julia!

Nothing had happened. Nothing had changed.

This was just another meeting.

Her gaze stayed forward, fixed on the papers in front of her. She didn’t look at him. Not again. She couldn’t afford to.

If she didn’t look, maybe it would stay contained. Maybe it would stay manageable. Maybe he hadn’t noticed.

Maybe he hadn’t…No.

That wasn’t true.

She had seen his face.

The way he looked at Heewa. That wasn’t confusion. That was something else.

Something that made her chest feel tight.

But he hadn’t said anything.

And as long as he didn’t say anything, she could pretend.

She could keep it exactly where it was.

The meeting continued.

Voices filled the room again. Conversations picked up where they had left off, like the moment hadn’t happened at all. Like a small child standing in the middle of the room, looking exactly like one of the people sitting at the table, was something that could be overlooked.

Y/N forced herself to listen.

Her voice didn’t shake.

Her hands stayed steady.

She kept everything controlled.

And still she felt it.

The weight of his gaze. Even when she didn’t look.

Heewa stayed quiet.

Just like she had promised.

She sat beside Y/N, her small notebook open, drawing carefully, occasionally glancing up with wide, observant eyes.

Y/N noticed it.

The way she looked between her and San. The way she shifted slightly closer. The way her small hand reached for Y/N’s sleeve without thinking.

And it made something inside her chest ache.

Because Heewa didn’t know.

But she still felt that something was wrong.

The meeting ended too slowly.

Every second stretched longer than it should have.

Every moment felt like it could break.

When people started standing up, chairs shifting, conversations picking up again—

Y/N exhaled quietly.

It’s over.

That was all she needed.

Just to leave.

To walk out of the room and put distance between this moment and everything that came with it.

She stood.

Her hand finding Heewa’s again.

“Come on,” she murmured softly.

Heewa nodded, closing her notebook quickly, holding onto it like something important.

They moved toward the door.

Step by step.

Almost there.

“Y/N.”

She froze.

Of course he wouldn’t let it go.

Of course it wouldn’t end like that.

She closed her eyes for a brief second.

Then opened them again.

She turned.

And there he was.

Standing just a few steps behind her.

Closer than before.

Closer than he had been in five years.

Her heart skipped once.

“Yes?”

Her voice was calm.

Like she had practiced it.

Like this was just another conversation.

He didn’t look calm.

Not even close.

His expression was tight.

Controlled in a way that didn’t quite hold.

Like he was trying to keep something in and failing.

“We need to talk.”

Her grip on Heewa’s hand tightened slightly.

Heewa pressed closer to her leg, her small fingers curling into the fabric of her pants.

“Mama?”

“I’m here,” Y/N said softly, glancing down briefly.

But her daughter didn’t relax.

If anything, she clung tighter.

Her gaze fixed on San now.

Suspicious. Uncertain.

Like she didn’t trust him.

Y/N swallowed.

Of course she didn’t.

He was a stranger to her. Just a man standing too close. Speaking in a tone that felt too serious. Too intense.

“She’ll just go back to her desk,” Y/N said, her voice quieter now as she looked at him again. “We can talk later.”

“No,” he said immediately.

And Heewa flinched slightly.

That was enough.

Something in Y/N’s chest tightened.

Protective.

Instinctive.

“Not like that,” she said, her tone shifting slightly. “You’re scaring her.”

He stilled.

Just for a second.

“Hey,” another voice cut in.

Jisoo.

He stepped closer easily, crouching down slightly so he was at Heewa’s level, his expression soft, warm.

“Why don’t you come with me for a bit?”

Heewa hesitated.

Still clinging to Y/N.

Still watching San.

Jisoo smiled gently.

“I need help with something very important,” he added, lowering his voice slightly like it was a secret. “I was told you’re really good at drawing.”

That caught her attention.

“You were?”

“I was.”

A pause.

“…Okay.”

Slowly, carefully, she let go of Y/N’s leg.

But not before glancing back at her.

“Are you coming soon Mama?”

Y/N smiled softly. “Of course lovebug.”

Heewa nodded.

Still unsure.

But she went.

Taking Jisoo’s hand, though she kept looking back over her shoulder until they disappeared out of the room.

Y/N exhaled.

Then turned back to San.

“Come on,” she said.

And walked past him.

The smaller meeting room was empty.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Y/N stood near the table, her arms crossing lightly over her chest without her noticing.

San stayed near the door for a second.

Like he wasn’t sure how to start.

He stepped closer.

And she felt it.

The shift in the air.

The tension.

The weight of everything that hadn’t been said.

“How old is she?”

The question came out immediately.

Y/N stilled.

“She’ll be five soon.”

She didn’t lie. She didn’t soften it. She didn’t avoid it.

There was no point anymore.

San’s expression changed.

“And that’s why you left?”

The words were careful.

But there was something underneath them.

Something darker.

Something that made her stomach twist.

“You cheated on me.”

The words settled between them.

Y/N just stared at him.

Because she couldn’t believe he had actually said that.

Then she laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because it was so absurd she didn’t know what else to do.

“Are you serious?”

Her voice was quiet.

“You think I cheated on you?”

“You left,” he said, his voice tightening. “You didn’t say anything. And then five years later you show up with a kid that looks like—”

He stopped.

Because he knew.

He had known the moment he saw her.

The resemblance wasn’t something that could be ignored.

Y/N’s expression softened slightly.

But not in a gentle way.

In a tired way.

In a way that carried too much.

“That child is yours.”

Silence.

It hit him.

She saw it.

The way everything in his expression froze.

The way his body stilled.

The way his eyes widened just slightly, like his mind was trying to process something too big too fast.

“What?”

The word barely came out.

A breath more than a voice.

“She’s yours,” Y/N repeated quietly.

And that was it.

That was the truth.

The one she had carried alone for five years.

The one she had buried.

The one she had convinced herself would stay hidden forever.

Now standing between them.

Impossible to ignore.

San took a step back.

Like the space between them suddenly felt too small.

“That’s not—”

“It is.”

“You’re—”

“I’m not lying.”

Her voice didn’t waver.

Didn’t break.

It stayed steady.

Because she had lived with this truth for too long to doubt it now.

“I found out a week before I left,” she continued. “I was going to tell you that night.”

His gaze snapped back to her. “That’s what you meant.”

“I was scared,” she admitted quietly. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know how you would react.”

Her arms tightened slightly around herself.

“You were always stressed. Always exhausted. Always irritated.”

The words weren’t harsh.

They were honest.

“And every time I tried to talk to you, it felt like I was just… adding to it.”

San swallowed.

Because he remembered.

He remembered how he had been.

“I kept telling myself to wait,” she continued. “To find the right moment. When you weren’t overwhelmed. When you weren’t already upset with me.”

A small, bitter smile tugged at her lips.

“That moment never came.”

Her gaze lifted to his.

“And then that night happened.”

He looked away.

Just for a second.

Because he knew.

He knew what came next.

“You didn’t even let me speak,” she said softly. “You decided it was another argument before I could even say a word.”

Her chest tightened.

The memory still fresh.

Still sharp.

“And when you told me we should just break up…”

She paused.

Because even now that part still hurt.

“That was it for me.”

San stepped closer again.

Slowly.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.”

The words came easily.

Because she did.

She had always known.

“That doesn’t change how it felt.”

Silence.

“I couldn’t handle it anymore,” she continued. “The person I loved… you weren’t him anymore.”

His expression faltered.

“You had changed,” she said. “And I didn’t recognize you.”

He swallowed hard.

“I didn’t want to feel like that,” she added quietly. “Not with you.”

The space between them felt smaller now.

Closer. Too close.

“And after I left…” she hesitated. “I realized something.”

His gaze stayed on her.

Waiting.

“That even if I had told you…”

Her voice softened.

“…it wouldn’t have worked.”

His chest tightened.

“What does that mean?”

“It means your life was already moving somewhere else,” she said. “You were becoming someone bigger than both of us. And a child…”

She shook her head slightly.

“That would have complicated everything.”

“I would have—”

“Would you have?” she asked gently.

Not accusing.

Just asking.

And that was worse.

Because he didn’t have an answer.

Not one he was sure of.

“You couldn’t even listen to me,” she continued quietly. “How would you have handled that?”

He stepped closer again.

Without thinking.

Without stopping.

Until there was barely any space left between them.

Their breathing mixing.

Their presence overwhelming.

“I wouldn’t have left you,” he said.

Her heart skipped.

Just once.

Because part of her wanted to believe that.

Even now.

“I didn’t feel like that back then,” she whispered.

Their faces were too close.

“I felt like I was already losing you,” she admitted.

His hand twitched slightly at his side.

Like he wanted to reach for her.

But didn’t.

“I loved you more than anything,” she said softly. “And that’s why it hurt so much.”

His breath hitched.

“And I know I should have told you,” she added. “I know it wasn’t fair.”

Her eyes dropped for a second.

“Every year it got harder,” she whispered. “Every month. Every day.”

Her gaze lifted again.

“And eventually… I just hoped you would never find out.”

The air was full of everything that hadn’t been said for five years.

Their faces inches apart.

Breathing the same air.

And for a moment everything else disappeared.

The past.

The present.

The consequences.

All of it.

Just them.

Like before.

His gaze dropped to her lips.

Just slightly.

And she felt it.

The memory of something she had tried so hard to leave behind.

Her breath caught.

And for a second she almost let it happen.

Almost.

But then reality crashed back in.

Heewa.

Her life.

Everything she had built.

Everything she couldn’t risk losing.

Y/N stepped back.

Breaking the moment before it could become something else.

“I have to go.”

Her voice was quieter now.

San didn’t move.

Didn’t stop her.

Didn’t say anything.

Because he was still trying to process.

Still trying to understand.

Still standing in the middle of something that had just changed everything.

She turned toward the door.

Her hand on the handle.

She paused.

Without turning around.

“Her name is Heewa.”

The words were soft but clear.

Then she opened the door.

And left.

The apartment felt smaller that evening.

Not in a suffocating way. Not in a way that made her uncomfortable. Just… quieter. Like the walls were holding onto everything that had happened during the day and hadn’t quite decided what to do with it yet.

Y/N closed the door behind them, her hand lingering on the handle for just a second longer than necessary before she finally let go.

Heewa slipped off her shoes quickly, already padding further inside, her small backpack sliding off her shoulders and landing near the couch.

“I’m tired,” she announced, though her voice still held that familiar brightness.

“I can tell,” Y/N replied softly, setting her own bag down. “Long day.”

“It was fun.”

“I’m glad.”

She watched her for a moment.

The way she moved so easily.

So freely.

Unaffected.

Or at least… mostly.

Because she had noticed it.

The way Heewa had gone quieter after the meeting.

The way she had stayed closer than usual.

The way her eyes kept searching Y/N’s face like she was trying to understand something she didn’t have the words for yet.

Children always knew.

Even when they didn’t fully understand.

Y/N exhaled quietly, pushing the thought aside for now.

“Come on,” she said gently. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

Heewa didn’t protest.

Which said more than anything else.

The routine was familiar.

Comforting.

Changing into pajamas. Brushing teeth. Washing hands. Small conversations in between about things that didn’t matter and things that mattered more than anything.

Y/N moved through it all almost automatically, her hands steady, her voice soft, her mind quieter now than it had been all day.

Because here in this small space, in these simple moments, everything made sense again.

By the time they reached the bedroom, Heewa was already climbing into bed, pulling the blanket up around herself, her stuffed toy tucked securely under her arm.

“Story?” she asked, her voice softer now.

“Yes.”

Y/N sat down beside her, reaching for the book on the nightstand.

She had read this one a hundred times.

Maybe more.

She didn’t need to look at the pages anymore.

But she did anyway.

Because Heewa liked it that way.

The story unfolded slowly.

Softly.

The rhythm of it familiar, soothing.

Y/N’s voice stayed gentle, steady, the words flowing easily as she turned each page.

The tension leaving her body.

The weight of the day settling somewhere quieter.

“Mama?”

Her voice was small.

Sleepy.

But not quite gone yet.

Y/N paused, her finger resting lightly against the page.

“Yes?”

Heewa shifted slightly under the blanket, her eyes half-open now, looking up at her.

“The man today…”

Y/N’s chest tightened.

Just slightly.

But she kept her expression soft.

“Hmm?”

“The scary one.”

A small pause.

“Why did he have the same eyes as me?”

There it was.

The kind of question only a child could ask without hesitation.

Y/N closed the book slowly, setting it aside.

She looked down at her daughter.

Really looked at her.

At the familiar shape of her eyes.

At the quiet curiosity still lingering there, even through the sleepiness.

At the trust.

The expectation that she would answer.

Always.

Y/N reached out, brushing her fingers gently through Heewa’s hair.

“He’s not scary,” she said softly.

Heewa frowned just slightly.

“He looked scary.”

Y/N smiled faintly.

“He was just… surprised.”

“Why?”

Because he didn’t know you existed.

Because I never told him.

Because everything we thought we left behind came back all at once.

Y/N swallowed.

Carefully.

Choosing her words the way she always did.

“Because he didn’t expect to see us.”

Heewa thought about that.

“Who is he?”

The question lingered.

Y/N’s hand stilled for a moment.

Then resumed its gentle movement.

“His name is San,” she said softly.

The name felt different out loud.

Heavier.

Real in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.

“He was someone very important to me… a while ago.”

Heewa blinked slowly.

“Like a friend?”

Y/N hesitated.

Just for a second.

“…Something like that.”

Heewa’s fingers tightened slightly around her stuffed toy.

“He has the same eyes as me.”

Y/N’s chest tightened again.

But she didn’t look away.

“Yes,” she said gently. “He does.”

“Why?”

Because he’s your father.

The words sat at the back of her throat.

But she wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

“Sometimes people just… look alike,” she said softly.

It wasn’t a perfect answer.

But it was one Heewa could understand.

The little girl seemed to accept it, her eyes growing heavier again.

“He looked at me a lot,” she mumbled.

“I know.”

“Was he mad?”

Y/N shook her head gently.

“No. He wasn’t mad.”

“Then why did he look like that?”

Because everything changed in that moment.

Because he saw himself in you.

Because he realized something he should have known years ago.

Y/N leaned down slightly, pressing a soft kiss to Heewa’s forehead.

“He was just… trying to understand,” she whispered.

A small pause.

“…Is he nice?”

The question was quieter this time.

Almost drifting.

Y/N smiled.

A real one.

“Yes,” she said. “He’s very kind.”

That had never changed.

No matter how things ended.

No matter how much time had passed.

That part of him it was still true.

Heewa nodded slightly, her eyes finally starting to close.

“Okay…”

Y/N watched her for a moment.

Then added quietly, “If you want to… you can get to know him better.”

The words felt strange.

Uncertain.

Like she wasn’t entirely sure what she was offering yet.

But she meant them.

Even if she didn’t know what would come next.

Even if she didn’t know how it would work.

Even if everything felt complicated and unfinished and too big to handle all at once.

Heewa didn’t respond.

Her breathing had already evened out.

Sleep pulling her under gently.

Y/N stayed there.

Sitting beside her.

Her hand still resting lightly against her hair.

And for a moment everything was quiet again.

Just like it had been before.

But different too.

Because now nothing was hidden anymore.

And whatever came next, she couldn’t pretend it didn’t exist.

She didn’t sleep well.

That was the first thing she noticed when her alarm went off the next morning.

Not in an obvious way. She had slept. She had closed her eyes, drifted off at some point, woken up when Heewa shifted beside her in the middle of the night, pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders without thinking.

But her mind had never really rested.

It had stayed… busy.

Too busy.

Y/N stared at the ceiling for a moment before turning her head slightly, her gaze settling on the small figure curled up next to her.

Heewa was still asleep.

And for a second, Y/N just watched her.

Because everything always came back to her.

Every decision.

Every consequence.

Every thought that refused to settle.

Her hand moved almost automatically, brushing gently through Heewa’s hair.

She couldn’t keep doing this.

That thought came quietly.

Because yesterday had changed something.

Not just for San.

For her too.

She had spent five years convincing herself that what she did had been right.

That it had been necessary.

That it had been the best possible outcome for everyone involved.

And maybe it had been.

Back then.

But now he knew.

Now everything she had kept separate was… connected again.

And no matter how much she tried to control it, she couldn’t keep Heewa from him.

She didn’t even want to.

Because the thought of denying him that…

Of denying her that…

It didn’t feel right anymore.

It hadn’t ever, if she was honest.

She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a brief second before pushing herself up.

The day had to start.

Whether she was ready for it or not.

The morning routine felt slower.

Not because anything had changed on the outside.

But because her mind wasn’t fully there.

Not in the way it usually was.

She moved through everything automatically.

Getting dressed.

Making breakfast.

Listening to Heewa talk about something that she only caught half of.

Nodding at the right moments.

Smiling when she needed to.

But her thoughts they stayed somewhere else.

Back in that room.

Back in that conversation.

Back in the way San had looked at her when she told him the truth.

That moment.

The one she had cut off before it could become something else.

Her chest tightened slightly.

She pushed the thought away.

“Are you thinking again?”

Heewa’s voice pulled her back.

Y/N blinked, looking down at her.

“…Maybe.”

“You do that a lot.”

Y/N huffed quietly.

“I know.”

Heewa studied her for a second.

“Is it about the man?”

Y/N paused.

Just for a second.

Then nodded slightly.

“…A little.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

The question was simple.

But it landed heavier than expected.

“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted softly.

And that was the truth.

Because she didn’t.

But she knew one thing.

This wasn’t over.

Not anymore.

Work didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse.

Because sitting at her desk, trying to focus on numbers and concepts and deadlines felt almost… absurd compared to everything else running through her mind.

Her screen blurred slightly.

Because she couldn’t focus.

She tried.

She really did.

But every thought circled back.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Still.

She didn’t notice how long she had been sitting like that.

“Y/N?”

She blinked. Looked up.

And there he was. Kim Jisoo.

Leaning lightly against the edge of her desk again, his expression easy, observant.

“You’ve been staring at that screen for five minutes.”

Y/N let out a quiet breath.

“…Have I?”

“Yeah.”

She rubbed her temple slightly.

“Sorry. Just… thinking.”

“I figured.”

There was a brief pause.

“Want to get coffee?”

She looked at him.

“Now?”

“Lunch break,” he clarified. “You haven’t taken one yet.”

She hadn’t.

She hadn’t even noticed the time.

“…Okay,” she said after a moment.

Because maybe getting out of her own head for a bit would help.

Even if just a little.

The café was small.

Exactly what she needed.

They sat near the window, sunlight spilling softly across the table, the hum of quiet conversation around them blending into something distant and easy to ignore.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

And Y/N appreciated that.

The silence didn’t feel forced.

Didn’t feel uncomfortable.

Just… there.

“So.”

Jisoo leaned back slightly, his gaze steady on her.

“What was that yesterday?”

Y/N froze.

“…What do you mean?”

He raised a brow slightly.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Her fingers tightened slightly around her cup.

“I don’t think—”

“You have a kid with an idol.”

The words were calm.

Matter-of-fact.

Not accusing.

Just… stated.

Y/N stared at him.

Shock flickering across her face before she could hide it.

“…How do you know that?”

Jisoo smiled.

Almost amused.

“I knew the moment I saw them together.”

She didn’t respond.

Couldn’t.

Because part of her had hoped, that maybe no one would notice.

But that had been unrealistic.

Of course someone would.

“You should’ve seen your face the first time you saw him,” he added lightly. “That wasn’t just ‘old acquaintances.’ That was history.”

Y/N exhaled slowly.

Her shoulders dropping just slightly.

“…You’re not going to tell anyone?”

He shook his head immediately.

“No.”

A pause.

“Not just because of the contract,” he added.

She looked at him.

“And because?”

He met her gaze.

“Because it’s not my story to tell.”

Something in her chest softened.

Just slightly.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He nodded.

“You want to talk about it?”

She hesitated.

Because she hadn’t talked about it.

Something about the moment felt right.

Or maybe she was just too tired to keep holding it in.

“…We were together for five years,” she began slowly.

And once she started, it didn’t stop.

The words came easier than she expected.

The relationship.

The slow breaking.

The fights.

The night everything ended.

The pregnancy.

The decision.

The years after.

Jisoo listened.

And when she finished, silence settled between them again.

But different this time.

He leaned back slightly, exhaling.

“…If I were him,” he said after a moment, “I’d be pissed.”

Y/N huffed quietly.

“That makes sense.”

“But also…” he tilted his head slightly, considering. “I’d be ashamed.”

She looked at him.

“Why?”

“Because from what you told me… he messed up too.”

Her gaze dropped slightly.

“…He did.”

“But he doesn’t sound like a bad guy,” Jisoo added.

Y/N nodded slowly.

“He’s not.”

That had never been the problem.

It had never been about him being a bad person.

It had been about timing.

Pressure.

The way life had pulled them in different directions.

Her gaze drifted toward the window.

Unfocused.

Lost in thought.

And for a moment, she didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move.

Just… sat there.

Jisoo watched her.

Then smiled slightly.

“That doesn’t mean I’m backing off, you know.”

She blinked, looking at him.

“What?”

He shrugged lightly.

“I still want to get to know you.”

A small pause.

“And your daughter.”

Y/N stared at him for a second.

Because she hadn’t expected that.

Not after everything he had just learned.

Not after how complicated things clearly were.

“…You’re serious?”

“I am.”

“And you’re not… concerned?”

“About what?”

She gestured vaguely.

“All of this.”

He smiled.

“Life’s complicated,” he said simply. “Doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying.”

And before she could stop it she smiled.

Not the polite kind.

Not the practiced one.

A real one.

The kind she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“…You’re persistent.”

“I’ve been told that.”

She shook her head slightly.

But the warmth stayed.

Even as they stood.

Even as they walked back toward the office.

Even as the weight of everything else still lingered at the edges of her thoughts.

For a brief moment, ot felt lighter.

Like maybe things could still fall into place somehow.

Then she saw him.

Standing in the lobby.

Disguised.

Cap pulled low.

Mask covering part of his face.

Choi San

Her steps slowed.

Then stopped.

Her heart dropped.

Straight into her stomach.

He didn’t remember how he got back to the dorm.

That was the first thing that bothered him.

Not the conversation.

Not the words.

Not even the way everything had shifted in a matter of minutes.

Just… the in-between.

The part where he should have been present, aware, functioning like normal.

But he wasn’t.

San sat on the couch, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together like he was trying to hold something in place.

His mind wouldn’t stop.

It kept replaying it.

Over and over again.

She’s yours.

The words didn’t feel real.

Not even now.

Not even after hearing them.

After seeing her.

After putting everything together in a way that suddenly made too much sense.

Five.

She’ll be five soon.

His chest tightened.

Five years.

Five years of not knowing.

Five years of existing in a life that felt complete.

Missing something he didn’t even know he had lost.

Or… never got the chance to have.

“She’s yours.”

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face.

It didn’t feel like anger.

That was the strange part.

He should have been angry.

He should have been furious.

At her.

At himself.

At the situation.

At everything.

But he wasn’t.

Not really.

Instead he felt something else.

Happiness.

He had a child.

A daughter.

His daughter.

The thought alone made something in his chest tighten in a way that felt almost overwhelming.

Because it wasn’t just the idea.

It was her.

The little girl in that room.

The one who had looked at him with wide, cautious eyes.

The one who had clung to Y/N like she already knew something wasn’t right.

The one who looked exactly like him.

San let out a quiet breath.

A small, disbelieving laugh slipping out before he could stop it.

It didn’t make sense.

It shouldn’t feel like this.

But it did.

And he couldn’t ignore it.

“You’re scaring me.”

The voice pulled him back.

San blinked, looking up.

The others were standing nearby.

Watching him.

Concern written clearly across their faces.

Wooyoung had his arms crossed, brows slightly furrowed.

Mingi looked like he had been trying to figure out how to approach him for the past five minutes.

Seonghwa was quieter, but his gaze was steady.

And Hongjoong he already knew something was wrong.

Of course he did.

“You talked to her,” Hongjoong said.

San nodded.

“…Yeah.”

“What happened?” Mingi asked carefully.

San hesitated.

Just for a second.

“That child is mine.”

The words came out simpler than he expected.

Like they had already settled into place.

Like they belonged there now.

The room went quiet.

Not shocked.

Not entirely.

Because they had seen it too.

Had noticed it.

Had put it together.

But hearing it, made it real.

“…Yeah,” Wooyoung said after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I kind of figured.”

Mingi nodded slowly.

“She looks exactly like you.”

Seonghwa exhaled softly.

“That’s… a lot.”

San huffed quietly.

“Yeah.”

“A lot” didn’t even begin to cover it.

“How do you feel?” Hongjoong asked.

That was the question.

The one that mattered.

San leaned back slightly, his head falling against the couch.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment.

Thinking.

Sorting through everything.

Trying to find the right answer.

“I should be pissed,” he said finally.

Because that was the expected reaction.

The logical one.

“I should be overwhelmed.”

Also true.

“I should be… I don’t know. Angry that she didn’t tell me. That she kept this from me for five years.”

He paused.

But it wasn’t what stood out the most.

He let out a quiet breath.

“…But I’m not.”

The others didn’t interrupt.

“I’m just…” he hesitated, searching for the word.

“Happy.”

Silence.

Different this time.

Softer.

Because they hadn’t expected that.

Not like this.

“I have a kid,” San said quietly.

The words felt strange.

But right.

“I have a daughter….with her.”

He swallowed.

“The only woman I’ve ever loved.”

The room stayed quiet.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Because they all knew.

They had always known.

Even after everything that had happened, that hadn’t changed.

San let out a quiet breath.

“…I still do.”

The admission didn’t feel new.

It just felt… honest.

Like something he had known all along but never said out loud.

Not even to himself.

“Even after everything,” he added.

Even after she left.

Even after she blocked him.

Even after five years of nothing.

It was still there.

Unchanged.

Unresolved.

The lobby felt too open.

Too exposed.

San adjusted the cap slightly, the mask covering most of his face, his hands tucked into his pockets like he was trying to make himself smaller.

Less noticeable.

It didn’t work.

Not really.

But it helped.

A little.

He didn’t know how long he had been standing there.

Minutes.

Maybe longer.

Waiting.

Thinking.

Trying to figure out what he was going to say.

Because he couldn’t just leave it like that.

Not anymore.

Not after knowing.

Not after seeing her.

Heewa.

The name echoed in his mind.

Soft.

Bright.

Joyous flower.

He frowned slightly.

Y/N had chosen that.

Of course she had.

The doors opened.

And there she was.

Y/N.

Walking in.

And beside her…Jisoo.

San’s expression shifted immediately.

His eyes narrowing slightly as he watched them.

The way they walked together.

Like they were comfortable.

Like they had spent time together.

Which they probably had.

Something sharp twisted in his chest.

Annoying.

Because it shouldn’t matter.

It had been five years.

She had every right to move on.

To meet someone else.

His jaw tightened.

Still it bothered him.

More than he wanted to admit.

And then she saw him.

He saw it.

The exact moment her expression changed.

The way her steps slowed.

The way something flickered across her face.

Guilt.

It was quick. Subtle.

But it was there.

She walked toward him.

Jisoo stayed behind.

Watching.

San straightened slightly.

His hands unclenching slowly at his sides.

“San.”

His name sounded different coming from her now.

Careful.

Like she wasn’t sure how to approach him anymore.

He looked at her.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

She hesitated.

Then nodded.

“…Okay.”

They stepped slightly to the side.

Out of the direct line of people passing by.

Not completely private. But enough.

San didn’t waste time.

He couldn’t. “I want to be in her life.”

The words came out immediately.

Y/N stilled.

Her gaze dropping slightly before lifting again.

“I figured.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

A pause.

“And I want to be in yours too.”

That made her look at him. For the first time since yesterday.

“San…”

“I never stopped loving you.”

There it was.

No hesitation this time. No second-guessing. Just truth.

Because there was no point holding it back anymore.

Her breath caught slightly.

He saw it.

The way her expression shifted. The way something flickered in her eyes. Something that felt too familiar.

But then she shook her head. “I can’t.”

The words were quiet. But they landed hard.

“I can’t go back to that,” she continued.

Her voice steady. Even if her eyes weren’t.

“I can’t be… that version of us again.”

San frowned slightly. “Why not?”

“Because it broke me,” she said simply.

The honesty in her voice stopped him.Completely. “I can’t risk that again.”

“And I won’t,” she added.

Her expression softened slightly.

“But I don’t have a problem with you getting to know Heewa.”

His chest tightened.

“I want that,” she continued. “I want her to know you.”

San nodded slowly.

“…Good.”

Because that was the part he wasn’t willing to compromise on.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She looked at him. “What?”

“You said you can’t go back,” he said. “Fine.” A small step closer.

Not too much. Just enough.

“But we have a kid together.”

The words settled between them.

“Our lives are connected now,” he continued. “Whether you want that or not.”

Her breath caught slightly.

And he saw it.

The realization. The understanding.

“I’m going to be in her life,” he said. “And in yours too.”

Just… stating it.

Because this time, he wasn’t going to let her leave again.

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.

At the familiar eyes. The familiar expression.

The quiet curiosity.

And something in her chest tightened.

“You do,” she said softly.

Heewa blinked. “Where is he?”

Y/N swallowed.

Carefully.

Choosing her words the way she always did.

“He lives far away.”

“Why?”

Because I left.

Because I didn’t tell him.

Because I thought it was the right thing to do.

“Because… our lives are different,” she said instead.

Heewa frowned slightly. “Does he know me?”

The question lingered.

Heavy.

Y/N felt something twist in her chest.

But her expression stayed gentle.

“He would like you very much,” she said quietly.

That wasn’t a lie.

It never was.

Heewa seemed to think about that, her expression softening slightly.

“Is he nice?”

Y/N smiled.

A real one this time.

“Yes,” she said. “He is.”

And that, more than anything, was the truth she held onto.

No matter what had happened.

No matter how things ended.

She would never take that away from him.

Or from her.

Heewa nodded slowly, satisfied enough with the answer for now.

“Okay.”

She went back to eating.

And the moment passed.

But Y/N stayed still for a second longer.

Her gaze drifting slightly.

Unfocused.

Because even after five years…

Some things never really left.

They just became quieter.

Easier to carry.

Until moments like this reminded her that they were still there.

Still waiting.

Still part of her.

She exhaled slowly.

Then picked up her chopsticks again.

“Eat your vegetables,” she said gently.

Heewa groaned dramatically.

And just like that life continued.

Morning came too fast.

Y/N barely noticed how her alarm blended into the quiet hum of the apartment, her body already used to waking before it even rang. For a moment, she just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft breathing beside her.

Heewa had climbed into her bed sometime during the night.

She always did that on days when she had something exciting coming up.

Y/N turned her head slightly, watching the small rise and fall of her daughter’s chest, the way her hair was spread messily across the pillow. There was something grounding about moments like this. Something that made everything else feel… manageable.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” she murmured softly, brushing her fingers gently through Heewa’s hair.

A small groan.

“No…”

Y/N smiled faintly. “You said you wanted to be early again today.”

One eye opened.

“…I did?”

“You did.”

Heewa blinked slowly, then suddenly sat up, fully awake.

“I did!”

Y/N laughed quietly, pushing herself up as well. “Come on. Get ready.”

The morning passed in small, familiar steps.

Getting dressed. Packing her bag. Making sure she had everything she needed. Listening to Heewa talk about something that made very little sense this early in the morning, but still nodding along like it was the most important story in the world.

It was easy.

Simple.

And for the most part… peaceful.

The walk to the kindergarten felt lighter than the day before. Maybe because her mind was already half at work, running through ideas, plans, the outline of the presentation she had been building since yesterday.

She had stayed up a little later than usual, refining it.

Not because she had to.

Because she wanted to.

That still felt new.

At the entrance, Heewa turned to her, bouncing slightly on her heels.

“Can I show you my drawing later, Mama?”

“Of course,” Y/N said, crouching down in front of her. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“It’s really good.”

“I’m sure it is.”

A quick hug.

A bright smile.

And then she was gone again, disappearing into the building with the same energy as always.

Y/N watched her for a moment.

Then stood, exhaling quietly before turning away.

Work.

The office felt busier than usual.

Not in a loud way. Just… a little more focused. A little more alert.

She noticed it as soon as she stepped in.

Something about the energy had shifted.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

She greeted a few people as she walked to her desk, setting her bag down before pulling out the folder from yesterday.

The K-pop assignment.

Her eyes moved over the notes again, even though she already knew them.

Brand collaboration. Fresh concept. Youth-oriented campaign.

Nothing too complicated.

Nothing too overwhelming.

And definitely nothing that would involve...

She stopped that thought immediately.

There was no point even considering it.

Her colleague had already said it.

Not a big group.

They wouldn’t get that kind of contract.

So there was nothing to worry about.

She sat down, opening her laptop, going over her slides one last time.

Everything was ready.

Exactly how it should be.

“Big day?”

She looked up at the voice, blinking slightly.

Standing beside her desk was someone she hadn’t expected to see this early.

Kim Jisoo.

Not the one most people would think of.

Different department.

Different floor.

Someone who technically had no reason to be hovering around her desk this often.

“Something like that,” she replied, offering a small smile.

Jisoo leaned slightly against the edge of her desk, casual as always.

He was… attractive.

That was the simplest way to put it.

Sharp features, neatly styled hair, the kind of confidence that came naturally rather than forced. The kind that made people pay attention when he walked into a room.

He always dressed well.

Always spoke smoothly.

And he always… lingered.

“I heard you got the K-pop assignment,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “That’s a good one.”

“It seems interesting,” Y/N replied.

“That’s one way to put it.”

She raised a brow slightly. “You don’t think so?”

“I think it’s more than interesting,” he said with a small smile. “Especially for a smaller firm like ours.”

She shrugged lightly. “It’s still just work.”

“And you’re still taking it very seriously,” he noted.

“That’s my job.”

“And you’re good at it.”

She paused for a second.

“Thank you.”

There was a brief silence.

Not uncomfortable.

Just… there.

“I’m actually on that project too.”

Y/N blinked.

“You are?”

“Mm.” He nodded. “Different angle, but same campaign.”

She hadn’t expected that.

“Oh.”

“Surprised?”

“A little.”

“I’ll try not to be a distraction then.”

There was something in the way he said it.

Light.

Playful.

Familiar.

Y/N let out a small breath, shaking her head slightly. “I think I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Another pause.

“What time’s the meeting?”

“Ten.”

He checked his watch. “Perfect.”

She frowned slightly. “Perfect?”

“Gives me enough time to walk with you.”

She huffed quietly. “You don’t even know if I was planning to go now.”

“You were.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because you’re prepared,” he said simply. “And people who are prepared don’t wait until the last minute.”

She stared at him for a second.

Then shook her head.

“…You’re not wrong.”

“I usually’m not.”

She rolled her eyes slightly, standing up, grabbing her folder.

“Come on then.”

He smiled.

The walk to the meeting room was short.

Too short, in a way.

Because Jisoo didn’t stop talking.

Not in an annoying way.

In a way that made the silence feel lighter.

Easier.

“So,” he said as they reached the door, glancing at her briefly. “You busy this weekend?”

Y/N paused slightly.

There it was.

She had expected it.

Eventually.

“I have a daughter,” she said carefully. “So… yes.”

“I know.”

That made her look at him.

“I still asked.”

She hesitated.

Because that wasn’t something she heard often.

Not like this.

Not… uncomplicated.

“We could work around that,” he added, pushing the door open slightly but not stepping in yet. “Coffee. Lunch. Something simple.”

Y/N studied him for a second.

He wasn’t pushy.

Wasn’t trying too hard.

Just… offering.

And for a moment, something in her chest shifted.

Because it had been a long time since she allowed herself to even consider something like this.

A long time since she thought about anything beyond work and Heewa.

“…Maybe,” she said slowly.

His expression brightened just slightly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“You didn’t say no.”

She sighed quietly.

“…Fine. Maybe coffee.”

“That sounds like a yes.”

“It’s a maybe.”

“I’ll take it.”

She shook her head, a small smile slipping through despite herself.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Ready.”

And stepped inside.

The room was already occupied.

That was the first thing she noticed.

Several people seated.

Some she recognized.

Some she didn’t.

Her attention moved quickly, professionally, taking in the space, the setup.

She froze.

It happened in an instant.

Like the air had been knocked out of her lungs without warning.

Because sitting across the table was ATEEZ.

All of them.

Every single one.

And for a second, her mind refused to catch up.

Refused to process what she was seeing.

Because that didn’t make sense.

This wasn’t supposed to be...

Her grip on the folder tightened.

Her heartbeat loud.

Too loud.

His eyes met hers.

Choi San

Shock.

Pure, unfiltered shock.

It was written all over his face.

Not hidden.

Not controlled.

Just… there.

“Y/N?”

Her name.

Spoken like it had been pulled out of him without permission.

The room went quiet.

Too quiet.

Every head turned.

Every gaze shifting between them.

Y/N felt it.

All of it.

But she didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

Not the way she wanted to.

Because years of holding herself together didn’t just disappear in a moment.

She swallowed.

Forced her expression into something neutral.

Professional.

And stepped further into the room like nothing had happened.

“Good morning,” she said calmly.

Like her world hadn’t just tilted off ist axis.

Like she hadn’t spent five years building a life that didn’t include him.

Like he wasn’t sitting right there.

Staring at her like she had just walked out of a memory he never got to finish.

“Sorry for being late,” she continued, moving to the empty seat across from them.

Beside her, Jisoo had gone quiet.

San hadn’t.

“What are you doing here?”

The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Too direct.

Too personal.

Too much.

Y/N didn’t look at him immediately.

She set her folder down.

Opened it.

Adjusted her posture.

And only then ahe lifted her gaze.

Meeting his eyes with something controlled.

Something distant.

“I work here,” she said simply.

And the tension in the room shifted.

Subtle.

But noticeable.

Because this wasn’t just a normal meeting anymore.

This was something else.

Something none of them were prepared for.

San stared at her.

Still trying to process.

Still trying to understand.

And around him, the other members watched quietly.

Because they knew her too.

Knew exactly who she was.

And exactly what this meant.

And Y/N...she just sat there.

Back straight.

Hands steady.

Expression calm.

Like her heart wasn’t beating too fast.

Like her past hadn’t just walked back into her life without warning.

Like she hadn’t just agreed to coffee with someone else moments before stepping into a room she never thought she’d see again.

She inhaled slowly.

Then looked at the rest of the table.

“Shall we begin?”

And just like that, she forced the world to keep moving.

Main Masterlist | Sans Masterlist

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