies. It was carnations. They’re much harder to get the scent out of."

After dinner, the party shifted into a more intimate gear as Leehan, reached over the bar to change the music. A slow, melodic song began to fill the restaurant, the soft piano notes echoing against the high ceilings. With a gentle smile, Leehan offered his hand to Minju, who blushed but placed her palm in his as they moved to the open space in front of the bar.

Sungho followed suit, pulling Jinsol into a slow sway, their laughter softening into quiet whispers.

Taesan stood by the bar, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the wood. He was caught in a rare moment of hesitation, his mind racing through a dozen different scenarios. He wanted to ask Sooyoung to dance—the black satin of her dress seemed to catch every dim light in the room, and he found it difficult to look away—but the "stiff board" in him was overthinking every step.

Should I ask now? Is it too soon? Will she feel pressured because I’m her boss?

Finally, he took a breath, straightening his satin shirt and turning toward her, his mouth opening to speak. But before a single word could leave his lips, Jaehyun swept in with his usual chaotic energy.

"Chef Kim! Since the Robot is frozen in place, would you do me the honor of a dance?"

Jaehyun asked with a dramatic, playful bow.Sooyoung laughed, her eyes crinkling in a way that always made Taesan’s heart skip. "I’d love to, Jaehyun-ah," she said, letting him lead her toward the others.

Taesan froze, his hand still half-extended toward the empty space where she had just been. He felt a sharp, hot prickle of jealousy surge through him as he watched Jaehyun spin her around, making her giggle. He tried to maintain his stoic expression, reaching for his drink to mask the fact that his jaw was tightly clenched.

Hanna, who had been watching Taesan like a hawk all night, saw her opening. She glided over, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "Well, it looks like everyone has a partner except us, Taesan-ah. It would be a shame to let such a beautiful song go to waste, wouldn't it?"

Blinded by a sudden, irrational need to show Sooyoung that he wasn't just standing there waiting for her, Taesan didn't think. "Fine," he muttered, setting his glass down with more force than intended.

He led Hanna to the floor, but as they began to move, he realized the challenge of his situation. Hanna’s dress featured a dramatic waistless design that left very little room for a traditional dance hold. Maintaining his rigid sense of propriety, Taesan kept his hand firmly and respectfully on her upper back, avoiding any direct contact with her skin.

Hanna, however, was not interested in a respectful distance. Sensing his distraction as he kept glancing toward Sooyoung and Jaehyun, she reached up and pointedly grabbed his wrist, dragging his hand down toward her waist.

"Don't be so stiff, Taesan-ah," she purred, pulling herself closer to him. "It’s just a dance."Taesan’s gaze snapped back to Hanna, his eyes darkening with a mixture of discomfort and lingering jealousy. Across the floor, Sooyoung’s laughter faltered for a second as she caught sight of them, her own smile dimming as she saw how close Hanna was trying to get to the man who, only an hour ago, had told her she was his most important guest.

The energy on the dance floor shifted as the music slowed into a deep, rhythmic tempo. Jaehyun leaned in to whisper another ridiculous story into Sooyoung’s ear, his hand firm on her waist as he spun her in a tight, playful circle. Sooyoung’s laughter rang out over the music, her eyes bright with genuine amusement at Jaehyun’s antics. To anyone else, it was just two friends having fun, but to Taesan, every inch of proximity between them felt like a personal affront.

Watching Jaehyun pull her closer, Taesan felt a wave of cold frustration settle in his chest. He had spent the entire evening trying to find the right words and the right moment, only to be sidelined by his own hesitation. The sight of Sooyoung looking so relaxed and happy with someone else pushed his patience to the breaking point.

Blinded by a sudden, sharp surge of jealousy, Taesan tightened his grip on Hanna. He stopped maintaining the respectful distance he had been so careful to keep and pulled her closer, his movements becoming more forceful and deliberate as he continued to dance. He didn't look at Hanna; his gaze remained fixed on the back of Sooyoung’s head, his jaw set in a hard, uncompromising line.

Hanna, sensing the change in his energy, let out a satisfied purr and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Finally," she whispered, her voice dripping with triumph. "I knew you’d come around, Taesan-ah."

Taesan barely heard her. His focus was entirely on the couple a few feet away. He increased his pace, steering Hanni through the crowd with a reckless intensity that drew curious glances from Sungho and Leehan. He was no longer dancing for the sake of the music; he was dancing to drown out the sight of Sooyoung laughing with Jaehyun.

The air between the two couples became thick with unspoken tension. Sooyoung, catching a glimpse of Taesan’s dark, focused expression over Jaehyun’s shoulder, felt her own smile falter. The easy atmosphere of the party suddenly felt heavy, as the silent battle of wills on the dance floor began to take center stage.

However, Jaehyun was far from oblivious. He could feel the heat radiating from Taesan’s direction, and as he glanced over Sooyoung’s shoulder to see the his dark, simmering expression, he decided it was time for a tactical retreat.

"Chef Kim," Jaehyun whispered with a dramatic, mock-fearful grin, "I think we should get off the floor right now before Taesan actually finds a way to fire me for dancing too well. His eyes are literally burning holes in the back of my head."

Sooyoung let out a startled, breathless laugh, casting a quick glance toward Taesan. Seeing his rigid posture and the way his jaw was set, she nodded quickly. "Maybe you're right."

As they stepped off the floor toward the bar, Taesan followed suit immediately. He disentangled himself from Hanna with a haste that left her blinking in surprise. The group—Sanghyuk, Woonhak, Jaehyun, and Sooyoung—all congregated by the polished wood of the bar. Taesan stood close to Sooyoung, the proximity finally cooling some of the fire in his chest. He took a deep breath, his hand twitching at his side as he prepared to finally ask her for the dance he’d been overthinking all night.

"Sooyoung-ah," he began, his voice dropping to that low, private tone. "I was wondering if—"

But he was cut off before he could finish. The romantic melody suddenly faded into silence as Mrs. Han stepped into the center of the room, clapping her hands for attention. Leehan, Minju, Sungho, and Jinsol stopped mid-sway and wandered back toward the group, curious about the interruption.

Mrs. Han was beaming, carrying a large, tiered silver tray piled high with delicate cupcakes, each topped with a swirl of light frosting and a single, perfectly glazed berry.

"I know the boys arranged the music and the drinks," Mrs. Han announced, her voice filled with pride, "but the real star of the evening is right here. Our Sooyoung baked these just before the party started. A little gift from the kitchen to all of you."

A chorus of "Ohs" and "Wows" erupted. Woonhak was the first to grab one, nearly moaning after the first bite. "No way... this is incredible! Chef Kim, you’re a genius!"

"It’s so light," Jinsol added, nudging Sungho. "You have to try this. No wonder the restaurant is always booked out."

Taesan stood back, watching the scene. As everyone swarmed around Sooyoung, showering her with praise and admiration, a complicated mix of emotions swirled in his chest. He felt an intense, soaring pride; he loved that his friends finally saw the talent he had recognized months ago. But at the same time, the jealousy flared again—not because she was dancing with someone else, but because everyone else was claiming her attention, her smiles, and her time, leaving him once again waiting on the sidelines for a moment alone with her.

He reached out and took a cupcake from the tray, his eyes never leaving Sooyoung as she shyly thanked his friends.

As the group hummed with appreciation, Hanna stood with her arms crossed, looking down at the cupcake in her hand with a performative grimace. She didn't take a single bite.

"It’s a bit... rustic, isn't it?" Hanna’s voice cut through the praise like a dull blade. "I mean, it’s a sweet gesture, but the frosting is a little heavy. In Seoul, the high-end patisseries usually go for something more sophisticated. This feels a bit like home-cooking." She looked at Sooyoung with a patronizing tilt of her head. "But I suppose for a small-town chef, it’s fine."

The table went silent for a split second before the "Group of Six" fired back.

"Rustic?" Jaehyun snorted, already halfway through his second cupcake. "Hanna, your taste buds must have stayed in Seoul because this is the best thing I've eaten all month."

"Maybe she's just used to the taste of overpriced cardboard," Leehan added dryly, while Minju and Jinsol shared a pointed look.

"Don't you know she was a chef in Gangnam for two years?" Sanghyuk said.

"If you don't want it, I'll take it," Woonhak reached out to grab her plate, but Hanna pulled it back, her face flushing as the group's collective wit turned against her.

Feeling the sting of being the outsider, Hanna turned toward Taesan. She let out a soft, exaggeratedly cute whine, clutching his satin sleeve. "Taesan-ah, look at them! They’re all ganging up on me just because I have an opinion. It’s so mean." She looked up at him with watery eyes, her voice trembling slightly. "I was just being honest."

Taesan looked at Hanna, then at his friends who were still snickering and tossing barbs her way. He remembered the years of growing up together, and despite his irritation with her earlier, his protective instinct flared up. He didn't like seeing someone bullied by a crowd, even if that person was being difficult.

"That's enough," Taesan said, his voice dropping into a stern, commanding tone that silenced the laughter instantly.

The group froze. Taesan looked at Jaehyun and Leehan with a sharp glare. "Stop it. There’s no need to mock her just because she didn't like a dessert. Everyone is entitled to their taste, and you’re being immature." He turned back to Hanna, his expression softening slightly. "Don't worry about them. They don't know when to stop a joke."

The shock in the room was palpable. Jaehyun’s jaw dropped, and Sanghyuk looked away, surprised by the sudden defense of a woman who had spent the night insulting the woman Taesan supposedly cared for.

Sooyoung felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach. She stood still, her hands gripped tightly behind her back. She had watched Taesan ignore Hanna all night, only for him to suddenly step in and shield her the moment things got uncomfortable. To Sooyoung, it felt like a clear boundary had been drawn—and she was on the outside of it.

Taesan, still caught up in the logic of "fairness," didn't notice the way the light died in Sooyoung’s eyes. He didn't realize that in defending Hanna's right to be rude, he had inadvertently validated her insults toward Sooyoung’s hard work.

Sooyoung stood frozen, her mind spiraling into a dark place she hadn't visited in months. The confidence she had built up over the last few days began to crumble.

Of course, she thought, her eyes stinging. Why would someone like Taesan, who has everything, truly care for me? I’m just a divorced woman with a child. I’m exhausted, I’m plain... I’m just staff.

Jaehyun and Minju saw the light drain from her face and immediately tried to intervene. "Hey, Sooyoung, don't mind him," Jaehyun said, bumping her shoulder playfully. "You know Taesan gets all 'princely' when he thinks someone is being bullied. It’s just his weird hero complex. Come on, tell us what’s the secret for these cupcakes!"

"Yeah, Sooyoung-ah," Jinsol added, reaching for another sweet. "Ignore the noise. We’re the ones who matter, and we love them!"

They were trying so hard to bring her back, but the damage was done. Taesan, sensing the shift, started to turn toward Sooyoung, his brow furrowed with the first hint of realization that he might have misstepped. But before he could speak to her, Hanna let out a sharp, trembling sob.

"They're doing it again!" Hanna cried, burying her face against Taesan’s satin-clad shoulder.

"They're pretending I don't exist and whispering about me! Why are they being so mean to me at your party?"

The group groaned, and Sungho finally snapped. "Hanna, what is your problem? We’re just trying to lighten Sooyoung's mood because you brought it down in the first place!"

"Everyone, shut up!" Taesan snapped. The volume of his voice echoed off the walls, startling even the security guard outside. He looked at his friends with genuine anger. "If you want to joke around and 'lighten the mood,' do it somewhere where people won't feel ganged up on. This is supposed to be a celebration, not a trial."

The silence that followed was deafening. Sooyoung felt like she was shrinking. To her, it sounded like Taesan was officially choosing a side, and it wasn't hers.

"I... I think I left the oven timer on for tomorrow’s prep," Sooyoung whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’ll go check on things in the kitchen."

She didn't wait for a response. She turned and walked toward the heavy swinging doors, her head held high even as her heart felt like lead.

No one followed her, not because they didn't want to, but because they were too busy staring at Taesan in disbelief. Taesan stood there, awkwardly holding a sobbing Hanna, patting her back in a clumsy attempt to comfort her.

Jaehyun shook his head, his face full of genuine disappointment. Sanghyuk just stared at the floor, while Minju and Jinsol looked at Taesan as if they didn't recognize him. They all saw the empty space where Sooyoung had stood, but Taesan was too busy managing Hanna’s tears to see the door swinging shut behind the woman he had spent all night trying to impress.

The swinging doors had barely settled before Sooyoung’s composure shattered. She leaned against the cold stainless steel of the central prep table, her shoulders shaking as the first sob broke through. The weight of the evening—the hope she had felt in the car, the beauty of the dress, and the sudden, sharp sting of Taesan’s defense of Hanna—felt like a physical blow.

She was so lost in her own grief that she didn't hear the footsteps approaching from the walk-in pantry.

"Sooyoung-ah? What's—" Mrs. Han stopped mid-sentence, her heart dropping at the sight of the younger woman crumpled over the table. She hurried over, her face etched with a maternal ferocity. "My goodness, dear, what happened? Why are you crying?"

Mrs. Han wrapped her arms around Sooyoung, pulling her into a protective embrace. To Mrs. Han, Sooyoung wasn't just a talented employee; she had quickly become the daughter she had always wanted to mentor and protect. Feeling the genuine warmth of the older woman only made Sooyoung cry harder."It's nothing, Mrs. Han," Sooyoung choked out, trying to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand, careful not to stain the beautiful satin sleeves Taesan had gifted her. "I just... I'm just tired. It’s been a long week."

"Don't give me that," Mrs. Han said, her voice firm but tender. She pulled back to look Sooyoung in the eye, brushing a stray hair from her damp cheek. "Ten minutes ago, you were the star of the room. Now you’re hiding in the dark. Did someone say something? Was it the boys? Was it... was it Taesan?"

Sooyoung shook her head vigorously, biting her lip to keep from sobbing again. She couldn't tell her. How could she complain to a mother about her own son? Mrs. Han loved Taesan, and Taesan had spent his whole life protecting his mother. Sooyoung didn't want to be the person who drove a wedge between them or seemed like a "snitch" over a misunderstanding at a party.

"No, really, he’s been very kind," Sooyoung lied, her voice trembling. "Everyone has been so welcoming. I think I just realized how much I miss Areum tonight. I should probably head home."

Mrs. Han didn't look convinced for a second. She knew the look of a woman whose heart had been bruised. She stayed silent, simply holding Sooyoung’s hands, waiting for the truth she knew was lingering just beneath the surface, while the muffled sound of Hanna’s dramatic crying continued to drift in from the dining room.

In the dining room, the festive atmosphere had completely curdled. Taesan stood with his arms still stiffly supporting Hanna, but his eyes were fixed on the kitchen doors. He looked like a man caught in a storm of his own making, his protective instincts pulling him in one direction while his heart shouted in another.

Jaehyun marched right up to him, his usual playful smirk replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated anger. "Are you actually serious right now, Taesan? Do you even have a brain in that skull of yours, or is it just more spreadsheets?"

"Watch your tone, hyung," Taesan snapped, his voice low and dangerous. "Hanna was being ganged up on. I won't have bullying in my restaurant, especially not by my own friends."

Sungho stepped forward then, his demeanor replaced by a cold disappointment that hit Taesan harder than Jaehyun’s shouting. "Bullying, Taesan? Is that what you call it? Hanna spent the entire night insulting Sooyoung’s profession, her clothes, and the food she worked hard on. We weren't bullying Hanna; we were defending the woman you claim to respect."

"She was just giving an opinion," Taesan argued, though his voice lacked conviction. He looked down at Hanna, who was still clinging to his shirt, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of annoyance at her dramatic sobbing.

"An opinion is one thing," Sungho countered. "Malice is another. You just shouted at the people who actually care about you—and more importantly, you shouted at Sooyoung. Did you see her face? Did you see what you did to her?"

"I didn't shout at her," Taesan muttered, his grip on Hanna loosening. "I shouted at the group."

"To her, there’s no difference!" Jaehyun threw his hands up in the air. "She’s in there right now thinking she’s just 'the staff' again. You spent three months making her feel like she belonged here, and in thirty seconds, you threw her to the wolves to protect someone who wouldn't even give you the time of day if you weren't successful."

Taesan’s heart sank. The logical wall he had built to justify his "fairness" began to crumble under the weight of their words. He looked at the kitchen door, then back at his friends, seeing the genuine disappointment in their eyes.

"She's a single mother, Taesan," Jaehyun said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "She carries enough weight on her shoulders. She came out here tonight looking like a queen because you asked her to, and you just made her feel like a servant."

Taesan finally let go of Hanna, stepping back as if her touch had suddenly become toxic. The realization hit him like a physical blow to the chest. He hadn't been "fair"; he had been blind.

The air in the restaurant felt suffocating as Sooyoung stepped out of the kitchen. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, her silhouette trembling slightly in the black satin dress that now felt like a costume she wasn't meant to wear. She bypassed everyone, heading straight for Jaehyun, who was still standing near the bar with a look of deep concern.

"Jaehyun-ah," she whispered, her voice fragile but steady. "I’m sorry to ask this, but... could you drive me home? The last bus passed an hour ago, and I need to get back to Areum."Jaehyun’s eyes darted instinctively toward Taesan. The tension between the two men was electric, but before Jaehyun could speak, Sooyoung’s gaze flickered with a brief, painful flash of pride.

"It’s alright if you can't," she added quickly, already stepping toward the exit. "I’ll just walk. The fresh air will be good."

"No, no—don't be ridiculous," Jaehyun said, his voice firm as he reached for his keys. "I'm taking you. Let’s go."

As they turned to leave, a shadow moved quickly across the room. Before Sooyoung could reach the door, a hand reached out and caught her wrist. The touch was desperate, not commanding, but it made Sooyoung stop in her tracks.

She slowly turned around. Her face was a mask of practiced calm, her eyes completely emotionless as they met Taesan’s. The man standing before her looked devastated, his dark hair disheveled and his gaze pleading, but the sight didn't move her.

"Let go, Taesan-ssi," she said quietly."Sooyoung, please," he rasped, his fingers tightening slightly as if he could hold onto the connection that was slipping through his grasp.

"Let me explain. Let me drive you. I—"

"There’s nothing to explain," she interrupted, her voice devoid of the warmth he had spent months trying to earn. She looked down at his hand on her wrist until he instinctively loosened his grip. "I’ll return the dress first thing in the morning. I’ll leave it in your office before my shift starts."

The mention of the dress—the gift he had chosen with so much care, spending hours, going from one store to another—felt like a finality that hit him harder than any shout could have. He stood frozen as she turned her back on him, walking out into the cool night air with Jaehyun close behind.

The silence following the click of the front door was deafening. After the friends had filed out with heavy, disappointed silences and Hanna had finally scurried away under the weight of Taesan’s icy command to leave, the restaurant had felt like a tomb.

The drive home was equally quiet. Mrs. Han sat in the passenger seat, her gaze fixed out the window, her heart heavy with the image of Sooyoung’s tear-stained face. Taesan gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles remained white even under the dim streetlights. He felt like he was suffocating in the very skin he inhabited.

The moment they stepped into the foyer of their home, the artificial strength Taesan had been clinging to finally snapped.

"Eomma," he choked out.He didn't even make it to the sofa. He sank onto his knees in the middle of the living room, the black satin shirt—the one he’d put on feeling so confident—now feeling like a shroud of his own arrogance. Mrs. Han hurried to him, her anger melting into the instinctive, bottomless ache a mother feels when her child is broken. She sat on the floor beside him, pulling his head onto her lap.

Taesan let out a jagged, broken sob, his shoulders shaking violently as he buried his face in her apron. "I ruined it," he gasped between ragged breaths. "I finally... I finally felt her start to lean on me, and I pushed her away to be 'fair' to someone who didn't matter. I made her feel like she was nothing."

Mrs. Han stroked his hair, her own eyes filling with tears. She didn't offer him empty platitudes. She knew her son’s rigid sense of justice had backfired, blinding him to the heart of the woman he loved.

"I saw her eyes, Eomma," he sobbed, his voice muffled. "She looked at me like I was a stranger. She told me she’d return the dress. She wants to give back the only thing I ever gave her that wasn't a paycheck."

He clutched at his mother's sleeves, sounding less like a successful restaurant manager and more like the little boy who used to hide behind her when the world got too loud. "I don't know how to fix it. How do I tell her that she’s my whole world when I just stood there and let her be insulted?"

Mrs. Han leaned down, kissing the top of his head. "You can't fix it with words anymore, Taesan-ah. You’ve spent your life being a 'stiff board' to protect us, but tonight you were stiff in the wrong way. If you want her back, you have to show her that you're willing to break for her."

Taesan stayed there for a long time, weeping for the trust he had broken and the woman who was currently sitting in a dark house, convinced she wasn't enough.

The next morning, the sun rose over Gwangju with a cold, pale light that did nothing to warm the heavy silence inside Wildflower.

Sooyoung arrived an hour before anyone else. She was dressed in her usual plain work clothes, her hair pulled back tightly, her face scrubbed clean of any trace of the night before. In her hand, she carried a high-end shopping bag. The black satin dress was folded meticulously inside, wrapped in paper as if it had never been worn.

She walked through the darkened dining room, the chairs still pushed aside from the dancing, and headed straight for the office. Her heart felt like a hollow weight in her chest. She placed the bag on the center of Taesan’s desk, right on top of his ledger. She didn't leave a note. The returned gift said everything she couldn't bring herself to voice.

As she turned to leave the office, she nearly ran into Taesan.

He looked like he hadn't slept a wink. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was pale, and he was wearing the same clothes from the night before, though the satin shirt was now wrinkled and unbuttoned at the collar. He looked fragile, as if the slightest breeze might knock him over."Sooyoung-ah," he breathed, his voice hoarse from the night’s breakdown.

She stopped, but she didn't look at him. Her gaze was fixed on the wall behind him. "The dress is on your desk, Taesan-ssi. Everything is there."

"I don't want the dress," he said, his voice trembling with a desperate urgency. He stepped into her path, but he didn't reach out to touch her this time, remembering how she had recoiled the night before. "I want you to listen to me. Please."

"I have prep to do," she replied quietly, her tone professional and distant. "The morning delivery will be here in twenty minutes."

"Forget the delivery," Taesan said, his voice rising with raw emotion. "I spent the whole night with my mother, crying like a child because I realized what a coward I was. I was so afraid of being 'unprofessional' or 'biased' that I ended up being cruel to the only person who actually matters to me."

Sooyoung finally looked at him, and the coldness in her eyes made him flinch. "You weren't being a coward, Taesan-ssi. You were being yourself. You’re a man who values order and rules. I’m just... a person who doesn't fit into those rules. I’m a mother, I’m a chef, and I have a life that is messy. Hanna fits your world. I don't."

"She doesn't!" Taesan cried, the sound echoing in the empty restaurant. He took a step closer, his hands shaking at his sides. "She is a ghost of a life I don't even want anymore. You are the only reason I look forward to coming to this building. You are the reason I started laughing again. If fitting into my world means I have to watch you cry in a kitchen alone, then I don't want such a world!"

He looked at the bag on his desk and then back at her, tears welling in his eyes again. "Please don't give the dress back. Not because of the money, but because when I saw you in it, I didn't see an assistant chef. I saw the woman I want to spend every day with."

The silence in the office was heavy, broken only by the sound of Taesan’s ragged breathing. Sooyoung looked at the shopping bag on the desk, then back at him, her voice trembling as the wall she had built around her heart began to crack.

"How can you say that?" she whispered, her eyes finally welling up. "Taesan, look at me. Truly look at me. I’m a divorced woman. I’m a single mother whose world revolves around a toddler and school fees. I’m tired most days, and I don't have the 'connections' or the polished life someone like Hanna has. I’m a 'mess,' remember? Why would you want to take on all of that when you could have someone who starts at the same place as you?"

Taesan didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them until he could smell the faint scent of flour and vanilla that always clung to her.

"I don't care about 'starting at the same place,'" he said, his voice raw with conviction. "I don't care about the past, and I certainly don't care about what society thinks a 'perfect' partner looks like. You think you're a mess? Sooyoung-ah, I was a machine before you got here. I was cold, I was lonely, and I was bored. You brought life back into this restaurant—and into me."

He reached out, tentatively cupping her face with both hands. This time, she didn't pull away.

"Your 'mess' is my favorite part of the day," he continued, a tear finally escaping and rolling down his cheek. "I love that you’re strong enough to have raised Areum on your own. I don't want a polished life; I want your life. I love you, Sooyoung. Not the chef—just you."

Sooyoung let out a choked sob, the weight of her insecurities finally collapsing under the sincerity in his eyes. The fear of being "not enough" vanished, replaced by the overwhelming realization that he saw her exactly as she was—and loved her for it.

"Are you sure?" she sobbed, her hands clutching the lapels of his wrinkled shirt. "Are you really sure?"

"More sure than I've ever been of anything," he whispered."

"Then... yes," she breathed. "Yes, Taesan."

As soon as the words left her lips, Taesan pulled her into a fierce, desperate embrace. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his body shaking with relief, while Sooyoung clung to him, her tears soaking into his shoulder. They stood there in the center of the office, two people who had spent so long being "strong" for everyone else, finally allowing themselves to be vulnerable in each other’s arms.

Taesan didn't pull away; he held her tighter, his forehead resting against hers as their tears finally began to dry. The raw confession had stripped away the walls between them, but as Sooyoung pulled back slightly to look at him, her expression shifted. The sadness was gone, replaced by a flickering spark of her usual fire.

"I mean it, Taesan," she said, her voice still thick but regaining its strength. She reached up to wipe a stray tear from his cheek with her thumb. "I accept your confession. I feel the same way. But after last night... I'm not just going to fall into your arms and pretend everything is perfect."

Taesan nodded quickly, his eyes searching hers. "I know. I don't deserve that yet."

"Exactly," Sooyoung said, her gaze steady. "I’ve spent too much of my life being the one who forgives easily and settles for less than I deserve. If I’m going to let you into my life—and into Areum’s life—I need to know that you aren't just a man of words. You have to prove you’re worthy of being more than just my boss."

Taesan took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and looked at her with a newfound determination. The "Robot" was gone, but the man of action remained.

"Tell me what I need to do," he said firmly. "I'll spend every day proving it if I have to."

"For starters," Sooyoung began, a small, knowing smile finally tugging at the corners of her mouth, "you can start by standing up for what's right even when the 'victim' isn't someone you've known for twenty years. And you can start by showing me that you can handle the 'mess' of my life without flinching. No more spreadsheets, Taesan. Just honesty."

Taesan reached down and took her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. "I can do that. Starting now. No more hiding behind logic.

"I’m just Taesan, and I’m going to earn the right to call you mine."

Sooyoung let out a long, relieved breath, resting her head against his chest one more time.

The road ahead wouldn't be simple, but as she felt the steady beat of his heart against her ear, she knew the "stiff board" was finally ready to bend.

The beginning of something new_

Tags: @haeonniie

#boynextdoor #bnd #fluff #taesan imagines #taesan #taesan boynextdoor #leehan #woonhak #riwoo #sungho #myung jaehyun #taesan x reader #han taesan #taesan scenarios #taesan fluff #taesan smut #han dongmin angst #han dongmin #han dongmin x reader #park sungho #boynextdoor imagines #Taesan han #dongmin angst #dongmin x reader #Dongmin han #Wildflower #Yunie-s

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Yunie004