All eyes on me now

"y/n?" you looked up and saw Niki. He was wearing low rise jeans and a white T-shirt, way more casual than your outfit.

"oh..! hi niki.." you say, looking up at him, making eye contact. you both smile at the same time making both of you look was in embarrassment. You were quite shy but Niki always seemed bold and didn't care what people thought, once he's will you all of that acting flies out the window.

"hey y/n, i like your dress.. you look very nice!" He says, his voice trembling at the end of the sentence. "o-oh thank you niki..!" you look down at your bag, "so uhm, Niki are we gonna go to the mall or.. planetarium?" you ask, your voice soft and questioning.

"we can go to both! if you'd like, ofcourse..!!"

"yeah sure..!!"

silence..

even more silence

eventually, Niki clears his throat. "should we, uhm.. go?" you quickly nod your head, slightly aggressively.

the streets to the mall were busy with family's and couples enjoying the weekend while both of you guys didn't know what to say.

"..."

"..."

"oh-"

"ahhh-"

both of you guys stopped, laughed and Niki said, "you first!"

"no..noo you first..!"

"ahh I forgot what I was gonna say.."

"..me too"

then another laugh escaped both of you guys, little by little, the nerves both of you carried, slowly disappeared.

your guys first stop was a cozy bake shop in the mall. It smelt of pastries, lemon, bread and strawberries! as you guys walk in you see fresh cookies, lemon tarts, apple pie, peanut butter fudge, red velvet cake. It was like heaven !!

Everything looked so delicious that your eyes sparkled in excitement to eat !!

"They're so pretty..." you mumbled under your breath, staring at the strawberry cheesecake slice behind the glass.

Niki was staring at you instead of looking at what pastry he wanted to buy

"...yeah," his face softened slightly, "they really are pretty..!" in his mind he wanted to say 'just like you' but this was your guys first date.. and that sounds a little corny... But whatever !

eventually you both ordered! you chose a strawberry shortcake and a hot chocolate with marshmallows. Niki ordered a chocolate croissant and iced coffee.

After sitting down by the window the soft silence returned. it wasn't a awkward silence.. mostly just you two being shy.

you stirred around your hot chocolate, watching the whipped cream slowly get covered in hot chocolate.

"so.. Niki"

"hm?"

"i just wanna say.. that im really happy!"

"about what?" he says while taking a sip of his iced coffee.

"that you asked me out.. because ive liked you for a while now and I was always too nervous to ask you out so im ju-"

he cuts you off. "y/n, i feel like I should be saying thank you to you. im really happy that you said yes to being my girlfriend.. so let's enjoy this date, okay?"

after a few minutes of silence niki quietly pushed his chocolate croissant toward you. "would you...like to try some of mine..?"

Your eyes brightened, "only if you try mine!" you say, smiling softly.

He quickly nodded, you carefully cut tiny pieces from each dessert. "Wahh Niki , it tastes really good !" you cover your mouth while chewing it. Niki tastes yours and you guys exchange a few more bites of eachothers baked goods.

As you guys left the bakery, the afternoon sunlight poured through the mall's glass ceiling . people bustled around you , children laughing , music playing softly from nearby stores , it somehow felt peaceful...

this date was going well.. but Niki wanted to try something relatively risky, he wanted to hold your hand. He looked down at your hand then his.

should i..?

what if she pulls away..?

what if she thinks im weird ??

he thought to himself before building up the courage to say, "hey.. y/n , would you like to.. hold hands??" his voice slightly shaky.

"oh niki.. i-i would love too!!" you say, slipping your fingers in-between his. Your hands cold and shaky but for some reason they fit perfectly together and it just felt right..

"y/n im really happy you said yes to going on a date with me.. it makes me feel very special that we are together."

i feel like it's been a while (cause it has 🥲) and here is my update during that time. the motivation to do anything has been going in and out lately. i told myself i would do a first draft to my dissertation during my uni break but i've only done the planning and maybe 1/5 of it, and uni starts soon. the break has gone so fast this time it's actually crazy. thank you for those who have waited patiently. i've been jumping around my longer fics and not finishing any of them so i decided to give myself a break by writing this short scenario. hope you like it!

Weekends are for relaxing. Weekends are for having fun with loved ones. Weekends are for all the things that you want to do during the weekdays, but responsibilities say otherwise. And weekends are for Jeong Yunho.

And that's how it's supposed to be until your period kicks you in the stomach; literally. You're never one to have serious cramps or pain. It's happened only a handful of times, and those days were filled with sleep to forget about the pain, or medication to ease the pressure on your lower body. But this time, it's a bit different. The pain comes in waves at random times, waking you up from your sleep throughout the night.

You could barely stand, and the smallest steps made you wince when you tried going to the bathroom last night. With streaks of tears down your face, you had to cancel your date with Yunho. Dejected and angry, you let your pillows be a victim of your punches and crying. But even then, your outburst didn't last long because the muscle contractions from your lower body stilled you.

Come the morning, your hair is surely messy despite not leaving the mattress much. Yunho responded to your message and even called for a while before he had to rush off somewhere. Your mum left breakfast for you on your nightstand and a couple of chocolates, but you didn't have the appetite for anything. You could only stare at your ceiling and eventually pull your blankets up to your chin, exhausted from the physical episodes that happened in the last twelve hours.

On the other hand, Yunho has always had a period tracker app for you on his phone. Not to track when your outbursts might happen the most. Not to track when your emotions might heighten the most either. None of those stuff that the internet has framed in a comedic sense. But to know when you could be hurting, and when he should pay even more attention to you. When he should be buying all kinds of snacks and skincare products. When you would need comfort the most. When you would need understanding the most.

He's quite flustered this time since your period came a few days earlier than expected, but he's come prepared. Yunho has gone shopping for a little care basket for you recently, and prepared and displayed them all prettily in a basket.

"Oh!" He exclaims before reaching his final gift. "And you too, Snoopy," setting the plush in the middle as he rearranges everything for the last time.

With all this, he drives to your house, careful to make sure the contents of the basket don't move too much. In the end, he ends up tidying them up even though the change is minimal. When Yunho steps up and knocks on your front door, your mum greets him happily with a warm hug.

Your mum gasps at the assortment of your favourite things in his hand. "Thank you for taking such good care of her."

Yunho shakes his head. "I will always take care of Y/N. Just leave it to me."

Right on time, the electric teapot is ready to serve the boiling water for the chamomile tea that your mum is about to serve. Yunho frowns at the reminder that you're in pain.

"She might be sleeping, but you're more than welcome to check," she gives a small smile. "I'll let it cool down a bit before I get to her. I'll pour you a cup too!"

Yunho extends his gratitude before making his way to your bedroom. His knuckles softly against the wooden door before opening it. Your room is dark despite the small gap between your curtains, and Yunho spots the pile of papers stacked on top of each other on your study desk. With subtle steps and the softest closing click to your door, he places his basket on the bedside table and kneels on the floor beside your bed. You're peacefully sleeping, small snores leaving your gaping lips. Yunho chuckles, patting your head and leaving a kiss on your forehead.

He turns around to your study desk and tidies the little space, ready for you to use it again when you get better. He keeps the rustling from his movements minimal and places each object on the table carefully, even if it's just a piece of paper. As the table comes together, the framed picture of you and him has Yunho's lips widening. It's the first date that he took you on, and it's in the amusement park with his puppy headband and you with a bunny headband. He has his chin resting on your shoulder, and the slightly high angle catches the way his arms are wrapped around your middle, snug and tight against him.

"Snooping around?" Yunho turns to your voice, sleep still evident in the volume.

"Hi love," your boyfriend approaches you once more, the smile only widening as his lips take yours sincerely. "How are you feeling?"

You shake your head. "It's never been this bad before."

The knit between his eyebrows and the way Yunho takes your fingers between his has your tears welling up. "I'm here," he kisses the back of your hand. "And I come with extra comfort."

He turns your attention to his gift. You gasp at your favourite character in its most huggable form. Yunho shakes his head in adoration, handing you the Snoopy gift first. Immediately, you cuddle the puppy and tuck him into your blanket next to you. Your cheeks press against the soft material, and a satisfied smile overtakes you.

"Wow," Yunho raises an eyebrow. "You literally have a giant golden retriever in human form, but you choose the beagle instead."

You continue the teasing, hiding your face into the object of his jealousy, "Snoopy is comforting."

"I'm comforting too!"

"He gives me a different kind of comfort."

Yunho scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully and tries to pry his gift away to no avail. "I can't believe I'm losing to a stuffed animal."

"Snoopy, you hear that? You won!" You stretch his paw high in celebration.

"I was going to do some skincare and watch movies with you, but I guess you don't need me-"

Yunho was already rising on his feet when you reached for his wrist and, with the little energy you had left, tugged him down. He finds his balance and space on the bed, sitting down next to you. The unexpected pull widens Yunho's eyes, reddening his cheeks as you tangle your fingers back into his hold. His gaze slowly softens, his other free hand cupping your cheek when a gentle chuckle leaves your lips. You try to sit up, but the position has you whimpering. Your boyfriend quickly leans over to you, laying you back in bed.

"Thank you…"

Yunho shakes his head, "I'm sorry that you're not feeling well."

You breathe out with a frown. Just like he did before, you pull your joined hands to your lips, pressing your lips to the back of his hand. "You're here. I'm feeling much better now."

You shift towards one end of the bed to make space for your boyfriend. Yunho gladly takes the offer, putting your new plushie back on your bedside table. When you were about to retort, he hushed you quickly with kisses all over your face; that's one way of keeping the attention on him.

Yunho lies on his side, his arm across your middle carefully. "Go get some rest. And then, we can do some skincare together."

Your stomach is still acting up, and you're still uncomfortable from the sensation. But Yunho's hold and presence make it so much easier to forget it all. A different kind of perfect comfort that you have been wanting your whole life, especially in this tough time. In the end, your weekend is still full of Jeong Yunho, and you have him to thank.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist

“Hey! You’re back from work, how was it?” Xavier greets you. You get the vague sense he’s resorted to a microwave meal without you to cook for him, but you are far too tired to question anything.

You come closer, and rest your head into his chest, “Xavie…” you mumble.

“That bad huh?” He says quietly, bringing an arm around your waist.

“Just draining… so so draining.”

You loved social gatherings, but to have a work dinner following a full day of work was too much to handle today.

“Have you eaten?” Xavier asks, eyes carefully watching you. He thinks you’ve been drinking from the way you cling onto him and he thinks it’s so cute.

“Yes I've eaten,” you mumble, muffled by his cosy hoodie.

Xavier strokes your hair gently, “If you want to have a bath, I can run it for you?”

A bath. A bath sounds so nice.

“Yes please,” you draw back and look at Xavier. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course not,” he kisses your forehead and hugs you softly before leading you into the bathroom. “You should relax after a hard day of work.”

He turns on the water and helps you undress and lower yourself into the water. It was perfect temperature, Xavier had checked. Warm and calming, loosening your muscles and mind.

“Thank you Xavie” you say as you reach out to him with a hand. He’s kneeling next to the bathtub. Xavier takes your hand in his and gently presses a kiss to your knuckles before his eyes rise to meet yours.

You both talk about how your day was briefly, before Xavier leaves you, “Did you want me to bring you anything?”

“Uh… maybe some clothes?” You laugh, looking around the bathroom and Xavier smiles.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got pajama pants and a hoodie ready for you to wear.”

“But does the hoodie smell like you?” You ask raising an eyebrow.

He laughs, “Yes, it smells like me.”

“Good.”

“Anything else you want me to get you?” he asks.

“Uh… actually would you be able to lend me your light?”

Xavier comes back to you and reaches behind the top of your head. When he draws his hand back, a small ball of light floats above his palm. “With my Evol, like this?”

I nod and watch as Xavier closes his hands together, cupping his palms. When he releases, dozens of tiny lights separate from his fingers to fill the room. He turns off the main bathroom light and it’s magical. The lights reflect in the water of the bathtub and cast a soft glow across both of your faces.

“If you need anything, call out to me or message okay?” You agree and Xavier goes back to reheating his dinner. You hear the microwave door and button dial in the distance.

Blending into background noise, you let out some breaths and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of weightlessness in the water. No one expecting anything from you, you not expecting anything from anyone.

A significant amount of time later, you start to feel warm despite the water cooling down. Gently blinking your eyes open, Xavier lights had gathered around you, providing warmth.

You decide to text him, and hold your phone tight as to not drop it into the water.

You: hey what are you up to?

Xavier: Just sitting in bed, why?

As his reply comes through, the little lights pulse brighter. Some seem to follow your laugh, twining into your hair.

You: What are you thinking about?

Xavier: Nothing really

The lights were interested in settling on your skin, and this gave Xavier away.

He was thinking about you.

And you were thinking about him too at this time of the night. All bundled up in bed, glasses keeping him company. His hair ruffled.

You: Are you thinking about me?

The lights glimmered once again.

Xavier: I’m always thinking about you.

You nuzzle into the small balls of light, wondering if he could feel it. Probably not, but they were just so cute.

You rest against them in comfort for a while before opening up your phone.

You: I’m gonna come to bed now.

The lights buzzed and immediately moved to line up in a little row leading to the bathroom door, like a strip of landing lights.

Xavier: Okay

You couldn’t be bothered to dress your self fully, so you slip on Xavier’s hoodie. It smelt like him and you relaxed into the soft feel. You towel dry the small amount of hair that got wet from the bath before turning back to the lights. They were blinking, showing the way like a little invitation.

Slowly, you pass through the hallway, guided by the small balls of light, lining the ground. As you push open the bedroom door, the lights form an arrow pointing towards Xavier who was sitting up in bed.

“It appears there was a light to guide me here,” you say with a teasing smile while looking at Xavier.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He puts down the book he was pretending to read and looks back at you. Absolutely stunning.

As you pull back the covers and jump in, the room darkens. Xavier must have dimmed the bedroom lamp. There was a trail of light under the covers, like a trail of ants, leading from your side to his.

“Hmmm what’s this,” you slide a hand across the mattress, following the light trail. As the blanket moves you can see more and more of the trail… leading directly to Xavier lap.

“It must want you to follow it,” Xavier replies quietly. There was the slightest bit of mischief in his voice. It was a voice and presence that made you feel like nothing you do could be embarrassing in front of him. That hard day at work was so far away now.

Xavier takes your hand as you move to straddle him. He lets out a noise that seems to say he didn’t expect you to be so bold.

“Are you feeling better now… after your bath?” He asks innocently.

“Much much better Xavier,” you respond tilting your head.

“I know you’re ready to annoy me now,” he says, smiling. “You’re in a happier mood.”

“Then you can be happily annoyed,” you run a hand down the side of his neck gently.

“Then I will be happily annoyed,” he admits.

You pretend to get comfortable on his lap, shifting slightly until you feel his hands gently at your waist.

“Did you enjoy imagining me in the bath Xavie?” you ask playfully.

His ears redden but he wasn’t ready to back down. “I did actually.” His tone drops lower, “But I bet you liked me using my Evol on you.”

“Y-yeah.”

It was always like this with Xavier. Pretending to have the upper hand when really, it felt like you weren’t the one in control after all.

Xavier lets out a quiet laugh at your blush and pulls you closer, rubbing a hand calmly down your spine and back up again.

“You’re tired, you should sleep,” Xavier whispers, almost instigating you.

You can’t deny it though, you were completely exhausted.

“Sleep, and I’ll wake you up with something special.”

Quickly you pull your head up from his chest to look at him, eyebrows raised, “Oh?”

He just smiles that usual innocent smile. “I don’t know what you’re thinking…”

Your lips purse as you shake your head at him. “You know exactly what I’m thinking.”

He just shushes you playfully and pulls you back against his chest. You wiggle around slightly and he tries to keep his arms around you. Eventually tired of playing around, you rest in his arms, back flush to his chest.

The air settles down as you settle into his touch, ready for bed.

Xavier leans forward and kisses your temple so tenderly, over and over again. “Sleep. You’ve worked hard today, and I’m proud of you.”

You murmur a reply. As sleep overcomes you, in that odd state of being half awake, you can hear Xavier talking to you, complimenting you. Kissing the top of your head and your hair gently. Until you finally fall asleep.

© xavibloom 2026

She sighed. "Another one."

Her roommate poked her head into the kitchen with a bowl of cereal balanced in one hand. "Who's getting married this time?"

"My cousin, Emma."

"The one that taught us how to make cocktails at Christmas?"

"No. The other one."

"You have another Emma?"

"No, another cousin."

"Oh."

There was a brief pause before her roommate pointed at the envelope. "You're making that face again."

"What face?"

"The one that says you'd rather eat drywall than attend whatever is inside that envelope."

Y/N dropped her forehead onto the cool countertop. "It isn't the wedding."

"No?"

"I actually like weddings."

"So what's the problem?"

"The people."

"The bride and groom?"

"My family."

Her roommate nodded immediately. "Ah."

That single syllable carried enough understanding that Y/N almost laughed. "You know exactly what I mean."

"I do."

Every wedding followed the same pattern.

The ceremony would be beautiful.

The food would be good.

Someone would cry during the speeches. Children would run around covered in cake. Then, somewhere between dinner and dessert, an aunt she barely saw outside of family gatherings would appear with the smile.

"So," they would begin casually, "are you seeing anyone?"

If she answered no, they would exchange sympathetic looks as though she had just announced a terminal illness.

Then came the suggestions.

Have you tried dating apps?

My coworker's son is lovely.

You're too picky.

Maybe you should give Daniel another chance.

Daniel.

Just hearing his name made her eye twitch.

Daniel, who had somehow managed to cheat on her while also insisting he was "technically loyal." Daniel, who had cried harder over losing his gaming account than losing their three year relationship. Daniel, whom half her family still adored because he always remembered birthdays and helped carry groceries.

Apparently infidelity became much easier to overlook when the offender complimented Grandma's potato salad.

Her roommate leaned against the fridge. "You're thinking about him."

"I'm thinking about prison."

"For Daniel?"

"For whichever aunt mentions him first."

"Fair."

Y/N picked up the invitation and read it again.

Emma and Lucas request the pleasure of your company...

She genuinely wanted to celebrate with her cousin. She just wished the celebration didn't include being interrogated about her love life by every relative over forty-five.

"I should fake food poisoning."

"You used that excuse last Easter."

"I'll fake appendicitis."

"You still have the scar from when yours was actually removed."

"...Right."

"You could just tell them to mind their own business."

Y/N looked at her. "They're my family."

"So?"

"You've never met Aunt Sabine."

"No."

"She once cornered me in the bathroom to explain why women should marry before thirty because apparently our eggs start filing for retirement."

Her roommate blinked. "...Seriously?"

"I wish I were joking."

The silence that followed was interrupted by Y/N's phone buzzing.

A new message appeared.

Hongjoong: Friday. Drinks. Everyone's coming.

She smiled despite herself.

Finally. Something to look forward to that didn't involve uncomfortable conversations about her nonexistent boyfriend.

Friday evenings at Woosan's had become something of a tradition.

The small bar tucked away on a quiet street wasn't particularly fancy, but it had warm lighting, good music, and the kind of atmosphere that encouraged people to stay long after they had finished their drinks.

San stood behind the counter polishing glasses while Wooyoung loudly argued with a customer over whether pineapple belonged on pizza.

"It absolutely does," Wooyoung declared.

"It absolutely doesn't," the customer shot back.

San sighed. "I'm surrounded by children."

Hongjoong looked up from his menu as Y/N slid into the booth beside him.

"Perfect timing."

"For what?"

He pointed toward the argument. "They've been at this for seven minutes."

"Eight," Yeosang corrected without looking up from his phone.

Wooyoung noticed her then. "You."

She frowned. "Me?"

"Settle this."

"I refuse."

"Pineapple on pizza."

She didn't even hesitate. "It belongs."

Wooyoung gasped dramatically before pointing at the customer. "See? Vindication."

The poor man looked betrayed. "I thought she'd be reasonable."

"I am reasonable."

"No sane person likes warm pineapple."

She shrugged. "I also dip fries in milkshakes."

Wooyoung clutched his chest. "I've never felt more understood."

Laughter spread around the table.

It felt good.

Exactly what she needed after another exhausting week at work.

"So," Mingi asked once everyone had drinks, "what's new?"

Y/N took one sip before groaning.

"I got another wedding invitation."

The entire table immediately winced in sympathy.

Hongjoong nodded. "My condolences."

"It's one wedding."

"It never is."

She pointed at him. "Exactly."

He knew. They all knew.

Because every single time she returned from a family wedding she arrived with at least three new stories that sounded too ridiculous to be true.

"They're going to ask again?" San asked.

"When do they not?"

Wooyoung tilted his head. "About Daniel?"

She made a face. "Especially about Daniel."

"What is wrong with your family?"

"They liked him."

"He cheated."

"I know."

"On multiple occasions."

"I know."

"He literally flirted with another woman at your birthday dinner."

"I was there, Woo."

"And they still want you two together?"

She lifted her hands helplessly. "My grandmother keeps saying everyone deserves a second chance."

"What about a third?"

"Apparently those too."

Yeosang snorted into his drink.

Wooyoung looked genuinely horrified. "I've never even met this guy properly and I already dislike him."

Hongjoong leaned back. "So what's the strategy this time?"

"I smile."

"Mhm."

"I dodge questions."

"Classic."

"I escape to the bathroom every twenty minutes."

"A fan favorite."

"And then I drive home emotionally exhausted."

Wooyoung frowned. "That sounds terrible."

"It is."

She laughed, but there was something tired about it.

She was only twenty-seven.

She had a job she loved.

Wonderful friends.

A cozy apartment.

She wasn't unhappy.

Yet somehow every family gathering made her feel like she'd failed some invisible exam because she happened to be single.

"I just wish," she admitted quietly, "they'd stop acting like being alone means something is wrong with me."

The table fell silent.

San reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "There isn't."

"Obviously," Mingi agreed.

"You know that," Hongjoong added.

"I do."

She really did. Most days.

It was just difficult to keep believing it after hearing the same comments over and over again.

A few seconds passed before Wooyoung suddenly snapped his fingers. "I have an idea."

Hongjoong immediately groaned. "That's never good."

"I resent that."

"You should."

Wooyoung ignored him completely. "You need a boyfriend."

The table burst into laughter.

"Brilliant," Y/N deadpanned. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"A fake one."

She blinked. "...What?"

"I mean it."

"What?."

"You should."

Hongjoong slowly looked at Wooyoung. "...Didn't you actually do that once?"

Wooyoung froze. "Oh no."

"Oh yes," Hongjoong grinned.

Mingi's eyes widened. "Wait."

San started laughing before anyone had even explained. "No way."

Y/N looked between them.

"What am I missing?"

Hongjoong rested his elbows on the table. "Tell her."

"There is nothing to tell."

"There absolutely is."

Yeosang finally looked up from his phone.

"You might as well. They're not letting this go."

Wooyoung sighed the sigh of a man about to have his embarrassing past exposed.

"...University was expensive."

Everyone waited.

"My acting major wasn't exactly paying for itself. Thats why I also changed to marketing." He muttered the last part.

"And?"

"And someone asked me to pretend to be her boyfriend for a family reunion."

Y/N stared. "You what?"

"It paid five hundred thousand won."

Her mouth fell open. "For one day?"

He nodded. "I was a broke student."

Hongjoong grinned. "So naturally he kept doing it."

"I had rent!"

"How many fake girlfriends did you have?" Mingi asked.

Wooyoung looked almost offended. "I was very selective."

"That's not an answer."

"...Seven."

Y/N nearly choked on her drink. "Seven?"

"Spread over four years!"

San was laughing so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes.

"It wasn't weird," Wooyoung defended.

"I had contracts."

"You had contracts?"

"I am a professional."

That only made everyone laugh harder.

Y/N looked at him in complete disbelief. "You seriously pretended to date people?"

"I was excellent at it."

"You actually got paid?"

"I even had repeat clients."

She covered her face. "I cannot believe this."

"It funded my degree." He sounded absurdly proud of himself.

"And," Hongjoong added with a smirk, "he was apparently terrifyingly convincing."

Wooyoung straightened in his seat. "I researched family trees."

Y/N laughed. "You researched what?"

"I memorized relatives, anniversaries, favorite foods. I even learned how to ballroom dance because one client's grandmother loved dancing."

The entire table stared at him. "What?"

"It improved customer satisfaction."

Y/N couldn't stop laughing. "You're insane."

"Maybe."

He shrugged before taking another sip of his drink.

"But your family would never mention Daniel again."

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Sure."

"I'm serious."

Their eyes met across the table.

For the first time that evening, Wooyoung wasn't joking.

"I'm serious," he repeated. "If it'll get your family off your back, I'll come with you."

The laughter around the table slowly faded.

Y/N searched his face for the punchline.

It never came.

The offer should have sounded ridiculous.

Instead, it refused to leave her mind.

Y/N spent the entire weekend replaying the conversation in her head while simultaneously trying to convince herself that it had been a joke.

Surely it had been.

Wooyoung joked about everything.

He joked when he was happy.

He joked when he was annoyed.

He had once convinced an entire café that he was allergic to Tuesdays simply because the barista had asked how his week was going.

There was no way he had been serious.

„…Right?“ she muttered to herself.

Her phone buzzed on the desk.

Wooyoung: Morning.

Another message appeared almost immediately.

Wooyoung: Have you decided?

She frowned.

You: Decided what?

The typing bubble appeared.

Wooyoung: Whether you’re letting me save you from your aunt.

She stared at the screen.

So… he had been serious.

A smile tugged at her lips before she quickly suppressed it.

You: Woo, I’m not making you spend your Saturday pretending to be my boyfriend.

His reply came within seconds.

Wooyoung: Why not?

You: Because it’s weird.

Wooyoung: I used to get paid for weirder.

She laughed out loud in the middle of the office.

A few heads turned in her direction.

She cleared her throat and looked back at her monitor.

You: I’m serious.

Wooyoung: Me too.

Another message.

Wooyoung: Besides, you helped me move.

She rolled her eyes.

You: You have to stop bringing that up.

Wooyoung: Never. You carried three boxes. Heavy boxes.

You: They contained pillows.

Wooyoung: Really heavy pillows

She bit back another laugh.

How was he this impossible through text?

After a moment she typed again.

You: I still couldn’t ask you to do that.

There was a longer pause this time.

When his answer came, it was surprisingly simple.

Wooyoung: You’re not asking. I’m offering.

That should have made saying no easier.

Instead, it somehow made it harder.

Wednesday evening found her standing in front of Hongjoong’s apartment with two grocery bags digging into her fingers.

Movie night.

A tradition that mostly consisted of everyone claiming they were going to watch a film before talking over it for three hours.

She barely had time to knock before Mingi opened the door. „You’re late.“

„I am three minutes late.“

„We were worried.“

„No, you weren’t.“

„We finished the chips.“

„…Now I understand the emergency.“

Laughter echoed from the living room.

She slipped off her shoes and walked inside.

San and Yeosang were arguing over which blanket belonged to whom.

Hongjoong was trying to untangle an HDMI cable.

Wooyoung looked up from the couch. „Hey.“

„Hi.“

It felt strangely… awkward.

Not because anything had happened.

Because now she knew he was apparently willing to accompany her to a family wedding.

He patted the empty seat beside him.

She hesitated for exactly one second before sitting down.

„You ignored my last message,“ he whispered.

„I was working.“

„You left me on read.“

„I was working.“

„You wounded me.“

She snorted. „You’ll survive.“

„I don’t know. It still hurts.“

He pressed a dramatic hand against his heart.

She elbowed him. „Oh.“

He looked delighted. „Physical violence already? That’s believable.“

„What?“

„If we’re pretending to date, you’ve already mastered the ‚annoyed girlfriend‘ part.“

She rolled her eyes. „We’re not pretending anything.“

„So that’s a yes?“

„No.“

„So… maybe?“

„No.“

„Hm.“

He nodded thoughtfully. „I hear uncertainty.“

„I hear selective hearing.“

Halfway through the movie, which absolutely nobody was paying attention to, Hongjoong muted the television.

„I have a question.“

„No,“ Wooyoung answered immediately.

„I haven’t asked it.“

„It’s probably about me.“

„It is.“

Wooyoung groaned.

Hongjoong looked at Y/N.

„So…“

She immediately knew where this was going.

„No.“

„You don’t even know the question.“

„I do.“

„You probably do.“

Mingi grinned. „I think she should let Woo do it.“

„Traitor,“ she muttered.

San nodded. „I agree.“

„You all agree?“

Yeosang looked up from his phone. „I mostly just want to watch him meet your family.“

Everyone laughed.

„It would be entertaining.“

„It would be a disaster.“

„It would be both,“ Hongjoong corrected.

Wooyoung folded his arms. „I’d do great.“

„You’d get us caught in five minutes.“

„I would not.“

„You don’t even know my birthday.“

He answered without missing a beat. „September seventeenth.“

Her mouth fell open. „…How do you know that?“

„You posted birthday cake pictures.“

„You remember that?“

„I remember everything.“

Hongjoong slowly pointed at him. „See? That’s what I’m talking about.“

Wooyoung shrugged. „I pay attention.“

Y/N looked at him for a moment longer than she meant to.

He wasn’t showing off.

He genuinely remembered little things about people.

She thought back to the countless times he had shown up to game nights with everyone’s favorite snacks.

The way he always asked San about his parents.

The fact that he somehow knew Mingi’s coffee order despite never drinking coffee himself.

Maybe that was why everyone liked him so quickly.

He made people feel seen.

„…Stop looking at me like that,“ Wooyoung said.

„Like what?“

„Like you’re realizing I’m secretly wonderful.“

She burst out laughing.

„There it is again.“

„There what is?“

„Your annoying ego.“

„My ego is perfectly reasonable.“

„It barely fits through doors.“

„It has excellent posture.“

By the end of the evening, everyone had somehow migrated into the kitchen.

Hongjoong was washing dishes.

San dried them.

Mingi had been banned from helping after dropping a glass.

Wooyoung leaned against the counter eating grapes directly from the bowl.

Without thinking, Y/N reached for one at the exact same time.

Their fingers bumped.

She looked up.

He looked down.

For half a second neither of them moved.

Then Wooyoung smiled. „You can have it.“

„It’s your grape.“

„I’ve got more.“

He placed it in her hand with exaggerated care.

„There.“

„So generous.“

„I know.“

She popped it into her mouth.

„…It was sour.“

His face lit up. „Oh, that’s hilarious.“

„You knew?“

„I absolutely did.“

„You gave me the bad grape!“

„I sacrificed it for science.“

She laughed despite herself and shoved his shoulder.

He stumbled dramatically into the counter. „I’ve been attacked!“

„No jury would convict me.“

„I was only trying to feed you.“

„You poisoned me.“

„It was one grape.“

„It betrayed me.“

Their bickering continued all the way back into the living room, drawing increasingly amused looks from the others.

Hongjoong watched them disappear down the hallway before quietly nudging San.

„…How long do you think it’ll take?“

San smiled to himself. „They’re hopeless.“

Neither Y/N nor Wooyoung heard him.

They were still arguing over whether a sour grape counted as an act of friendship or attempted murder. Neither of them noticed how naturally they walked side by side. Neither of them noticed that, without thinking, Wooyoung slowed his pace to match hers.

And neither of them realized that everyone else in the apartment had already started treating the fake relationship like it was only a matter of time.

The first thing Y/N saw Monday morning was the wedding invitation pinned beneath a magnet on her refrigerator.

The second thing she saw was her own reflection in the microwave, looking as thrilled as someone about to attend a tax seminar.

She sighed. „You’re being dramatic.“

Her reflection offered no counterargument.

The invitation had been sitting there for over a week now, mocking her every time she walked into the kitchen.

Emma and Lucas.

Saturday, four o’clock.

Formal attire.

Plus one invited.

That last line felt almost personal.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, hoping caffeine would somehow produce a solution that didn’t involve spending the entire reception hiding from her extended family.

It didn’t.

Instead, her mind wandered back to Friday.

I’ll come with you.

Wooyoung had said it so casually.

Like he had offered to help carry groceries.

Not pretend to be her boyfriend in front of nearly a hundred strangers.

Well, family.

Which, in her opinion, was somehow worse.

Her phone buzzed against the counter.

As if summoned by her thoughts.

Wooyoung: Morning.

She smiled despite herself.

You: Morning.

Wooyoung: Have you made your decision yet?

She stared at the message for several seconds before typing.

You: No.

His reply came almost instantly.

Wooyoung: Need a PowerPoint presentation?

You: You’d make one?

Wooyoung: Already started.

She laughed.

You: You’re kidding.

Wooyoung: Slide 12 has statistics.

You: Statistics about what?

Wooyoung: How much less annoying weddings become when I’m there.

You: That sounds made up.

Wooyoung: It is.

Another message followed.

Wooyoung: But the charts are beautiful.

She shook her head, smiling into her coffee.

He was unbelievable.

By lunchtime, she’d managed to convince herself that saying no was the responsible thing to do.

By three in the afternoon, her mother had called.

„Hi, sweetheart!“

„Hi, Mom.“

„Did Emma tell you where you’re sitting?“

„No?“

„Oh! You’re at Table Six.“

„Okay.“

„With your Aunt Sabine.“

Y/N closed her eyes.

„…Wonderful.“

„And your Uncle Michael.“

„Mhm.“

„And Daniel’s parents.“

Silence.

„…Mom.“

„What?“

„Why?“

„They’re close with Emma’s family.“

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

„Please tell me Daniel isn’t coming.“

„I don’t think so.“

„You don’t think so?“

„I haven’t seen the seating chart.“

„Mom.“

„I’m sure it’ll be fine.“

Famous last words.

Her mother hesitated before speaking again.

„So…“

There it was.

She knew that tone.

„What?“

„Will you be bringing anyone?“

Y/N looked out the office window.

„No.“

„Oh.“

Just one syllable.

Not disappointed.

Not judgmental.

Just… hopeful.

Which somehow made it worse.

„You know,“ her mother continued carefully, „your grandmother keeps asking.“

„I know.“

„I told her to leave you alone.“

„I know.“

„But you know how she is.“

Unfortunately, she did.

„She still thinks…“

„That Daniel made one mistake?“

„…Yes.“

„It wasn’t one.“

„I know.“

„He cheated on me.“

„I know.“

„Twice.“

„I know.“

„So why does everyone keep acting like I should forgive him?“

Her mother was quiet for a moment.

„I don’t think you should.“

„Then why doesn’t anyone say that?“

Another pause.

„Because your grandmother loved him.“

Y/N laughed humorlessly.

„Apparently more than she loves me.“

„Don’t say that.“

„But that’s what it feels like.“

Her mother sighed softly.

„I know this weekend won’t be easy.“

„No.“

„But try to enjoy yourself anyway.“

„I’ll try.“

After they hung up, Y/N rested her forehead against her desk.

She loved her family.

She really did.

But sometimes they made loving them incredibly exhausting.

Wednesday evening, the friend group met at their usual café.

The moment Y/N walked in, Wooyoung looked up from his iced americano.

„So?“

She blinked.

„So?“

He pointed at the empty chair across from him.

„Sit.“

„…That sounded like an order.“

„It was.“

She laughed and slid into the seat.

The others hadn’t arrived yet.

It was just the two of them.

„I’ve been thinking,“ she admitted.

„I know.“

„How?“

„You get this wrinkle.“ He pointed between his own eyebrows. „Right here.“

„I do not.“

„You absolutely do.“

She instinctively touched her forehead.

His grin widened.

„See?“

„Oh, you’re annoying.“

„I’ve heard that before.“

She narrowed her eyes.

„I still haven’t said yes.“

„I know.“

„I probably shouldn’t.“

„I know.“

„You’ll spend your entire Saturday surrounded by people you’ve never met.“

„Mhm.“

„They’ll ask you uncomfortable questions.“

„I’ll survive.“

„My grandmother pinches cheeks.“

„I’ve survived worse.“

„My Aunt Sabine doesn’t believe in personal boundaries.“

„I’m faster than she is.“

She couldn’t help smiling.

„You’re taking this far too lightly.“

Wooyoung leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

„I’m really not.“

His expression softened.

„Y/N.“

She looked at him.

„I hate seeing you dread something that’s supposed to be fun.“

She opened her mouth.

Closed it again.

„It’s one day.“

„I know.“

„If I can make that one day easier…“ He shrugged. „Why wouldn’t I?“

There wasn’t a hint of teasing in his voice.

No exaggerated confidence.

Just sincerity.

It caught her completely off guard.

„You really don’t mind?“

„Not even a little.“

„You’ll have to wear a suit.“

„I look fantastic in a suit.“

She rolled her eyes.

„I walked right into that.“

„You did.“

„And my family is…“

„A lot?“

„A lot.“

„I’ve met Mingi after two energy drinks.“

„…Fair point.“

„They can’t be worse.“

She laughed. „You have no idea.“

„I’ll find out.“

Silence settled between them.

Comfortable.

Easy.

She tapped her fingers against her coffee cup.

„You really used to do this?“

„Mhm.“

„Were you actually any good?“

He looked genuinely offended.

„I was exceptional.“

„Oh?“

„I told you I repeat customers.“

„That’s still such a weird sentence.“

„I know.“

She laughed again.

Then she looked down at her drink.

„…Okay.“

He blinked.

„…Okay?“

She nodded slowly.

„Okay.“

His eyebrows shot up.

„Wait.“

„You’ve convinced me.“

„You mean…“

„I mean yes.“

For a second, Wooyoung simply stared at her.

Then a slow grin spread across his face.

„I knew my imaginary PowerPoint would work.“

„It absolutely did not.“

„It was the charts.“

„There were no charts.“

„They were very convincing.“

She shook her head, laughing.

„I cannot believe I’m agreeing to this.“

„You won’t regret it.“

„I feel like I definitely will.“

„You have so little faith in me.“

„I have exactly the appropriate amount.“

He held a hand over his heart.

„That hurts.“

„I’m sure you’ll recover.“

„I don’t know.“

„I’ll buy you cake.“

He gasped dramatically.

„…I accept your apology.“

She laughed so hard that people at the next table turned to look at them.

When she finally caught her breath, Wooyoung was already pulling out his phone.

„So.“

„So?“

„We have work to do.“

Her smile faltered.

„…Work?“

„The relationship.“

She stared.

„The fake relationship.“

„Oh.“

He opened his notes app.

„If we’re going to fool your family, we need details.“

„You’re serious.“

„Completely.“

He cracked his knuckles.

„Question one.“

She laughed.

„You’re unbelievable.“

„What day did we start dating?“

„Woo…“

„I’m waiting.“

She looked at the ceiling.

„…I already regret this.“

He beamed.

„Excellent.“

Somewhere deep down, beneath the teasing and laughter, Y/N realized something.

For the first time since Emma’s invitation had arrived, she wasn’t dreading the wedding anymore.

She was actually looking forward to it.

That should have worried her.

Instead, she found herself wondering just how ridiculous this fake relationship was about to become.

Wooyoung had worn a suit hundreds of times before.

For weddings.

Graduations.

Fancy dinners.

The occasional event where jeans somehow weren’t considered appropriate.

So why, exactly, was he standing in front of the bathroom mirror for the fourth time in ten minutes, adjusting a tie that had already been perfectly straight?

„You know,“ San called from somewhere behind him, „if you keep staring at yourself, it isn’t going to become more symmetrical.“

Wooyoung didn’t look away from the mirror.

„It was crooked.“

„It wasn’t.“

„It absolutely was.“

„It wasn’t.“

Wooyoung sighed dramatically before stepping out of the bathroom.

Their apartment was unusually lively for a Saturday morning.

San was sitting at the kitchen island with a mug of coffee, looking far too awake for someone who had gone to bed after two.

Mingi occupied most of the couch, despite there being enough room for three people.

Hongjoong leaned against the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone.

Yeosang was peacefully stealing strawberries from a bowl on the table as though he’d lived there his entire life.

All four of them looked up at the exact same moment.

Silence.

Then Mingi blinked.

„…Wow.“

Wooyoung frowned.

„What?“

„You Actually look good.“

„I always look good.“

„You look expensive,“ Hongjoong added.

„There.“

Wooyoung pointed at him.

„That’s the compliment I was looking for.“

San snorted into his coffee.

„You’ve said that six times already.“

„Because it’s true.“

He smoothed down the sleeves of his charcoal suit before checking the cuffs.

„I do look expensive.“

„You also look nervous,“ Yeosang said casually.

Wooyoung laughed.

„I’m not nervous.“

„You’ve changed ties three times.“

„They all looked different.“

„They were all black.“

„They had different textures.“

Nobody answered.

Instead, four pairs of eyes continued watching him.

„What?“

Hongjoong slipped his phone into his pocket.

„Can I ask you something?“

„You just did.“

„Do you think this is actually a good idea?“

Wooyoung frowned.

„What?“

„The fake dating thing.“

„What about it?“

Hongjoong shrugged.

„I don’t know.“

San spoke next.

„You and Y/N have known each other for years.“

„Mhm.“

„You get along.“

„Mhm.“

„You already spend quite a bit of time together.“

„Mhm.“

„And now you’re going to pretend to date.“

„…Yes?“

Mingi leaned forward.

„You really don’t think anything could happen?“

Wooyoung stared at him.

„What do you mean?“

„I mean…“

Mingi gestured vaguely between his hands.

„Feelings.“

Wooyoung actually laughed.

„Oh, come on.“

„What?“

„It isn’t like that.“

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow.

„Isn’t it?“

„No.“

„You’ve never thought about it?“

Wooyoung looked genuinely confused.

„About dating Y/N?“

„Yeah.“

He shrugged.

„Not really.“

That wasn’t meant to sound dismissive.

It was simply… true.

Y/N had always been part of the group.

She came to movie nights.

Game nights.

Birthday dinners.

She always brought desserts because she insisted bakery cakes tasted „too corporate.“

She laughed at his terrible jokes.

Rolled her eyes at his dramatic ones.

Called him unbearable at least once every time they met.

She was…

Y/N.

Cute?

Sure.

Funny?

Obviously.

Easy to be around?

Definitely.

But he’d never actually stopped to think about her in any other way.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

„I’ve always just… seen her as a friend.“

San studied him over the rim of his mug.

„You say that like you’ve never considered the alternative.“

„I haven’t.“

Hongjoong hummed.

„Interesting.“

„What is?“

„Nothing.“

„There was definitely something behind that ‚interesting.‘“

„There wasn’t.“

„There absolutely was.“

Hongjoong only smiled.

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes.

„I don’t know what conspiracy you’re trying to start, but this is literally me helping a friend.“

„We know,“ San said.

„And that’s sweet.“

„But?“

„But just… be careful.“

Wooyoung frowned.

„Careful of what?“

Hongjoong answered this time.

„Sometimes pretending becomes easier than admitting you aren’t pretending anymore.“

Wooyoung groaned loudly.

„You’ve all watched too many romantic comedies.“

Mingi grinned.

„They’re educational.“

„They’re fictional.“

„So is your relationship.“

„Exactly.“

Wooyoung grabbed his car keys from the counter.

„I’m leaving before one of you starts betting on when we’ll kiss.“

Hongjoong called after him.

„I give it three weddings.“

San laughed.

„I’ll say two.“

Yeosang looked up from another strawberry.

„I’m just here for the inevitable chaos.“

Wooyoung pointed accusingly at all of them.

„You’re all impossible.“

Then he left before they could continue.

The drive to Y/N’s apartment wasn’t long.

Long enough, however, for Hongjoong’s words to replay in his head.

Sometimes pretending becomes easier than admitting you aren’t pretending anymore.

Ridiculous.

This wasn’t some cheesy romance movie.

Y/N needed someone to survive her family’s interrogation.

He happened to own a suit and possess an alarming amount of experience pretending to be someone’s boyfriend.

That was all.

He parked outside her apartment building and checked the time.

Two minutes early.

Perfect.

He leaned back in the driver’s seat.

Then immediately sat up again.

Why was he suddenly…

No.

Not nervous.

Just…

Making sure everything went smoothly.

Right.

Exactly that.

His phone buzzed.

Y/N: Coming down.

He smiled.

Take your time.

Less than a minute later, the apartment door opened.

Wooyoung looked up absentmindedly.

Then forgot how to blink.

She wasn’t wearing anything extravagant.

No glittering ball gown.

No dramatic train.

Just a soft floral dress that reached her calves, the light fabric moving gently in the summer breeze.

Tiny flowers were embroidered across it, delicate enough that they almost disappeared unless the sunlight caught them.

A pair of nude heels clicked softly against the pavement as she walked toward the car.

Her hair, usually tied back in a messy ponytail whenever he saw her, fell loosely over her shoulders in soft waves.

Simple earrings caught the light every time she moved.

She smiled when she spotted him.

He remained frozen.

„…Woo?“

Oh.

Right.

Words.

He was supposed to have those.

She stopped in front of him, tilting her head.

„Is something wrong?“

„No.“

His answer came far too quickly.

„You just…“

He cleared his throat.

„You look pretty.“

She laughed. „That’s it?“

„What?“

„I thought from your face that I’d somehow ripped my dress.“

„No.“

He looked at her again.

Big mistake.

Because she looked…

Really pretty.

Not just objectively.

Actually…

Pretty.

He swallowed.

„You look nice.“

The smile she gave him was warm enough to make something strange happen somewhere around his ribs.

„Thank you.“

She looked him up and down.

„You don’t look too bad yourself.“

He immediately grinned.

„I know.“

„There he is again.“

„Who?“

„My overly confident friend. I was worried he’d stayed home.“

Relief washed over him.

There it was.

Their normal rhythm.

Teasing.

Bickering.

Much better.

He hurried around the car to open the passenger door with an exaggerated flourish.

„M’lady.“

She snorted.

„If you say that in front of my grandmother, she’ll love you forever.“

„Perfect.“

„No.“

„Too late.“

She rolled her eyes as she climbed into the car.

Even in heels…

He noticed she barely reached his shoulder.

Actually…No.

She was still noticeably shorter than him.

He blinked.

Why had he never realized that before?

He closed the passenger door and walked around to the driver’s side.

As he got in, he caught himself glancing at her again.

She was smoothing invisible wrinkles from her dress.

Nervous.

He’d never really seen Y/N nervous before.

Not like this.

„You okay?“ he asked.

She looked over.

„My family.“

„Right.“

„They’re… a lot.“

„I remember.“

„I wasn’t exaggerating.“

„I know.“

She gave him a skeptical look.

„I really don’t think you do.“

He laughed as he started the car.

„We’ll survive.“

„We?“

„I told you.“

He pulled out onto the road.

„We’re a team today.“

Something in her expression softened.

„Thanks.“

He smiled without looking away from the road.

„Don’t thank me yet.“

„Oh?“

„I haven’t even impressed your grandmother.“

She groaned dramatically.

„You really think you can?“

„I’ve won over tougher audiences.“

„You don’t know my grandmother.“

„I’ll compliment her cooking.“

„She didn’t cook.“

„I’ll compliment her outfit.“

„She bought it yesterday.“

„I’ll compliment her grandchildren.“

She pointed at herself.

„That’s me.“

„I know.“

She laughed.

„There.“

He smiled.

„That’s the sound we’re aiming for today.“

She looked out the window, still smiling to herself.

Wooyoung glanced at her again before turning his eyes back to the road.

Maybe…

Maybe Hongjoong had been right about one thing.

He’d known Y/N for years.

Yet as she sat beside him, sunlight dancing across the tiny flowers embroidered on her dress while she absentmindedly played with the strap of her purse, he found himself noticing details he couldn’t remember ever paying attention to before.

He frowned almost imperceptibly.

Huh.

Maybe…

Maybe he’d simply never really looked.

Main Masterlist | Wooyoungs Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

older!bf!Niki - who loves it when he's flirting with you and you don't know how to respond so you giggle at everything he says. He loves your little laughs , they fill his chest with warmth and his heart with love. he could be in a terrible mood and says something relatively flirty to you, one giggle from you makes him cheer right up .

older!bf!Niki - who is great at comforting you while you're having friendship drama or you mess something up at work/school. As soon as you cry one tear, he pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist, whispering sweet nothing's into your ear like, "princess , please don't cry. youre to pretty to be crying over them.." , "bunny , you know you did something wrong to her , let's make an apology you can send to her together." and "hey.. hey angel, you don't need to cry because you made one tiny mistake. it's okay! let nishi see your 'mistake', yeah?".

older!bf!Niki - who gives you the sweetest punishments when ever you yell at him, hit him or do something bad at school/work. His punishment would be making you sleep alone , taking away some of your plushies , not letting you eat sweet treats after dinner or making you sit in a corner for 10 minutes max. He doesn't have the heart to yell at you or punish you any harder because even if you make mistakes , you're still his princess.

older!bf!Niki - who knows your whole daily schedule , when you get out of bed , when you might take a nap , when you might get a little clingy . He knows it like the back of his hand , most boyfriends wouldn't take the time but niki feels the need to know everything about you , even when you get random cravings.

older!bf!Niki - who hates when you look at a another man with your big cute eyes. He thinks that only he deserves to look at them , but he'll never tell you the because he knows you're just being your cute self but that won't stop his protectivness. Niki knows you'll get upset with him if he beats up one of your male friends but that won't stop him either. When you go over to his dorms , and smile at jungwon? it pisses him off , alot.

Older!bf!Niki - who loves buying you things you don't need , he doesn't care if you have 28 sanrio plushies , if you want more you'll get more. You have so many long white dresses and pink hair clips , some you don't even wear but Niki doesn't mind , he has the money for it and he loves seeing you with a pretty little smiling on your face <3

older!bf!Niki - who needs a daily hug and kiss from you. He doesn't care if it's 7 am and you're half asleep , he will hug you tightly and kiss your lips , cheek , forehead , nose. He just love kissing you , if he doesn't kiss you at least once a day , he feels a little empty inside.

older!bf!niki - who loves you so much , you're his whole world , won't ever let you go, and can't live without you <3

a/n - guys im actually kind of proud of this 🤍

୨˚̣̣̣୧ tag list ୨˚̣̣̣୧

The first thing you learned about your husband was that he didn’t smile.

Not at the wedding. Not during the vows.

Not even when the officiant tried to lighten the atmosphere with a joke about “till death do you part” sounding a little too literal considering his line of work.

Kang Yeosang had simply stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, hands steady, expression unreadable—like he wasn’t marrying you, but signing a contract.

Which, to be fair, he kind of was.

You weren’t naive.

You knew exactly what this marriage was: a strategic alliance between your family and his. 

Stability. Protection. Power consolidation. 

All the very romantic things that made mafia deals go smoothly.

What you didn’t expect… was how quiet he would be. Not cold in the dramatic, cruel way.

Just… distant.

Like he existed slightly outside of your world.

He spoke when necessary. Ate with precision. Moved like someone always calculating three steps ahead. 

Even at home, where most people would relax, Yeosang remained composed—back straight, voice low, emotions tucked away behind a wall you couldn’t even see the edges of.

At first, you tried.

“Do you like tea or coffee?” you had asked on the third morning after moving in.

“Either.”

“…Okay, but which do you prefer?”

A pause.

“Tea.”

You beamed. “Great! I’ll remember that.”

He nodded once. That was it.

No “thank you.” No follow-up.

Just… Yeosang.

You refused to let that discourage you.

If he was a wall, you’d be ivy.

You talked about everything.

Your day. The neighbor’s weird cat. A random documentary you watched. A joke you found funny.

He listened, always. That was the strange part.

He never interrupted, never dismissed you, never told you to stop talking. He just… didn’t respond much.

Still, you noticed things.

Like how his gaze would linger just a fraction longer when you laughed.

Or how he’d subtly adjust the air conditioning because you once mentioned you got cold easily.

Or how your favorite snacks would magically appear in the pantry after you offhandedly said you liked them.

He didn’t show his affection with his words.

He… executed it.

Quietly. Efficiently.

Like everything else he did.

You shared a room.

A large one, elegant and impersonal at first, until you filled it with small touches—books on the nightstand, soft blankets, a ridiculous amount of pillows Yeosang never complained about.

The bed, however, remained a clear line of demarcation.

You on one side. Him on the other.

He never crossed it. Not even in his sleep. Not even once.

It wasn’t rejection, exactly. It just… felt like distance.

And sometimes, late at night, when the house was silent and Yeosang’s breathing was steady beside you, you’d stare at the ceiling and wonder—

Does he even like me?

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

If there was one thing you didn’t share with him, it was your stash.

Hidden carefully in the bottom drawer of your desk, beneath neatly folded scarves and old notebooks, was your treasure trove:

Romance novels. Fanfiction printouts.

Dog-eared pages, highlighted lines, sticky notes marking your favorite scenes.

Soft love. Slow burns. Confessions whispered in the dark.

The kind of affection your marriage didn’t quite have.

It wasn’t that you expected Yeosang to suddenly turn into a dramatic romantic lead.

But sometimes—

Okay, a lot of times—

you wished he’d just… reach for you.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

It happened on a completely normal afternoon.

Which, in hindsight, was exactly how life liked to ruin you.

You had left in a hurry, rushing out to meet a friend, completely forgetting that you’d left your drawer slightly open.

And Yeosang… had come home early.

He wasn’t looking for anything in particular.

Just a document he thought might be on your desk.

He noticed the drawer because it wasn’t perfectly aligned.

And Yeosang was, unfortunately, a man who noticed everything.

So he opened it.

And found…books. A lot of books.

He frowned slightly, picking one up. The cover was… pink.

Suspiciously pink.

He flipped it open.

Read a line. Paused. Read another.

His expression didn’t change much. But his ears turned slightly red.

“His fingers traced her wrist, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of her skin—”

Yeosang closed the book.

Very calmly. Placed it back.

Opened another one.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, voice breaking, “I’ve loved you from the moment you walked into my life.”

Pause. Blink.

Yeosang sat down.

And, for reasons even he couldn’t quite explain…kept reading.

You didn’t think anything was wrong when you walked in.

“Yeosang, I’m back!” you called cheerfully, slipping off your shoes.

No response. That wasn’t unusual.

You wandered into the bedroom—and froze.

Because your husband was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Holding one of your books.

Your brain stopped functioning.

“…”

“…”

He looked up. You looked at him.

The book.

Him.

The book.

Him.

“I can explain,” you blurted.

“Explain what,” he asked calmly, holding up the book, “this?”

You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

“It’s—uh—it’s research.”

“Research.”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

“…life.”

A pause.

Then—

“…I see.”

He looked back at the page and continued reading.

You stood there. Processing.

“…Wait.”

You stepped closer.

“You’re just going to keep reading it?”

“I was in the middle of a chapter.”

“That’s not the point!”

He glanced at you.

“Then what is?”

Your face burned.

“That’s private!”

“I didn’t know that,” he said, tone even. “It was not labeled.”

“You don’t need a label, it’s obvious—!”

Another pause.

He closed the book gently. Looked at you.

“…Do you like this kind of thing?”

Your soul left your body.

“Why are you asking that?” you said weakly.

“You read a lot of it.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

“It usually does.”

“That’s not—” you stopped. “Okay, yes, I like it, but that’s not the point!”

“What is the point?”

“The point is that you weren’t supposed to see it!”

“Why.”

“Because it’s embarrassing!”

“Why.”

“Because it just is!”

Yeosang studied you. Carefully.

“…It is about affection,” he said.

You froze.

“…What?”

“These stories,” he continued, flipping the book slightly, “they focus heavily on emotional and physical intimacy.”

You covered your face.

“I know what they’re about, Yeosang.”

“Do you want that?”

Your hands dropped. The room went quiet.

He wasn’t teasing. Wasn’t mocking. Wasn’t even embarrassed.

He was just… asking.

Direct. Honest.

Like he always did.

And suddenly, it wasn’t funny anymore.

“…I mean,” you started, quieter now, “I don’t expect… all that dramatic stuff.”

He waited.

“I just…” you hesitated. “Sometimes I wonder if you even like me.”

Silence.

“I do,” he said.

You blinked.

“…You do?”

“Yes.”

“…Oh.”

That was… not what you expected.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Something shifted after that.

Not dramatically. Not overnight.

But… noticeably. It started small.

One evening, you were reading on the couch when he sat beside you.

Closer than usual. Not touching.

Just… close.

You noticed. Said nothing.

Then—

His hand moved.

Slowly. Carefully.

And rested next to yours.

Not holding. Not quite touching.

Just… there.

You stared at it. Then at him.

He was looking straight ahead, completely composed.

But his fingers… twitched slightly. Like he wasn’t used to this either.

You smiled. And gently placed your hand over his.

He froze.

But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t react.

Just… stayed.

But his grip tightened. Just a little.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Yeosang approached affection like he approached everything else:

Methodically.

Which led to… some very interesting moments.

“You look… acceptable.”

“Acceptable???”

He paused.

“…Good.”

You burst out laughing. He looked mildly offended.

Another time, you were in the kitchen when he suddenly hugged you.

From behind. Stiffly.

Like he had read instructions but didn’t quite understand them. 

You nearly dropped the spoon.

“…Yeosang?”

“…Yes.”

“…Are you okay?”

“I am attempting something.”

“…I can tell.”

Pause.

“…Is it working?”

You turned in his arms, smiling.

“Yeah. It is.”

The third time, you came home one day to find candles.

Everywhere. Way too many candles.

“Yeosang—why does it look like a ritual in here?”

“I read that this creates atmosphere.”

“…For what?”

He hesitated.

“…Romance.”

You stared at him.

Then laughed so hard you had to sit down.

He looked deeply confused.

Despite the awkwardness, the stiffness, the occasional complete misunderstanding of fictional tropes—

He was trying. For you.

And that mattered more than anything.

But the real moment—

The one that stayed with you came quietly. Like everything important did with him.

It was late.

You were half-asleep, curled up on your side of the bed.

When you felt it.

A shift. Warmth. Weight.

You blinked your eyes open.

And realized—

Yeosang had moved.

Closer. Not all the way.

But enough that his arm rested lightly over your waist.

Careful. Hesitant.

Like he was giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

Instead, you leaned back slightly. Into him.

He stiffened. But then relaxed.

And that meant a lot.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Yeosang didn’t become a completely different person.

He didn’t start making grand declarations or dramatic confessions.

But you started noticing more. A lot more.

The way he always made sure you ate. The way he’d stand just a little closer in public.

The way his hand would find yours without thinking.

The way he remembered everything you said.

Even the smallest things. Especially the smallest things.

And sometimes, when he thought you weren’t looking… you’d catch it.

A soft expression. A quiet fondness.

Something warm.

Something yours.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

One night, you found something unexpected.

On your pillow. A book.

One of yours.

With… sticky notes. You picked it up slowly.

Opened it.

And saw annotations.

“This is unrealistic.”

“This is inefficient communication.”

“…This is acceptable.”

You laughed. Then flipped to the last page.

Where a single note waited.

“I am still learning. Be patient.”

Your chest tightened.

Soft. Full. Overwhelming.

You looked up.

And there he was. Standing by the door.

Watching you.

“You wrote this?” you asked.

“Yes.”

You smiled. Walked over.

“And what if I said you’re doing really well?”

He paused.

Then, very gently, he reached out.

Tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“…That would be… good.” 

“Yeosang?”

“Yes.”

“…Do you love me?”

A rare question.

Direct. Vulnerable.

He didn’t answer immediately.

You waited.

Then—

he stepped closer.

Rested his forehead lightly against yours.

And said, quietly:

“I would not be doing all of this… if I didn’t.”

Not dramatic. Not poetic. Not straight out of your books.

But somehow better.

Because it was him.

And as his hand found yours—steady now, no hesitation— you realized something.

Maybe your story wasn’t like the ones you read. Maybe it didn’t have grand speeches or perfect moments.

Maybe it was slower. Quieter.

A little awkward. A little clumsy.

But it was real. And it was growing.

And most importantly, it was yours.

© lcvejjoong, 2026

Across from him, a representative from the brand was explaining something about product positioning. Something about image. Something about how they wanted to be perceived.

San nodded at the right moments.

Or at least, he thought he did.

Beside him Hongjoong was speaking. His tone calm and focused as he asked a question about the campaign direction. Always composed. Always present.

San envied that sometimes.

The ability to stay grounded.

To keep his mind exactly where it needed to be.

Because his wasn’t.

Not today.

Not when…“…and we believe your group’s image aligns well with that,” the representative finished.

Hongjoong nodded slightly. “That makes sense.”

San leaned back in his chair just a little, letting his gaze drift for a second.

Beauty brand.

He didn’t even know why that was enough.

Why something that simple had been enough to pull his thoughts somewhere else entirely.

But it had.

Because the moment they mentioned the name, he thought of her. Y/N.

It wasn’t even intentional.

It never was.

It just… happened.

Like muscle memory. Like something ingrained too deeply to ignore.

She used to love this brand.

That was the first thing that came to mind.

Not the fights.

Not the way things ended.

Just something small. Simple.

The way she used to line up her skincare on the bathroom counter, always in the same order. The way she would complain when she ran out of one product and couldn’t replace it immediately. The way she would try to get him to use it too, insisting it would “fix his skin” even when he didn’t care.

A faint smile almost tugged at his lips.

Then it disappeared just as quickly.

Because the next thought came right after.

What happened to her?

Five years.

It had been five years.

And he still didn’t have an answer.

Not a real one. Not one that made sense.

He shifted slightly in his seat, jaw tightening just a little.

Because no matter how many times he tried to move past it, the same questions always came back.

Why did she leave like that?

Why didn’t she say anything?

Why didn’t she even give him the chance to…

He stopped that thought.

Because it never went anywhere good.

Across the table, someone was still talking.

Something about timelines now.

San barely registered it.

His mind had already gone somewhere else.

Back to that night.

It always went back to that night.

The way everything shifted in a matter of minutes.

He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair.

He had said something he shouldn’t have.

He knew that.

He had known it almost immediately after the words left his mouth.

Maybe we should just break up.

It hadn’t even sounded real at the time.

Just something thrown into the air out of frustration.

Something he didn’t actually mean.

Something he thought they would fight through, like everything else.

Because they always did.

They always came back to each other.

Until they didn’t.

His fingers curled slightly against the armrest.

Because what stayed with him wasn’t even the argument.

It was what came after.

The silence.

The way she went quiet.

Not the usual kind.

Not the kind that meant she was still there, still feeling, still fighting.

This had been different.

And he hadn’t understood it at the time.

Hadn’t realized what it meant until it was already too late.

“She’ll calm down,” he had told himself that night.

“She just needs space.”

That was what he believed.

That was what made sense.

Because she had left before.

Stormed out. Needed time. Needed distance.

But she always came back.

Always.

Until she didn’t.

San’s jaw tightened.

Because the memory shifted.

From that night, to the next day.

The apartment too quiet. Too empty.

Her things gone.

At first, he thought it was temporary.

It had to be.

She wouldn’t just leave like that.

Not without saying something.

Not without explaining.

He had called her.

Once.

Twice.

Ten times.

No answer.

He had texted.

Simple at first.

Where are you?

Can we talk?

Y/N, please.

Then less simple.

Longer messages.

Frustration slipping in.

Confusion.

What is this?

You can’t just disappear like this.

At least tell me what’s going on.

Still nothing.

The silence stretched.

Days.

Weeks.

And then blocked.

Just like that.

No explanation.

No closure.

Nothing.

San swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the table in front of him.

That had been the worst part.

Not the fight.

Not even the breakup.

It was the way she just… erased him.

Like he didn’t deserve to know.

Like everything they had built over five years meant nothing in the end.

A flicker of irritation stirred in his chest.

Because no matter how much time passed, that part never fully went away.

The part of him that was still frustrated.

Still angry.

Because she didn’t even try.

Didn’t reach out.

Didn’t give him anything to hold onto.

Just… left.

Even now, he didn’t know why.

“What are you thinking about?”

The voice pulled him back.

San blinked, looking up.

Mingi was watching him, one brow slightly raised. “You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m listening,” San replied automatically.

Mingi didn’t look convinced.

Neither did the others.

Beside him, Wooyoung leaned forward slightly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“No, you’re not.”

San shot him a look. “I am.”

“You’ve been staring at the same spot for the last five minutes.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not listening.”

“It kind of does.”

San exhaled quietly, leaning back again. “I’m fine.”

A pause.

“…Does this have something to do with her?”

The question came from Park Seonghwa this time, his tone calm, but knowing.

San stiffened slightly. “No.”

It came too quickly.

And everyone in the room knew it.

Wooyoung let out a quiet laugh. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

San frowned. “Can you drop it?”

“Not when it’s this obvious.”

“It’s not obvious.”

“It is,” Mingi added, leaning forward slightly now. “It’s always the same. You hear something that reminds you of her and suddenly you’re gone.”

San didn’t respond immediately.

Because they weren’t wrong.

That was the problem.

They were never wrong when it came to this.

“It’s been five years,” Jongho said quietly.

San’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

“Then why does it still—”

“It doesn’t,” San cut him off.

Another lie.

Another one they didn’t believe.

Hongjoong finally spoke again, his voice steady.

“You never got closure.”

San’s gaze flickered to him. “That’s not—”

“You didn’t,” Hongjoong repeated calmly. “She left. You never got an explanation. That kind of thing doesn’t just disappear.”

Silence.

Because there wasn’t really anything to argue with there.

San looked away.

Running a hand over his face.

“I’m fine,” he said again, quieter this time.

Wooyoung huffed softly. “You’ve been saying that for five years.”

“And I’ve been fine for five years.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

San didn’t answer.

Because again, they weren’t wrong.

And that was the part he hated the most.

The meeting room was already set up when they entered, in the marketing company.

Everything about it felt more… polished.

More structured.

San followed the others inside, his expression neutral again, the earlier conversation pushed to the back of his mind.

Or at least he tried.

He took his seat.

Adjusted slightly.

Let his gaze move over the room out of habit more than interest.

The door opened.

He didn’t think anything of it at first.

Just another person entering.

Another part of the team.

His attention shifted automatically and then stopped.

Because it was her.

Y/N.

For a second, his mind went blank.

Like it refused to process what he was seeing.

Because that didn’t make sense.

Not here.

Not now.

“Y/N?”

Her name left his mouth before he could stop it.

Before he could think.

Before he could remember where he was.

The room went quiet.

He didn’t notice.

Couldn’t.

Because she was standing there.

Right there.

Real.

Not a memory.

Not something his mind had pulled out of nowhere.

Actually there.

And she looked different.

But the same.

She had always been beautiful.

He knew that.

He had known it better than anyone.

But this was something else.

Something quieter.

More composed.

More… distant.

Her expression didn’t change much.

Didn’t show shock the way his did.

Didn’t show anything at all, really.

Just calm.

Like this wasn’t anything unusual.

Like he wasn’t sitting right in front of her after five years of silence.

“What are you doing here?”

The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Too direct.

Too personal.

Too much.

And still she didn’t react the way he expected.

She moved.

Stepped further into the room.

Set her things down.

“I work here.”

Three words.

Simple. Cold.

And they hit harder than anything else.

San stared at her.

Still trying to catch up.

Still trying to understand how this was even real.

Around him, the others had gone quiet.

Because they recognized her too.

Of course they did.

They had known her almost as long as he had.

Had seen her with him.

Had seen what they were.

And now she was sitting across from them like none of that had ever happened.

Like they were just… strangers.

San’s fingers curled slightly against the table.

Irritation flickered again.

Because she was ignoring it.

All of it.

Like it didn’t matter.

Like he didn’t matter.

Like those five years didn’t exist.

His chest tightened.

Because how could she just…

“Shall we begin?”

Her voice cut through the tension.

Like she was the only one in the room who wasn’t completely thrown off.

San stared at her.

Now she was right in front of him again.

Whether he was ready for it or not.

He didn’t hear a single word.

San sat there, hands loosely folded in front of him, gaze fixed somewhere in the middle of the table, and still… he didn’t register anything that was actually being said.

Because she was there.

Right in front of him.

Not a memory. Not a thought he couldn’t control. Not something that faded when he forced himself to focus.

Existing in the same space as him after five years of nothing.

And it threw everything off.

“…so we were thinking of focusing on a more natural concept—”

Someone was talking.

One of the marketing people.

Maybe her.

He didn’t know.

He couldn’t focus long enough to tell.

Because every time his eyes shifted, even slightly, they found her again.

Y/N.

Sitting across from him like this was normal.

Like they hadn’t shared five years of their lives.

Like she hadn’t disappeared without a word.

Like he hadn’t spent years wondering what the hell happened.

Her posture was straight.

Composed.

Her expression calm, focused on the presentation in front of her.

She spoke when she needed to.

Listened when others spoke.

Took notes.

Nodded.

Everything about her screamed professionalism.

And it irritated him.

More than it should.

Because how could she just sit there like that?

Like none of this mattered?

Like he didn’t matter?

His jaw tightened.

His fingers pressing slightly into the table.

And then a voice beside her.

Kim Jisoo.

San hadn’t paid much attention to him at first.

Just another employee.

Another part of the team.

Until he noticed the way he leaned slightly closer when Y/N spoke.

The way his tone shifted just a little when he addressed her.

Lighter. Almost teasing.

“Good point,” Jisoo said, glancing at her with a small smile. “I think that direction could work really well.”

Y/N nodded. “It would fit the brand’s image.”

“You are a genius,” he added.

She didn’t react much.

Just a small nod.

But San noticed.

Of course he did.

And something in his chest tightened again.

He shifted in his seat slightly, trying to ignore it.

Trying to focus on something else.

Anything else.

But it kept happening.

Small things.

Jisoo handing her a pen before she could reach for one.

Leaning closer to point something out on her notes.

A quiet comment that made her lips curve just slightly.

Enough for it to get under his skin in a way he didn’t understand.

Why did it bother him?

It shouldn’t.

Five years.

She had every right to move on.

To meet someone.

His jaw clenched and looked away.

Forced his attention somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

But his mind didn’t cooperate.

Because every time he tried to focus, the same thoughts came back.

She looks the same.

That wasn’t true.

She didn’t.

She looked… older.

Not in a bad way.

In a way that felt grounded.

Like she had lived through something and come out the other side stronger.

More certain.

More… distant.

That was the part that stayed with him.

The distance.

The way she didn’t look at him unless she had to.

The way she spoke like he was just another client.

Like he was nothing more than a name on a contract.

It didn’t make sense.

None of it did.

Because five years didn’t erase everything.

It couldn’t.

At least it hadn’t for him.

“…San?”

He blinked.

The room came back into focus.

Everyone was looking at him.

Hongjoong.

The staff.

Her.

San straightened slightly, realizing someone had asked him something.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Can you repeat that?”

There was a brief pause.

Then the question came again.

Something about preferences.

Concept direction.

He answered.

Automatically.

Muscle memory taking over where his mind couldn’t.

And then the meeting continued.

Like nothing had happened.

Like everything was normal.

Except it wasn’t.

Not for him.

Not when every second felt like he was sitting in the middle of something unfinished.

Something unresolved.

Something he never got the chance to understand.

By the time the meeting ended, his head felt heavy.

Not physically.

Just… full.

Too many thoughts.

Too many questions.

Too many things he didn’t know what to do with.

Chairs shifted.

Papers were gathered.

People started standing up.

She moved with them.

Something in his chest snapped.

He stood up immediately.

“Y/N.”

Her name came out sharper than he intended.

She paused.

Just for a second.

Then turned to him.

And for a moment he saw it.

Something in her expression.

Not surprise.

Not exactly.

Something softer.

Something that didn’t quite reach the surface.

Then it was gone.

Replaced by that same calm composure.

“Yes?”

That was it.

Just… yes.

His hands curled slightly at his sides.

“You can’t just leave again.”

The words came out before he could soften them.

Before he could think them through.

Her expression shifted.

Something sad flickering through her eyes.

Something that made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“I’m not leaving,” she said quietly. “I’m going back to work.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t pretend like you don’t.”

There was a brief silence.

The room had mostly emptied by now.

The others lingering just enough to notice.

To watch.

To understand that something was happening here.

Between them.

San took a step closer.

“You don’t get to do that again,” he said, his voice lower now, but still firm. “You don’t get to just walk away without explaining anything.”

Her gaze held his.

Steady.

And then ahe smiled.

Soft. Sad.

And it caught him off guard completely.

“I can understand why you feel that way,” she said.

That wasn’t what he expected.

Not anger.

Not defensiveness.

Just… understanding.

It threw him off.

“You left,” he said, frustration creeping back in. “You blocked me. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t—”

“I know.”

“Then explain it.”

She looked at him for a long moment.

And when she spoke again, her voice was still calm.

But there was something underneath it now.

Something heavier.

“I left because you never listened to me.”

The words landed quietly.

San frowned slightly.

“That’s not—”

“It is,” she said gently, not raising her voice, not interrupting harshly. Just… stating it.

“For over a year,” she continued, “I tried to talk to you. About how I felt. About how things were changing. And every time… you pushed me away.”

He opened his mouth.

Closed it again.

Because something about the way she said it…

It didn’t feel like an accusation.

It felt like a fact.

“I was always the problem,” she went on. “Always too emotional. Always bringing things up at the wrong time. Always making things harder for you.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“I know.”

Again.

That same quiet understanding.

And it made it worse.

Because she wasn’t angry.

She wasn’t blaming him.

She was just… explaining.

“And I couldn’t do it anymore,” she finished softly. “I couldn’t keep trying to be heard when you had already decided I was too much.”

“I didn’t—”

“I had something important to tell you that night.”

The words stopped him completely.

His breath caught.

Something important.

That night.

The pieces didn’t fit.

They never had.

Now it felt like they almost could.

“What?” he asked, the word coming out quieter than he expected.

She shook her head slightly.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does to me.”

She looked at him.

And there it was again.

That sadness.

“That’s the thing,” she said softly. “It didn’t, back then.”

That hit harder than anything else.

Because he didn’t have a way to argue with it.

Not when he knew how he had been.

The pressure.

The frustration.

The constant exhaustion.

He had been difficult.

Short-tempered.

Distant.

He knew that.

He just didn’t think it had been enough to drive her away.

“I decided to leave,” she continued, her voice steady again now. “And I want to keep it that way.”

Silence.

San stared at her.

Trying to process.

Trying to understand.

Trying to figure out what he was supposed to say to that.

But nothing came.

Nothing that made sense.

Nothing that felt right.

Because suddenly, everything felt… different.

Not just confusing.

Not just frustrating.

Wrong.

Like he had missed something important.

Something he should have known.

Something that could have changed everything.

Now it was too late.

She gave him one last look.

Then turned away.

The ride back to the dorm was quiet.

Too quiet.

No one spoke at first.

Not even Wooyoung.

Not even Mingi.

And that said a lot.

San sat by the window, his gaze fixed somewhere outside, though he wasn’t really seeing anything.

His mind was still in that room.

Still stuck on her words.

I had something important to tell you that night.

His chest tightened.

Because that didn’t make sense.

Why didn’t she say it then?

Why didn’t she just…

No.

He knew why.

Because he hadn’t listened.

Because he had shut her down before she even had the chance.

Because he had assumed.

Again.

Silence stretched.

“What actually happened?”

Hongjoong’s voice.

San didn’t respond immediately.

“What do you mean?”

“You never told us,” Hongjoong continued. “Not really. Just that you broke up.”

San’s jaw tightened slightly.

“That’s what happened.”

“That’s not all that happened,” Seonghwa added quietly.

San exhaled slowly.

Leaning back slightly.

For a moment, he considered brushing it off.

Saying it didn’t matter.

That it was in the past.

It didn’t feel like the past anymore.

Not after today.

Not after seeing her again.

“Fine,” he muttered.

Silence settled again.

He spoke.

“It wasn’t just one fight,” he said slowly.

His gaze dropped.

Memories surfacing.

Clearer than they had been in a long time.

“We had been arguing for months.”

Not arguing.

Not really.

It had been something else.

Something quieter.

More exhausting.

“She kept saying she felt… alone,” he continued. “That I wasn’t there. That things were changing.”

He let out a quiet breath.

“And I kept telling her I was just busy.”

Because he was.

That had been true.

But it hadn’t been the whole truth.

“I was stressed,” he admitted. “All the time. Everything felt like too much. The pressure, the schedules… I couldn’t deal with anything else on top of that.”

Including her.

He swallowed.

“She would try to talk to me,” he said. “And I would just… shut it down. Because I didn’t have the energy for it.”

The words felt heavier now.

Looking back.

“I thought she would understand,” he added quietly.

Silence.

Because they all knew that wasn’t enough.

“And then that night…” he trailed off.

His hands clenched slightly.

“She was waiting for me when I got home,” he said. “I didn’t even ask why. I just assumed it was another argument.”

Because it always had been.

“I told her I didn’t have the energy for it,” he continued. “Before she even said anything.”

His chest tightened.

“She tried to talk anyway,” he said. “And I… got frustrated.”

Understatement.

“I said things I shouldn’t have.”

Like always.

“And then…”

He hesitated.

“I told her maybe we should just break up.”

“And you didn’t mean it,” Mingi said quietly.

“No,” San admitted. “I didn’t.”

He had never meant it.

Not for a second.

“But she took it seriously.”

Of course she did.

“She went quiet,” he said. “And then she just… agreed.”

That had been the part that threw him off the most.

Not anger.

Not yelling.

Just… acceptance.

“I thought she would calm down,” he added. “That she would come back.”

Like always.

“But she didn’t.”

The words felt hollow.

Even now.

“I went home the next day and she was gone.”

His throat felt tight.

“She blocked me. Didn’t answer anything. Just… disappeared.”

Silence settled again.

No one interrupted.

No one filled the space.

Because there wasn’t anything to say.

For a moment, San just stared ahead.

“There was something else.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

The others looked at him.

“What?” Wooyoung asked.

San hesitated.

Because he hadn’t told anyone this.

Not even them.

“I was going to propose.”

“What?” Mingi blinked.

San let out a quiet breath.

“I had a ring,” he said. “Hidden. I was just waiting for the right moment.”

A humorless smile tugged at his lips.

“Which never came.”

Because he had been too busy.

Too stressed.

Too caught up in everything else.

“And then she left.”

And that was it.

No proposal.

No closure.

No explanation.

Just…Nothing.

San leaned his head back slightly, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

“And now she’s back,” he muttered.

But everything between them still felt unfinished.

The week didn’t go the way she expected.

That was the simplest way to put it.

After that first meeting, something had shifted in a way she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she tried to act like nothing had happened.

Because it hadn’t just been unexpected.

It had been… destabilizing.

Y/N stood by the window of her apartment that morning, her arms loosely wrapped around herself, staring out at the quiet street below. Seoul was already awake, the city moving at ist usual pace, but for once she felt… out of sync with it.

Her thoughts kept circling back.

To the meeting.

To him.

To the way he had said her name.

To the way everything she had carefully kept separate had suddenly collided without warning.

She closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly.

You handled it well.

That was what she told herself.

And it was true.

She had stayed calm. Professional. Distant.

Exactly how she needed to be.

“Mama?”

Her eyes opened immediately.

Heewa stood in the doorway, still in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes slightly as she looked at her.

“You’re awake early,” Y/N said softly, forcing a small smile.

“I had a dream.”

“Oh?” She crouched down slightly. “Was it a good one?”

Heewa nodded. “I dreamed I had a puppy.”

“That does sound like a good dream.”

“It was.”

The little girl stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s waist without hesitation.

And just like that, the tension in her chest eased.

A little.

Y/N rested her chin lightly on top of Heewa’s head, holding her for a moment longer than usual.

“…Mama?”

“Hmm?”

“You feel weird.”

Y/N stilled.

Just slightly.

“Do I?”

Heewa nodded against her. “A little.”

Y/N swallowed.

Because children noticed everything.

Even the things she tried to hide.

“I’m okay,” she said gently, pulling back just enough to look at her. “Just thinking about work.”

Heewa studied her for a second.

Then…“Okay.”

And just like that, she accepted it.

But she didn’t let go.

If anything, she clung a little tighter.

And Y/N felt it.

That quiet understanding.

That instinctive closeness.

And something in her chest ached.

The following days at work were… different.

Subtle.

But noticeable.

Her colleagues weren’t blind.

Of course they weren’t.

They had seen it.

The tension.

The way San had reacted.

The way she had responded.

The way the air in the room had shifted in a way that had nothing to do with business.

She tried to brush it off.

“We‘re just old acquaintances.”

That was what she said.

Simple.

Neutral.

Nothing more.

And most of them accepted it.

Or at least pretended to.

But the atmosphere had changed.

Just enough that she noticed.

Just enough that she started avoiding the meetings.

Not all of them.

Just… most.

She focused on her work instead.

On things she could control.

On things that didn’t involve sitting across from him and pretending like five years hadn’t happened.

It was easier that way.

Safer.

The call came early.

Too early.

“Mama?”

Heewa’s voice was confused, still half-asleep as Y/N pulled her phone away from her ear.

“The kindergarten is closed today,” Y/N said, trying to keep her tone calm.

“Closed?”

“All the teachers are sick.”

Heewa blinked. “So… no school?”

“No school.”

A pause.

“That’s amazing.”

Y/N let out a quiet breath, pinching the bridge of her nose slightly.

Right.

Amazing for her.

Less amazing for Y/N.

Because she still had work.

And no one to watch her.

She glanced at the clock.

Then at her phone.

She dialed her boss.

The call didn’t last long.

“I can take a sick day,” Y/N offered, already feeling guilty about it. “I’m really sorry for the short notice—”

“Don’t worry about it,” her boss cut in easily. “Actually, you can just bring her.”

Y/N blinked.

“…What?”

“It’s fine,” he continued. “It’s a small office. We’re not that strict. As long as she doesn’t cause trouble.”

Y/N hesitated.

Because that felt unexpected.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Of course. It’s just one day.”

She hesitated for a second longer.

“Okay. Thank you.”

When she hung up, Heewa was already watching her with wide eyes.

“Can I come to your work?”

Y/N sighed softly.

“Yes.”

Heewa’s face lit up immediately.

“Really?”

“Yes. But—”

She crouched down, her expression turning slightly more serious.

“You have to behave, okay?”

“I will!”

“You have to stay quiet when I’m working.”

“I can do that.”

“And no running around.”

“…No running.”

Y/N raised a brow slightly.

“…Okay, maybe a little running.”

“Heewa.”

“Okay, no running.”

Y/N smiled faintly.

“We’ll see.”

The office reacted exactly how she expected.

Which was to say they loved her immediately.

“She’s adorable.”

“That’s your daughter?”

“She looks just like—”

The sentence trailed off.

Because someone caught themselves.

But Y/N noticed.

Of course she did.

Because it wasn’t just her.

It was obvious.

It always had been.

Heewa looked like him.

Not in a subtle way.

Not in a way that could be overlooked.

In a way that made it impossible not to notice.

The same eyes.

The same shape.

The same expressions.

Even the way she smiled.

It was all there.

Y/N forced herself not to think about it too much.

Because she didn’t have the energy for that today.

Instead she focused on work.

On keeping Heewa occupied.

On maintaining the balance she had built.

And for a while it worked.

Heewa sat at an empty desk, happily drawing, occasionally looking up to show Y/N something new.

Her colleagues came by, chatting with her, laughing at her stories, completely charmed.

Even Jisoo.

Especially Jisoo.

“Well, hello,” he said with a grin, crouching slightly beside her desk. “And who are you?”

“I’m Heewa.”

“That’s a beautiful name.”

“My mama picked it.”

“Then your mama has good taste.”

He glanced up briefly, meeting Y/N’s gaze.

And there it was again.

That subtle warmth.

That easy interest.

It didn’t make her uncomfortable.

It just… was.

“Do you draw a lot?” he asked Heewa.

“Yes!”

“Can you draw me?”

Heewa gasped. “Yes!”

And just like that, she was fully occupied.

Y/N watched them for a moment.

Then shook her head slightly, returning to her work.

For a brief moment, It felt… normal.

Like everything had settled again. Like maybe this really could work. Like she could balance all of it.

Her job. Her daughter.

Her past staying exactly where it belonged.

“Y/N?”

She looked up.

Her boss stood nearby.

“Can you come to the meeting room?”

Her stomach dropped slightly.

“Now?”

“Yes. Just a quick follow-up.”

Her mind immediately jumped to the worst possibility.

No.

ATEEZ wasn’t supposed to come today.

The schedule had been clear.

This was just internal.

Just work.

She nodded slowly.

“Of course.”

Then she glanced at Heewa.

“Can she stay here?”

Her boss hesitated.

“She can come,” Jisoo cut in easily. “It’s fine.”

Y/N looked at him.

Then at her boss. “…Are you sure?”

“It’s okay,” her boss said. “Just this once.”

Y/N hesitated.

Then nodded.

“Alright.”

She crouched down in front of Heewa.

“Okay, listen to me,” she said gently. “This is important.”

Heewa straightened immediately.

Serious.

“I know.”

“You have to be very well-behaved.”

“I will.”

“No talking unless someone talks to you first.”

“Okay.”

“And stay close to me.”

“I will.”

Y/N smiled softly.

“Good.”

She stood.

Took her hand.

And walked toward the meeting room.

The door opened.

And everything stopped.

Her breath.

Her thoughts.

Her sense of control.

Because they were there.

ATEEZ

All of them.

Sitting exactly where they had been the first time.

Like nothing had changed.

Like this was just another meeting.

But it wasn’t.

Not this time.

Not with…“Mama?”

Heewa’s voice was quiet.

Uncertain.

Because she felt it too.

The shift.

The tension.

Y/N tightened her grip on her hand slightly.

“It’s okay,” she murmured.

But it wasn’t.

Not even close.

“Ah,” Jisoo stepped forward slightly, breaking the silence. “We have a small addition today.”

He smiled lightly.

“Our colleague’s daughter is here because her kindergarten is closed.”

Every eye shifted.

Toward them.

Toward her.

Toward Heewa.

And then it happened.

The moment she had feared without even realizing it.

Because the resemblance it was impossible to ignore.

Y/N felt it.

The shift in the room.

The subtle tension.

The way attention sharpened.

San.

He wasn’t looking at her.

Not this time.

His focus was entirely somewhere else.

On her daughter. Their daughter.

Like he couldn’t process what he was seeing.

Like his mind was trying to catch up to something it wasn’t ready for.

“Mama?”

Heewa tugged lightly on her hand.

Y/N crouched down slightly.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

But her heart was beating too fast.

Because she knew.

She knew what he was seeing.

What everyone was seeing.

Before she could say anything else, Heewa stepped forward slightly.

“I’m going to be a big girl,” she announced, her voice small but determined.

Silence.

Soft.

Heavy.

“And I can draw for you,” she added, looking at the group.

At that the tension shifted slightly.

But not enough.

Not nearly enough.

Because San, he still hadn’t looked away.

From the little girl who looked exactly like him.

Main Masterlist | Sans Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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The apartment was too quiet.

It always was when he wasn’t there.

Y/N sat on the edge of the couch, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Fingers pressing into each other hard enough to hurt. She had been sitting like that for longer than she could tell. Minutes had stopped meaning anything. The only thing she could track was the ticking clock on the wall and the way her chest rose and fell a little too fast, a little too shallow.

She had tried to distract herself earlier.

Tried cleaning. Tried scrolling through her phone. Tried watching something meaningless just to fill the silence.

None of it worked.

Because everything kept coming back to the same thought.

I have to tell him.

Her hand moved almost unconsciously, resting lightly against her stomach. It wasn’t something visible. There was no difference from the outside. Nothing that would give it away.

But she knew.

And that was enough to change everything.

A week.

It had been one week since she found out.

Seven days of carrying something that felt too big for her alone. Seven days of rehearsing conversations in her head. Seven days of imagining his reaction, over and over again. Until every version blurred into something she could no longer trust.

At first, she had been scared.

Then overwhelmed.

Then… hopeful.

Because maybe this could fix things.

Maybe this would be the thing that pulled them back together. The thing that reminded him of who they used to be before everything became so complicated, so strained, so exhausting.

Before every conversation felt like it was one wrong word away from turning into a fight.

She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a moment.

Five years.

They had been together for five years.

Before the fame. Before the stage lights. Before anyone knew his name beyond a small circle of people who believed in him and his dream.

She had been there when it was just that. A dream.

Late nights in cramped rooms. Music playing too loudly through cheap speakers. Him pacing back and forth, frustrated and determined in the same breath. Her sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching him with quiet admiration as he tried to shape something out of nothing.

Back then, things had been simple.

Not easy, but simple.

He used to come to her after long days and collapse beside her, head falling against her shoulder like he could finally breathe again.

He used to look at her like she was something steady in a world that never stopped moving.

And she had believed him when he said they would get through everything together.

She swallowed hard.

Because somewhere along the way, that changed.

The last year had been… different.

Not in one sudden, obvious way. It didn’t happen overnight. It was slower than that. Subtle enough that she hadn’t noticed at first. Or maybe she had, and she just didn’t want to admit it.

It started with small things.

Cancelled plans.

Late replies.

“I’m busy” turning into “I’ll call you later” turning into nothing at all.

She had told herself it was normal.

Of course it was. His life had changed. Everything had changed. He was working harder than ever, chasing something he had wanted for so long.

She wanted to be understanding.

She tried to be.

But understanding didn’t stop the feeling that had slowly settled into her chest.

The feeling of being… left behind.

It wasn’t just that he wasn’t there.

It was that when he was there, it didn’t feel the same anymore.

Conversations that used to flow easily now felt forced. Silences stretched too long. And when she tried to talk about it, really talk about it, it always ended the same way.

With both of them frustrated.

With both of them saying things they didn’t mean.

With both of them walking away feeling worse than before.

She shifted slightly on the couch, her gaze drifting toward the door.

He was late.

Again.

Her fingers tightened together.

She shouldn’t be surprised. She wasn’t. It had become something she expected now, even if a part of her still hoped, every time, that maybe today would be different.

That maybe today he would come home, see her, and just… be happy to see her.

She let out a quiet breath, leaning back slightly, her head resting against the couch.

Tonight will be different.

It had to be.

Because tonight, she wasn’t going to argue. She wasn’t going to bring up everything that had been building for months. She wasn’t going to let it turn into another exhausting cycle of raised voices and half-finished sentences.

She just needed to tell him.

That was all.

And then maybe… they could find their way back.

The sound of the door unlocking made her sit up immediately.

Her heart jumped, her body going tense without her meaning it to.

For a brief second, something soft flickered through her chest.

Relief.

He was home.

The door opened, and Choi San stepped inside.

He looked tired.

His shoulders were slightly slumped, movements slower than usual. His hair was still styled from whatever schedule he had just come from. But it was slightly messy now, like he had run his hands through it too many times. His eyes looked heavy, shadows faint beneath them.

He kicked off his shoes absentmindedly, stepping further into the apartment.

Then he saw her.

And everything shifted.

It was subtle, but she saw it immediately.

The way his posture stiffened.

The way his expression changed.

Not surprise.

Not relief.

Something else.

Something that made her chest tighten.

“Y/N?”

There was a pause.

She opened her mouth, a small, nervous smile forming on her lips.

“I was waiting for you.”

She tried to keep her voice soft. Careful. Like she was approaching something fragile.

For a split second, she thought maybe it would be okay.

Maybe...

He sighed.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Enough to make something in her stomach drop.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes closing briefly as if he was already bracing himself.

“Can this not be another argument right now?”

The words landed before she could even process them.

Her smile faltered.

“What?”

“I just got back,” he continued, his voice tired, strained. “I had a long day. I really don’t have the energy for this tonight.”

For this.

She stared at him, something like disbelief flickering across her face.

“I didn’t even say anything yet.”

He let out a quiet, humorless breath, like that didn’t matter.

“Y/N, please. Every time we talk lately it turns into something.”

Something.

That was what it was to him now.

Not a conversation.

Not her feelings.

Just… something.

She felt her fingers curl slightly against her palms.

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

“And I’m telling you I’m tired.”

His tone wasn’t loud. That almost made it worse.

It was flat. Dismissive.

Like he had already decided how this was going to go before she even had a chance to say anything.

Her chest tightened.

“I’ve been waiting all day.”

“I didn’t ask you to wait.”

That one hit.

She blinked, taken aback for a moment, like she wasn’t sure if she had heard him right.

“I know you didn’t,” she said slowly. “I wanted to.”

“Then don’t get upset about it.”

Something cracked.

It was small.

But it was there.

“I’m not upset about waiting,” she said, her voice a little sharper now despite her effort to keep it steady. “I just… I wanted to see you.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Because yes.

He was here.

But it didn’t feel like it.

The silence that followed was thick, uncomfortable.

He moved past her, dropping his bag onto the chair, rubbing his face with both hands like he was trying to shake off the day.

She watched him.

And suddenly, the words she had been holding onto all week felt… fragile.

Like they didn’t belong in this moment anymore.

But she couldn’t just not say them.

Not after everything.

“San…”

Her voice was softer now.

Careful again.

He stilled slightly at the sound of his name, but he didn’t turn around.

“What?”

There was something about the way he said it.

Short.

Impatient.

Like she was already asking for too much.

She swallowed.

“I need you to listen to me for a second.”

“I am listening.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

He exhaled sharply, turning around then, his expression already edged with frustration.

“Okay. I’m looking. What is it?”

Her heart was beating too fast.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

She had imagined this moment so many times.

None of those versions looked like this.

She hesitated.

Just for a second.

And that was enough.

“Is this about me being busy again?” he asked, his voice tightening. “Because I already told you I can’t just drop everything...”

“It’s not just that,” she interrupted, a little more urgently than she meant to.

“Then what is it?” he shot back. “Because it’s always something lately.”

The words settled between them like something heavy.

Her breath caught.

Always something.

She looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment, she didn’t recognize the way he was looking back at her.

Like this was a burden.

Like she was.

Her fingers trembled slightly where they rested in her lap.

“I’m not trying to start a fight.”

“It feels like you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why does it always end like this?”

“Because you don’t listen to me,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Silence.

Sharp.

Immediate.

His expression hardened.

“I am listening.”

“You’re not hearing me.”

“What do you want me to hear?” he asked, his voice rising just slightly now. “That I’m not doing enough? That I’m not here enough? I know that already.”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

“Then what are you saying?”

Her chest felt tight.

Too tight.

“I just feel like I don’t matter anymore.”

The words were quiet.

But they hit.

He stared at her.

For a second, something flickered in his eyes.

Something softer.

Something that almost looked like guilt.

And then it was gone.

Replaced by frustration.

“Why does it always come back to this?” he asked, running a hand through his hair again. “You know how much pressure I’m under right now. You know how hard this is.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I’m not saying it’s not—”

“Then why can’t you just understand that I can’t always be here?”

“I’m not asking you to be here all the time!”

“Then what are you asking for?”

She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Because suddenly, she didn’t know how to explain it in a way he would understand.

“I just… I miss you,” she said finally.

And for a moment, everything stilled.

But instead of softening, something in him seemed to snap.

“I’m right here.”

“No,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “You’re not.”

That did it.

Something in his expression shifted completely.

Frustration turning into something sharper.

“I don’t have the energy for this,” he said, his voice colder now. “I just got back, and this is the first thing you bring up?”

“I wasn’t trying to fight...”

“Then what is it?” he snapped, frustration finally breaking through. “Because it’s always the same lately. You’re upset, I’m not doing enough, I’m not here enough...”

“That’s not what I’m saying...”

“Then what are you saying?” he cut in, his voice sharper now, tiredness turning into something harsher. “Because I can’t keep dealing with you every time I come home.”

She froze slightly at that. “Dealing with me?”

“Yes,” he gestured vaguely toward her, his expression strained. “Your mood swings. One day you’re fine, the next you’re distant, then suddenly everything’s a problem again. I don’t know what you want from me.”

The words landed harder than he intended.

Her fingers tightened at her sides. “My mood swings?”

“I didn’t mean it like that...”

“But you said it.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I just...if you’re this unhappy with me all the time, then what are we even doing?”

She stared at him.

And then he said it.

Quiet, but clear.

“Maybe we should just break up.”

The words rang in the air.

Too loud.

Too harsh.

She flinched.

Just slightly.

But he saw it.

And for a split second, he hesitated.

But it was already too late.

Her eyes dropped for a moment, her breathing uneven.

And then she went quiet.

Not the kind of quiet they were used to.

Not the tense, waiting kind.

This was different.

Still.

Final.

She looked back up at him.

And something in her expression had changed.

“I see.”

Her voice was calm.

Too calm.

He frowned slightly.

“What does that mean?”

She shook her head a little. “Nothing.”

“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s clearly not...”

“I said it’s fine.”

He stared at her.

Confused now.

Thrown off.

Because this wasn’t how it usually went.

She wasn’t arguing.

She wasn’t pushing back.

She wasn’t trying to make him understand.

She was just… stopping.

And that unsettled him more than anything else.

“Y/N…”

She stood up.

Her movements were quiet, controlled.

“I think you’re right.”

His brows furrowed. “About what?”

She looked at him.

And for the first time, there was distance in her eyes.

Real distance.

“Maybe this isn’t working anymore.”

The words hit harder than anything else that had been said that night.

His expression shifted immediately.

“What?”

“I mean it,” she continued, her voice steady despite the way her chest felt like it was caving in. “I don’t think we’re good for each other right now.”

“Where is this coming from?” he asked, taking a step toward her. “We just...this is just another argument. We’ve had worse.”

“That’s the problem.”

“What?”

“We’ve had worse,” she repeated softly. “And we keep having worse.”

“That doesn’t mean we just...what are you saying right now?”

“I’m saying I think we should stop.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“No.”

The word came out immediately.

Firm.

Shaken.

“No, we’re not doing that.”

She looked at him, something aching in her chest.

“I am.”

“Y/N—”

“I’m tired, San.”

Her voice cracked slightly on his name.

“I’m so tired of feeling like this.”

“We can fix this.”

“We’ve been saying that for a year.”

“That doesn’t mean we give up.”

“I’m not giving up,” she said quietly. “I’m letting go.”

He shook his head, stepping closer.

“No. No, you don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“You’re just upset right now. You know I didn't mean it.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why now?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly. “Why like this?”

Because you didn’t even let me speak.

Because I was going to tell you something that would’ve changed everything.

Because you already decided I was a problem before I could even open my mouth.

The words stayed in her throat.

She couldn’t say them.

Not anymore.

Because suddenly… they didn’t feel safe there.

“I just know I can’t keep doing this,” she said instead.

He stared at her like he didn’t recognize her.

“Don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I am.”

“Y/N—”

“I’ll come back for the rest of my things later.”

And that was when it really hit him.

“You’re serious.”

She nodded.

And something in his chest dropped.

“No,” he said again, softer this time. “No, we’re not ending this over one fight.”

“It’s not one fight.”

“Then we’ll fix it.”

“We tried.”

“We can try again.”

She shook her head.

“I don’t have it in me anymore.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“Then I’ll try harder,” he said quickly. “I will. I swear. Just...don’t do this. Don't leave me, please.”

Her eyes softened for a second.

Because part of her wanted to believe him.

Part of her always would.

But another part… the part that had been hurting for so long… knew better.

“I needed you to listen tonight,” she said quietly.

“I’m listening now.”

She smiled faintly.

“It’s too late.”

And then she turned away.

He reached for her.

“Y/N, wait—”

But she stepped back.

Just enough.

“I’m sorry.”

And then she walked past him.

Toward the door.

Toward the end of something that had once meant everything.

Her hand brushed against her stomach as she reached for the handle.

A small, instinctive movement.

One he didn’t notice.

She paused for just a second.

Just one.

And in that moment, she almost turned around.

Almost told him.

Almost gave him the chance to know.

But then his words echoed in her head.

I can’t keep doing this with you.

Her grip tightened.

And then she opened the door.

And left.

Without ever telling him… that he wasn’t just losing her.

The city felt different.

Y/N noticed it the moment she stepped out of the subway that morning, her daughter’s small hand wrapped tightly around her fingers. Seoul had always been loud, fast, restless in a way that never truly allowed anyone to stand still. Five years ago, it had swallowed her whole. Back then, it felt overwhelming, unpredictable, almost suffocating.

Now, it felt… steady.

Or maybe she was the one who had changed.

“Heewa, slow down.”

The little girl beside her was practically bouncing with excitement, her free hand swinging as she tried to keep up with her own enthusiasm more than with her mother’s pace.

“But we’re gonna be late,” Heewa insisted, her voice bright and slightly breathless as she half-skipped over a crack in the pavement.

“We’re not late,” Y/N replied, smiling despite herself. “We’re early.”

“That’s basically the same thing.”

Y/N let out a quiet laugh under her breath, shaking her head. “It really isn’t.”

Heewa huffed softly, though there was no real frustration behind it. Her attention was already drifting, dark eyes widening as she took in everything around her like it was all new, even though they had been walking this same route for two months now.

Two months.

It still felt strange to think about.

Two months since she moved back.

Two months since she stepped into a life that was entirely her own.

For years, she had stayed in her hometown, tucked away in something quieter, something safer. Living with her parents had been the right decision back then. She had needed the support, the stability, the extra set of hands when everything felt like too much.

Especially in the beginning.

Her grip on Heewa’s hand tightened slightly without her noticing.

Those first months had been the hardest.

Learning how to be a mother while still trying to hold herself together. Nights where sleep didn’t come, where the silence felt heavier than anything else. Days where she questioned every decision she had made.

And through all of it, one thought had lingered quietly in the background.

Should I have told him?

Even now, it still came back sometimes.

Uninvited. Unwanted.

She pushed it away like she always did.

Because no matter how much it lingered, the answer never really changed.

No.

It had been the best decision.

It had to be.

He was living a completely different life now.

A life that didn’t have space for something like this.

For her.

For… them.

Her gaze shifted slightly, settling on the little girl beside her.

Heewa was still talking, something about a new friend she hoped would be in her class today, her words spilling over each other in a way that made it hard to follow every detail.

Y/N listened anyway.

She always did.

Because this… this was her life now.

And despite everything, despite the past that still lingered at the edges of her thoughts, she had built something good.

Something steady.

Something real.

They reached the kindergarten a few minutes later, the familiar building coming into view. Bright colors, small decorations near the entrance, the sound of children already playing somewhere inside.

Heewa’s grip tightened excitedly.

“Can I go now?”

Y/N laughed softly. “You still have to say goodbye to me first.”

The girl turned to her immediately, her expression suddenly serious as she stepped closer. “Okay.”

Y/N crouched down in front of her, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her daughter’s face.

And for a moment, she just… looked at her.

It still caught her off guard sometimes.

How much Heewa looked like him.

It wasn’t just one feature.

It was everything.

The shape of her eyes. The way they curved slightly when she smiled. The dark color of them, bright and expressive in a way that felt so familiar it almost hurt.

Even the way she tilted her head sometimes, just slightly, when she was curious about something.

A small, unintentional mirror of someone she hadn’t seen in five years.

Y/N swallowed the thought before it could settle too deeply.

“You’re going to have fun today, okay?” she said gently.

Heewa nodded eagerly. “I will.”

“And you’ll listen to your teacher?”

“Yes.”

“And be nice to the other kids?”

“I’m always nice.”

Y/N raised a brow slightly. “Always?”

Heewa hesitated.

“…Most of the time.”

“That’s better.”

They both smiled.

Then Heewa leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s neck in a quick, tight hug.

“I’ll tell you everything later,” she promised.

“I’m counting on it.”

The girl pulled back, already turning toward the entrance before Y/N could say anything else.

“Bye, Mama!”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

Y/N watched her go, the small figure disappearing inside with a burst of energy that made her chest feel warm.

And just a little heavy.

She stayed there for a moment longer than necessary.

Then she stood, exhaling quietly before turning away.

There was work to do.

And for the first time in a long time… she didn’t dread it.

The office was small.

That had been one of the reasons she felt comfortable accepting the job.

A small marketing firm, nothing too overwhelming, nothing too demanding in a way that would pull her back into the kind of life she had deliberately stepped away from.

It was enough.

Enough to give her structure. Enough to give her purpose.

Enough to remind her that she was more than just… surviving.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.”

She greeted her coworkers as she stepped inside, setting her bag down at her desk, already slipping into a routine that had become familiar over the past two months.

There was something grounding about it.

The quiet hum of computers. The low conversations. The soft clatter of keyboards.

It was simple.

And she liked that.

“Y/N.”

She looked up at the sound of her name, her boss standing near her desk with a folder in hand.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Of course.”

She stood, stepping closer as he handed her the file.

“We’ve got a new assignment,” he explained. “It’s a short-term campaign. Starts tomorrow.”

She nodded, flipping the folder open, scanning the first few pages.

“A brand collaboration?” she asked.

“Exactly. They want something fresh. A new angle. You’ll be working on the initial concept.”

“Got it.”

Her eyes moved over the details, taking in the scope of the project.

It wasn’t small.

But it wasn’t overwhelming either.

Just… interesting.

“A K-pop group?” she noted, glancing up briefly.

“Yeah. Probably not one of the huge ones, so don’t worry,” he added with a small smile. “We wouldn’t get that kind of contract anyway. We didn't get a lot information yet.”

She let out a quiet laugh.

“Right.”

That made sense.

This firm wasn’t big enough for something like that.

So there was no reason to worry.

No reason to overthink.

She looked back down at the file, her mind already shifting into focus.

“Alright,” she said, nodding slightly. “I’ll start working on some ideas today.”

“Perfect. I’ll check in later.”

He walked off, leaving her with the folder and a sense of something… new.

Excitement, maybe.

Or just… purpose.

She sat back down, opening her laptop, the familiar rhythm of work settling in quickly.

Ideas came easier than she expected.

She let herself get lost in it.

Concepts. Visual directions. Messaging angles.

Time passed without her noticing.

And for once, her mind didn’t drift back to the past.

Didn’t linger on things she couldn’t change.

It stayed here.

Present.

Focused.

Alive in a way that felt unfamiliar, but welcome.

Maybe this was what it felt like to move forward.

By the time she left work, the sky had already started to dim.

She checked the time as she stepped outside, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

Right on schedule.

The walk to the kindergarten felt shorter this time.

Or maybe she was just more tired.

Either way, by the time she reached the familiar building, the last of the children were already being picked up.

She spotted Heewa almost immediately.

Sitting on a small bench near the entrance, legs swinging slightly as she waited.

The moment she saw Y/N, her face lit up.

“Mama!”

She jumped up, running toward her without hesitation.

Y/N barely had time to brace herself before she was wrapped in a hug.

“Hey,” she murmured softly, returning it just as tightly. “Did you have a good day?”

“The best day.”

“That sounds serious.”

“It is.”

Y/N smiled, pulling back slightly. “Tell me everything.”

And Heewa did.

The entire walk home.

Every detail.

Every new friend. Every game. Every small moment that felt important in her world.

Y/N listened.

She always did.

Because these were the moments she didn’t want to miss.

Dinner was simple.

Nothing complicated. Just something warm, something easy after a long day.

They sat across from each other at the small table in their apartment, the soft glow of the kitchen light filling the space.

Heewa swung her legs slightly under the chair, still talking between bites.

And for a while, everything felt… normal.

Comfortable.

Safe.

“Mama?”

Y/N looked up.

“Hmm?”

Heewa hesitated.

Just slightly.

“Do I have a dad? The other kids have one.”

The question was soft.

Careful.

But it landed harder than anything else that day.

Y/N’s hand stilled for a moment.

Just a moment.

Then she set her chopsticks down gently.

She had known this would come eventually.

It wasn’t the first time.

And it wouldn’t be the last.

She looked at her daughter.

Really looked at her.