It was such a stark contrast that you were left reeling. Six months into your marriage, reality bore little resemblance to the life you had once imagined.

You had once thought your home with Zayne would be warm with laughter, shared meals, and soft conversations lingering late into the night—a place that breathed with comfort simply because the two of you were in it together.

Instead, the halls of the grand mansion granted by the emperor were cold—spacious, immaculate, and lonely.

“My lady, here.”

The voice startled you out of your daydream, snapping you back to focus as your handmaiden, Yvonne, wrapped the shawl around you.

Oh, right. Today you were accompanying your lord husband for his audience with the emperor.

. . .

The journey to the palace was smooth. You sat demurely within your palanquin, lulled by the steady rhythm of the horses’ steps. Now and then, Zayne’s voice carried through the air as he issued clipped commands to his troops.

And before you knew it, your entourage had arrived at the royal palace. The palanquin doors swung open, and the first thing you saw was your husband’s stoic expression.

“My lady,” he muttered, grayish hazel eyes stern, offering his hand to you to assist you out.

Your heart pricked at the sight before you. Zayne had always been steadfast—but before all this, he was never rigidly formal with you like this.

“One day… I will become the greatest general in the land. Will you wait for me until then?”

The memory rose then: a younger Zayne, red-faced, thrusting a jasmine flower into your hands as he stumbled through his confession. It made your chest ache even more.

The things he saw in the wars turned him into this version before you, you believed. Maybe, to him now, the tenderness you once shared during your childhood no longer held any meaning at all.

You took his hand.

“Thank you, my lord,” you replied with equal stiffness, gripping his hand. You didn’t dare look at him while he led you forward.

Yet you still took comfort in one thing—his hold over your hand never wavered, not even as the two of you came to stand before the emperor himself. It was only when he had to let go of you that he did.

“What a pleasing sight it is to see you, Lord of Anlan!”

The emperor was headstrong yet a jolly individual. From his elevated dais, he greeted the two of you with open warmth. Zayne answered with a restrained bow, and you quickly followed his lead.

The emperor’s attention then shifted to you. “And I trust the Lady of Anlan has been well?”

“I am well, Your Majesty,” you replied, fixing a polite smile in place. “Thank you.”

However, you had a feeling that the emperor didn’t actually care about you at all, as the way his sharp gaze lingered on you sent an uncomfortable chill down your spine each time.

He soon turned his attention back to Zayne, and the two spoke at length about matters concerning the fief. Then—

“Is something troubling you, Your Majesty?” Zayne asked, putting on a mask of a concerned subject.

“Oh, yes—yes,” the emperor said with a faux chuckle. “There is something that has been bothering me...”

“And what might that be?”

“Well, the princess royal is still in search of a husband. It’s giving me a headache as she insists on someone just like you… It’s such a pity you turned down my proposal back then, Lord of Anlan...”

You could feel his hot stare on you, and he continued, “Had you accepted the princess’ hand, you would be part of the royal family by now.”

You clenched your fists. It was not the first time this had been mentioned, and each time it was brought up, it always left a bitter taste in your mouth. Zayne had indeed refused a royal marriage decree and chosen you instead—but did he somehow regret that choice that it left him cold and distant to you all this time?

If so… why hadn’t he broken off his betrothal with you back then?

. . .

By the emperor’s command, both you and Zayne were to remain in Yunshao for a time—residing within the imperial palace itself.

The two of you were showed to your temporary chambers, and the moment you stepped inside, you let out a sigh. Behind you, Zayne paused, noticing your weariness.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words halted. And in that hesitation, something in your expression must have betrayed you.

“You look unwell,” he observed, tone thoughtful. “If the travel has strained you, I will have the physician summoned.”

“That isn’t necessary,” you replied quickly. “I am fine.”

The silence stretched. He was watching you—not coldly, not warmly either, simply assessing. Then, as if deciding something, he spoke again.

“I will be entertaining the princess royal shortly,” Zayne said, his voice returning to that familiar, careful neutrality. “Her Highness has arranged for it. It would be improper to refuse.”

The princess, again. The woman who had once sought him as a husband never seemed to miss an opportunity to summon him whenever he was within palace walls. Lowering your gaze, you were silently irked.

“Do you… have to go?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

“Yes.”

A default, logical answer. You had expected this but somehow your heart still hurt regardless.

“I see,” you murmured, the words felt hollow even to your own ears.

Zayne didn't linger. As he turned and walked toward the door, his steps were quiet.

And the space between you suddenly felt wider than the vast halls outside your door.

The palace was a world of its own—lavish courtyards, lotus ponds glimmering beneath carved bridges. Servants moved like shadows, each bowing, each whispering, each watching.

Yet none of those gazes ever lingered on you for long.

You were the Lady of Anlan, yes—but not a lady of imperial blood. In a place where lineage was currency, you were a mere general’s wife. Polite smiles were given, greetings exchanged, but you passed through the palace halls like a quiet breeze.

Zayne, meanwhile, was constantly summoned—councils, briefings, private audiences. You saw him only at night, and even then not much that could be talked about.

And so, you learned to occupy yourself quietly. Reading beneath shaded pavilions. Feeding the koi in still waters. Watching the sky shift from pale gold to indigo behind tiled rooftops.

It was during one such day that the palace stirred with unusual excitement—an envoy had arrived from Zhaole.

It was Zhaole’s prince himself who had come to negotiate trade routes. You paid it little mind at first as foreign politics had nothing to do with you... until you were summoned to attend the audience.

You stood at your designated place within the grand hall, slightly behind and to the right of Zayne, when the doors opened.

“His Highness, Prince Rafayel of Zhaole, has arrived!”

Silk banners bearing unfamiliar insignias unfurled as the entourage entered. At its center walked a man whose presence seemed to bend the air around him.

Prince Rafayel was clad in white robes embroidered with cerulean and gold-threaded waves, the fabric flowing like water with every step. His long purple hair and porcelain-like skin were striking. Exceptionally refined and handsome. There was something artful about him, like a masterpiece aware of its own beauty.

His eyes swept across the hall lazily at first—measuring ministers, skimming over the servants—

And then they stopped. On you.

For a fleeting second, you wondered if you were mistaken. But no—his gaze sharpened, as though he had found something unexpectedly intriguing among a sea of expected faces.

And a second later, he smiled—at you, before he resumed his walk.

The prince came to a halt before the dais and offered a bow for the emperor.

“I bring greetings from Zhaole,” he said smoothly, his voice clear as a plucked string. “I am Rafayel. I trust Yunshao’s hospitality will not disappoint.”

The emperor responded with booming warmth, welcoming him to the court. Formalities were exchanged. Polite laughter followed.

But you would never expect what would he do next.

As the formal greetings concluded, Rafayel’s gaze suddenly shifted towards where you stood beside Zayne.

“My apologies,” Rafayel said lightly, tilting his head with deliberate curiosity. “I do not believe I have been introduced to the lady standing beside the esteemed Lord of Anlan.”

The hall grew quieter. You felt Zayne’s posture stiffen imperceptibly, and you—caught beneath the weight of the prince’s attention—found yourself momentarily at a loss.

The emperor chuckled. “Ah... that is the Lady of Anlan.”

Rafayel stepped forward, not too close to breach decorum, but close enough for both your and your husband’s discomfort.

Up close, his smile softened, eyes gleaming faintly.

“Oh, Lady of Anlan...” he repeated, as though tasting the title. Then, inclining his head toward you in a gesture that was respectful, yet strangely personal, he said, “It is a pleasure, madam.”

And that was how you went from being overlooked to the subject of every whisper within the imperial palace.

“Hey… did you see what happened earlier?”

That evening, the palace held a banquet in honor of Zhaole’s prince.

The grand hall was transformed beneath the glow of lanterns. Music drifted softly through the air, accompanied by the quiet murmur of noble voices and the occasional ripple of laughter.

“The imperial prince of Zhaole— he specifically greeted the Lady of Anlan!”

And yet, Zayne wasn’t amused in the slightest.

It was one thing for his wife to become the subject of palace whispers—that alone was enough to draw attention he did not welcome. But it was another thing entirely to realize that his wife had caught the interest of a royal prince.

Zayne didn’t show it openly. His expression remained as composed as ever, but throughout the night, the faint crease between his brows lingered longer than usual, and his gaze would settle on you often.

It was most probably nothing, he told himself. A passing curiosity. A prince’s fleeting amusement in a foreign court.

Across the hall, you stood beneath the lanternlight—radiant without trying. You, his childhood sweetheart, had always been a dear to him.

After he was done conversing with an official, he made his way towards you.

“My lady,” he greeted quietly. You jolted at the sound of his voice, turning to face him.

“My lord,” you replied.

Once, you had called his name freely, whenever you wanted. You would tug at his sleeve, demanded his attention, laughed without restraint. Zayne didn’t like this formality between you, honestly.

“Take a respite if you are tired,” he said then, mostly out of concern. “You have always disliked attending banquets.”

You let out a quiet sigh. “And you have always endured these far better than I ever could.”

When had your relationship become this strained? There had been no single argument that shattered everything. No cruel words spoken in anger that could not be taken back.

Only distance. Distance that crept in so quietly neither of you had noticed until it was already too late.

Zayne inhaled slowly. He didn’t want to say it, but he couldn’t remain silent either— and so he did:

“…Don’t get too close to the Prince of Zhaole.”

You frowned faintly, seemingly not taking his words well. “What are you implying?”

“I am saying,” he began slowly, “that you should not allow his attention to draw you in.”

However, contrary to your usually docile demeanor, your expression hardened immediately.

“I’m not so naive.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him. And then, you pulled back slightly, your chin lifting. “You speak as though I’m incapable of judging character for myself.”

That was not what Zayne was getting at at all, but you were already irate. “I don’t—”

“You entertain the princess, a woman who tried to make you her husband,” you went on, eyes sharp. “So tell me, why is it acceptable for you… but not me?”

Zayne held your gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The music swelled faintly around you, but the air around you felt cold.

There was a lot he wanted to say. That you were not meant for another man’s curiosity. That you are reserved for him only. That to him, you were precious more than anything.

But he knew better than to say it aloud, because you already looked at him with resentment.

“Take care of yourself.” He finally left you with those parting words.

He had never been a man of excessive affection or one to indulge in sweet words. Love, he believed, was best proven through stability, protection—through ensuring that you would never lack comfort nor security.

“Lord Zayne!”

But to give you everything, he was bound to give himself to his duties first.

Zayne held back a sigh and turned towards the voice—the princess royal, a vivacious woman trying to attract his attention, and forced a straight face.

“Your Highness,” he greeted evenly.

His fingers tightened around the stem of his cup, the cool porcelain grounding him.

. . .

While the banquet was lively, the laughter felt distant, the lanternlight a little too bright against your tired eyes. After the argument with your husband, you were honestly considering to retire for the night.

Your chest still felt tight.

It felt like an ache you could not soothe, because you honestly had enough of everything in this marriage. You wanted a husband who was present, not just dutiful— and Zayne wasn’t really fulfilling what you really desired.

You exhaled quietly, intent on leaving the grand hall behind. However—

“My lady.”

You were stopped in your tracks. The velvety voice came from your right. You turned.

Prince Rafayel stood nearby, dressed in darker robes of burgundy, the candlelight catching in the gold embroidery. Up close, his gaze was as intent as it had been earlier—unabashed in its attention.

He inclined his head politely, lips curved in a bright smile. “I trust the palace has been treating you well.”

You lowered your gaze in courtesy, once again bewildered by his presence before you. “His Majesty’s hospitality is generous. I lack for nothing.”

“Is that so?” he questioned lightly, “Is it just my imagination then... that you don’t seem particularly fond of it?”

The comment caught you off guard. You looked up at him, startled. His expression softened, as though aware he had stepped too close to something unheard of.

“Forgive me,” he said, lowering his tone. “It’s merely an observation. I suppose when one’s husband appears to be too close to a certain princess, you’re bound not to enjoy the evening.”

His gaze flickered across the hall, and you instinctively followed his line of sight only to see your husband with the no-nonsense princess, ever composed and attentive. You looked away.

“They say the Lord of Anlan is unmatched in the battlefield,” Rafayel began idly. “That he drove back the pirates without mercy and won the Emperor’s favor through sheer merit alone.”

“Yes,” you said softly. “He did.”

Rafayel glanced back at you, studying your expression.

“They also say,” he continued, “that he governs Anlan with fairness. That the people trust him. That he is a man who does not bend easily, nor does he offer himself cheaply to gain favor.”

Everything he said was true. Zayne was always steadfast. Honorable. Respectful. He had always been that way—even as a boy.

“Yes,” you admitted quietly, a smile slowly forming in your lips. “He is.”

Rafayel watched you for a moment longer, as though weighing something. Then, he reached for a nearby tray and lifted a cup of sweetened wine, offering it towards you.

“While all of them might be true, even the greatest man does not stand alone. Behind him is a woman just as remarkable. You must not diminish yourself beside him, my lady.”

Your breath stilled. An imperial prince was telling you that you were worth more than what you thought you were.

“You may not be a princess,” Rafayel continued, his voice warm but certain, “but you are in no way lesser. Everyone here knows it to be true—or at least, I do.”

Your cheeks flushed from the heat and flattery. “Your Highness... Thank you for your kind words.”

Prince Rafayel’s gaze held yours with quiet sincerity, still smiling. Your fingers closed around the cup before you could think better of it.

“And right now, you are far too lovely to spend the evening looking as though the world has wronged you.”

You let out a small breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and raised the cup to your lips.

The wine was sweet. Warmer than you expected, and the slight bitterness loosening something tight within you.

“Yes, just like that... chin up, my lady. The lanterns favor you better that way.”

You hadn’t realized how much you needed it.

Rafayel said nothing more, merely gesturing lightly when another tray passed. And when your cup emptied, another found its place in your hand.

And then another.

The warmth spread slowly through your limbs, softening the sharp edges of the evening. The distant laughter no longer felt so piercing. The ache in your chest dulled, and replaced by a fleeing sensation and your own laughter.

You drank, and drank... perhaps more than you should have.

But for the first time that night—

It became easier not to look across the hall.

At some point, Zayne realized he had not seen you in a while.

The moment he found a lull in his conversation with the princess, he excused himself at the first opportunity. His eyes swept the grand hall, but you were nowhere among them.

A faint unease settled into his chest, until he passed by his personal guard—

“My lord,” he bowed slightly.

“Did you see the lady?”

“I believe the Prince of Zhaole was seen escorting Her Ladyship out to the western terrace.”

Zayne’s eyes hardened. He immediately made his way towards the said terrace. He found you at last—

And Prince Rafayel stood beside you, too close for his liking.

“My lady, are you sure you’re fine?”

And you—

“Am fine! I’m fine!”

Your hand rested against the stone railing, posture swaying, your cheeks flushed and gaze watery. Flash of anger immediately filled Zayne’s sense at the sight.

Rafayel noticed him first and he turned to him courteously.

“Lord of Anlan,” the prince greeted smoothly, his expression calm. “I was merely keeping your lady company. It seemed the evening had become tiring for her.”

Zayne moved past the prince, taking big strides without acknowledging him.

“…My lord husband?” you murmured, voice soft when your eyes finally landed on him. Zayne immediately reached for you.

“Y/N,” he whispered in your ear, trying to ground you. But you staggered and crashed into his chest. His jaw tightened as he pulled you into his embrace.

That accursed prince had seen you like this.

“I shall take my wife back,” he said through gritted teeth.

Rafayel inclined his head with easy grace, putting on an easy smile. “Of course.”

Zayne put his arm around your shoulder, steadying you. You leaned into him instinctively as he led you through the quiet corridors, away from the prying eyes.

By the time you reached your chambers, your steps had grown even more unsteady. He guided you inside carefully, dismissing the servants with a glance before they could speak.

Your husband sat you gently on the edge of the bed, meanwhile you were still trying to get your bearings, blinking slowly.

“Are you alright? Do you feel dizzy?” Zayne asked, unable to conceal the worry in his voice. His hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing lightly against your warm skin, frowning deep. “I’ll get you some water.”

Your gaze followed his every movement as he crossed the room and poured water into a cup. He knelt before you again once he was done, holding the cup carefully toward your lips.

“Drink,” he coaxed gently.

You stared at cup of water. Then at his hand. Then at him.

Then, with clumsy defiance, you pushed the cup away. Splash!

Water sloshed over the rim, spilling onto his robe and the floor below. Zayne froze.

However, not caring about it at the slightest, you raised your hand abruptly, your finger pointing at him—

“You terrible, detestable, wicked—”

You might be slurring, but your eyes burned with clarity as you spew profanities at him:

“—husband!”

The last word left your lips and you slumped. Throughout the years you had been with him, Zayne had never seen you so openly wounded like this. He stared at you, at a loss of words.

You swayed where you sat, your arm falling limply back to your side.

“Yvonne said I’m pretty,” Your nose scrunched faintly as you sniffled. “My maids said I’m pretty too...”

Zayne tried to reach for you again, but you refuted his touch.

“And Prince Rafayel—” you continued, sounding borderline delirious, “He said I’m no less than a princess... So why—”

Your lashes were wet, tears blurring your vision, and your lips trembled as you glanced up at him:

“—am I not enough for you?”

The question pierced him cleanly. Zayne felt something twist inside his chest at the sight of you. He knew that with everything that had happened, you were bound to resent him. But he had loved you... still loved you even at right this moment.

He closed the distance between you then, gently and firmly taking your face in his hands before you could turn away again.

“Enough?” His voice dropped, dangerously close to breaking. His hazel eyes searched yours as if trying to carve the truth directly into your heart. “You are... You are more than enough.”

His thumb brushed away the tear that fell down your cheek. Something flickered across his expression— the hurt, but when his eyes shifted to your lips, it was replaced by something far more possessive.

“And you— must only look... at me.”

And then, Zayne crashed his lips into yours with fervor. One hand on your waist, he pulled you flush against him. The taste of salt lingered between you, your tears mingling with the heat of his mouth.

“Mmm...” You gasped into the kiss, fingers instinctively clutching at his robe—still damp from the water you had spilled.

He softened only slightly then, angling his head, kissing you slower but deeper. His thumb traced along your jaw, coaxing you to respond, to open for him. And when your lips parted for him, he groaned, before inserting his tongue to tangle with yours.

Each kiss lingered, pressed harder—until you melted into breathless sighs against his mouth.

When Zayne finally pulled back, his grayish hazel gaze held yours with such intensity that made it impossible to look away.

“You are more than enough,” he repeated, voice hoarse. “You undo me.”

His hand slid to your cheek again, gentler now, almost reverent.

“And if I have failed to show you that, then that’s my failing.”

You were half-conscious and all thoughts emptied from your head, spellbound by the restrained desire in your husband’s look.

His thumb traced your lower lip, swollen from his kisses. “Don’t measure yourself against another man’s gaze.”

He would show you how you meant to him, he vowed.

“For mine has never left you.”

. . .

Six months into marriage, and you had learnt that your husband wasn’t as gentle as he looked in marital bed.

With practiced fingers, he worked fast on the laces of your robes as he guided you to the said bed. He kissed the path from your lips to your throat, nipping at your skin— and at the same time, he palmed your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipples in slow, deliberate circles until it tightened beneath his touch, sending a sharp, aching warmth through you.

“Zayne...” you gasped, arching to his touch.

“Tell me what you want, wife,” he growled against your ear, flicking your nipple in the process, making you squirm. “Tell me.”

Words failed you as his kisses grazed your collarbone, leaving love bites there. He followed the path from your shoulder— and you were in for a ride when he took your erect nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

A cry slipped from your lips, your nails digging into his hair. The sensation was overwhelming—heat pooling low in your belly, your breath coming in uneven gasps as your husband shamelessly suckling you.

“Ahh, mmrgh…”

He held you firmly, feeling every tremor running through your body. But suddenly, he lifted his head, lips glistening and eyes dark with lust, gazing straight at you. “I want to hear you first.”

“I...” your breath hitched, swallowing the shame. “I want your... mouth.”

“Beg.”

You fingers curling weakly against the sheets. “Your mouth, please—” you breathed out, heat blazing on face, “all over me.”

His lips quirked into a satisfied smile. “As you wish, my lady.”

And with that, Zayne moved to the other breast, giving it the same devoted attention, his sinful tongue swirling before he bit down gently on the flesh.

“Mmngh!” you moaned, head falling to the pillows. His mouth was relentless, and true to his word to fulfill your desire, your husband made sure you were sated with his mouth first.

He rained hot, open-mouthed kisses throughout your chest and abdomen next, and stopped just below your navel, dark eyes clouded with predatory haze.

The thought that he very much could get you swollen with his child after this night was through made himself hard. If his seed were to take hold within you tonight— even Prince Rafayel would know better.

His hand tightened at your waist, his lips pressing into the softness of your folds—and a second later, lapping at it like a man in throes of hunger. You gasped, grasping his hair, as he devoured you down there.

And in no time at all, your lord husband made you come on his tongue.

“Ah—aaah...” Your thighs trembled around him as pleasure washed through you.

He is cruel... You were hazy with drunken lust and tears, but you no longer cared enough to resist.

“Stop…” you whimpered. “Just… make love to me already…”

Your husband’s stern, hazel eyes turned to you, slightly widened at your bold plea. “Is that truly what my lady wishes?”

You glared at him. “Yes.”

And he honored your wish without hesitation. Zayne rose, shedding his garments with swift movements. His magnificent length sprang free, thick and hard, his hand closing around it as he stroked himself slowly—his eyes never leaving yours.

Your lord husband is very, very tantalizing, indeed...

He moved over you, settling his hips between your thighs. One hand wrapped around himself as he dragged his length slowly through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. He pressed against your entrance, the tip nudging there before he stilled, dark eyes once again confirming yours.

“Are you ready to take me, wife?”

You wrapped your legs around his torso, pulling him closer. “Please, Zayne— now.”

And with that, he pushed himself into you. You writhed, broken gasps spilling out of you—the way he stretched you was perfect, sinking into you slowly, making you feel every inch of himself.

Zayne grounded you by resting his forehead against yours, groaning into your mouth like a beast in heat. “Perfect,” he choked out.

When he began to move, you lost all your wits altogether. His thrusts were slow at first, each one reaching inside you impossibly deep— “Ah, ah...!”

But the rhythm did not stay gentle for long. It grew steadier, more insistent and faster. The lewd sound of skin slapping resounded in the room, your breathless moans mingled with his harsh grunts.

“Look at me,” Zayne commanded, voice rough. His hand came to your chin, turning your face toward him. “Look at your husband.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting his captivating gaze. In that fleeting instant, you thought you saw everything reflected there—lust, the aching need to be closer than flesh could allow, love.

He adjusted his angle, and suddenly struck that one spot that made you cry out. “T-there!”

A low growl rumbled from his chest as he aimed for that spot again, and again, relentless in his pursuit. Your vision blurred, your cries filling the room, clutching his shoulder helplessly as his unforgiving fingers found your clit—circling and rubbing it, driving you closer and closer to the brink.

And a second later, pleasure crashed through you without mercy. Your walls clenched around his girth, and the feeling of how you pulsed around him pulled a rough sound from his throat, making him lose his control at last.

He thrusted deep one last time, burying himself to the hilt as ropes of his cum filling your womb— sowing a part of himself in you.

The first thing you noticed when your eyes fluttered open was the warmth.

Soft, steady warmth wrapped around you, and golden sunlight filtered through the window, spilling across the bed in beams. For a moment, you simply lay there, suspended between sleep and waking, your body heavy.

Then you became aware of something else. An arm draped securely around your waist—

Your breath caught as the memories of the night before flickered faintly at the edges of your mind.

Last night, you and Zayne were...

You unwittingly let out a gasp, and your voice woke your husband.

Behind you, Zayne stirred. His hold tightened instinctively for a second, as though even half-asleep he refused to let you slip away. A low murmur brushed against your ear—

“…You’re awake.”

His thick voice sent a faint shiver down your spine. You slowly turned in his arms.

You were greeted with his beautiful face. The familiar line of his jaw. The faint crease between his brows as sleep gradually left him. The dark grayish hazel of his eyes as they focused fully on you.

It had been so long since he was in your bed. Long enough that waking up like this—tangled together, bare beneath the sheets, his warmth still wrapped around you—felt almost unreal.

Your lips parted, but no words came. Instead, your eyes grew glassy, emotion rising too quickly for you to contain. The sight of him made your chest ache.

“Y/N?” he asked quietly, catching your forlorn expression. A realization dawned on him—

His arm loosened at once, withdrawing from your waist as though your skin burned him. He shifted back, putting a small distance between your bodies.

“I won’t touch you again,” he said, voice steady, the spark in his eyes dimmed. “If last night was… a mistake in your eyes, then it will not happen again. I give you my word.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. After enduring days and nights of feeling unwanted, to experiencing the most exalting night in your life— only for him to spew this nonsense—

“You stupid, stupid lord!”

Before he could react, you seized the nearest bolster and smacked it against him. Zayne blinked, completely caught off guard as you struck him again.

He instinctively grabbed the sheets to cover himself, trying to shield his face from your assault. “Wife—”

“How dare you—!” you snapped, hitting him again. “You have ignored me for literal months, always busy with that damn princess, and then bedded me— only to say that?!”

Another blow landed against his shoulder.

For a man who commanded armies and terrified courtiers with a glance, Zayne looked utterly defenseless as you continued your attack, his hair disheveled, sheets barely clutched around his waist.

“You’re awful!” you continued, your voice trembling now for an entirely different reason. “I thought—”

Your arm faltered mid-swing, your grip on the bolster loosened. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” you choked out, the first of your tears falling.

The way you teared up made Zayne’s expression change instantly. He moved before you could turn away, his hands found your wrists, drawing you closer despite the awkward tangle of sheets between you.

“How could I not want you?” His thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching the tear there. “Marrying you… has been my goal from the very beginning.”

Your breath hitched. The memory of that spring replayed in your mind’s eye once again: “One day… I will become the greatest general in the land. Will you wait for me until then?”

Zayne’s jaw tightened in regret as he pulled you into his embrace.

“But apparently it was just the start, not the end. After our wedding, I thought that my duty next is to ensure you never have to want for anything. That if I build enough stability… enough wealth, then you would never feel lacking. And in doing so, I neglect something far more important.”

His other hand rose to cradle your cheek fully now. You found his steadfast gaze.

“You.”

Zayne leaned his forehead lightly against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and this time there was no pride left in his voice. “I should have treated you better. I should have been beside you more. Not just as your husband in name—but in truth.”

“You’re so silly.” You stared at him through your tears, poking his chest. “All this time… you thought I only needed wealth? Security?” Your fingers curled slightly in the fabric of the sheets between you. “I was right here, and yet you strayed so far away.”

If being silly was what would get you with him, then so be it. Zayne’s eyes softened in a way few people would ever be allowed to see.

“The girl who chased fireflies with me in the jasmine fields…” he smiled despite himself, picturing the little you who were always full of laughter for him. “When I asked her to wait for me, I also vowed that I would never let her experience any hardships in life once she came to be with me...”

You shook your head immediately, your hand sliding higher, resting over his heart firmly.

“I wanted to marry Zayne,” you said, looking at him with a frown. “Not the Lord of Anlan.”

Something in his expression broke then—not painfully, but like frost melting beneath the first warmth of spring.

His forehead rested against yours once more, his eyes closing as though savoring the closeness he had denied himself for far too long. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, and in that touch was his love for you.

“And you did,” he whispered. “You married a man who has loved you long before he ever became anything else.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I can’t prolong my stay within the imperial palace any further. My wife wishes to return home, and I don’t have it in me to deny her.”

Zayne’s voice was calm and unwavering as he stood before the throne, posture straight and expression composed, facing the ruler of the land himself.

“As for the princess… I am certain a worthy match will present himself in due time. So I humbly ask that Your Majesty refrain from summoning me again for this matter.”

The emperor scoffed, seeing the two of you off with thinly veiled exasperation, but this time, Zayne didn’t bend, nor did he seem troubled by the emperor’s displeasure.

He had chosen you, and from now on, he would continue to do so.

. . .

Preparations for your departure followed swiftly. Your servants and handmaidens moved with practiced efficiency, gathering belongings and readying the palanquin. Yet their eyes lingered, subtle curiosity passing between them as they noticed the unmistakable change.

“Have you seen them?”

“His Lordship hasn’t left her side once.”

“I’ve never seen him look at her like that before…”

Their voices carried in hushed murmurs, behind sleeves and lowered gazes, and you pretended not to hear, only greeted them with the brightest of smiles.

When the time came to board the palanquin, Zayne turned to you and offered his hand openly, a faint, reserved smile resting upon his lips—one meant only for you.

The servants fell into stunned silence as you placed your hand in his, in awe at the picturesque sight of their dashing lord and beautiful lady. It was a simple gesture, one they had witnessed countless times before.

But this time, there was clearly something different in the air.

He helped you into the palanquin carefully, his hold steady—as though you were something precious. And this time, he didn’t ride the horse, but went inside along with you.

“…I think they’ve reconciled, at last,” one handmaiden murmured softly.

“It’s about time,” the lord’s personal guard sighed.

A heartfelt smile appeared on Yvonne’s face. “Ohh, I’m glad!”

And truly, they all were.

They had always admired him—their stern, unyielding lord, a man of discipline and honor.

And they cherished you—the general’s lady, whose kindness had touched every corner of Anlan.

To see the two of you now, no longer separated by silence but standing side by side as husband and wife… It felt like watching the very first blossom of spring unfurl after winter.

San Francisco in the late evening had a particular kind of quiet that you’d never quite managed to find anywhere else.

Not silence — the city was never truly silent — but a settling. The way the fog rolled in from the bay and softened the edges of everything: the streetlights blurring gold, the distant clang of a cable car, the muffled laughter spilling out of a restaurant as its last table of the night lingered over wine. The hills that had punished your calves every single morning for three years now felt, somehow, gentler at this hour. Like the city was breathing out.

You loved it. You loved it in the way you loved all quiet, unhurried things — deeply and without apology.

Your feet were protesting by the time you turned onto your street, the particular ache of someone who had been standing since four in the morning settling into your shoes with cheerful vengeance. There was flour somewhere in your hair that you’d given up trying to locate around hour eleven, and your apron — abandoned on its hook at Miel — had probably taken most of the day’s evidence with it, but your forearms still wore a fine dusting of it at the creases of your elbows, and there was a smear of raspberry coulis on the inside of your wrist that you’d missed in the wash-up.

You didn’t particularly mind.

Fourteen hours. A batch of croissants that had finally, finally cooperated after two failed attempts at laminating the dough. A birthday cake for a little girl named Sophie that had taken the better part of the afternoon and that you were quietly, fiercely proud of. A broken display stand, a near-miss with a tray of financiers, and Leah — your most senior employee and your closest best friend — singing along, off-key and without shame, to whatever was playing through the bakery speaker while she restocked the cases.

A good day, in other words. Tiring in the bone-deep way that only good days could be.

You climbed the front steps of your building, dug your keys from your bag, and let yourself in.

Mrs. Beaumont’s cats found you before you’d fully cleared the door.

“Hi, babies,” you said, dropping to a crouch in the entryway with the automatic ease of someone who had done this every evening for two weeks now. Mochi wound himself around your ankles, motor already running; Biscuit regarded you from across the room with the specific aristocratic skepticism he reserved for anyone who wasn’t his actual owner. And then, picking her way carefully across the floor in her soft, rolling wobble — each step considered, each small paw placed with a deliberateness that you found endlessly endearing — came Stella.

“There she is,” you said softly.

She blinked up at you with her mismatched eyes, one pale blue and one gold, and you reached down and let her sniff your fingers before scooping her up, very gently, the way you always did. She was white as fresh cream and had a personality that could only be described as aggressively curious. She was so small. Even for five months old, she was so small, her legs a little shorter than they should have been, her whole compact body fitting neatly against your palm. The vet had explained the dwarfism with calm, clinical kindness, and Mrs. Beaumont had received the news with the equanimity of a woman who had seen everything and loved her cats regardless — but you, the first time Stella had wobbled across the floor toward you instead of away, had felt something shift very quietly in your chest and had not fully shifted it back.

You fed all three of them, tidied the water bowls, ate some left overs from last night and made yourself a cup of tea that you drank standing at the kitchen window watching the fog thicken over the rooftops.

Then you showered, changed into your softest pajamas, and sat on the sofa for approximately seven minutes before your body voted unanimously for unconsciousness.

The candle on the side table was still burning when you fell asleep.

It was vanilla-scented — a gift from your mother, sent in a box with a note that said for ambience, sweetheart, your apartment looks too sterile in photos. It needs to be cozier — and it threw a warm, amber light across the room that was genuinely lovely and that you’d fully intended to blow out after your tea.

You forgot.

And Stella, as it turned out, had been watching the flame with great interest for some time.

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋆˙⟡♡

You woke to the smoke alarm.

For a long, disoriented moment you simply lay there, blinking at the ceiling, your brain cycling slowly through the fog of deep sleep trying to locate the source of the sound. Fire alarm, it supplied eventually, with the unhurried authority of a thought that had not yet grasped the full weight of its own message. Fire alarm means—

The smell hit you.

You were off the sofa before you were fully conscious, your feet hitting the floor and your body moving on pure animal instinct while your mind scrambled to catch up. The living room was so wrong. The air was wrong, thick and grey at the edges, and the curtain was a tongue of orange that climbed the wall with terrifying enthusiasm, eating upward like it was hungry, like it had been waiting.

Your stomach dropped straight through the floor.

“Mochi,” you said, and then louder, sharper, your voice finding itself fast: “Mochi. Biscuit. Come here —”

The older cats were easier. Mochi, the fat tabby, came when called out of sheer automatic habit; Biscuit had already retreated to the bathroom at the far end of the hallway, which had the good sense to be away from the smoke. You scooped them both — one tucked under each arm, Mochi yowling his protest directly into your ear — and got them out into the corridor, setting them down near the stairwell where a neighbor already hovering in their doorway immediately stepped in.

“Is there anyone else—”

“Stella.” You were already turning back. “Small, white kitten, she can’t move fast, I have to—”

“You cannot go back in there—”

But your body was already making the decision.

You went back in.

The smoke hit you immediately — thicker than it had been thirty seconds ago, lower, meaner, the kind that got into your throat and stayed there. You dropped to a crouch and pulled your shirt up over your nose and it helped, barely, the cotton filtering almost nothing.

“Stella,” you called. Your voice came out wrong already, rougher than it should have been. “Stella, baby, where are you—”

Nothing. No small white shape. No wobbling little figure picking her way toward you.

You pressed further in, past the doorframe, staying low, your free hand trailing the wall. The heat from the living room was enormous now — a physical pressure against your face and arms, your skin prickling with it. Through the smoke you could see the glow of the fire painting the walls amber and orange, consuming the curtain completely, beginning to crawl across the ceiling.

“Stella.” Louder. Desperate. Your voice cracked on the second syllable and didn’t recover. “Please, please come out, please—”

The smoke found your lungs then. Really found them.

The cough started low and became immediately violent — your whole body seizing around it, your eyes flooding, the wall the only thing keeping you upright as your knees went uncertain beneath you. You couldn’t get a clean breath. Every inhale brought more of it, thick and chemical and hot, and your vision was starting to swim at the edges in a way that frightened you more than the fire did because you recognized it, distantly, as your body beginning to lose the argument.

“Stella—” The word dissolved into coughing again. You pressed your forehead against the wall, tried to breathe slow, tried to think. She was here. She had to be here. She was small and scared and she couldn’t run fast and you were not leaving without her, you were not—

Your legs buckled.

You caught yourself on the doorframe with both hands, barely, your arms shaking with the effort of it. The smoke alarm was still screaming overhead. The glow from the living room was getting brighter. You were crouched in a burning hallway and you couldn’t stand up properly and you still couldn’t find her and the panic was enormous now, shapeless and roaring, drowning out everything else—

The hallway door burst open.

Boots on the floor. Radio crackling. And then a figure in full gear was moving through the smoke toward you with a speed that made no concession whatsoever to the conditions — not slowing, not hesitating, crossing the distance between you in seconds and dropping to his knees right beside you.

“Hey.” His voice came through the visor, low and immediate, and there was a quality to it that cut right through the roaring in your head — the kind of calm that simply existed, that didn’t negotiate with chaos, that arrived and took up all the space the panic had been using. His gloved hand came to your shoulder. “Hey. Look at me.”

You tried. Your eyes were streaming and your lungs were burning and your legs were still refusing to cooperate but you tried.

“The kitten—” It came out as barely a rasp. “She’s still in there, she can’t move fast, she has dwarfism, she hides low—”

“What does she look like.”

Not a question. A lifeline.

“White,” you managed, between coughs. “All white. One blue eye, one gold. Please, she’s so little, she doesn’t — she doesn’t understand—” Another cough tore through you, your whole body shaking with it, and this time your grip on the doorframe slipped completely.

He caught you before you hit the floor.

One arm beneath your knees, one at your back, and you were up — lifted clean and fully off the ground in one motion, tucked against his chest before you’d fully registered what was happening. You made a sound of protest that came out as more coughing, your hands gripping the front of his gear weakly, and he adjusted his hold without comment, his grip absolutely certain, the kind of secure that didn’t ask you how you felt about it.

“Wait—” you started, between shuddering breaths.

“I’ll get her,” he said. Flat. Unarguable. The most unshakeable four words you had ever heard. “But you’re coming out first.”

He was already moving. Long, even strides back down the hall, angling your face away from the worst of the smoke, shielding you with the bulk of his body. His hand came briefly to the back of your head, pressing your face into his shoulder, away from the air you couldn’t breathe — and the gesture was so deliberate, so careful, that something in your chest cracked quietly open alongside the panic.

The stairwell door. The stairs, fast. Another figure in gear passing you on the way up, voices coordinating above you, the building’s alarm still screaming.

And then the night air, cold and clean, flooding into your lungs like water into a dry riverbed.

You coughed through it, great gasping coughs, your whole body shuddering with relief and with the aftermath of the smoke. He carried you clear of the entrance before he set you down, slowly, carefully, on the front steps — one hand staying at your arm until he was sure your legs would hold. They held. Barely.

You looked up at him. The visor reflected the red and white of the trucks at the curb. His grip at your arm loosened, but didn’t disappear.

“Stay here,” he said.

Your throat was raw. You managed one word.

“Please.”

Just that. He understood it completely.

He held your gaze through the visor for a beat longer than necessary.

Then he turned, and walked back into the burning building without a moment’s hesitation.

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋆˙⟡♡

The next four minutes were the longest of your life.

You sat on the cold stone step in your pajamas — soft cotton shorts and a worn oversized tee that said MIEL across the chest in faded pink letters — with your arms wrapped around your knees and your eyes fixed on the door he’d disappeared through. The street outside was lit up red and white, two fire trucks angled at the curb, more figures in gear moving with that same particular controlled urgency. A paramedic appeared at your elbow and tried to get you to move further back, and you did, a little, just enough to technically comply, but you kept your eyes on the door.

Someone put a blanket around your shoulders. You didn’t feel it.

She’s so little, you thought, and the thought had a specific texture to it, a tightness behind your sternum that had nothing to do with the smoke you’d inhaled and everything to do with the image of Stella wobbling between pieces of furniture, her small uncertain gait, the way she always tilted her head at you when you called her name like she was giving the question serious consideration before committing to an answer.

Please, you thought at the door. Please.

And then he came out.

He came out the way he’d gone in — unhurried, deliberate — and cradled against his chest, small and white and very much alive, was Stella.

The sound you made was embarrassing. You were dimly aware of that even as you made it — a soft, undignified noise somewhere between a gasp and a sob — and then you were crossing the distance between you and him, the blanket falling off your shoulders, your arms already reaching.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Oh, thank you — thank you—”

Stella, characteristically, seemed unbothered. She was blinking at you with her mismatched eyes, her tiny white nose twitching, apparently of the opinion that being carried through a burning building by a large man in fireproof gear was simply another thing on the agenda of this evening.

“She was under the bathroom sink,” he said. “Second shelf.”

“Of course she was.” You laughed, wet and wobbly, pressing your face briefly against the top of Stella’s small head. “Of course. That’s her spot.”

And then — because it was over, because she was safe, because the adrenaline was finally metabolizing into something softer and more complicated — your eyes filled.

You blinked hard. Refused to cry in front of a stranger. Succeeded only partially.

When you looked up, he was taking off his helmet.

You weren’t prepared for that.

He was incredibly handsome.

That was the thought that arrived first, and it arrived without apology. Unreasonably, almost unfairly handsome — all clean sharp angles and a jawline that had no business existing on a person who had just walked out of a burning building, the silver hair falling loose from the helmet slightly damp at the temples, catching the red and white light of the trucks in a way that made it look almost luminous. And his eyes — red, a deep extraordinary red, like a garnet held up to a flame — found Stella immediately. Found you, specifically, with a directness that made the breath you’d only just recovered feel suddenly scarce again.

And he was tall. Considerably, almost unreasonably tall. With the helmet off and the bulk of the gear still on his shoulders, he had the kind of frame that made the space around him rearrange itself slightly, the kind that you registered not just visually but physically — a shift in the air, a gravitational awareness.

You became suddenly very aware that you were standing in the street at — you checked the clock on someone’s phone nearby — eleven forty-seven at night, in cotton pajama shorts, holding a small wobbly kitten, with tear tracks on your cheeks.

“Hi,” you said, which was perhaps the least adequate thing you had ever said in your life.

Something moved at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. Something that looked more like someone who was trying to restrain himself from smirking with amusement.

“Hi,” he said.

“I—” You adjusted Stella against your chest. She began to purr, apparently delighted with herself. “Thank you. I mean it. I — she’s — thank you.” You were running out of words. You were running out of everything. “I don’t even know your name.”

He looked at you for a moment the way he had in the hallway — that brief, assessing pause that somehow managed to feel less like evaluation and more like attention.

“Sylus,” he said.

You nodded. Filed it somewhere careful. Somewhere you’d find it again.

“Thank you, Sylus,” you said softly.

He held your gaze for a beat longer than was strictly necessary.

Then one of his colleagues appeared at his shoulder — shorter, purple-haired, with the particular energy of someone who had noticed something and was actively enjoying it — and said something into his ear that made Sylus’s jaw shift in a way that looked very much like suppressed irritation.

“Rafayel,” Sylus said, with the tone of someone pronouncing a sentence.

“I’m just saying,” the colleague said, and his grin was absolutely incorrigible, “you were in there a while for a—”

“Go check the perimeter.”

Rafayel looked at you, looked at Sylus, and looked extremely pleased with himself. “Right. Perimeter. Absolutely. Very important.” He backed away with the energy of a man who had already won something. “Take your time.”

You looked back at Sylus.

Sylus looked back at you with the expression of someone who had made peace with his colleagues being exactly who they were and had simply incorporated that peace into his daily existence.

“You should have the paramedics check you over,” he said. “Smoke inhalation.”

“I’m alright.”

“That’s for them to confirm.” He said it without inflection, but it landed less like a command and more like — something else. Something that sat just adjacent to concern and didn’t quite announce itself.

You nodded. Held Stella a little closer.

He put his helmet back on — the deliberate, practiced motion of it, the way his hands moved with the ease of long repetition — and then he paused, and for one suspended second he looked at you again over his shoulder.

“Keep her away from candles,” he said.

You laughed — a real one, surprised out of you.

“I will,” you said. “I really, really will.”

He turned away. Back toward the building, back toward the colleagues and the crackling radios and the controlled, purposeful world he occupied with such extraordinary ease.

You stood in the street in your pajamas with your kitten and watched him go and thought, with the particular clarity of a mind that has just been thoroughly rattled and is now reassembling itself:

Oh.

Oh, that’s going to be a problem.

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋆˙⟡♡

Stella purred against your chest, unconcerned.

The city moved around you, indifferent, the way it always did.

You looked at the door he’d walked back through.

You thought about red eyes finding yours through smoke-thick air. About a voice that made the panic subside for a little bit. About the way he’d said I’ll get her like it was the simplest thing — like it was simply the thing that needed to be done and therefore he would do it.

You pressed your face against the top of Stella’s head again.

“Don’t tell anyone,” you told her quietly.

She blinked her little eyes at you.

Said nothing and kept your secret.

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋆˙⟡♡

read the rest on ao3 <3

bonus: this is stella trying to bite y’alls phones

You sat behind your desk, massaging your temples, staring at the thick, manila folder that had just been hand delivered by a trembling administration intern. Inside was a bill for a $45,000 piece of cutting edge orthopedic equipment that was currently sitting in the dumpster behind the emergency room, looking like it had been hit by a freight train.

The door swung open, and Sylus strolled in.

He had swapped his surgical scrubs for a black henley shirt, the collar slightly unbuttoned, but he was still wearing his hospital ID badge clipped to his belt. He didn't look like a surgeon who had just pulled a sixteen hour shift in the trauma bays, he looked like he had just successfully hijacked a plane and thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

"You called, Director?" he didn't wait to be invited. He glided over to the leather guest chair, turned it around backward, and straddled it, resting his folded arms on the backrest.

"Sit normally, Dr. Qin," you said, voice dripping with the exhaustion of a woman who spends her life trying to keep a multi million dollar medical institution out of federal court.

"I am sitting normally," he replied, tilting his head. His dark eyes caught the harsh fluorescent light, gleaming with a deeply amused spark. "I just spent four hours manually compressing a torn femoral artery. My lower back is tight, sweetie. You want to write me a prescription for a massage, or are you going to handle that personally?"

You picked up a heavy black marker and circled a number on an incident report with aggressive force.

"Do you know what this is, Dr Qin?"

"A piece of paper you're violently defacing?"

"This is the invoice for the brand new, top of the line robotic bone saw that Dr. Xia spent six months begging the board to approve," you said, leaning forward and resting your elbows on the desk. "It arrived at 8:00 AM. By 10:30 AM, you had used it to cut through a rusted steel rebar that was impaling a construction worker."

Sylus blinked, completely unbothered. "And the patient is currently in the ICU, stable, vitals normal, breathing on his own. You're welcome."

"The manufacturer's warranty," you countered, tapping the paper, "explicitly states that the blade is designed for human bone, Dr Qin. Not structural grade steel. You completely melted the internal drive shaft. The machine is a total loss."

"Well, the steel was inside the human," Sylus reasoned, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Therefore, it was a medical emergency. Besides, Caleb's toys are always over engineered. If a forty grand machine can't handle a little industrial metal, it shouldn't be in my ER."

"It wasn't in your ER! You walked into OR 5, kicked Caleb's surgical tech out of the room, and stole it while Dr. Xia was washing his hands!"

Sylus let out a soft chuckle "I didn't steal it. I borrowed it with aggressive intent. And I told the tech to tell Caleb he could bill it to my tab."

"You don't have a tab, Dr. Qin! This is a hospital, not a dive bar!" you closed your eyes, taking a slow, deep breath, mentally reciting the HR conflict resolution handbook. Do not engage with the instigator's bravado. Maintain professional boundaries.

When you opened your eyes, Sylus was watching you, his smile turning into something far more dangerous. He loved this. He lived for the moments you lost your composure, finding your rigid adherence to protocol absolutely beautiful.

Hia eyes tracked the slight flush rising on your neck. "You're doing that thing where you look at me like you're trying to figure out which state prison has the tightest security. It’s incredibly distracting."

"I am trying to save your medical license," you said, voice tight. "The legal department is currently having a collective panic attack. Two weeks ago, you performed an emergency cricothyroidotomy in the back of an ambulance using a plastic ballpoint pen and a pocket knife."

"It was a premium gel pen. Smoother ink flow," he corrected effortlessly.

"You broke three different hygiene protocols, bypassed the paramedics, and..."

"And the girl is going back to high school next week," Sylus said, his tone dropping its playful edge for a fraction of a second, revealing the sharp, clinical genius beneath. Then, just as quickly, the devilish grin returned. "You know, if you're that worried about my license, you could always come down to the pit and supervise me. I'd love to see you in scrubs. Though, honestly, this whole 'inflexible bureaucrat' look you’ve got going on? The pencil skirt, the blazer, the way you hold that marker like you want to stab me with it? It really works for you."

"That is sexual harassment, Dr. Qin. I could file a report right now."

"Do it," he dared "Fill out the paperwork. Spend three hours investigating me. Force me to sit in this office with you, locked behind closed doors, while you read me the rules line by line. Please. I dare you."

Your heart hammered against your ribs, entirely against your will. The man was infuriating, arrogant, and entirely too charming for his own good. Worse, he knew exactly how much he affected you.

"The world out there is messy. People break. I fix them. You try to keep the chaos in neat little boxes with colored tabs, but the universe doesn't care about your filing system."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he deliberately picked up the black marker you had been holding. The brief point of contact felt like a static shock.

"But I like that you try," he added "It's cute."

Before you could formulate a professional comeback that would strip him of his unearned confidence, the door was pushed open.

Zayne stood in the doorway. He looked immaculate, his white lab coat pristine, his glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

"Dr Qin, why am I not surprised to find you neglecting your post op rounds to terrorize the administration?"

Sylus slowly sat back in his chair, lazily spinning the marker between his fingers. "Ah, Chief. Just the man I wanted to see."

"If you do not return to the trauma bay immediately, I will personally review your surgical logs for the last quarter and report every single deviation from protocol to the board."

"Tsk"

Sylus stood up and tossed the marker onto your desk, where it rolled perfectly into your neatly organized tray.

"Pull some funds from Caleb's department, Director, he spends too much on protein powder anyway."

With a wink that made you want to throw your stapler at his head, Sylus sauntered past Zayne, clapping the Chief heavily on the shoulder as he exited.

The door clicked shut behind him.

You buried your face in your hands, the stress of the day finally breaking through. "If he pulls that crap again... I'm letting the board fire him."

Zayne gave a single, solemn nod. "Understood"

The high backed counters of the central nurse's station usually offered a perfect shield, but today they were serving as an observation deck.

Zayne sat in his favorite chair tucked deep into the quietest corner of the U shaped desk. He was stripped of his lab coat, wearing only his dark blue surgical scrubs. His long fingers were tightly intertwined in front of his face, his chin resting behind them. He looked like a man deep in a complex clinical diagnosis, completely unbothered by the world.

Right in front of him lay a neat, silver pile of six crumpled wrappers—the unmistakable remains of Nurse Yvonne’s private stash of imported Swiss peppermints. Zayne took a slow, deep breath, the sharp scent of menthol clearing the air around him, his eyes fixed like tracking lasers on the far side of the lobby.

​There, completely alone, you sat typing away your post operative reports. You had your lower lip slightly caught between your teeth, focused on completing your paperwork so you could finally clock out.

Zayne was watching the slight movement of your shoulders, the way the blue light from the monitor caught your eyes, completely trapped in the memory of that night.

​A small paper cup of crushed ice suddenly dropped into the center of Zayne’s line of sight.

Zayne didn't drop his chin from his hands, but his knuckles went completely white.

​"If you keep staring at her like she’s a critical monitor readout, she’s going to notice the drop in atmospheric pressure"

​Xavier was leaning his hip against the edge of the desk, lazily swirling a plastic spoon inside his cup of ice.

He looked from Zayne, down to the silver pile of peppermint wrappers, and then across the desk to where you were completely oblivious, still typing away. A knowing smile slowly tuged at the corners of Xavier's mouth.

​"Wow," Xavier murmured, his voice holding that soft, deceptively gentle lilt. "Look at that. The unbothered Ice King hiding in a corner, eating Yvonne's sugar supply, and pining like a resident who just got kicked out of the OR."

"My presence at this station is strictly clinical."

​"Clinical?" Xavier let out a low, amused huff "Zayne, you haven't looked at a single medical chart in ten minutes.

Xavier took a slow sip of his ice water, his clear eyes suddenly turning sharp behind his messy bangs.

​"It was her, wasn't it? She’s the one you left with that night."

Zayne’s spine went completely rigid. He slowly lowered his hands from his face, his jaw clenching so tightly a visible muscle leaped near his temple. "What are you talking about?"

​"During our joint thoracic case this afternoon, every time she moved the overhead surgical lamp, you stepped back a full six inches. And when she handed you the basic retraction forceps? Your fingers twitched so badly you had to reset your grip on the tool. You never do that." Xavier said, leaning his elbow on the counter and resting his chin in his hand.

​"Xavier," Zayne whispered, his tone dropping into a freezing, lethal register. "If a single syllable of this unprofessional gossip leaves your mouth... you'll find yourself on consecutive twenty four hour rotations until your cartoon stickers lose their color."

​"That's a severe administrative abuse of power, Zayne," Xavier noted, completely unbothered by the threat as he popped another piece of crushed ice into his mouth with a soft crunch. "And my stickers are highly durable."

Across from them, the rapid clicking of a keyboard suddenly stopped.

​You let out a long, exhausted sigh, stretching your arms over your head before hitting the final log out key.

Xavier turned to walk away toward the elevators, but paused, looking back down at the neat, silver pile of peppermint wrappers on the desk. A look of quiet, genuine concern crossed his sleepy face.

​"Zayne?"

​"What?" Zayne asked defensively.

​"You should probably stop eating those," Xavier gestured with his plastic spoon toward the pile. "Yvonne buys those specifically because they have an incredibly high concentration of real peppermint oil. If you eat any more, you're going to give yourself severe acid reflux.

Zayne didn't answer. He simply swept the silver wrappers into his large palm, crushing them into a tight ball, his jaw set in a line so rigid it looked entirely permanent as your footsteps began to echo down the hallway.

Tag list: @remnantsofgildedcages @cacophonoussouls @nanaminsmuse @stillseiims @troubleonryloth @aiehtta @simpd3lpan @applescentedbunny @feral-espresso-boba @aiycnlyme @lowkaylove

This is not his usual time to wake up. Usually, Sylus is the type to wake up a lot later in the day when meetings and work tend to take place and the city starts bustling with people who are waiting to do business.

But today, it's a bit different.

Today, he wakes up with an additional warmth resting next to him, an unfamiliar head of hair peeking out from underneath the duvet which bring back blurry memories of the night prior and remind him of the kind of words he had uttered then, that are so very unlike him.

Truth be told, Sylus is not the type to 'hook up'.

He likes to spend his nights by himself in the comfort of his own home with a glass of expensive wine and his favorite vinyl playing. And on the off-chance that he happens to feel up for it, he'll take his bike for a ride and enjoy the breeze of the night or visit a nearby auction to find a decent addition which he can bring into his collection.

Whether it was fate or a gut feeling that led him there, Sylus somehow found himself in a small inconspicuous bar in downtown Linkon that night, sipping on a glass of Gin and Tonic when his eyes took in the sight of you from across the room who has been quietly downing shots of Tequila. And maybe it was the alcohol talking, or the way you had waved him over with the brightest smile he had ever seen before, but next thing he knew, you had him wrapped around your finger like it meant nothing and he had been drawn to your every word as it made its way past your pretty lips.

Sylus doesn't think much about the strangers he meets, especially if they are but a passing face in his rather busy life where secrets are a norm and trust has to be build over time. But there is something about your eyes; something he feels like he can't explain without sounding like an absolute mad man who has fallen in love with someone at first sight. That would be so unlike him —so precarious of him— to let these feelings inside of his chest bloom when he hasn't said as much as a hello.

Yet he still found himself drawn to that smile and the way those eyes were beaming at him; an urge inside of him wishing to stay with you even for just a second longer. And so, without even thinking about it twice, he had asked you if you'd wanted to grab another drink together, and to his surprise you had agreed eagerly.

Instead of getting you another alcoholic drink however, Sylus helped you sober up from those horrible shots of Tequila instead; a careless decision made on your part because you wanted to take the edge off from a stressful work week. You two got to talking —mostly about you of course, but you still felt like you were getting to know him— and by the end of the night you had asked him if he'd like to come over to your place.

Clothes were haphazardly tossed onto the ground, heated gasps filling the dimly lit corridor as hands roamed unknown bodies and searched for an answer to that overwhelming itch inside each other's chests.

Minutes turned into hours spent holding each other without a moment of rest, words of praise and affection gently whispered as you fell asleep in each other's arms like it was the most natural thing to do.

So now here he is, awake in the early hours of the morning in a room unknown to him, staring at that spot on this bed next to him that has you on it. He wonders what kind of conversation he is supposed to bring up now if you were to wake up; wonders if you are going to wear that same lovely fluster on your face as the one you had been prompting last night. There's a smile on his lips before he even knows it, something welling up inside of his chest that he can't quite explain yet, or maybe just doesn't want to speak out loud at all.

This whole situation feels so out of the ordinary for him, and maybe that's why a part of him feels uneasy about this and this whole ordeal that has him wondering whether or not this is just a fleeting moment about to crumble the moment he puts a name on it.

Sylus' eyes wander around the room and take in all of it; the flashy colors, the array of stuffed animals and the choice of furniture of someone he has only gotten to know for a night. Would getting up and looking for a bathroom to try to freshen up —now that the idea of sleeping in is no longer an option— be something he could consider without looking too strange?

Just as he thinking about trying to get up in an attempt to let you sleep for a little while more, there is some rustling happening underneath the sheets; a loud groan followed by a silent gasp as someone shifts underneath the blanket and realizes what type of situation they have found themselves to be in.

It seems he isn't the only one unfamiliar with this situation.

"Good morning" he says out loud, his voice still raspy and rough from sleep. A pair of anxious-looking eyes peek out from underneath the covers and almost flinch when they meet his, drawing a little chuckle out of him.

"..G-Good morning" you whisper nervously, pulling the duvet a little bit higher as if he hadn't seen all of you the night prior already, "what time is it?"

Sylus sits up and takes a quick glance at his phone, "Just a little after eight. Do you need to be somewhere today?"

"Huh?" you look a little bit taken aback, eyes unable to look right at him, but maybe it's the fact that he is shirtless and the reality of last night finally started kicking in bit by bit; the markings of nails across his back and the small bites along his neck weren't making it any easier either, "M-me? No, not really..! I was just wondering.. um, how long you were going to stay-"

"How about some coffee first then?" he suggests and there is a pang inside his chest he can't quite grasp yet, "I feel like we still have some things to discuss first, don't you think so too?"

Did you assume he would be gone without a word the moment you had woken up? Is this not the first time you've invited someone to stay the night?

..And why does knowing this make him feel more uneasy than not?

There is that fluster again; that beautiful flustered expression that he had been looking forward to seeing again the moment he had woken up to you by his side. Sylus can't help but let a little smile slip that forms on his face as he continues to observe you gently. For a faint second, he sees some hesitation in your expression that slowly dims before you nod slowly.

"Y-yeah, sure. Coffee sounds nice," you reply, clearing your throat as you look down at yourself and the blanket you were clutching onto, "I would like to get dressed first though and freshen up a little bit if that is alright with you"

"Of course, take your time. Would you be alright if I take a look at the kitchen then?"

You hesitate once more, a worried expression taking over your lovely face, and so he adds, "or would you like for me to join you in the bath?", watching delightfully as you break into another wave of fluster.

"N-No, that would be alright!"

Sylus smirks, "..Are you sure?"

"Y-YES!"

And with that, you scutter out the door, still holding onto your blanket as it drags behind you on the floor and almost has you slip on it. He can't help but smile; have his mornings ever felt this.. rewarding before? There's something so refreshing about waking up like this, seeing you in that abashed state next to him and wondering what it would take for you to continue staying by his side.

He has only been with you for a night, but your name is all he can think about right now.

After taking a quick shower and changing into some proper clothes, you had been surprised to find Sylus leaned up against the kitchen counter, taking a look at the view outside your window curiously. He was already holding onto a mug of steaming coffee for himself when he noticed you stepping closer, an irresistible smirk already apparent on his face as he offers to make you a cup as well.

"I feel like that's what I should have been saying.." you mutter, flustered, "how come you seem more comfortable in my kitchen than me right now?"

He chuckles. His voice is deep and so smooth; the very same voice that had whispered gently into your ears as you two embraced each other last night, now comfortably asking you to come closer, his hand naturally finding its spot on your waist, "Indulge me then. How do you like your coffee?"

You like it with a little bit of milk he finds out.

There is an obvious question lingering in the air as you two start your morning together, sharing mugs with adorable patterns on it, enjoying each other's company without threading too close to an impending ending that is soon to come eventually.

Every time he heard his name coming out from your pretty lips, he felt himself smiling along. His eyes liked to observe you as you talk to him and the way you wear your every emotion on your face; it's so very different from his world, and makes him want to watch you for as long as he possibly can.

But time is fleeting, excuses to stay slowly running out and he has been getting bombarded with text messages from two very appalled fellows who are wondering where their beloved 'bossman' is. Which means that it's time for him to start thinking about getting back soon.

A pity.

You are quiet as you watch him step into his shoes and put his leather jacket on. It feels like this whole morning has been but a short-lived dream; something, you have never imagined yourself ever doing before yet somehow feel strangely familiar with. And it's all because of Sylus, you think. It's the way his very presence has made you feel safer than you've ever did before, every word coming out of his mouth making your heart flutter in a way you would never expect it to.

If there's something like soulmates out there, is this what it must feel like meeting one?

When you had woken up in the morning, realizing that you had indeed just brought a total stranger over to your place for what you can only describe as your first, yet (probably) most amazing one night stand ever, there was a part of you that questioned if that's all it was going to be between you two. You barely knew him after all. He had introduced himself, sure, but words can only go so far in one single night and feelings don't necessarily need to bloom just because you had slept together one time.

He had seemed so experienced in this, after all; made you feel like you were the only one he cared about with the way he was calling out your name and whispered gentle nothings into your ear. And your heart has been aching to know if what he said was truly real or if that's just something he does all the time.

"So, when can I see you again?"

"H-huh?" you look up from the spot your eyes had been glued onto and the moment you meet his crimson eyes, your ears can't help but start burning up again. It's that smirk of his; that relaxed expression on his face that seems to know so much more yet doesn't let a single emotion slip. "What do you mean?"

Sylus chuckles, stepping closer until he's right in front of you so his hands can cup your face gently, "and here I was thinking we had a good time. Do you want me to be gone that badly, sweetie?"

"I- No, that's not what I'm saying! I just.. I don't know what you-"

"I'm saying that I want to see you again. I want to get to know you better until I'm not a drunken decision made by you on a random Friday night but the person you are choosing to be with"

You open your mouth to retaliate, but Sylus is faster: he presses a short kiss on your forehead, his thumb gently brushing your cheek and next thing you know, he is gone, the only trace of him left, the prickling sensation on your face.

Xavier

Xavier was trying to find a way in order to talk to you.

Every opportunity that was given to him, he would chicken out last second. What would he even say to you? “Hey, sorry about our date. I thought I was going out with a mutual friend of ours, and that’s why I acted like a dick.”

Yeah, that can totally get you to go out with him again.

Xavier was making his way towards work though the park when he saw someone sitting on a bench. You.

He paused in his tracks as he stared at you from a distance. You were currently writing something in a small journal with a focused expression. Your brows scrunched up in concentration as you erased a few lines.

You looked troubled. Could he help? Was this another chance for him to try and talk to you? He knows you work as a researcher for the Hunters, and maybe you were writing notes down.

This time he wasn’t backing out.

“Hey.”

His soft greeting caused you to jump just a bit, startled from someone suddenly approaching you. When you looked up, you saw it was Xavier. One of your failed dates.

What was he doing here?

“Oh um. Hi?” You wave up at him, feeling awkward.

Xavier flashes you a gentle, soft smile. He couldn’t help but stare you for a little while longer before having to clear his throat, realizing that what he was doing would look creepy.

“I noticed you looked like you were having trouble with something, and wanted to know if I could help.”

You were just writing in a journal to maybe help with your self improvement and self love. You thought writing your plans out along your goals would be a good start to help with what you want to achieve.

And was this guy seriously asking you if he can help add to that? One of the people that are the reason WHY you’re doing this in the first place?

“Oh um… this is a personal thing I’m working on.”

“Ah, ok.”

Awkward silence falls over the both of you.

“Hey, I- I wanted to apologize for my behavior during our last date. You didn’t deserve that.” Xavier confused, his voice soft as he spoke to you.

You couldn’t help but blink up at him with wide eyes, surprised he even said anything. So he knew the way he was acting was uncalled for? Was there a true reason on to why he acted that way? Maybe he really was tired that day? He was a hunter after all, and you’ve heard things about Xavier in the office gossip… how he would mostly be resting during a hunt.

It would make sense…

“I also want to ask you… that maybe we can do a do-over. A date where I don’t… fall asleep.”

Rafayel

Inspiration was hard to come by now.

Rafayel kept thinking over and over again about the date he had with you and kept coming up with different scenarios on how he could have made it better.

It all started with him.

Yes he was the main cause of the dates downfall, but he promises he can be better! He realized your type of style suits you, and how colorful you truly are!

Rafayel kept thinking up on other date ideas and how to win you over. Throughout his walks in Linkon he would occasionally see you, dressed in something that usually wasn’t your style. It pained him every time because he felt like he was the cause of someone loosing their own color.

He was. And you were losing you color.

He was currently walking around the Linkon Park, clearing his head as he was looking for inspiration…

That’s when he spotted you on one of the parks bench.

Your head was tilted up, allowing the light to catch your hair in a way that made it glow. To anyone else you might just look like a normal person.

But in this moment, Rafayel thinks you’re simply beautiful.

He takes his phone out and quickly checks himself out, making sure no hair is out of place. Rafayel wanted to look his best if he was going to talk to you, hoping to charm you. Once he was happy on how he looks he began to make his way over to you.

“Hi, Cutie~”

You nearly jump off from the bench when someone greets you from the side.

“Aw, sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.” Rafayel smiles down at you, but that smiles falter as you just blink up at him. He clears his throat.

“It’s nice seeing you… um…” shit, he should have thought this out… apologize! Yes! He should apologize!

Rafayel steels himself as he regains his composure. “I’m glad I was able to run into you, I wanted to apologize for-,”

“AHEM!”

The merman groans as he looks over to the person that interrupted him, only for his eyes to widen to see a familiar ashy blond male.

“I believe you’re interrupting us.”

Space Cadet vs Megalodon

You sat there on the park bench staring at both men, not understanding what was going on.

Truly, what was going on???

You were just writing in your journal when one of them showed up, and then the next!

“Oh? Was I truly interrupting? I’m glad I did since she didn’t seem all that comfortable talking to you.” Rafayel smirks at the man in front of him.

“Oh, and you think she’ll be with you?” Xavier practically growls out to the fish.

You sat there as both men bicker at each other. Rafayel was throwing insults toward your co worker, while Xavier threw jabs at the the artist. And they were fighting over you.

“Hey, Starlight, let’s go find a quieter place and away from this Primadonna.”

Rafayel stutters from the insult as he watches Xavier lean down and offer his hand to you. “Primadonna?!” The artist dramatically places his hand on his hip and points his finger at the hunter while looking at him. “Don’t listen to this uncivilized urchin, Cutie. He clearly doesn’t know anything about the arts and good fashion sense. I say you and I should leave him.”

Rafayel walks in front of Xavier and bumps him in the shoulder, shoving him to the side and offers his own hand. You hold your journal close to your chest as you watch two grown ass men shove at each other.

“Wasn’t the whole reason why you lost your chance was because you kept judging her on her tastes?” Xavier words caused you to pause, your face scrunching up in a confusion.

“Oh we’re bringing up our mistakes? Well didn’t you sleep through the whole date? I’m pretty sure she would feel better to someone who actually listens.”

Did… did they know each other?

At this point they didn’t seem to pay you any attention anymore as all they did was fight each other. You huff and grab your bag and journal before getting up and silently walked away from the two.

They didn’t even notice you left.

“-and another thing, CUTIE? Really, that’s the same nickname you gave MC and now giving it to her? Clearly it shows you haven’t moved past her,” Xavier practically growls out as he motions to the bench where you once were. “She is not a second option for you because you didn’t get what you wanted.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk. You were the first date she had and what from MC said- you slept through everything! Even in mid-conversation! Who does that?!” Rafayel was offended on your behalf.

Xavier scoffs, crossing his arms. “You say you’re an artist, at this point I think you’d just a liar. You couldn’t even see her true beauty.”

“Yeah- well-!” Rafayel was turning red in the face as he thinking of another come back.

“Cutie, you seriously believe what this fool is saying right?!”

“Starlight, we should leave this area.”

Both men turn to the bench you were currently sitting at… only to see it completely empty.

“Cutie?” “Starlight?” Both men start looking around for you, wondering where you could have went. Xavier grits his teeth as he saw no sign of you while Rafayel runs a hand through his hair in annoyance.

“Great, thanks for scaring off my muse.”

“ME?! She was fine before you showed up!”

“Pu-leaaaase, she clearly needed an escape from your dull small talk.”

Both men begin arguing once again, their shouting starting to become louder and louder. Passerby’s at this point couldn’t but look while also calling for law enforcement, scared a fight was gonna break loose.

You escaped successfully.

Somehow.

That was an hour ago as you found a better place to write down in your journal.

A small ma and pop own cafe.

You were just about to walk past it, right until you saw a cute menu displayed outside about the types of drinks and treats they sell. At first you were hesitate on getting yourself something to eat, but then you saw a small caption at the bottom that said “All Sugar Free”. All guilt and hesitation faded away as you skip your way inside the shop.

Zayne

Zayne felt like the universe was testing him.

Any chance he was given to go and pick up a dessert that wasn’t sugar free to deliver to you, he was pulled back into work.

What’s worst? He never learned about your days off.

He wanted to surprise you at work with a box of macaroons as an apology. Zayne called in from work just so he wouldn’t be called in, but he failed to check if you were available.

Now he walks the streets with a bag filled with cutely decorated macaroons. He could always try and hope to give them to MC, but she is still giving him the cold shoulder so that was out of the question.

It would also be very depressing if he took them and ate them at home alone.

Zayne lets out a sigh as he suddenly shifts his gaze up from staring at his feet and looks across the street, pausing in his tracks.

He sees you just outside a cafe sitting on their patio, surrounding yourself with different desserts to try while writing in a small journal.

You were sitting under one of the many tables that had an umbrella, the shade covering your figure from the harsh sun. But even then, the light all around you makes you glow, and Zayne would be lying if he said you didn’t look beautiful.

Not beautiful… Divine.

Zayne inhales and exhales as he tries to calm his nerves while finding the closest pathway across the street. He held the box of deserts close to himself, afraid that in this once change he sees you they’ll be destroyed.

As the doctor got closer and closer to where you were, he started to become nervous.

“Excuse me.”

His voice startled you as you were in the middle of mid chew of a strawberry tart. You almost choked when you noticed it was one of the men from the failed dates, Zayne.

He looked down at you, a smile forming on his face as he noticed some cream stuck to the corner of your mouth. Though that smile dropped as you squinted your eyes at him, as if him standing here was disturbing your peace.

It kinda was.

“I- ahem. I was going to stop by your work but I don’t know you weren’t working today. I’m glad I was able to run into you… uh, here-,” you weren’t able to question him as he shoves a bag in your face. You blink in confusion as you hesitantly take it and look through it, pulling out a box of macaroons.

“They are… an apology gift. For treating you so rudely on… our date…” Zayne was nervous. He’s never nervous, not even when he’s doing surgery. But because he was trying to get another chance with you, it felt like there was even a slight chance he wouldn’t succeed.

Sylus

He should have sent Mephisto to check if you were home first before he showed up.

Sylus was driving through Linkons streets on his motorcycle, a large bouquet of roses rests in a neatly decorated box in his storage compartment on the side. He was hoping to drop by your place and hand them to you as an apology. Then perhaps ask you himself on a date, he wanted to bring you back to that restaurant where he rejected you.

Clearly the plan didn’t go through.

The light turns red as he slows his bike down to a stop. Sylus grumbles under his helmet while he looks at his watch, trying to see if any new notifications from the twins or Mephisto popped up.

Nothing.

A sigh escaped him as he puts his hand down and watch’s traffic in front of him. Sylus begins to tap on his thigh, inpatient for the light to turn green. He was staring straight ahead as the cars move by, but then as a large truck moves, he sees it…

Well, you, more precisely…

You were sitting peacefully outside of a cafe just at the corner of the street, currently writing something down while stuffing a tiny tart into your mouth. Sylus couldn’t help but chuckle, you looked so cute to him, even if you were far away.

It was fate. It had to be.

As soon at the light turned green, Sylus kicks off the stand and begins to weave through traffic, trying to find a way get to you. He eventually had to do a U turn at the next light. He could have easily drove across the street to get to you, but he’s in Linkon, Sylus could not afford to get pull over now after he found you.

He was able to find a place to park and quickly takes off his helmet. Sylus started getting nervous as he gets the bouquet of flowers. He’s never nervous. Why was he nervous? Is this was being nervous feels like???

Sylus takes a deep breath as calms himself down as he begins to make his way over to you.

“Well, I’m glad I was able to find you, sweetie.”

You jump at the voice as you see Sylus approaching you, your eyes bugging out as you see the large bouquet of the flowers in his hand.

“I’m lucky I was able to come across you after a short ride. (Lie) I want to give these to you.” Sylus hands you the flowers as you stare in shock.

You stared at the roses and turned to him, then back towards the roses. “Take them as an apology gift. For the way I reacted when we first met. I was hoping maybe this time I can-,”

“Ahem.”

Sylus clicks his tongue in annoyance and turns to see Zayne, the doctor from the meeting with MC and the other men.

Frosty the Snowman vs Dragon Tales

Both men stare at each other.

In one hand you had a beautiful array of macaroons, and the other was a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. You look up at Sylus and then towards Zayne, getting a sense of déjà vu from the events that happened a few hours ago.

“Well, what a surprise to see you doctor…”

“I should say the same to you… ‘Skye’.”

Both men glare at each other while you just sat there confused.

What was happening???

First it was you co worker Xavier, then it was Rafayel the artist that started fighting for your attention…

Now it’s Zayne the Doctor and Skye the Fruit Vendor fighting for you. What is everyone’s deal???

Zayne crosses his arms, tilting his head up just a bit to look Sylus in the eyes. “What do you think you’re doing here? From what I know, you would rather spend your time somewhere else.”

Sylus lets out a dry chuckle as he squints down at the doctor. “Oh? And what about you? Being a hypocrite for gifting her the very thing you told her to stay away from? What, had a change of heart or is it just the guilt?”

‘Skye’ turns to you and gives you a million dollar smile. “I am truly sorry for rejecting you. It was rude of me to do so when I never gave you a chance. I-,” the smile drop as he looks at you with a sincere expressions. “I wish to take you on an actual date.”

Zayne couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the way Sylus shamelessly tries to gain your favor. You were about to respond to the silver headed male until Zayne spoke up first. “You wish to ask her out just so you can abandon her once again? Absolutely not.” You whip your head to face Zayne as he goes to step in front of you, shielding you away from the ‘fruit ventor’. “After all, you’re one of the worst ones from the group.”

Did they also know the other guys too?

Zayne turns to you and gives you an apologetic smile. “Come, I’ll take you somewhere more peaceful so you can eat your desserts. I know a nice restaurant around that serves fruity boba drinks.”

“Oh, trying to whisk her away for a meal just so you can nit pick her eating habits? And I thought you were more professional doctor.”

Both men turn away from you, just to glare at one another…

And you didn’t feel comfortable.

You place the bouquet of roses and macaroons onto the patio table as you begin packing up all your desserts in their To-Go boxes, placing them in your bag along with your journal. Both men were so focused on each other that they didn’t even notice you cleaning up your space.

You went back inside the cafe and thanked the owners and praise them how good their desserts were. You also gave them a heads up on the two men arguing outside on their cafe patio.

The elderly couple were thankful for you telling the and waves you goodbye.

Meanwhile both Zayne and Sylus were still at each other’s throats.

“-it’s also very hypocritical for a doctor to tell someone, not even their own patient, to eat healthier when he is the one who is eats sugar like a glutton.”

“I was not in the correct state of mind when that occurred and I acknowledge the issue I have created. You on the other hand have done nothing. And I actually mean ‘nothing’ at all. From what MC said, you just saw her and walked away.”

Zayne steps forward, practically chest to chest with Sylus. “You simply walked away because she wanted what you wanted.”

Sylus couldn’t deny that. He didn’t want you, but he’s seen you now. He sees what you do and wishes he could go back and change how he responded upon that first meeting.

You didn’t deserve the cruel way of rejection.

Just as Sylus was about to respond-

A broom was slapped into his face.

Zayne jumped a bit by the sudden action, then flinching when the broom hits his own face.

“Both of you take your possessive asses somewhere else! You scared off that sweet girl!” The one with the broom was an older gentleman. He was the owner of the cafe with his wife who was standing by the front entrance.

Zayne and Sylus stared in shock at the man before turning to where you were sitting. Just as he said, you were gone.

Both men look in every direction to see where you could have gone, but you were nowhere to be found.

“Now begone with you! Shoo!” The older man uses the broom to ‘sweep’ them away, causing Zayne and Sylus to trip over their own feet. They end up all the way where Sylus parked his bike. Eventually the old man goes back to his shop and grumbles about young people.

The doctor and mafia leader just stand there next to the motorcycle awkwardly. Neither one of them spoke as they just stood on the sidewalk.

“…”

“…”

Zayne coughs in his fist while Sylus brushes some lint off his shoulder.

Both men knew what the other was going to do, but they didn’t want to do make the first move due to not wanting to follow the other…

They wanted to go and look for you.

Today has been really weird, too weird in fact. Not only did four of the guys you went on dates with showed up, but all four of them were practically fighting over you.

Not only that but they all seemed to know each other too, which is just as strange.

They all knew MC too, so maybe they did know each other?

You begin to take your phone out of your bag, digging around with frustration on not being able to find it. At that point you weren’t looking where you were going and tripped over a stray rock.

You tried to regain your balance but only stumbled forward as you saw the concrete ground getting closer, preparing yourself for the impact…

Only it never came.

Your body jerked as you stared at the ground in front of you, blinking in confusion as you hovered…

Hovered???

“Wow, I’m glad I was able to catch you in time.”

You turn your head to see a brunette with the most beautiful violet eyes. He smiles down at you and he moves his hand to position you back up, it took you a moment to realize he was using his Evol.

“Can’t have my Guardian Angel falling on me now.”

Caleb

After the drinking incident, Caleb decided to stop. He should have known better then to go out after getting drunk and almost endangering himself in that situation, but he doesn’t regret having you run into him again.

From there he’s been looking more into who you were, what you do for a living, how you knew his Pipsqueak, anything related to you he looked into.

The colonel was trying to convince himself that it wasn’t because of guilt, no… it was because you took care of him and so he decided he should treat you back.

Yeah, that’s what he’ll do!

It was totally the reason why he stalked your Moments page to try and get a pinpoint on your location. It was TOTALLY the reason why he’s in Linkon now so he can reward you.

It’s totally not because he wants to ask you out on a date. Maybe to give you an actual chance instead of just abandoning you.

He’s been walking around the area for a while now in hopes to run into you, and thankfully he did.

You were walking towards him on the sidewalk, not really paying attention while you were digging through your bag. Caleb was able to get a good look at you now instead of looking through camera feeds, photos, and memory…

You looked like a breath of fresh air. Like the first flowers in bloom in the Spring time.

Majestic, he thinks.

Caleb stops his walking, to caught up in watching how the sun makes your hair glow like a halo around your head. You truly did look like an angel.

He saw how your foot seemed to have caught on something, making you stumble forward. The colonel didn’t hesitate and quickly shoots his hand out to use his evol, saving you from falling on the hard concrete sidewalk face first.

Now, after saving you from your face meeting the sidewalk, Caleb sits with you at the bus stop bench’s.

“You look… familiar.” You squint at him, looking over his features while trying to recollect where you could have seen him before.

“You probably would remember me better if my face was wet and I was drunk,” Caleb mentions as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

You blink at him for a second before gasping, remembering now. “You’re the puddle man!”

Caleb turns to you with wide eyes and lets out a breathy laugh. “Uh yeah. I’m the Puddle Man.”

“Oh my gosh! It’s so nice seeing you! I’ve been worried about you since I dropped you off in your apartment.”

You were worried about him? You didn’t know him at all. You didn’t know this was the same guy that left you all alone at that restaurant. Yet you were still worried over him?

Caleb felt something stir in his chest, something he never felt towards anyone else besides MC. Was it guilt? Yes, but there was something else.

He continues to stare at you as you fret over him, asking if he’s been taking care of himself after that event. Caleb started to believe you were an actual guardian angel.

“Let me take you out on a date.”

“What?” You let out a confused laugh as you stared at the brunette in shock. Was… was he really asking you out?

A blush spreads over Caleb’s face. Even he was surprised by his ow words! He didn’t mean to out right ask you on a date, he was hoping to maybe get to know you better before popping the question. Usually he’s much smoother with his words, but he guesses your a different case.

“Uh yeah! I- well after what happened, I wanted to try and find you and maybe take you out. It doesn’t have to be a date! Just to… thank you…” and sorry.

You look at Caleb, truly look at him. You were about to give him an answer before you were interrupted by loud yelling.

“Cutie! I’m here to save you from that desperate idiotic man!”

“Sweetie please step away from that man.”

“Starlight are you ok? We need to get away from him.”

“Miss, I’m sorry for the rude behavior… let’s go somewhere else away from him.”

Colonel Sanders vs The Karens

Caleb watches in horror as every man that you went on a failed date with comes speeding towards the two of you.

Xavier and Rafayel were neck and neck, running towards you both while trying to trip the other. Meanwhile Zayne was getting off Sylus Motorcycle, along with him.

Caleb quickly stands up and tries to shield you away from the other males. You only turn your attention up towards Caleb, noticing the glare he was giving all of them.

Did he also know them?

“Just stay behind me Pipsqueak.”

Pipsqueak? That’s… really weird name to call you.

Once all four of them got closer, you noticed how they all looked like they were ready to fight Caleb. For what reason? You don’t know.

Sylus and Zayne were the first ones to appear before the both of you, Xavier and Rafayel were too busy with their childish behavior.

“Caleb.”

“Doctor Zayne…”

“Colonel.”

Sylus doesn’t get a greeting from Caleb, he only turns to you. “Do you feel uncomfortable with these men, Pips?”

You only stared up at him, subconsciously nodding. He couldn’t help but give you a gentle smile as he offers his hand towards you, one that you were willing to take-

“I find it very interesting how it’s now that you’ve decided to come for her Colonel. I was told that you abandoned her, leaving her all alone on that first date.” You hand paused mid air as you turn to what Sylus just said.

You didn’t miss the way Caleb flinches as his hand drops to his side as he looks away from you to glare at the Onychinus leader. “I dont know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb, Caleb. We all know that out of the four of us, you were the worst. You never showed up.”

The fifth date. The one that never bothered to show up at the restaurant. The one where he made you think you weren’t worth it.

You slowly look up at Caleb where he was trying to avoid your gaze. Instead he tries to deflect it by lying.

“You don’t actually believe them, do you Pips?”

“Pips? As in Pipsqueak?? That’s so insulting towards her!” Rafayel finally made it over as he glares at the brunette. “You’re seriously calling her by someone else’s nickname.”

“And what about you, huh? Weren’t you just calling her ‘Cutie’?” Caleb fires back.

Is this your time to escape?

You couldn’t run this time unfortunately. You had five men now fighting for you and each one seems to keep glancing in your direction, just to see if you were still there.

You were getting tired of this though.

As the men argue around, you begin to take your phone out and text MC as fast as you.

‘By chance you can you bring a distraction at this location? Thanks’

“You left the most emotional damage towards her.”

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one that slept through everything.”

“I’m pretty sure out of all of us, your the least on to be qualified to be fighting for her.”

“Says a crime lord. Shouldn’t you be out making illegal deals or something?”

“I would feel better if you weren’t here at all, Caleb.”

“I could say the same thing to you Doc.”

“Think it’s about time you see yourself out now, Sky boy.”

“Oh shut your fish mouth.”

With every comment thrown at Caleb, he fired back with his own. You couldn’t help but watch as each insult was thrown at him.

All five men were now focused on one another that they didn’t notice the bus pull up to the stop.

This is your chance!

While they were all distracted you quickly sneak on, telling the bus driver that the five men don’t need a ride.

And with that said, you disappear once again.

MC thought you were joking when you sent her that text. But when she finally showed up to the location, she had no words on what she saw.

All five men that she was ignoring for a while were at the bus stop yelling over one another. As MC stood there, she listened from their conversation.

All of it was about you.

Al these men were fighting over you.

All of them fighting over you after breaking your heart.

“What the hell is going on here?!”

All five of them turn their heads to her, surprised to see MC there. They all turned their heads back to the bench you were sitting at, only to see you weren’t there.

“Well??? Can anyone explain to me what’s going on and why are you all fighting?” MC crosses her arms and begins to tap her foot, waiting for an answer.

Nobody was able to give one.

MC rented out the office room once again. All five men sat at the table in silence… once again. MC was currently on the phone talking with you about the events that have happened today.

“Uh huh… yeah that is strange… no I didn’t get them to act like that, why would I?… how funny. Anyway I’m gonna let you go, get some rest, I’ll see you at work. Right, love you too bestie.” MC turns her phone off as she turns and faces all the men.

“Ok… let’s start on why you guys are harassing my friend.”

“Harassing? Did it truly look like that?” Zayne scrunches his face in thought as he tries rethink the events that occurred.

“Well let’s be honest, I was the first to approach her, but then all of you followed along when I was just trying to help her.” Xavier points out.

Sylus scoffs while crossing his arms. “Really? Because kept pushing to get to her. Don’t lie now, your princely-ness.”

“Oh I was trying to save her from him, but when I looked to where she was, she disappeared!” Rafael defends himself. “I was even offering to take her out!”

Caleb only grumbles with his arms crossed. “She was fine with me until all of you showed up…”

“Oh don’t start now.”

“You don’t deserve a chance!”

The room blows up with all of them arguing once again. MC rubs her temples in thought.

“Are you only trying to date her because of guilt? Or because of another reason.”

All of them turned towards MC, the looked away.

None of them can deny it was front guilt, but there was something else to it. They see you now as a person, a human being and someone who deserves to be treated better.

And they wanted to be the ones to treat you.

“I… saw the error on how I treated her. And I wish to correct it. She’s been only all sugar free desserts and I find that to be unfair, since I pushed her to do that.”

“You think you’re bad? I judged her on how she’s dressed and the things she likes. She actively stays away from those things now.” Rafayel mentions.

“I notice her at work and how quiet she’s gotten. I’ve seen how she wishes to talk to some of the other hunters but stays quiet.” Xavier confesses.

Both Sylus and Caleb don’t say anything as they only stare at the table. MC lets out a sigh as she rubs the bridge of her nose.

“If this is some fucked up way to get me to talk to you guys-,”

“Absolutely not.”

MC blinks as she looks over at Sylus who interrupted her. “I dont know about the others, but I know for a fact that I’ve made peace with it. I’ve always told you sweetie that if you wanted me gone from your life, you just tell me.” Sylus leans back in the chair, folding his arms. “I’ve always had my eyes on you Kitten, but now I’m looking at those around me and I’ve seen what your friend can do, and who she is. For me it’s nothing about guilt, but for trying to fix something that never had the chance to grow.”

MC stares at Sylus with wide eyes. That… that was actually really sweet of him…

“Puh-leeeease, he just pulled that out of his ass.” Rafayel ruins the moment.

“Oh? Then I’m guessing you don’t truly wish to get to know Ms Researcher then, do you?”

Rafayel scoffs at Sylus claim. Of course he wants to get to know you! He also wants to fix what he said to you, he just doesn’t want this asshole to be the first to say it.

MC watches once again as all five men go back in arguing and insulting one another. It dawns on her that these guys serious about you.

She won’t be able to stop it. She prays for your sanity now.

——————————

T - 30 days The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom. Caleb is taking a shower. At 3am. He had just returned from god knows where.

You stand at the bathroom door, a little nervous, wanting to discuss something with him. Just as you are trying to figure out the best way to phrase it, you hear a strange sound coming from inside. After listening carefully, you realize with a gasp that he was taking care of himself…

Each breath and groan is like a heavy hammer blow, relentlessly pounding on your heart. The pain spreads like a tidal wave, leaving you sinking in it, unable to breathe.

Actually, today is your wedding anniversary. Your fifth year of marriage, and you've never consummated it. So, he preferred to take care of himself rather than touch you?

As his breathing grows more rapid, he suddenly lets out a low growl, his voice strained with barely suppressed emotion, "Pipsqueak-" That one word delivers the final, fatal blow.

Your heart pounds, as if something just shattered into dust. You try to cover your mouth to stifle your sobs, and turn to run, but stumble on your first step, bumping into the sink and falling to the floor.

"Y/N?" Caleb's voice inside hasn't calmed down yet; you can tell he is trying to control himself, but his breathing is still heavy.

"I...I need to use the restroom, I didn't know you were taking a shower..." you stammer, clumsily grabbing the sink to stand up.

The floor and sink are wet. The more you try, the more helpless the situation becomes. By the time you finally manage to stand, Caleb emerges from the door, his white bathrobe hastily pulled on with the belt fastened tightly.

"Did you fall? Let me help you." He makes a move to pick you up. Tears well in your eyes from the pain, but you push his hand away, your expression a mixture of distress and determination. "No need, I can do it myself."

After nearly slipping again, you limp and stagger back to your bedroom. No, "escape" is the more accurate word. For the five years you were married to Caleb Xia, you've been doing nothing but constantly running away.

Running away from the outside world, from everyone's strange looks, and from Caleb's pity and sympathy—his wife is a cripple.How can a cripple be worthy of the brilliant and successful Caleb Xia?

You were not always like this...

Caleb follows you out, his voice gentle and concerned. "Did you hurt yourself? Let me see." "No, I'm fine." You pull the blanket tighter around yourself, hiding your disheveled state under it. "Are you really alright?" He sounds genuinely concerned. “Mmm.” You nod vigorously, back facing him. “So, are you going to sleep? Didn’t you want to go to the bathroom?” “I don’t want to anymore now, let’s sleep?” You whisper.

“Alright," he pauses. "By the way, today is our anniversary. I bought you a present. You can open it tomorrow and see if you like it.” “Okay.” The present is on the bedside table; you've already seen it, but you already know what is inside without even opening it.

It's the same size box every year, containing the exact same necklace. In your drawer, there are already nine identical ones. This is the tenth.

The conversation ends there. Caleb turns off the light and lies down across from you. The damp scent of bodywash fills the air, but you barely feel the bed sink. In the two-meter-wide bed, you sleep on one side, and him on the other side at the very edge; there is enough space in between  for at least another 3 people.

Neither of you mention "pipsqueak", nor what he had just done in the bathroom, as if nothing  happened. You lie stiffly, eyes burning with pain.

Pipsqueak, or MC, was his adopted younger sister, his first love, his goddess. Upon high school graduation, MC went abroad, leaving Caleb behind. He was devastated.

You and Caleb were classmates in middle and high school. You admit that you had a crush on him at the time. Back then, he was the school heartthrob, a cool and aloof academic star, while you considered yourself pretty ordinary. Not the most academically gifted, nor the most popular or pretty. You had a face everyone could recognize, but not many could describe. Besides, you had larger dreams back then. You were a dancer; started when you were young. The stage was where you felt the most at home.  So, it was just a secret crush for you; you never thought you would ever stand beside him. 

Until you return home for summer vacation after graduating from the conservatory and encounter Caleb in a wreck.

That night, he was drunk, walking erratically, crossing the street without looking at the traffic lights. A car sped towards him, and you, worried and following close behind, pushed him out of the way, getting hit by the car yourself.

You thought you had done good for yourself up to that point, successfully completing your dance studies and hoping to get a position in one of the large dance companies in the city.

The accident left you with a serious limp. You'd never be able to dance again.

Shortly after, he swore off drinking and married you.

He was forever guilty, forever grateful, forever soft-spoken, and forever showered you with gifts and money. Yet at the same time, forever indifferent. The only thing he couldn't give you was love.

In the beginning, you naively thought that time could heal all wounds, dilute all the pain. But you never could have imagined that five years later, he would still remember the name "pipsqueak" so vividly, calling out to her when he is serving himself. In the end, you were simply too foolish…

When Caleb gets up for his Colonel duties, you still pretend to be asleep. You hear him talking to the housekeeper outside: "I have a company dinner tonight. Tell my wife not to wait for me and to go to bed early." After giving the instructions, he comes back into the room to check on you again. You hide under the covers, your pillow soaked with tears. Usually, when he goes to any of the Farspace Fleet galas, you would prepare his outfit in advance.

But not tonight. He goes to the dressing room to change himself and heads to work. You open your eyes, feeling them swell uncomfortably.

Your phone alarm rings. It's the time you set for yourself to get up and study.

Because of your leg injury, since getting married, you spend most of your time at home, rarely going out. You divide your day into blocks, finding something to occupy your time.  You pick up your phone, turn off the alarm and start scrolling aimlessly through various apps. Your mind is a jumbled mess, unable to absorb anything. Until, you suddenly come across a video on a certain social media platform.

The person in the video looks so familiar… The account name: Pips_apple. The posting time was last night.

You click on the video, and immediately, upbeat music starts playing, followed by someone shouting: One, two, three, welcome back Pipsqueak! Cheers! It's Caleb's voice. He broke his vow of abstinence from alcohol. He's even a little drunk.

But would Caleb really shout like that? The Caleb you remember from high school was a friendly, but aloof academic genius. Not only was he serious when doing course work, but even more so on the sports field; he paid no attention to any of the girls who offered him water bottles and love letters.  Later, the Caleb who became your husband was even more polite, his emotions so stable they were almost unwavering. He never smiled, never got angry. He was always detached, so detached that when you occasionally touched his fingers, even his body temperature was cold.

The camera pans across everyone's faces in the video. You see a slightly tipsy Caleb, his eyes sparkling, raising his glass and laughing loudly at the camera: "Welcome home, Pips!"

So, he could smile after all. He could be passionate too. He would call girls by their nicknames. Just not you. 

You close the app immediately, struggling to catch your breath. You open your email, and read the acceptance letter on your phone over and over again, at least a hundred times.

A graduate school offer from a foreign university, the thing you originally planned to discuss with him last night. You wanted to study abroad for a master's degree; was that okay? But now it seems there is no need to discuss it with him. Five years of marriage, countless sleepless nights.  You needed to get out. If you didn't find something to do with your life now that MC is back, how would you pass the long hours? Would you spend your whole life waiting for Caleb to come home?

You had already waited for too long. The pain of waiting... is unbearable now. Today marks the countdown to you leaving him.

T - 29 days Today your plans are a little different than the usual.

Your offer was likely part of the program's last round of admissions, so you wanted to confirm it as soon as possible. The first item on your agenda is to pay the confirmation fee to the school. You breathe a sigh of relief as your phone lights up with the notification from your bank card deduction.

In the evening, you change your clothes and prepare to go out.  Your housekeeper, Mrs. Chen, is surprised. "Madam, where are you going?" Without Caleb's company, you seldom leave the house.

"Oh, friend of mine is performing at the theatre tonight and asked me to meet them," you say. Actually, you were going to stay in a hotel in the city. You have an interview tomorrow morning with an alumni of the program in the area. You were worried about traffic and not making it on time.

“But…” Mrs. Chen looks at your leg, “Shall I go with you?” “No need, it’s a get-together with my girlfriends.” Your expression remains unchanged. “Then I’ll inform the Colonel.” Mrs. Chen is uneasy, genuinely afraid something might happen to you, and didn’t want to take responsibility for whatever goes down. “No need, don’t disturb him. I’ll call him after and have him pick me up.” 

As you step out into the street, you instinctively lower your head and hunch your shoulders, hiding your face into the collar of your coat. Since injuring your leg, the confident and vibrant you on stage has disappeared. 

Mrs. Chen always said that it was best if your husband goes out with you. Caleb always said that you should stay home if he isn't with you. Neither of them knew. The only thing you were afraid of more than going out alone was going out with Caleb. Because everyone who sees you looks at you with the same question: "How did someone like him marry a girl like that?"

T - 28 days Your interview goes surprisingly smoothly. After slowly wandering around Linkon City alone for the first time in many years, you hail a taxi and head home. In the car, you silently gaze at the lights outside the window, when suddenly, you see Caleb's car parked on the side of the street.

"Wait, please stop for a moment," you quickly call to the driver. Caleb's car is parked in front of a restaurant. Yesterday before leaving for work, Caleb had casually mentioned that it was his turn to treat his friend group to dinner.

You get out of the car as if possessed.

Upon arriving, you tell the server at the front, "reservation under Mr. Xia," and give them the the last four digits of Caleb's phone number. The waiter leads you to a private room. "Thank you," you say, hesitating in front of the door. From outside, you can hear lively voices.

"I need to get home early today, I got home drunk last night and my wife was furious at me!" "Come on~ Are we still tight? Who's the one that used to always toot "bros before hoes"? Now you're henpecked? Sounds like Caleb's the only real one left!" MC jokes, her voice cheery and light.

So this is the kind of person she was. This is the kind of personality that Caleb likes. Unfortunately, you are far from it; you couldn't even pretend to be if you tried. 

Inside, Caleb's friend continues, "How can Caleb be the same as me? Y/N wouldn't dare raise her voice at him!" "Hey, by the way," MC's soft voice rings out again, "Caleb, I heard your wife is disabled? Why?"

No one answers MC's question. Your heart clenches.

Caleb's group of friends start talking amongst themselves. "Seriously, Caleb, we feel sorry for you. Look at you, you have money, power, you're handsome, a real catch. What kind of woman couldn't you marry? Why did you have to marry a cripple?" "Honestly, dude, you're the most outstanding among us. Now that you've married Y/N, whether you're at a meeting, a social event, a press conference, or any other occasion that requires a partner, you can't even take her out. Don't you think you're losing out?"

So that's how it is…

Caleb always said he didn't need you to get involved in his affairs; he was more than happy to provide for you. Everyone praised you for living a life of luxury, but as it turns out, it is simply because he doesn't think you are presentable enough.

A bitter laugh comes from Caleb. “She was so kind to me after all; I owe her.” “You owe her? You've given her so much; you've paid it back ten-fold by now!” “Exactly! You should have just given her a lump sum back then. Was it necessary to jeopardize the happiness of the rest of your life?” “I'm telling you, you should really think about it. What can she do for you? She's useless at social events, and you'd even have to worry about her spilling water at home. "Caleb~ have some water" like this? Like this?"  A burst of laughter erupts from the room, mixed with MC's exaggerated gasp. "Caleb! Does your wife really walk like that?"

You feel all the blood rush to your head as the anger and humiliation tips you off balance. You force the door open and are immediately met with a roar of laughter.

T - 27 days One of Caleb's friends, Gideon, carries a cup of water in both hands, walking with an exaggerated limp, and calling out in a high-pitched voice, "Caleb, Caleb, have some water, Caleb, ah—I fell down, Caleb, hug me—" The mocking performance is a hit. MC, sitting next to Caleb, leans on his shoulder as she shakes from laughter. 

You turn to look at your husband, hoping that the person you loved most would show some sort of reaction.  Caleb, however, remains completely silent. Gideon turns around with a triumphant smile, "How does that sound, Cale-" Before he could finish the question, he sees you standing in the doorway, and his smile freezing. "Y/N..."

Everyone looks towards the door. They are stunned.

MC quickly removes herself from Caleb's shoulder, smiling as she reaches out her hand. "Ah! This must be Caleb's legendary wife! Please come in, I'm Caleb's childhood friend."

You look at everyone in the private room, heart turning cold.

Caleb finally stands up and walks towards you. "Y/N, what brings you here? They were just joking, don't take it to heart." You stare at the man in front of you, feeling utterly unfamiliar with him, more unfamiliar than ever before. He calls this joking? So he's actually siding with them?

"Yes, sister-in-law... sister-in-law! I'm sorry, I was just joking, don't be angry," Gideon apologized, putting down his cup.

Caleb walks up, intending to put his arm around you. You suddenly remember MC laughing on his shoulder, his hands pleasuring himself in the bathroom, him calling out "Pipsqueak" as he came, and suddenly the thought of his hands on you is utterly filthy. You dodge his arm. “Y/N,” Caleb looks at his empty hands in surprise and sighs. “I apologize on their behalf. Don’t be angry, okay? I’ll bring you something when we get back; whatever you want.”

MC glares at Gideon playfully. “Go on, apologize! You've made the Colonel's wife angry! Do you think everyone is like me, clumsy and clueless, letting you joke around like that?” Gideon immediately gets defensive. “I already apologized! I didn’t know she'd suddenly appear out of thin air; I was just joking.” “A joke is only a joke if the person it is about finds it funny.” You summon all your courage to spit out the words. 

"Alright, that's enough," Caleb puts himself between you and Gideon. "Y/N," Caleb's gaze is as calm as ever, "They mean no harm; they were just joking. For my sake, forgive them. Shall I have the driver take you home?"

"Sister-in-law..." MC pouts as she stands beside him, "If you're really angry, be angry with me. Don't ignore your husband. They only organized today's gathering because I came back... Caleb, why don't you ask your wife to stay for dinner? I'll offer her a toast as an apology." "Sorry," you look at the two of them with a scorning smile. "I don't drink alcohol, especially not this tea-flavored liquor."

Caleb's expression turns serious. "Y/N, MC was trying to make it up to you, why are you so sharp-tongued?" Make it up to you? Only a fool would think so. Is Caleb a fool? No, he isn't. He is simply biased; whichever side his heart leans towards is right.

You look at the two people in front of you, and the several people behind them. They were all on the same side, while you are just an outsider who had intruded into their world. No, in fact, you've never truly entered their world; not even the periphery.

You struggle to hold back tears, letting out a soft "heh," before turning to leave. Behind you, MC's voice calls worryingly, "Caleb, your wife!" "It's alright, she's very understanding. I'll go comfort her when I go back." He sneaks a glance at your retreating figure and texts the driver to pick you up. 

You wipe away your tears forcefully, gait getting more unsteady. Surely, they'll continue to laugh at you after you left, right? You are crippled; you aren't good enough for Caleb Xia. This realization had haunted you like a curse for the past five years. 

By the time Caleb's driver arrives, you are no longer by the restaurant. Caleb frowned at the text from the chauffer. He calls you, but you didn't answer. He tries again, but your phone is switched off now.  His buddies speak up more. "Caleb, how did you manage to spoil such a girl? With your status and appearance? There's women willing to grovel at feet! You're too good natured, letting your wife give you the cold shoulder." Caleb doesn't say anything.  "Marrying her is already a huge blessing! Who else would want her if not you?"  MC quickly interjects at just the right second. "Gege, don't listen to everyone saying bad things about Y/N. They're just want the best for you. Don't take it to heart!" "I'm not angry," Caleb puts away his phone. "It's alright, she won't go anywhere."

After all, for the past five years, you really haven't been anywhere except stay at home; you had nowhere to go.

T - 26 days You don't go home. You check back into the hotel you stayed at the previous day. All the grievances and pain erupt the moment the hotel room door closes. The image of Gideon limping, mocking you, kept flashing before your eyes, the laughter echoing in your ears like a curse.

Actually, you already know what Caleb's peers say about you in private, just never mentioned it to him before. They were his ride-or-die colleagues, you understood. He worked very hard for the safety of Linkon City; you understood. Therefore, you didn't want to cause him any trouble or fallouts with his friends and coworkers

But now it seems that you were overthinking things.

How could he have a falling out with his friends because of you? Those were his brothers since his DAA days! And you? Merely a debt he owed to himself as repayment for gratitude; a burden. Without you, his life would be happier.

"She's just a cripple! Who would want her if you didn't marry her?" "What more could she ask for than marrying someone like Caleb?" "If I were the Colonel, I'd rather be the one crippled by a car accident than marry someone like that."

Your heart and lungs ache terribly.

With trembling hands, you open a photo album on your phone you haven't dared touch in five years—a record of your training and performances during your undergraduate years. Since you could no longer perform on stage, you sealed all your dance-related photos and videos here, password protected, and never opened them again. Now, your trembling fingers randomly click on a video. Perfectly in time with the music, you twirl, leap, and land lightly on your feet Back then, you were radiant, graceful, and received thunderous applause…

So, was saving him a mistake?

Honestly, the moment you pushed Caleb out of the way, you never thought of marrying him. He was the one who said he wanted to marry you and planned a grand proposal, knelt before you with a huge diamond ring, and gave you hope…

For the first time in five years, you collapse onto the bed and sob uncontrollably. You cry for a long time

So long that no more tears flow from your eyes, leaving only pain in your chest, burning and licking like flames. Yet the more it hurt, the clearer you became about your situation.

You go the bathroom and wash your face thoroughly to calm down. Looking at your lifeless reflection in the mirror, you silently tell yourself, "Crying once is enough. Don't cry anymore. Now please take care of yourself for once."

T - 25 days Perhaps because you didn't sleep a wink the night before out of nervousness for your interview, you actually sleep quite well today. You wake up on time and turn on your phone.

Countless messages flood in all from one person—Caleb.

Walking alone on the sidewalk, head down, you review the student visa application process until a pair of leather shoes appear in front of you. You didn't expect someone to deliberately block your path, and bump into them.

If the person didn't catch you, you definitely would've fallen.  Unfortunately, that person is the last one you wanted to see.  Caleb.

"Y/N!" You can tell he is angry, but trying his best to speak in a controlled manner. “Y/N, why didn’t you come home?” He holds your shoulders, voice softening as gentle and tender as ever.

You should know why I’m not going home, you think, hurriedly stuffing the notes you took from your interview back into your bag, fastening it tightly. “What’s this?” he asks, looking down at your bag. “Nothing, just some paper.” You feign composure, fingers gripping the bag so tightly they turn white. “Give it to me,” he offers. No, you can't let him see them. You clutch the strap tighter. "Do you need something?" "Give me your phone," he demands. You hesitate for a moment, then take your phone out and hand it to him. The phone is off. He glances at it only once before handing it back. "I called you so many times and sent you so many messages. Why didn't you reply? Are you still angry?"

You breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn't asking where you were the night before. If it's only about that… You stay silent for a moment, and decide you didn't want to be angry anymore. You just want to get away. Seeing your silence, Caleb assumes you're still angry and sighs. “Y/N, you're supposed to be the understanding one. Why didn't you come home?”

You swear you didn't want to get worked up about it anymore, but Caleb's words are somehow innocent yet cruel enough to break even a saint.  “So you still think what happened yesterday was my fault? Was I being unreasonable? Should I have praised Gideon for such an accurate depiction as soon as I went in?!” You couldn't take it anymore.

Caleb's face slightly twitches in embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant. What I meant was, you can’t control what others say, so just manage your own reaction and pay them no mind.” “I can’t control it, but you can!” you shoot back. “But what were you doing then? You and your pipsqueak, hugging and all over each other.” “Y/N!" His expression finally changes into something that resembles anger, more intense than anything you've seen.  You laugh inwardly.

The name “pipsqueak” is his Achilles’ heel, an untouchable minefield. You have nothing else to say. You clutch your bag, planning to walk past him, but he reaches out and pulls you close by the waist. “I’m sorry, it's my fault. I raised my voice just now,” he says softly. “I just didn’t want you to misunderstand MC. We’re just ordinary friends, like everyone else. I treat her like my sister. She’s not married yet. Don't talk about her like that.”

You don't understand. They were the ones acting like that, MC brushing up against him so brazenly; why is he so afraid to admit it? 

"Oh," you reply monotonously. “Y/N…” Caleb can sense the coldness in your voice. “Why are you still angry? I haven't even confronted you about going to a hotel by yourself without telling anyone, about not reply to any of my messages and calls”. Yes, it's all your fault. You're the unreasonable one here. 

Earlier in your marriage, hearing this from Caleb would have been your worst nightmare. But now? You don't intend on striving to be good enough for him anymore.

T - 24 days Caleb insists on taking you out to eat to "smooth things over".  “Caleb, I’m not hungry.” You don't touch your chopsticks. “I have something to tell you.” “What?” He smiles slightly. “I’ll go with you wherever you want. I’m free all day.” You stare at his almost imperceptible smile, thinking hard about what you can say to those dreamy, purple eyes.

"Caleb..." your throat closes up, betraying your resolve. “Hmm? Y/N?” He takes your hand. “What’s wrong? Want to cry? If you want to cry, just cry. Don’t hold it in.” His voice is so gentle, so incredibly gentle.

Just like back then, when you first emerged from the operating room, the nurses wheeled you back to the floor. He stood by your bedside, his voice so gentle it was almost painful, saying, "Y/N, does it hurt? If it hurts, cry it out, don't hold it in..." Back then, you thought such gentle care was a good remedy for pain. Unfortunately, it took you many years to truly understand that a man's gentleness and care could never be transformed into love...

"Caleb, let's get a divorce," you say softly, pulling your hand away. He frowns; clearly, he didn't expect you to say that. After a brief silence, he picks up a piece of fish, and gently removes the bones with his chopsticks, putting it in your bowl. "Y/N, I know you're still angry, but bringing up divorce is irrational. What will you do if you divorce me? How will you live on your own?"

T - 23 days: Your breathing quickens

In everyone's eyes, for the last five years, you've been Caleb's dependent; without him, you were a pitiful creature, unwanted and unable to survive. He thought so too. "I can do it!" For the first time, you speak up against him, wanting to stand up for yourself.

He just smiles, still assuming you are being stubborn, and places the deboned fish in front of you. "Eat. You're allowed to be angry for a while, but you can't be angry until after you finish eating." "I'm not angry, I really want a divorce!" How can you make Caleb understand that you mentioning divorce isn't just an emotional outburst?

“Y/N.” he puts down his chopsticks, “I canceled two meetings and a practice flight today just to come and spend time with you. I might not have that much time tomorrow or the day after. Let me say it again, MC is a good friend. I treat her no differently than I treat Gideon and the others. She also likes you a lot and has always wanted to be your friend. With your attitude… how can I bring her to you?” “Then there’s no need for us to get close.” You don't think MC actually wants to be friends with you. “Y/N!” Caleb's voice carries a hint of warning.

You focus on eating instead. Even if you were angry, it's not worth taking your anger out on your own stomach. "That's right," Caleb's tone softens again. "Don't mention the word 'divorce' again." You pause, then continue eating with your head down. The next day, you book a physical therapy appointment at AKSO Hospital.

T - 22 days You need to get used to going out alone, so you decide to do some window shopping. Wandering aimlessly through Universum, you spot a familiar figure at a designer jewelry store — MC. Looking at the store name, a feeling of unease settles over you as you unconsciously walk closer.

“Buy it if you like it!” comes her friend's voice. “I can't do that, Tara!" MC exclaims, "It's too expensive. Even though Caleb gave me his card and told me to use it as I please, I feel awkward buying such an expensive item!”

Your steps falter, too heavy to take another step.

“Since he gave it to you, it’s for you to use. When has your brother ever used pleasantries with you He's probably over the moon that you're willing to spend his money.” Tara replies. “That’s true…” MC twirls, showing Tara the necklace she tried on at different angles. You see it too. “Isn’t it beautiful, Tara? I really, really love this necklace! I liked it back in high school, and Caleb promised to buy it for me after graduation, but..."

But?

You laugh bitterly at the irony. But instead, Caleb gives you this necklace every year for your birthday and anniversary. Originally, you had thought that even if Caleb was heartless, at least he remembered your birthday and your anniversary; even if the gift he chose wasn’t thoughtful, it would at least be expensive.

But it turns out he isn’t heartless, nor is he indifferent; on the contrary, he is incredibly thoughtful and devoted. It’s just that what he holds dear has nothing to do with you.

T - 21 days You try to talk about the divorce with Caleb again, this time taking the initiative to meet  him as he gets off work. You walk into the grand foyer of the Farspace Fleet HQ, preparing to text and let him know you're here, when you hear his voice.  "And that concludes your orientation tour."

You slowly turn to see Caleb, his adjutant, Liam, and MC walk out of the elevator. You wait until they make their way closer to the front door to approach the group. "It's been a pleasure showing you around," Liam adds, saluting to MC, "I look forward to working with you, Mrs. Xia".  You nearly choke on your breath, face red and still sputtering as you appear in front of Caleb. Liam looks at you with confusion. "I'm sorry, and you are...?" Caleb's face morphs from surprise to horror, and you see the message behind his furrowed brows and pleading eyes: "don't say anything"

You remember the sneers, the joking, the pity.

"I'm a good friend of the Colonel," you say. "In fact, we have a dinner appointment tonight." Caleb nods vigorously in agreement, quickly dismissing Liam as you, Caleb, and MC walk towards the parking garage. 

When you arrive at Caleb's car, MC doesn’t move, smiling sweetly. “Okay, Gege, you guys go home. I’ll take a taxi myself. Y/N, I’ll return Mr. Xia back to you.”

Back to you? What does she mean, back to you? When did you ever agree to lend your husband out?

She takes the opportunity to cling to your arm, shaking it sweetly. “Y/N, don’t be angry. Today’s misunderstanding wasn’t intentional. Liam just assumed things because Caleb has never personally brought a cadet around before. I didn't have time to explain the situation." Her eyes subconsciously flick to your leg before she continues. “You won’t be angry with us, right?” “Us?” you sneer. “Who is this ‘us’? Who exactly is with whom?” You hate strangers getting close to you — especially her. You pull your arm away. You swear you only pull back lightly. You don’t shove her. You absolutely do not push her. Yet she falls to the ground. “Y/N!!” Caleb shouts your name.

MC reacts faster than both of you. She scrambles up and blocks Caleb completely — pressing herself against him. “Caleb, don’t be angry. Don’t blame Y/N, I’m just careless. She just gently touched me and I lost balance myself. Gege, please don't get angry at your wife because of me, it’ll make me sad…” Only Caleb believes this act. Especially when she deliberately raises her wrist — the scraped skin clearly visible — right in front of him, the glint of the necklace she bought yesterday, the same as yours piercing your eyes. Caleb sees the scrape. His brows knit together, eyes filled with obvious concern.

“Y/N! What’s wrong with you? Why are you so prejudiced against her?” “Me? Prejudiced against her?” you laugh. “What prejudice could I possibly have? After all, she’s Mrs. Xia now.” “You—” He is momentarily speechless before lowering his gaze to MC. “Does it hurt?” “No…” she whimpers, yet she lifts her wrist closer to his chin. He actually lowers his head and gently blows on it.

You have never seen him look at you like that.

“I’ll put some medicine on it later. We can’t let it scar.” Not even after your car accident. Not when you lose your leg. Not when your body is covered in scars. Back then, he gently asked you, “Does it hurt? If it does, cry.” But that wasn't heartache. It was guilt. He never caressed your wounds. When faced with your scars, he escapes. He avoids. He refuses to look at them.

“It’s okay, I'm really alright!” MC’s voice grows even softer “Y/N,” Caleb calls, looking up at you. “Aren’t you going to apologize?” “Why should I apologize?” A sharp sting rushes into your eyes, blurring your vision. You can barely see his face anymore. “Because she calls herself my husband’s wife, I have to apologize?” “Y/N! Why are being sarcastic? Didn’t she explain? Liam simply misunderstood. Why are you holding onto this?”

He is angry again. He always is, whenever you speak up against her. You smile and shake your head. “No, Caleb. You’re wrong. I don’t want to hold onto this at all. I didn’t even expose you two on the spot. Whoever wants to be Mrs. Xia can take the position. I already told you I want a divorce. You should just agree. Then everything becomes perfectly legitimate.” You don’t expose them because there’s no need. Since you are going to divorce him anyway, why add more trouble to your life? It isn’t worth it.

“Your temper is getting more and more outrageous!” he snaps. “There’s a limit to throwing tantrums! Apologize right now!” “I won’t.” You turn to leave. “Stop!” He rushes forward and grabs your wrist. “Where are you going? You pushed her. Her arm is hurt. You're not leaving without saying sorry."

You stare at the hand gripping you. Despair crashes over you like a tidal wave. You look into his eyes and say, slowly, clearly, word by word: “Yes. All I have to deal with is being a cripple for the rest of my life. But oh no, she scratched her arm”

A flash of sharp pain crosses his eyes. He loosens his grip and steps back. The moment you are free, you turn and run toward the elevator. No matter how disheveled you look, you don’t care. You absolutely cannot let him see the tears streaming down your face. From the day you were injured, through your wedding and five years of marriage... This is the first time you use your injured leg to hurt him.

Before, you were so careful about protecting his feelings. You were afraid he felt guilt and remorse, so you never mention the accident five years ago. Even when you had to endure gossip and cold stares, you swallowed everything alone. But now, is he in pain too? You can honestly understand to a certain degree.

He is doomed to carry the burden of you for the rest of his life, unable to shake himself free. How can he not be? His true love is right beside him, yet because of your existence, he can't even be with her openly. How can he not be in pain when the urge to let go is pitted against the torment of his conscience? 

So, Caleb, please let me go, okay?

T - 20 days You return home alone and lay your ten jewelry boxes out in front of you. You stare at the necklaces for a long time, lost in thought. For a moment, you want to smash each one against the wall. But you don't. Impulse solves nothing.

After calming down, you download a secondhand resale app and start looking for sellers who buy luxury goods. You quickly find one in the city and arrange to drop them off tomorrow. Having dealt with this, you turn on your computer and begin focusing intently on your visa application.

You have less than three weeks until you escape your personal hell.

T - 19 days You are so engrossed in your work that you don't even notice Caleb's return.You hurriedly close your laptop when you hear "What are you doing?" coming from the doorway.

Caleb returns, maintaining his usual gentle demeanor, as if nothing happened. He walks to your side and asks in a soft voice, "Watching a show? Studying? What's got you so hooked that you're still up?" He's trying to make conversation.

You press your hand tightly against the laptop; the VISA webpage is still open. "You wouldn't care for it" "I don't even know what it is? Here, let me see. You asked me to tutor you back in high school." He reaches out to try to pry the screen up but you hold on tightly, refusing to let go. He assumes you're still angry, so he stops trying to take it from you. Instead, he sighs and squats down, staring at your profile. "Still angry?"

"No." You're not lying. You've had many feelings: anxiety, disappointment, despair, but definitely not anger. Anger meant that as long as he coaxed you, things would be fine; there was still hope for your marriage. But for you, any last drop hope had already evaporated. Five years… that was enough.

“Y/N, MC and I really have nothing going on. We're just close childhood friends. She came back from abroad, and we all got together to welcome her. The misunderstanding at work today was purely accidental. You have to believe me.”  His voice grows increasingly sweet. You look into his eyes, unable to see the passion behind the soft words. Gentleness is like a program written into his body, running on autopilot.

“Caleb” you finally say, “Aren’t you tired?” He's taken aback, seemingly not understanding what you mean. You give him a bitter smile. "You have someone else in your heart, yet you still fuss over me every day. Aren't you tired?" Caleb's eyes widen. "I don't..." "Caleb, stop lying to yourself! I know some things don't sound so honorable when brought up; it'll make everyone look bad. But actually, divorce is better for both of us. Really. MC is more like the Mrs. Xia you envision yourself with-" "Y/N!" Caleb interrupts you. "Are you still holding onto MC? I've told you so many times." "Caleb, the one who can't get over MC isn't me." You stare at him straight in the eyes. "It's you." He freezes again. "Y/N..." "We both know it, isn't that right?" You try to appear calm. You can't have him think you're just "throwing a tantrum". "It's time to put an end to our five years together, Caleb. Let's say goodbye gracefully. Let bygones be bygones."

Caleb stares at you for a while, then stands up. "Y/N, you're overthinking it. You'll see later that MC's return won't change anything. It's late, get some rest." "Caleb Xia! I know you feel guilty towards me, but not anymore. I really don't need a marriage based on guilt. Let me go, and let yourself go too, okay?" Before you even finish your sentence, Caleb takes off his coat and heads into the bathroom. 

You look at his coat lying on the small sofa. In the past, you would've hung it up for him, then found his pajamas and put them by the bathroom door. But this time, you don't move. For the past five years, you had always thought that your legs were weak and that you couldn't contribute anything to your family. In fact, Caleb managed everything perfectly, making you feel like a mere decoration, unable to help him in any way. Yet, you still tried your best to take care of him when you could.

Honestly? You might have overlooked the core: perhaps what Caleb needed wasn't your insignificant care, but a presentable Mrs. Xia, someone who could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him in front of the world. So you truly don't understand what he's clinging onto, why he refuses to divorce you after all this…

Caleb comes out of the bathroom and goes straight to sleep, seemingly refusing to speak further. You don't bring it up again. Forget it, every conversation is exhausting for you anyways. You're better off using that time to think about your future, strive towards what you have always wanted, and when you could leave. Whether or not the divorce is finalized by then won't matter. You glance at Caleb beside you; he's already fast asleep.

In the dim light, you can only see a blurry profile of his face. The distance between the two of you seems endless. Caleb, I've decided not to blame you anymore. I hope you have a happy life after I'm gone.

T - 18 days You wake up feeling refreshed. As you finish getting ready and make your way down the stairs, you see the look of shock in the housekeeper's eyes.

You're wearing makeup today, and in your favorite dress. For five years, you barely dressed up. Your leg, covered in scars, not only restricted your movement, but also your self worth and yearning for beauty. You didn't think you were worth dressing up. “Very beautiful, Madam,” Mrs. Chen's admiring gaze doesn't lie. “Where are you going?” “The theatre.” You shift your weight, a little nervous despite the excitement coursing through your veins. You even wore stockings so that the scars on your leg wouldn't be as visible. After settling your feelings, you decide to buy a ticket to see a ballet performance. The only thing you wanted to see at the moment, the only thing you knew would comfort you was dance.

You take a deep breath as you sink into the plush velvet seat in the dress circle. From your elevated view, you can almost feel the warmth of the stage lights and the buzz of adrenaline behind the colossal curtains, your heartbeat quickening as it gets closer to curtain call. "Y/N?" You nearly jump as you hear your name, looking wildly around to meet a pair of sea-blue eyes.  "R-rafayel?" You squint as the name comes off your tongue slightly unfamiliarly. It's been nearly 10 years since you saw this old classmate of yours, but the tuft of dark purple hair gives him away. The two of you were never in same homeroom back in high school, but his name was very famous among the art students. 

"It's been such a long time, how have you been?" He smiles and offers you a hand.  Your brain short circuits for a moment, not quite sure how to answer.  "My apologies," he quickly follows up his words. "I remember you were a performing arts student, and followed your career briefly after graduation. I know you stopped dancing and got married, married to the man that you saved."  You're even more stunned now. But before you have a chance to formulate a reply, the lights cut out, signifying the opening of the show. 

Tonight's performance is by the Linkin City ballet, performing a classical piece that you've rehearsed countless times in the past. As the orchestra strikes the first chord, the dancer deep within you is awakened. Even though you're sitting in the audience with a real possibility you'll never be on stage again, your toes subconsciously tap lightly on the ground to the beat of the music—it's muscle memory etched into your body…

At the end of the performance, you can't help the tears spilling from your eyes. Sitting in the audience, listening to the thunderous applause, watching audience members go up one after another to present flowers to the dancers... Not because of sadness, not because of pain, and certainly not because of despair. But because of the dance itself, and the resonance you felt in your heart. This was once your passion and your deepest love. But you had forgotten it for five years.  You log onto your empty social media account for the first time in years, and simply post: Tonight belongs to my passion and my dearest love. 

After the curtains fall for the final time, you turn to Rafayel, still gently clapping beside you. "I've been unhappy since I quit dancing," you admit, gaze flickering at your bad leg. "But I've had enough of moping around and feeling sorry for myself." You wipe away any remaining moisture off your face. "Sorry, this just reminded me of how happy dancing made me feel. I'll be going abroad soon to get a masters." You swear Rafayel's eyes light up slightly in the dim concert hall as he gives you a smile. "Y/N, Little Swallow, I believe you will soar high, even if your wings were once broken." Back in high school, your nickname was Little Swallow, because you were best known for your somersaults and leaps; high and graceful. Hearing the name again after so many years has your heart racing again, as if you are back in your youth, sweating profusely in the practice room.

A bundle is placed into your hands. You look down to see a bouquet of flowers, something Rafayel originally brought for one the dancers, probably. Rafayel simply pats your head. "It's not shameful to have a leg injury, it's not shameful to have scars on your legs. What's shameful are those who laugh at you; they are the truly despicable ones! Kind people will only cheer you on." He turns away, but not before calling out, "Let's keep in touch! I'll be in the same city as your program for my next artist retreat. Let me know if I can help with anything." He emphasizes again, "Anything!"

You stand there, watching him disappear into the distance. This is the first time someone has told you: your disability isn't shameful; what's shameful are those who mock you. Words you've wanted to hear for nearly 2000 days, but never had spoken to you.  Tonight, it brings you a fresh wave of tears. 

T - 17 days You didn't think Caleb would be back after everything going on these days, but the sound of the door opening wakes you up from sleep. 

Caleb stinks of alcohol when he enters the room. He's been drinking again. How much did he have to drink? He throws a chair against the door and collapses directly onto the bed. You don't have anything to say to him anymore, whether it's to scold him to drink less or coax him to take a shower. You get up, intending to sleep in the guest room. Just as you reach the door, Caleb's voice sounds behind you. "Where are you going?"

You don't answer.

The bed creaks behind you. Caleb gets slams the door in front of you closed and grabs your wrist. "Where are you going if you're not sleeping here?" "I'm going to the guest room, let go of me."  You can't really argue with a drunkard. The more you struggle, the tighter he grips your hands. "Stop fooling around, Y/N. What's the point? Since you've apologized, I'll make it up to you" his voice slurs.

You're dumbfounded??? What the hell is he referring to? "When did I apologize?" You haven't even seen him, let alone apologize to him? Caleb chuckles softly, mumbling, "Tonight belongs to my passion and my dearest? I'm back."

You scoff, wait, this guy actually thought you posted that for him? 

“Y/N” He suddenly hugs you. “I know, I know you love me. You'd give everything for me, so no matter what happens, I will never betray you…” You are stunned for a moment. He's right. You've loved him very, very much. He had said these words at your wedding. At that time, you thought it wasn't a confession, but a promise. He had given you a promise for a lifetime. A lifetime is so long. Long enough that you thought one day he would fall in love with you properly. Even if he never loved you, it didn't matter; you thought your love for him would be enough…

“Caleb Xia.” You have something you want to ask him. “Hmm?” His warm breath brushes against your ear, spreading out, carrying the scent of alcohol. "But your Pipsqueak is back! What will happen to Pips if you're with me?" "Pipsqueak? Pipsqueak..." He murmured the name, suddenly choking back tears. "Pipsqueak, I won't forget. I promised you, I won't forget..."

You feel as if you just got dunked in ice water. Is he so drunk that he's mistaking you for MC? "What promise? What did you promise Pipsqueak?" you ask numbly. "Everything... Everything, Pips..." His arms tighten around you.

You gasp as he suddenly lifts you up and pushes you down on the bed, his breath, heavy with the smell of alcohol, glosses over your face, nose, and chin... He tries to find your lips, but you avoid them. The smell of alcohol makes you nauseous. When his hands begin to tear at your pajamas, you immediately turn away. "Pips, be good, okay? Stop making a fuss..."

Still calling you Pipsqueak...

You struggle fiercely, finally freeing a hand and slapping him hard across the face. A crisp sound rings out in the bedroom "Caleb! Look carefully at who I am! I'm not your Pipsqueak!" you shout in the darkness, your voice hoarse. His body stiffens briefly. Taking advantage of the moment, you forcefully wriggle out of his grasp. He lies on the bed, still drunk, murmuring, "Pips, I'm sorry, I have to go home. I promised her I'd take care of her for the rest of my life... I owe her..." You cover your ears. Those words have haunted you like a curse for five years; now, whenever they echo in your mind, your head buzzes as if filled with static.

You scream at the figure beside you, "I don't want you to owe me anything! Caleb Xia! Do you hear me!? I don't want you to owe me anything! I just want you to set me free!"

Caleb's phone vibrates at that moment. You turn your head to see the name of the person calling: "Baby Apple." Ha, Baby Apple… In Caleb's phone, your contact is "Y/N" When you were newlyweds, you had fantasized about the day Caleb would call you "sweetie," "darling," or any other nickname that was exclusively yours, or even just "Wife."  But no, whether in everyday conversations or in his contacts, it was always just "Y/N".  To reassure yourself, you convinced yourself that this was just his personality—not clingy, straightforward, and with a strong personality. You were wrong. The words "Baby Apple" on the screen are particularly glaring. You're torn between picking up or letting it ring, but you click on the green receiver anyway.

A soft, delicate voice makes your hand tremble. "Gege, are you home yet? Are you alright?" MC sounds drunk too, her voice slurred and incoherent. Ignoring the silence on your end, she continues. "I know it's hard for you... I also... know that Y/N has sacrificed a lot for you... You don't need to feel guilty towards me... I... we're fine like this now... I don't care whether I'm your wife or not... I just... just glad that you remember me and treat me the same as before... let's stay like this Caleb... She can live in your house, and I can live in your heart, I'm content..."

The phone finally slips and fell to the ground. She lives in your house, I live in your heart. You stagger out of the room and go to the guest room. You collapse on the bed, trying to squeeze all the sounds out of your head. You never want to think about this again.

T - 16 days When you wake up, it's Caleb's voice that you hear. He's talking to Mrs. Chen. "Where did these flowers come from?" "Madam brought them back last night." "Madam went out last night?" "Yes." "Alone? Where did she go?" Caleb's voice rises noticeably. "She said she went to see a performance." "A performance? Who sent the flowers?" He seemed unconvinced. "I don't know." "What performance? Where did she see it? What time was it?" Mrs. Chen hesitates. "Sir, I really don't know."

The guest room door is pushed open. You immediately pretend to be asleep. "Y/N, I know you're awake; your hand just moved." You open your eyes, internally sighing.

"Who did you go to see the performance with yesterday?" Why is he so fixated on this question?

You don't answer him, simply pulling the covers over your head and turn your back to face him. “Y/N,” He sits down, “Be good, okay?” He reaches out to dig you out from under the comforter. You remember him pinning you down on the bed last night, calling MC's name and telling her to be good. You feel utterly disgusted and forcefully slap his hand away.

He gives up, then suddenly changes the subject, "Y/N, what was the "passions and loves" you mentioned last night?" "It wasn't you!" you huff. His face stiffens for a moment, but it quickly turns into a knowing look. "Alright, stop being stubborn. I know you're still sulking and jealous. Didn't I come back as soon as I saw you post that yesterday?"

He seriously still thinks you're just throwing a tantrum when you said "not you"? You poke your head out from under the covers. "I told you..." Seeing you finally come out, his expression softens as he takes the opportunity to stroke your hair. "That's good. I'll be back tonight, but you don't have to wait for me. Just go to sleep if you're tired." Without waiting for you to say anything more, he turns and leaves. You don't care whether or not he comes home. Actually, this scene is exactly the same as before. Before MC appeared, he was always like this, speaking to you gently, telling you to go to sleep early, and stroking your hair. You've never argued, not even once.

But so what? What does a marriage without arguments even mean?

If you were to describe Caleb Xia with a single word, it would be "good." However, you know the truth painfully clearly: all the good things Caleb does don't stem from his love for you, but rather an act of atonement.

The words "never to dance again" were a devastating blow to both you and him back then. You still remember Caleb's reaction upon hearing those words; after the initial shock, he seemed utterly ripped from his soul.

From that moment on, the vibrant Caleb died. You were both simultaneously bound by the shackles of "forever"— you forever lost the stage, and he forever atoned for his sins. "I owe her" these three words became the unbearable weight of his life. From that moment forward, there was no more Caleb Xia; what lived was only your husband—a walking robot, devoid of warmth and emotion. A stagnant pool, mechanically fulfilling the duties of a husband, a partner.

But now he's alive again… MC returned, bringing light back into his life. He's started smiling again, his eyes sparkling with light and fire. You sigh heavily. Even after all this, why wouldn't he let you go, and let himself go too?

T - 15 days You step out of the taxi, heart pounding as you approach tall glass doors. After watching the ballet piece, you are once again filled with determination and decided to sign up for a beginners dance class. You've been going to your physical therapy sessions dutifully, hoping one day, with enough hard work and practice, you'll be able to stand on stage again. You smile at the wide range of participants already there. They greet you warmly, introducing themselves one by one before the instructor walks in.  As the class begins, you practice some very simple basics - posture, form, and stances. However, due to your injury, you quickly run out of stamina and spend a good portion of the class on the floor to rest inbetween. You're wiping the sweat off your brow with a towel and bidding goodbye to some new friends as a familiar voice calls from outside the studio door.

"Y/N!" It's Rafayel?!  "What are you doing here?" you ask, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment as you're stuck wondering how much of your clumsy work he had just seen. "The performing arts center commissioned a piece from me. It's going to be hanging on the top floor, so I came today to take a look at the atmosphere around here," he supplies, giving you a bright smile.  "Nice," you feebly offer. Rafayel breaks the silence with a soft sigh, "Y/N, I can see the start of a rebirth." You know what he's referring to, you starting to pick up dancing again. But can you really call what you're doing right now dancing? You could barely stand up straight. "Don't be like that! You haven't practiced for five years, and you did really well today! I have a photo if you don't believe me." Rafayel takes out his phone, smoothly passing it to you to enter your number. It turns out he had recorded the last part of your dance lesson today. "Ah, my phone died" you say, rummaging through your dance bag.  Rafayel shrugs and presses "send" anyways. "Here, let's go grab something to eat and you can watch yourself on mine.  

The two of you head to a cafe, sitting outside on the patio as you make conversation over coffee and sandwiches. Rafayel shows you the video as you furrow your brows at your posture. You sigh dejectedly. Who would've imagined that the girl once known as "Little Swallow" would struggle like that? While Rafayel's words of encouragement still doesn't allow you to forgive yourself for falling so far behind, you agree with his sentiment: you were going to grow new wings and explore higher skies. 

It was at this moment that Caleb drives by, catching a glimpse of your smile brighter than the sunset, sitting next to Rafayel, your heads slightly leaned in together as you watch something on his phone. 

T - 14 days You feel a strange sense of oppression slowly growing behind you. You look up to see Caleb standing behind you, face partially covered by shadow.  His complexion is stormy; he looks exhausted, and his hair is somewhat disheveled. As he approaches you, the setting sun behind him seems to ignite, mirroring the flames in his eyes.  

“I called you all day, and your phone was off?” He is clearly suppressing his anger.

You don't know where this anger came from. Isn't he very busy? He usually never calls you anyways; why would he be offended that your phone died? Afterall, you weren't even angry when he went to take care of MC, what right did he have to dictate how you spend your time? 

“Oh, I didn't expect you to call,” you say calmly, stirring your drink. "Didn't expect me to call?" Caleb glances at Rafayel sitting beside you, gritting his teeth. "I'm your husband. If I don't call you, who will?" You shake your head, pulling yourself up using the armrest. "Who knows? I could have an ex-boyfriend," you say sarcastically.  His expression changes, and he frown deeply. "Y/N."

Rafayel simply smiles, and turns to address Caleb. "Colonel Xia," he greets him. "Have you ever watched your wife dance? 

Caleb freezes. Despite being the High Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, trained in all kinds of interrogation and logic, he could not decipher the meaning behind those words.  Rafayel chuckles and bids the two of you goodbye, Caleb's gaze burning into the back of his silhouette.

"Y/N, I've underestimated you this whole time," Caleb says as you get into his car. "You're quite something." His voice carries a threat and suppressed anger. Your mind flashes to the stench of perfume on his shirt, and scoff, "Not as good as you." "Since when did you get in contact with him again? What does he do? I don't want to waste time finding that out myself." His hands rest on the steering wheel, his fingers long and slender. On his left ring finger is a new ring.

His wedding band has been off since the night of your wedding ceremony. What's he wearing now? You smile faintly and hold out your hand. On your ring finger is a jade ring, small enough for everyday wear. You were the one to pick out your wedding rings. You wanted a small, non-flashy stone because you wanted to wear it everyday, forever. It was a custom pair; his was also jade.  The one on his hand is pure silver band.  Caleb watches your movements and subconsciously pulls his left hand back.

You place your hand on the dashboard. "Colonel, can you please explain when your ring changed color?"

T - 13 days Caleb freezes for a fraction of a second, before muttering, "it's a formality, it's not that serious." You nearly laugh out loud. Of course, what can be more serious than marriage? Perhaps your observation ignited the tiniest shred of shame in him, for his tone softens considerably, his previous accusatory attitude gone. "I'm asking you this for your own good, Y/N. There won't be another man in this world who treats you like I do. Of course, I'm not perfect; I have my flaws. But I'm sincere, trusting, and unguarded with you. Your name is on all of my assets. It's hard to say what other people's intentions are."

You are immediately reminded of MC's words: She's in your house, but I'm in your heart.

You put on your earbuds, hoping to drown out whatever other demeaning things he has to say. Seeing this, Caleb hesitates, then drives off. He drops you off at home, saying, "I have more work to do at the office, don't wait up for me," before leaving again. You stare at the door blankly. You forgot how you used to care so much about those things.

Slowly, you take the wedding ring off your finger. Since it obviously doesn't have any true sentimental value anymore, you might as well sell it for cash. Actually, if you were going to sell it, might as well sell it as a pair! You look high and low around the house, but can't find the other one.

Suddenly, you remember that Caleb keeps a safe at home, something you've never thought to open.  An idea strikes you.

You don't know the safe's combination. You try Caleb's birthday, but it didn't budge. You don't even bother to try yours. You think a little harder, hesitantly putting in the security code for the front door and garage. It opens! Inside are a stack of legal documents, property papers, and various other things that must be very important. You easily find the jewelry box with the same brand as your wedding ring, but there is another one in the very back, placed on top of a notebook.

You open the latter and see the another silver ring matching the one on Caleb's finger, along with a necklace with a small apple charm.  Your hand rests on top of the notebook, mind teetering between looking and not looking. Ultimately, your self control wins, but as you move to put it back, a photograph slides out, falling to the floor. It's a photo of Caleb and MC from their high school days. 

Honestly, it doesn't mean much. You knew for a long time that Caleb had feelings for someone else before. But since you married him, at least when you married him, you told yourself you didn't care about his past. You sigh, picking up the photo, and put it back in the notebook. Fuck it, trying to protect your already shattered heart is pointless now. You open it to a random page, planning to just stuff the photo back in, but you freeze as your eyes land on the writing: 100 Little things about Pipsqueak.  The first thing listed is: Pips' birthday is May 1st.

Your hand slips, and the notebook falls to the ground. The code to your house is 20501 The combination to this safe is 0501. The air in the room seems to thin. You press your palm to your chest, gasping for breath. The second line reads: "I finally bought myself a house. It's in the style that MC likes. The password is her birthday."

So, for the last five years, you've been living in the house meant for Caleb and MC...

T - 12 days You bring the pair of rings to the antique watch shop, having scheduled a time with the owner. The owner is delighted, having previously bought the 10 necklaces you chose to part ways with as well. He ushers you to sit down in the private room behind the counter and pours you a cup of tea. You excuse yourself to use the restroom, hearing the door open as more customers enter the store.

The voices are familiar. Shit. Looking behind you, you see MC's appear, with Caleb in tow.  You really manage to run into her everywhere, huh?

It's midday, right when Caleb usually has meetings. He sure has lots of free time now.  You go do your business, ducking behind the curtains as you return to avoid being noticed.

"Caleb, look! This store has so many of these necklaces! They're limited edition zodiac ones!" MC points to something in the display case. If you aren't mistaken, it's definitely one of the pieces you sold. The old man takes it out. "You have a good eye, young lady. The necklaces were acquired recently. They only make a limited amount every year. These ones are no longer being sold." Caleb looks closely and frowns. "Are they really that rare?" "Yes, this limited collection began exactly 12 years ago, a zodiac edition with this year being the last edition. It's much more expensive than the regular model. I think I've got the only ten that exists in Linkon," the owner explains with a smile. "No way..." MC exclaims, "can you prove their authenticity if they're really that valuable?" "Of course! I've got the certificates as well as the invoices for each." "These ten necklaces, did you receive them all at once?" Caleb, who has been mostly silent, suddenly asks. "Yes," the owner nods with a smile, "from the same customer." Caleb's eyes sharpen. "Show me the invoice." The owner takes out the invoices and hands them to Caleb.  He stares at them harshly, suddenly letting out a cold laugh. "Sir...?" The old man is taken aback, unsure what the issue was. "It has nothing to do with you, just give me all of them." Caleb says gruffly. Even MC sensed something was wrong and softly asks, "Gege?"

The owner notices you waiting for him. "You're back? Everything alright?" Caleb and MC looks your way as well, seeing your figure in the back.

You're not sure if it's just your imagination, but Caleb's eyes almost seem to be filled with anger. "Can you sit down for a moment? I'll show them the necklaces first, and then I'll look at your ring."

"What ring?" Caleb's voice is dangerously low, was full of suspicion upon hearing this. His gaze falls to the pair of jade rings behind the display case. "These two?" He taps the glass of the display case with his finger, his tone getting even more oppressive.

The owner clearly has no idea what is going on, why his customer was asking this, or how to answer. These were items provided by someone else; why is he asking about them? You don't intend to put him in an awkward situation, so you answer Caleb directly. "Yes, these two."

Caleb's gaze is burning. "Mrs. Xia, you're really something." It wasn't a compliment, but you reply calmly, "Thank you, you flatter me." "Get over here!" he suddenly roars. You sit down, picking up your cup of tea. He walks over to you instead, looming in front of you.

Perhaps out of consideration for the outside world, he tries to suppress his anger, his voice full of sarcasm, "I never thought I'd experience firsthand what it means by 'it's hard to guard against a thief from within the family'. One day, I wouldn't even know if my entire house was robbed." You ignore him. "Are you short of money? Is the money I give you not enough?" he hisses. "No, not at all," you say, "I've been decluttering lately, getting rid of anything useless." "Useless?" He's furious, pointing to the rings in the display case, "You're saying wedding rings are useless?" You look at him calmly, "Otherwise? If you say they're useful, have you ever worn it for a even day since the weeding ceremony?"

Caleb is speechless, indignant. "One day, you'll sell me off without me even knowing!" " You laugh and turn to at MC. "Do you want this? I'm selling one Caleb Xia, secondhand! I'll even give you a discount, I promise the price is favorable." MC is stunned. Caleb however, clearly doesn't find this funny. He turns to MC and says, "Pipsqueak, you head back first." She's unwilling, protesting, "but Gege!" "We'll talk about the necklace later, you go back first!" His expression is serious. MC knew when not to push his buttons. He's in a bad mood, and she didn't dare to provoke him. Lips trembling, she says gently, "Alright Gege, I'll go back first. But don't be too angry. Y/N must have her reasons, please don't scold her." 

You roll your eyes.

As soon as MC leaves, Caleb immediately presses you. "What exactly are you doing? Tell me!" "I told you," you say calmly, "I'm decluttering things I don't want anymore." You pause, then continue. "Including you, Colonel Xia." "Are you serious?" His face is very unpleasant. "Yes." You were never anything but serious about this.  "Y/N! I think you've been provoking me too much lately!" His eyes flash with anger.

You personally think that his temper has been a bit too volatile lately; the usually stable and gentle Colonel was gone, and MC was largely to blame. He calls the owner over, harshly putting his black card on the table. "I'll take all of them."

The owner wraps everything up, afraid of knowing too much about the uncomfortable relationship between the three of you. Get in the car!" he demands, dragging you out by your wrist. “It looks like I misjudged you,” he says once he starts driving. “I always thought you were a sensible and understanding, person, but now it seems you're getting too full of yourself. Look at Pips…” “I don’t want to see her, ok? You can go spend your time with her if she's that great.”

You put on your headphones for real this time. You're in no mood to hear about how wonderful MC is to him. He drops you off at the entrance of the neighborhood and tells you to get out. “I have a meeting later-” You get out and slam the door shut. You don't give a fuck about what he's doing tonight.

T - 11 days At 11pm, you hear Caleb enter the front door. You shut down your laptop and turn to scroll lazily on your phone, overhearing him greet Mrs. Chen.  "I told you to cook it according to my wife's taste, why did you make it spicy?" "Madam said...spicy." Aunt Chen's voice was tinged with panic. "And she didn't eat a single bite?" "Yes..." "Get me a bowl of rice."

A few minutes later, Caleb enters the bedroom. His tie is loose, the top button of his shirt  undone, the sleeves rolled up to his wrists. "Aren't you going to come out and have dinner with me?" he asks, the anger from earlier seemingly gone. For the last few years, he's always come home pretty late, rarely for dinner, but made sure to eat when he came home. You cherished those moments, bustling around him, serving up his food and keeping him company for the little time before going to sleep.  What good was your attentiveness in the end? Who knows, perhaps it only served to annoy him?

“What did you eat tonight? From now on, you don’t need to cook according to my taste. Tell Mrs. Chen to make what you like,” he says. You roll your eyes. He really thinks you're still trying to gain his favor.  He pulls up a chair and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Y/N,” What is it now?

He takes a deep breath. “MC really liked that ring. Since you sold it anyway, I gave it to her. I just transferred you some money. Take it and buy something you like.  Of course. So that’s what it's about. No wonder he's suddenly being so friendly with you. You have your back to him and simply say, "Oh," then add, "Okay."

T - 11 days until leaving Caleb Xia: He gave our wedding rings to someone else too. But I don't even want him anymore, so why should I care about the ring?

"So well-behaved today?" His voice softens. "I wanted to buy something for you, but you obviously don't like what I buy." "Hmm." "What's wrong? You're asleep already?" He frowns. "Are you feeling unwell? Let me see." He leans over, wanting to see your face. "Don't tell me you're secretly crying?" In his dreams! You give no reaction.

After tucking you in tighter, he looks at your quiet form, hesitates, and finally says, “Y/N, I'm going on a mission tomorrow.” A mission! You immediately open our eyes. This means you can go in person to meet with a lawyer and get your interviews and forms stamped without him knowing!

You sit up, eyes shining brightly. “How many days are you going?” “Three or four days, possibly up to a week.” He frowns, thinking your reaction is a bit over the top. What does this mean? You were letting him go? “No, it’s okay. Who are you going with?” you follow up haphazardly, heart pounding with joy. His expression grows increasingly hesitant. "Gideon." He pauses, then adds, "Maybe MC too." "Oh." You lie back down. "Sounds good, tell me before you come back, I'll have Mrs. Chen prepare good food." He looks at you incredulously. "You're not angry?" You shake your head. "Go to sleep early, you have a business trip tomorrow, you need to get some rest." "Y/N, trust me, a lot more of us will be going together..." He moves closer to you, but you push him away. "Go take a shower, I've already showered, don't get too close to me." He frowns. "What do you mean? You think I'm dirty?" Well, he does reek of MC's perfume. 

The next day, you're still groggy when Caleb gets up.  You had expected him to pack his things and go without leaving you with any words, but unexpectedly, he insists on waking you.  "Ugh, sleepy!" You smack his hand away.

"Mrs. Xia," he drawls, standing by the bed. "Your performance is falling. You don't feed me, give me mooncakes anymore, or ask me about my day, and now I'm leaving for a mission and you won't even help me pack my luggage?" It's true. If this was before, you'd be fretting all over him, his luggage already prepared the night before.  You roll your eyes. Fine, you'll pack for him then!

You go into the walk-in closet, and start placing folded clothes and personal belongings neatly into his suitcase. Before you close the zipper, you head over to the bedside drawer, take out a box of condoms, and was about to throw it into the suitcase as well. Your arm is grabbed roughly. "Where did this come from?" Caleb demands, eyes darkening. 

To be honest, you originally prepared it for your honeymoon though you never ended up using it. It's probably expired by now, but you thought it would be funny. You smile. “I prepared this especially for you. Tell me, aren't I a wonderful Mrs. Xia?” “You…” Caleb picks up the box and throws it forcefully into the trash can, “That'll be unnecessary! Even if I had a child, I could afford to raise it. Besides, I don’t plan on having one anytime soon!” He zips up the suitcase, locks it, and leaves with a huff.

T - 10 days You head to physical therapy again. While sitting in the waiting area for your appointment, your phone suddenly goes off. Your surprise turns into annoyance as you see the caller ID: Husband. Fortunately, there's not many people beside you. After picking up the call, you quietly say, "Hello".

"Why are you speaking so softly? What are you doing?" Caleb asks on the other end. "I'm at the doctor's, it's not good to talk loudly." You quickly take out earbuds, further lowering your voice to a whisper. "Why am I getting so many calls these days?" It's really annoying. He seems even more offended on the other end, "Your own husband can't call you? Are you annoyed at me?" More than annoyed! You roll your eyes "No, not really, it's just quite unsettling. What's wrong?" "Mrs. Xia!" He scoffs on the other end, "Can't I call you if there's nothing wrong?" " You're speechless for a second. This person is getting more and more irrational. "What instructions does the Colonel have for me?" you roll your eyes, not believing him. "You're kidding me!" His tone softens a bit, "I'm transferring flights, it's not boarding time yet, just wanted to see if you're up." So he really is bored! "Don't you have anything to say to me?" You pop a grape into your mouth, mumbling an "oh".  "Y/N!" ??? Why does it sound like he's about to get angry? "What are you eating that's more important than your husband's safety?" You finally swallow the grape, "You... you've been attacked?" A long sigh comes from the phone, "Never mind, you eat, just hearing your voice is enough, I'm about to board too." The call ended abruptly.

You look at your phone, listening to the dial tone, feeling utterly bewildered.

On the other end, MC glances at him several times. "Gege," she calls. "Hmm? Let's go get ready to board." "You seem to miss Y/N a lot. You've made so many calls since we left" she says tentatively.

Caleb doesn't notice her gaze, only frowning slightly. "Hmm, I don't know why, but I feel uneasy about this trip. I have a feeling something's going to happen." "You...are you worried something might happen to Y/N? Then ask Liam or someone to go check on her."  Caleb sighs. "Y/N doesn't know Liam that well. I don't think she'd appreciate it anyway." "Then what should we do?" MC asks worriedly. "Should I not have asked to come on this mission with you?" Caleb glances down at her and smiles. "It's okay. I called her already. Hearing her voice is enough to put my mind at ease." "Caleb, you actually...love Y/N very much, don't you?" MC asks with a smile, but a darker current ripples under her eyes. He pauses. "Y/N can't live without me. She's my responsibility, so Pips..." "I understand, Gege." MC smiles, interrupting his words gently and sweetly. "Don't forget, I'm the person who understands you best in the world."

T - 9 days It's a peaceful few days without having to see Caleb. Instead of the anxiety that once filled you every time he went away, you feel calm. As you begin packing your things, you get an invitation from one of your old dance buddies. Mina is visiting home on her trip back from abroad, now a professional dancer on Broadway. You eagerly agree to meet with her, catching up over lunch as the two of you reminisce over the good old times. She's initially a little hesitant to show you photos of herself on stage, worried it'd make you sad, but you quickly reassure her that was not to worry about. Later, as she helps you down the steps of the restaurant, you ask what her plans are for the rest of the day.

"Oh! Umm, I'm actually getting dinner with a larger group of our old classmates..." She looks at you with a flicker of hope in her eyes. "If you don't mind... would you like to join us?" "Of course!" You say with a smile. "I haven't seen everyone in so long. Do any of them know what happened with me?" You're referring to your leg. "That's where I need to apologize," Mina looks guilty. "I told them you injured your leg without asking your permission first... but nothing else!"

You understand. Your classmates, whom you haven't seen in a long time, would definitely ask how you were doing. Your leg injury was a fact, and you don't plan on hiding it forever.  "It's okay, really!" You're done feeling sorry for yourself. Your goal is to step out of the world Caleb had created for you, and in doing that, you will inevitably face all sorts of stares and judgement.  "Then I'll reply to them!" Mina says happily.

"Let's go! They said they're heading out soon". The meet-up location is nearby. By the time you and Mina get there, some of your classmates have already arrived. The enthusiasm they show you exceed your expectations. They mention your leg, even gathering around to examine it, but without malice, as if your leg wasn't anything serious, like a minor inconvenience like a cold. You liked this atmosphere; it's much better than deliberately trying to protect your pride. Everyone is treating you as a normal person, just with a leg injury.

It's a pleasant evening. The group sings old songs from high school on the karaoke. After three or four hours, you all get tired and sit down to chat, reminiscing about the past and having some drinks to liven things up. Even you, encouraged by everyone, drink quite a bit. Among your classmates, some have had good times, others have experienced setbacks. Talking about the past, people begin talking about regrets. Someone says, "If I had known this would happen, I would have studied harder in high school and not skipped so many classes." Another adds, "If I had known he also liked me, I definitely wouldn't have been a coward on graduation day; I would have confessed to him. I've missed my chance all these years." A good amount of sentimentality is triggered by the alcohol, and for a moment, everyone's eyes are filled with tears. From your teenage years to approaching thirty, everyone has had some regrets.

"Y/N, what about you? If you could do it all over again, what would you do?" someone asks you. You hold a glass of wine in your hands, ruminating in thought. The image of osmanthus blossoms from that Mid-Autumn Festival many years ago flashes before your eyes, twinkling like stars. You smile faintly, "If I could do it all over again..."

Caleb pushes open the door to the private room.

"If I could do it all over again, I want to eat all the mooncakes from that Mid-Autumn Festival in our second year of high school by myself! I'm not sharing it with anyone!"

Was it the alcohol? The bitterness in your heart is amplified. You take a deep breath and look up, only to see someone standing in the doorway under the flickering lights. Caleb. Your classmates don't quite understand what you're referring to, and assume it is some old pastry shop that has closed, the mooncakes never to be tasted again. You can't see it, but Caleb's fists clench at his side, knuckles turning white.

"Hey, Caleb!" Finally, someone notices him come in. You're a little dizzy, seeing two Calebs approach you. "Caleb Xia! You're so late, shouldn't you take three shots as punishment?" A classmate named Xavier places three glasses down in front of him. “Sorry, I'll have to decline.” Caleb puts his arm around you, looking down at your tipsy form. “I’m here to pick up my wife. I have to drive later.” “Call a cab!” Caleb gives a polite smile. “That won’t do. If I drink too much, who will take care of her?”

You are a little drunk, but still conscious enough to hear him and what's going on. Under the influence of alcohol though, your actions are more unrestrained. Your first instinct is to push Caleb aside, muttering, “I don’t need you to take care of me. Go away.” “Y/N, you’re really drunk. Let’s go home.” Caleb tries to pick you up. “No! I don’t want to go home…” You struggle in his arms. “Do you hear that? Y/N isn’t going home!” Xavier pushes Caleb's shoulder, forcing him back down. 

Mina senses something is off. Xavier had quite a bit to drink today and was probably drunk by now. Worried about the boys starting trouble, she quickly tries to break it up. "Alright, it's getting late. We've had our fun, let's start packing up." "No way!" Xavier doesn't back down, gripping Caleb's shoulder tightly. "You're not leaving until you finish this drink!" Caleb, as the Farspace Fleet Colonel, is incredibly perceptive. His expression darkens. "Xavier Shen, I'll let it slide since you've had too much to drink, but you'd better watch yourself!" "Watch myself?" The rage in Xavier's eyes are now impossible to conceal. "Caleb Xia, I'm telling you, watch yourself!"

Xavier moves to grab his collar, but not before having his wrists clamped forcefully by Caleb. "Xavier Shen! Did you come here to cause trouble?" "Yes!" He shouts, "I came here to cause trouble! Caleb, what the hell did you do to Y/N? What exactly did you do to her!?" He roars, his eyes bloodshot. Caleb's eyes sharpen, his hand still gripping his wrists, veins bulging on the back. "Listen here, Shen. My wife eats well, sleeps well, lives in a mansion, and I pamper her like a princess. Who are you to concern yourself with our marital affairs?"

"Is that so?" An incredulous laugh follows. Xavier didn't believe Caleb at all, both men rising from the sofa. "Then tell me, how did Y/N become like this? What happened to her leg? She's a dancer! When she dances on stage, she's as graceful as a swan. What did you do to her? Take good care of her? Why then did she become like this after getting married? Five years, and you've been covering it up, saying she doesn't want to come out and socialize! You're lying! Do you beat her at home!?"

"My wife and I are doing just fine! Why her foot is like this is her privacy, there's no need for me to explain it to you, Xavier! Don't forget your place in front of me, and don't you dare try to play any tricks on my wife!" Caleb yanks harshly, pushing the other man away so hard the buttons on his collar pop off.

Already quite drunk, Xavier loses his balance, staggers a couple of steps, and falls onto the coffee table, knocking over a bunch of bottles and plates. "Caleb, I've wanted to beat you up for ages!" He scrambles up and lunges at him. Fearing trouble, rest of your classmates rush forward to restrain him. "Caleb! Take Y/N and leave! He's drunk, and you haven't been drinking - calm down Xavier! Don't cause any more trouble!"

Caleb tugs at his collar, giving Xavier one last cold look, then puts his arm around your waist and lifts you up. "Let's go, my wife. Don't come to parties like this again." You're practically dragged and carried away by Caleb.

"Why didn't you let Y/N attend the class reunion!" Xavier shouts from behind you. "Caleb Xia, what skeletons do you have hiding in your closet?!"   Caleb stops. "I don't feel guilty about anything. You better not be the one with things to hide!" "Me? Guilty?" he laughs. "Alright then, Caleb, I have a question for you! Were you the one who threw away all the love letters I put in Y/N's locker back then?"

Love letters? How did you not know that Xavier Shen had written you love letters? You glance back, only to be swept up in Caleb's arms and quickly carried out of the private room.

Everyone else is left exchanging bewildered glances: Xavier liked you back in high school? Xavier struggles against the boys, shouting, "Let me go! I'm going to beat Caleb Xia to death! That fucking hypocrite!" "Xavier, you're drunk, stop it." They don't let go, afraid he'd really chase after you. “Call him back here!" Xavier demands. “I’m going to call him here! I’m going to teach him a lesson!” “Xavier! Get your head screwed on straight!” “Don’t stop me! Do you know how much Y/N loved to dance? She was in the practice room before class, after school, and weekends too! Sometimes she’ll even do a somersault while walking! She’s such a passionate dancer, a perfectly healthy person, and now her leg is injured - there's no way she's not heartbroken about it! That bastard Caleb Xia keeps lying to us, saying Y/N doesn't like going out. He's done something to her, I bet my fucking life on it!”

Caleb's already brought you to his car, carefully placing you in the passenger seat.  The minute he gets into the driver's seat, he catches you trying to open to the door, and he immediately locks it.  "Open the door! I want out!" You feel your head spinning, the alcohol really settling in." "You're drunk, Y/N." He says, sighing. "I'm not drunk!" You insist. You clearly heard many voices back there, and you heard Caleb call you his "wife." Something is wrong! He's never called you "wife" before, only ever by name, or at most "Mrs. Xia" when he's angry at you, and you can sense that he uses the term sarcastically. Moreover, you can tell he's in an unhappy mood right now!

He rolls down the window, letting you get some fresh air.

"What did you mean by what you said in the private room?" Caleb's voice sounds particularly cold in the cool breeze. "What...what did I mean?" What was he talking about? You said a lot of stuff today. "You said you wouldn't give your mooncakes to anyone else, what did you mean?" He rests his hands on the steering wheel, looking ahead, his eyes sharp. "Um...not...not for Caleb Xia." Your head feels heavy, and you close your eyes tightly. "Why?"  You smile, sad laugh escaping your lips. "Because I don't want to pursue him anymore...I gave my mooncakes to the wrong person..." "Is that so? The wrong person?" Caleb leans closer, "Who are you going to give them to then?" "Give them to..." Your mind is a little confused. Who else would you give them to? "To Xavier?" He suddenly speaks as if interrogating you, his tone fierce.

The name reminds you that you had supposedly gotten multiple love letters. You frown, eyes getting hazy, looking at the face before you, murmuring, "Why did you throw away my love letters? They were from someone else." "I'm the class monitor!" Caleb says sternly. "The school doesn't encourage early relationships!" You furrow your brows... that reasoning...  You punch his shoulder hard. "What's it to you? You're just the class monitor, not even my homeroom teacher! The love letters he gave me are my privacy, what does it have to do with you! Why did you throw them away, you bully!"

Your eyes are blurry. Although your punches don't hurt much, each one lands with force, solidly striking his shoulders and chest. "Are you angry?" He grasps your hand. "You're angry because I threw away your love letters?" "Of course I'm angry! If someone wrote me a love letter..." You vaguely recall how you felt back in high school. The mess of hormones in early puberty, the insecurities you had, the self-consciousness about every little thing about you. Mina and the girls around you all received gifts and notes from boys, but you never did. You weren't very close with your parents, having grown up by your grandparents' side. But it seemed to you that no one, not even your parents, loved you, let alone any boys. You weren't sad about not receiving any confessions, but if you did, it at least would have been an important form of affirmation; at least you were good in someone's eyes. 

“What if you did? Would you date him?” Caleb presses on relentlessly. Your frown deepens. When did you ever say you wanted to date someone?

“Let me tell you, those boys were all immature squirts back then! Whether it's Xavier or whoever else you wanted to give your mooncakes to! You're easily moved by anyone who shows you kindness! You'd only ended up getting taken advantage of!” Your face contorts into a grimace. You're barely holding onto your consciousness and Caleb's stupid face seems to multiply into four in your vision. You shake your head, trying to shake the other three Calebs away. “No... Xavier isn’t that kind of person you’re describing.” The Xavier you recall is a sleepy boy, getting in trouble for napping in class, often found under the shade of trees with a stray cat in his lap. “Then what kind of person is he?” Caleb suddenly raises his voice. “And the other person you had in mind, who is he?” “He’s… genuine... and very kind. If he’s good to someone… he’ll always be good to them…” A flash of white hair enters your mind. You try to remember a face, thinking really hard, but only seeing the creases of someone's summer uniform. You didn't interact with him much in high school, but you knew he secretly kept a crow as a pet on his dorm window ledge—a pitiful little thing he picked up one day and never let go. "He's... a good person..." you mumble. ".... Q...qin..." 

You black out.

T - 8 days You wake up to a splitting headache, nauseous and parched. The midday sun is high in the sky. Stumbling down from the bed, you trip and fall with a loud 'thud'. You rub your eyes, trying to clear the fog still in your brain, but before you find your balance again, you're being lifted and put back into soft sheets. 

Caleb stands at the bedside, looking displeased, but to your surprise, doesn't scold you about your clumsiness as he usually does. You purse your lips, also not particularly eager to talk about what happened last night.  He brings you a try of light breakfast foods; some chicken soup congee, pancakes, and a few side dishes. "Eat. Mrs. Chen is off today. I cooked."

You stare at the food in front of you, head still in a daze. The colonel... cooked for you?  This is the second time you've ever eaten something Caleb has made for you. The first since you got married.  Slowly picking up your spoon, your mind flashes back to the last time you experienced this.

You were only in your first year of high school, your homeroom had organized a camping trip. Outside, all your classmates run around joyfully, like lambs in a field. Yet Caleb was already a quiet and reliable person, getting ready for lunch. He was always clean and tidy, presentable and strong. That day on the camping trip was the most disheveled you had ever seen him.  He knew how to cook, but that didn't mean he was able to do it easily outdoors.  He couldn't figure out how to start the fire. He struggled earnestly, face and hands stained with soot.

You were different. When you were young, your grandparents brought you back to the village often. You built fires, scaled trees, and caught insects with all the other children over there. Despite being in a different group, you felt bad watching him struggle like that, so you go over, emptied his stove, and started a fire for him. He stared at the blazing flames, momentarily stunned. Perhaps too self-conscious of his disheveled appearance, he didn't even thank you. But afterwards, his performance became much more consistent. Judging from the way he cooked, it was clear he was used to doing domestic chores at home.  His group thanked him by saving the chicken leg for him. But he didn't eat it. As he passed your group, he places the drumstick in your bowl. 

That was the moment your heart started pounding for him, despite being the first of only a handful of times you ever interacted with him.  That night, your dreams were filled with his image; his determined face, covered with soot, his slender fingers as he cut the vegetables, his meticulous and focused expression as he cooked… The next day in class, you watch his profile as you absent-mindedly filled a whole page with his name, “Caleb Xia”… Later, that piece of paper disappeared, but those words were etched firmly in your heart, impossible to erase.

The next time you ask him a question was after parent-teacher conferences. The teacher took note of students whose parents did not show up. You were one of them. Coincidentally, he was too. Classmates whisper about what happened. A few of the students failed to inform their parents about the meetings, afraid of punishment for their poor grades. But Caleb wasn't like that. He was at the top of the class.  "Caleb Xia! You got first place in the entire grade, why aren't your parents here? If I got your score, my parents, grandparents, and even my dog would come!" someone yells. Other students chimed in, "Yeah, Caleb, you got good grades, why aren't your parents here?" He replies simply. "Don't ask, they're dead."

Later, you witness something you probably shouldn't have seen.  Caleb stands in an inconspicuous corner by the school's back gate. A dark car pulls up in front of him, the window rolled down, and he throws a wad of cash at the driver, hitting him in the face. The person in the car points a finger at him, cursing, “You scoundrel! You think just because your parents offed themselves that you're safe with little old grandma?" You're stunned. Unaware of his family's situation.  Caleb is stubborn, refusing to reply before he turns and walks away. The driver calls after him shouting, "You'll join us one day, Caleb! Let's see how you survive!" The sunset was blinding, bathing him in a golden light. He laughs defiantly, "Don't worry! I'd rather be bought out by a rich old lady than go with you!"  What kind of talk was that! Coming from a high schooler! 

You don't know where you got the courage that day, but you walk up to him, eyes wide, voice panicked, "Caleb, whatever you do, don't sell yourself out like that!" You don't know if you were imagining things, but you saw something that looked like glistening tears in his eyes in the setting sun. They flash for a moment before he turns away, coldly smiling, "So, you're going to sponsor me?" You fall silent. That was Caleb's most irrational moment. Even now, more than a decade later, you never saw him as vulnerable again.

The next day, you take a math problem to him and ask how to solve it. He raises a single eyebrow, not saying a word. You thought he had refused, your head hanging low. Finally, he tore off a piece of scratch paper and began to explain while drawing on it. He talked for the entire break before finally asking, "Do you understand now?" You nod frantically. Then throw down five dollars and run back to your seat, completely unaware of Caleb's expression behind you.

You didn't have an allowance either, saving up those five dollars from running small errands here and there for other classmates and neighbors.

After school, Caleb blocked you on your way to the dorms. He stood under a sycamore tree, sunlight filtering through the leaves, casting dappled shadows over him.  You don't dare to lift your head, trying to walk past him.  He stands in front of you. "Why aren't you looking at me?" The heat was unbearable, making your face flush. You're too embarrassed to say anything.  He scoffs, "you were quite bold earlier when you wanted to buy me out." You lower your head even further. "I...I didn't mean..." A five-dollar note is thrust in front of you. "Isn't this it? You think you can keep me for five dollars? Before you can even clarify that you just wanted him to tutor you, he interrupts you, shoving the money back into your hands, swiftly leaving you behind with a single sentence: "I don't need your pity."

Your heart ached.

Later, he skipped three days of class. When you saw him outside school with a black armband pinned to his sleeve, when he returned to class and said, "Y/N, my grandmother passed away," your heart ached like that again; the pain crashing down like a tidal wave.

That Mid-Autumn Festival, everyone went home for a reunion dinner with their families and ate mooncakes, including you. You went to your grandparents' house. But he no longer had a grandmother to go back to. After dinner, on your way back to school, the osmanthus trees near the dormitory were in full bloom, their fragrance rich and intoxicating. By sheer coincidence, you see him standing there, alone. You hand him a mooncake, filled with fresh meat, made by your grandmother. That night, you sat together under the osmanthus tree, eating mooncakes. Neither of you said a word. After finishing the mooncake, he went to the classroom, and you went back to your dorm. The warm feeling from that night haunted you, driving you to accept his proposal 5 years later, despite not knowing each other well at all.

You once saw a comment online that said "Feeling sorry for a man will make you unhappy for life." You didn't know what that meant back then. Now, you understand.

T - 7 days Only a week left.

It's routine now, heading to your physical therapy appointment. With your departure so close, you try a more rigorous session. Carrying weight, light hops, landing on your bad foot.  Due to the strain, your entire  body aches from head to toe. You're sweating almost immediately. Within five minutes, you are completely drenched.

“If you can’t keep going, just say so. Don’t force yourself,” the therapist comments. Sweating heavily, you nod. “I know. I’m fine. I can manage…” Before you finish speaking, you collapse to the ground with a thud. “Are you alright?” they rush forward to help you up, but someone pushes past them. You are suddenly lifted into someone’s arms. When you look up, you meet Caleb’s anxious eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” You try to struggle, but your muscles give you. Held in his arms, you see a dark storm swirling in Caleb’s eyes.

“What exactly is she doing?” Caleb asks the therapist this time. “Sir, she’s in physical therapy. Rehab.” Caleb scoffs. “Rehabilitation? What kind of rehab is this? Looks like it's doing more harm than good.” “Caleb!” you grit out. “You stay out of this!”

He's already carrying you out.

“Caleb!” “Sir, Ms. Y/N's recovery—” You and the nurse speak at the same time, but Caleb abruptly cuts you both off as he walks away.

“She’s not doing it anymore.” “Caleb, you have no right to decide my affairs!” Anger burns in your chest. When you needed him most, he was never there. And now he suddenly appears just to interfere with your plans? You're already out in the hall, in full view of nurses, patients, and waiting family members. He carries you straight through the clinic.

“Caleb!” You hate your own helplessness right now, but very time you try to move, your muscles scream in pain. You can't simply jump out of his arms.

Zayne Li, a previous upperclassman and now doctor, happens to walk out of his consultation room and notices the commotion. He approaches the two of you with concern. “What’s wrong? Y/N, is the rehabilitation not going well?” "Dr. Li, can you explain why my wife is in so much pain? Are you sure your rehabilitation training facilities here are sound?" You're shocked by how Caleb treats an old acquaintance, glaring at the doctor. His tone carries not only doubt, but a hint of accusation. Zayne explains patiently. “This rehabilitation program Y/N chose is indeed intense and very challenging. But if she perseveres, I can promise it will be effective. The pain is like bones being rebuilt. As her husband—”

“As her husband, I refuse to let her undergo such a cruel course!” Caleb interrupts sharply. His face is ashen as he carries you away. You are furious. Turning toward Zayne, you say quickly, “Dr. Li, I’m sorry, I—” “Shut it!" Caleb snaps.

He carries you straight to the parking lot and shoves you into the car.

The nurse runs after you, handing you your bag. “Ms. Y/N, you…” “I’ll come again tomorrow,” you say with a faint smile. The pain today was almost unbearable, but you have no intention of giving up.

Once you set your mind on something, the word "quit" isn't in your dictionary. Just like years ago, when you discovered your love for dance, you pursued it without hesitation. Like when you fell in love at sixteen, you pursued it wholeheartedly, even if it meant running repeatedly into a wall and coming away bruised. And like now, determined to get back up on your feet—you will never look back.

Caleb closes the car door, and gets into the drivers seat. “You won't be coming back here tomorrow.” “Caleb!” You're livid. “What right do you have to interfere with my freedom?” “Because,” he says slowly, word by word, “I’m your husband.”

You think about everything that's happened and could only laugh at his statement.

“My husband? A man who dedicates his whole life to another woman is my husband? Caleb, don’t be ridiculous.” So funny that you almost don’t even feel sad anymore.

Caleb turns the rearview mirror toward you. “Look at yourself. Look at what you look like now.”

You glance at your reflection.

Your hair is soaked with sweat. Your face is damp, and your clothes cling to your body after the brutal training. You look disheveled—truly disheveled. Even now your lips tremble slightly, and your hands still shake. But you don’t think anything is wrong. This is proof of your effort.

“What’s wrong with me?” You touch the healthy flush on your cheeks, satisfied.

“Y/N, you don’t need to…” Caleb sighs. “I know you’re being stubborn. MC is back. She’s more beautiful than you, healthier than you, more capable than you. You’re upset, so you push yourself like this, wanting to prove yourself to her.”

You stare at him. Is he out of his goddamn mind?

“Y/N, you don’t have to suffer like this. Seeing you so exhausted makes my heart ache.” His gaze softens. “You don’t need to compare yourself with anyone. No matter what state you're in, you’re still Mrs. Xia. That will never change.”

“Anxious? Me, competing with your MC?” You interrupt incredulously, unable to hold it in it any longer. “Caleb, how dare you!” “First, I have never compared my beauty, health, or ability with your dear Pipsqueak. Second, my life is full of wonderful things, none of which involve you or her. And finally, I've told you a hundred times: whether or not I’m Mrs. Xia, I don't give a shit!"

What on earth makes him think your entire life revolves around MC?

But Caleb refuses to believe you. His expression shifts from gentle to mocking. “Y/N, if you weren’t jealous, would you be so determined to make me jealous? You’re wrong. It will only push me further away.”

You roll your eyes. Talking to someone like this is exhausting.

“And you say you don’t care?” Caleb sneers. “The more someone lacks something, the more they pretend not to want it. Y/N, don’t think I don’t know. You had a crush on me in high school. You asked me to help you with homework just to get my attention. You gave me mooncakes during Mid-Autumn Festival because you wanted to pursue me. After university, you even risked your life to save me. And now you say you don’t care? Who would believe that?”

You freeze.

You thought that after everything you’ve been through, nothing could hurt you anymore. But you underestimated how deeply this relationship could still wound you.

He knows everything.

Yes, you once liked him, but that was a secret you kept to yourself. You asked him to tutor you because you wanted a way to pay him without hurting his pride. You gave him mooncakes during Mid-Autumn Festival simply because you wanted him to feel a little warmth on that lonely holiday. And later, when you saved him… Even though it left you with a limp, you never expected repayment—let alone marriage.

You had already accepted defeat in this marriage. You built a hard shell around yourself, telling yourself not to feel pain anymore. Yet somehow, every act of kindness you once showed him has become an arrow he now shoots back at you, piercing straight through your armor.

You suddenly feel too tired to explain anything. When the day finally comes that you leave him completely, he will understand whether you ever cared about the title of Mrs. Xia.

Seeing you fall silent, Caleb reaches out and wraps an arm around your shoulders again. You hold your breath.

You remember a Mid-Autumn night long ago. The two of you sat under an osmanthus tree eating mooncakes. He smelled faintly of sweet osmanthus. That fragrance drifted through your youth for years, warming you. But now, when Caleb comes close, all you smell is suffocating perfume.

Disgusted, you turn away and slap his hand aside. “Don't touch me. I told you—it disgusts me.” Anger flashes through Caleb’s eyes. Yet he doesn’t shout. Instead, his voice softens. “Y/N, I know you love me. The vow I made will never change. You will always be my Mrs. Xia."

These words have never sounded so grating against your ears. 

T - 6 days Today is the day you are scheduled to pick up your visa. You pack your purse carefully, pausing when the little rectangular piece of plastic that has always lived in your shared bedroom drawer is gone. Where did your ID go? You look everywhere in the room. Still nothing. Your pulse rising, you think back to the last few days. You haven't touched it at all. Caleb! He was rummaging through here this morning.

You immediately pick up your cell phone to call him. Shockingly, he answers on the first ring. "Caleb, do you have my ID?" You ask, slightly breathless. "Good morning to you to," he says sarcastically. "Caleb! Is it with you!" You press on. "Yes." His reply is short and straight to the point. "Why did you take it?" You're exasperated, concerned you'll have to reschedule for later. "Why do you need it?" He shocks you by turning your question against you. "None of your business! I need it today." A slight pause from him on the other end. "Come get it then." "Get it... from your workplace?" You say incredulously. "If you want it, come get it." He hangs up. You stare at your phone dumbfoundedly. Then immediately call a cab to the Farspace Fleet HQ.

You've never really came to his workplace in the five years you spent together. The only other time you recall entering the building wasn't the most unpleasant experience for you either.  You text him as you enter, informing him of your arrival. He doesn't reply this time. You call, but it doesn't go through. You frown. Was he in a meeting? You don't have all day, so you are forced to go to the front counter and reveal your identity.

"The Colonel's wife?" The receptionist looks at you and laughs. "Young lady, everyone who comes here claims to be the Colonel's wife. If you're going to think of an excuse, find one that's less cliché." "I'm serious. Call the Colonel, and tell him Y/N is here. He'll know to come down." You're not in the mood to play games.  "That's what they all say. If we did that, you'd think the Colonel wouldn't have time for anything other than dealing with people like you all day." The receptionist rolled her eyes and muttered. "People like me?" You frown. "And pray, what am I?" "Shameless women who want to climb the social ladder without working for it!" the receptionist laughs. "At least other women come here with presentable features, but now we're getting cripples? You should at least know your place!"

Is it really true that birds of a feather flock together? You can't wrap your head around her thinking. Why is it that no stranger outside of Caleb's circle harbor any ill will towards you and your leg, while everyone around Caleb is like this? You're thinking of going home and getting your marriage certificate to prove your place; you certainly aren't going anywhere by talking to the workers down here. 

Just then, the elevator door opens, and Liam walks out. Seeing the Adjutant, the receptionist immediately turns respectful. "Adjutant Lin!" She greets him properly.  "Madam Y/N, I am the Colonel's Adjutant. Please come with me." He leads the way, letting you into the elevator. The two of you head straight to the top floor.

"The Colonel is in a meeting right now," he explains, leading you to a small office. "Please wait in here for now."  You thank him and put your bag down. A few minutes later, a knock is heard, and a lady emerges from the door.  "Ms. Y/N, I am the Colonel's secretary. Would you like something to drink?"  "Anything is fine, or just water," you reply. She returns with a glass of juice. "Is passionfruit drink ok?" "That's wonderful, thank you." You take the glass.  "Just sit tight, I'll come get you once the meeting ends." She smiles, and closes the door behind her. 

Fifteen minutes pass. Then twenty, and thirty.  You watch the time tick by, growing impatient. Finally, you get up to open the conference room door, only to find it locked from the outside. Damn it! You still need to pick up your visa this afternoon. You frantically call Caleb's phone, but strangely, no one picks up despite the call going through. You're smart enough to know that this is most certainly a setup, but you don't have the time nor heart to figure out who orchestrated this entire thing or what their purpose was. You just wanted to get your visa. You pound on the door, frantically, yelling, but no one answers.  You sit down and pick up the passion fruit lemonade, drinking it down in one gulp. Hands trembling, you quickly type out an email rescheduling your visa appointment.

Suddenly, your face begins to itch. This isn't passion fruit lemonade at all…

You check the time: another ten minutes had passed. Neither Liam nor the secretary had returned, and nobody else knew you were here… You feel your throat closing, as your breathing gets heavier.  You drag yourself, limping to the door, continuing to pound on it as you are no longer able to make any noise. You catch sight of a red box. 

Throughout the office, everyone is methodically going about their work when suddenly, the building's fire alarms start blaring loudly.  "What's going on?" People run out of their cubicles and offices to see what's going on. "Someone pulled the fire alarm on the top floor! Everyone evacuate!"

Caleb also hears the noise, and comes out immediately.  "What's going on? How can there be a fire up here?" His eyelids have been twitching all day. He had a strange, ominous premonition.

Thunk... thunk... thunk...

It sounds like someone is weakly banging on the door. "Who's in there?" Caleb asks urgently, kicking the door. MC appears from behind him, clinging to his shoulder. "Gege! Don't go in there! It could be dangerous!" "Someone's in here!" Caleb shouts. "Caleb... Help... help me... Caleb..."  A weak cry, barely audible over the commotion in the hall. Caleb's eyes widen in shock. "Y/N! Y/N! Is that you in there? Y/N answer me!" He forcefully shakes off MC's hand, barging against the door with his shoulder. "Someone! Help! Open the door!"

With a loud bang, he breaks the door down. 

You're on the floor, fallen to the side. Body red, face nearly turning purple.  "Y/N!" he cries, quickly picking you up. "Call an ambulance!" His roar echoes throughout the entire floor. His voice startles you, as you weakly open your eyes, looking at the familiar yet unfamiliar face in front of you. You want to raise your hand to check if it is real, but your arm refuses to move.  You try to speak, but no sound comes out. You manage a weak smile and barely manage to mouth the words: "if... I'm dead... won't... owe me anything... you'll... free.." "Stop it! You won't die!" Caleb runs down dozens of flights of stairs. You close your eyes. You don't mind saying goodbye to all of this. "Y/N, don't sleep on me, ok? Wake up! Wake up, you hear me?" The last thing you her is Caleb's frantic voice. 

T - 5 days You wake up in the hospital after getting an acute dose of epinephrine. Zayne gives you a thorough examination, and finds no other acute problems. After determining you're stable enough to step down to the observation area, he scolds you seriously. "Walking around without an epipen with a serious allergy? You could've died from anaphylaxis! How could you be so careless?"

Caleb is still somewhat shaken by it all. "An allergic reaction? Y/N, what did you eat that caused this?" You sit there silently.

"Let's observe her a little longer. There are still a few results pending. We'll see what happens when the results come back," Zayne says before leaving.

Caleb sighs and sits down beside you, continuing to carefully dab at your neck and shoulders with the cotton swab.  It stings a little. You frown and turn away. "Don't move, Y/N. I'm trying to clean it. Don't want any infections from your blisters." The words sound familiar. In the early days after your injury, he had said similar things. But it was that gentleness, this feigned gentleness, that gave you false hope and expectation in him.  He's acting so kind again - what's he trying to do?

You no longer trust anything he says. 

“I remember you’re allergic to apples. Did you eat apples before coming to the HQ today? But Mrs. Chen knows not to buy them... Did you eat something new on your way here?” His tone is like coaxing a child… You purse your lips, giving him a cold laugh. “I didn’t eat anything. I’m calling the police.” your tone is firm. “Call the police?” Caleb frowns. There's a rustling sound outside the room. You turn around to see that MC had arrived.

T - 4 days MC stands outside holding a bouquet of flowers, looking cautious and timid. "Caleb, how is Y/N? I wanted to come see her, but I was worried she wouldn't want to see me." "Y/N's fine, she just needs some rest," Caleb says, knowing you indeed dislike her. "I appreciate your sentiment, but she's in a bad mood right now, you should go back." "Hmm..." MC purses her lips, eyes rimmed with tears. "Caleb, I'm sorry, it's all my fault. As your personal assistant, I was careless, causing Y/N to suffer like this. I'm so glad she's alright, otherwise... otherwise, I don't know what I would do..." She starts crying.

You, still in the room, hear everything. MC joined the Farspace Fleet as Caleb's personal assistant? So that's why she went on the mission with him. However, since she's his assistant, everything that happened today makes sense now. 

You grab your bag, turning on your phone.  "What are you doing?" Caleb comes back seeing you enter your password. "I told you, I'm calling the police." You successfully unlock it. 

MC rushes into the room, Gideon behind her now. "Y/N, tread carefully. This is the Farspace Fleet HQ we're talking about. Are you sure the authorities will respond to this? What happened in the meeting room was an accident, I swear." "Oh? And how would you know it was an accident?" you scoff. "Were you the one who locked the door?" MC's face immediately turns pale. "How could you say that about me! It was Secretary Lu who led you to the conference room, she was the one who brought you the apple juice. She said the door was locked from the inside!" "Apple juice?" You look into MC's flustered eyes. You have a pretty good idea of what's going on now. "I never said I drank apple juice, how did you know it was apple juice?" MC avoids your eyes. "No, I... As Caleb's personal assistant, I checked everything before coming here! Secretary Lu explained everything that happened from picking you up to asking you to wait in the conference room." "Is that so?" You turn to look at Caleb. "There aren't many people in this world who knows I'm allergic to apple juice. Not even my parents." Only your grandparents. And Caleb. 

Caleb's face stiffens.

You remain unusually calm. "Caleb Xia, your secretary kept telling me she gave me passion fruit juice. How did it turn into apple juice? Did Secretary Lu deliberately tamper with it, or did someone switch the drink around? And Caleb, who have you told about my apple juice allergy?" MC's face is deathly pale.  You don't wait for her to reply. "And the doors? There's security cameras all over the Farspace HQ. A quick check will bring everything to light. Of course, if the cameras were tampered with... that's a whole different issue. So I'm going to have to call the police about it". 

Caleb's face drops, his expression changing drastically. "Pips... did you really...?"

She runs forward to grab his arm. "No Gege! I swear! It wasn't me, it must've just been a joke!" "A joke?" you sneer. "Your group seems to love joking around the most. I've lived for over twenty five years and never knew that you guys had jokes that could kill people!" "No, no, no.." MC shakes her head violently, "Gege, listen to me! It wasn't me, I promise-" "She's lying" you say flatly, dialing the tone.

Gideon, unable to contain himself any longer, smacks the phone out of your hands. "Who's lying! You're the one lying, for your own selfish reasons, slandering an innocent person!" His line of thinking is really quite creative, giving everyone else a new inspiration to ride off of.  "Y/N," MC cries, looking at you with disbelief, "I can't believe you hate me this much, that you'd put your own life in danger to frame me! If you hate me that much, just kick me out! Don't torment Caleb like this! Do you care for him at all? Do you know how terrified he was? I never thought it'd all be staged!" Gideon scoffs, "isn't acting pitiful her specialty? Wasn't her saving Caleb five years ago the same thing? She wanted to force him into marrying her!"

You knew all too well how cruel Gideon could be, and how little he thought of you. Yet you never expected him to say something so shameless: that you saving Caleb five years ago was self-sabotage to trick him into marriage!

Sometimes, when anger reaches its peak, it paradoxically turns into calm. You look at Caleb, despite knowing time and time again that he won't side with you. But in this moment, you just want to ask him one question: if he thought the same as Gideon.  Then it wouldn't just be a matter of you being foolish. You would've been better off saving a dog five years ago. 

"Caleb," you stand, not a ripple of emotion behind your eyes. "Come here." Caleb, sandwiched between Gideon and MC, looks at you.  "Caleb, don't go!" Gideon and MC say it almost simultaneously.

His gaze meets yours. After a brief silence, Caleb stands up and walks to you.  You look at the man you had risked your life for, the man you "traded" your leg for.  You calmly ask, "Do you think so too?" He doesn't speak. "You also..." you stare into deep amethyst eyes, the echo of the conversation you had with him after he interrupted your physical therapy still ringing in your ears. "You also think that today's events were done on purpose? You also think that I saved you five years ago expecting you to marry me?"

Something in Caleb's eyes narrow, and he looks away. "Say it, Caleb! Look at me!"  A minute of silence passes. "Yes."

You gasp, as if that would force you to swallow the pain, but your vision still blurs  uncontrollably. The quiet but resolute "yes" feels like a boulder crashing into your chest, the lingering pain still reverberating over and over after the initial damage. How could someone who has been hurt to this extent still be sad?

smack!

Your handprint remains on Caleb's face where you slapped him; your fingernails leaving a thin trace of blood, particularly striking on his handsome features. "Get out." "Y/N-" "Get the FUCK out or I will."

You don't even wait for him to make a decision - you stumble out of the room without looking back.

T - 3 days You collapse onto the bed when you get home, your body still throbbing with pain. Mrs. Chen calls you for dinner, but you're too exhausted to move.  "Bring it in," say. Except for the initial period after your accident when you were bed-bound, you never got into the habit of eating in bed.  You cherished your home with Caleb so much that you couldn't bear to see anything dirty or out of place. Looking back, you laugh at your stupid thinking. What good is a house if you don't use it? 

After you finish eating, Mrs. Chen takes the plate away and asks if you want to take a bath. You nod. "Please run me some water, and then change the bedding to clean ones."  "Okay." She leaves to start running the water.

You try to get out of bed and make your way to the bath yourself, but after only a few steps, your legs feel weak. Your body's overexertion and emotional outburst from earlier don't make your condition any better.  Mrs. Chen comes back out and is worried to see your trembling, unstable figure. "Madam, shall I help you?" You take a deep breath and nod.  She helps you to the bathroom and didn't let go until you're comfortably seated in the bathtub. "Thank you," you say. 

You lean back, the warm water soothing every inch of your skin, easing the soreness and making you feel much more comfortable. After a while, the water cools, and you call for Mrs. Chen again. You still don't want to open your eyes.  

Footsteps approach and stop at the edge of the bathtub, but you hear no movement afterwards. You frown. "Mrs. Chen..." You open your eyes to see Caleb. "Why are you here?" You're startled, instinctively covering any part of your body above the water. "Get out!" You call loudly for Mrs. Chen. "Mrs. Chen won't come in." He looks down at you, his gaze deep. "Mrs. Chen!" you continue to call, unwilling to give up. "You think Mrs. Chen is going to listen to you, or the person who pays her salary? He leans down, his face suddenly very close to yours, so close that you can clearly see his bloodshot eyes and your own reflection in his pupils. "What exactly do you want?" You grip the edge of the bathtub tightly, your defenses fully raised.

He reaches into the soapy water, grabbing your shoulders and lifting you entirely out of the tub. You feel a chill run down your spine. This is the first time you've been completely exposed in front of Caleb. Humiliation and panic overwhelms you in an instant. "Let go of me, you dirty bastard!" You begin to struggle in his arms, but it's an useless endeavor. “If you want to fall and get hurt, then keep being stubborn!” His deep voice carries a threatening tone. You come to your senses and slowly stop. You can't risk getting hurt now. You're leaving in a couple days. You can't afford to have any more accidents.

“Not moving anymore?” he asks, revealing no emotion. “Caleb Xia, don't make me hate you.” You say. He gives you a bitter smile. “Don't you hate me enough already?” You remain silent. Your relationship with Caleb has indeed reached a point of no return.

He snorts coldly, wrapping you in a bath towel, and walks out of the bathroom back to the bedroom, placing you on the bed. He sits you on the edge and goes back, reappearing with a hairdryer.  As he plugs it in, blowing hot air into your wet hair, you're momentarily stunned.  What's he trying to do? Apologize? Make it up to you? Or is it just all for MC again? The only sound in the room is the roar of the hairdryer; neither of you speak. After he finishes, he rummages through the bedside drawer, clumsily tying your hair up into a knot. 

Several bruises on the top of your back and shoulders from falling reveal themselves  He stares at them for a moment, then forcefully rips away the towel wrapped around you. "Look at yourself! What are you doing to yourself these days, doing that stupid rehab?!" What does this have to do with him at all? You quickly pull the blanket back over herself, glaring at him with hostility. "Caleb, believe me, I really will kill you." He sits down opposite from you, his eyes filled with sarcasm. "We've been married for five years, and this is your attitude when I try to touch you?"

What else does he expect? What attitude should you have?

You smile mockingly. "Caleb, I told you. Your hands are dirty. Also, if you touch me, aren't you afraid your Pipsqueak will be heartbroken?" He doesn't reply, only pushing you down onto the bed, but doesn't move to pull away the blanket. You feel his warm hand on your calf. He's massaging your scars again? You give up struggling, already somewhat familiar with his methods. Unsolicited kindness is always suspicious; he must want something from you. He continues applying ointment to your bruises, from your leg up to your arms, then your back.  Once he's done, he covers you with a blanket, meeting your cold gaze. You look at him with no hint of gratefulness, just waiting. He tucks you in more tightly, forcing a bitter smile. "Y/N, how did we get to this point?"

He's asking you why things had come to this? Didn't he know?

He sighs deeply. "Y/N, let's talk about this calmly." You consider it for a moment. Since MC appeared, you've always been calm, never wavering. It's him, on the other hand, who was always emotional because of MC. “Caleb Xia, I don’t know what we have to talk about anymore,” you say indifferently. “I’ve already made myself clear.” Caleb's hand reaches under the covers to find your hand and grasps it tightly. “Y/N, I didn’t want this. From the beginning until now, I swear I've been sincere in wanting to live a good life with you.” “Is that so?” you sneer. “From the beginning? Didn't you think I was a venomous woman who used a self-inflicted injury to force you to marry me?”

Caleb closes his eyes, remaining silent for a long time. “Colonel Xia,” you smile, “Please let go of my hand and get me a bottle of disinfectant” When Caleb opens his eyes, the bloodshot veins are particularly noticeable. He doesn't ask why, just gets up to fetch it, and hands it to you.

You prop yourself up on the bed, and begins methodically spraying it on your hands, arms, legs, stomach, back—everywhere he had just touched. Caleb's expression instantly changes. "What are you doing?" "I'm disinfecting myself. I told you, your hands are dirty." You finish spraying and calmly place the alcohol bottle on the bedside table. "You…" Caleb is aggravated again. You simply turn over and lie down to sleep.

After a while, Caleb finally speaks to you again, his voice soft. "We've been married for five years. In these five years, I haven't wronged you, have I?" Five years... your heart clenches. You don't want to look back on the past five years. "I'm so grateful to you for saving me back then, and for giving me a chance to atone. For the past five years, I've given you everything I could. So can you do just one more thing? If you agree to this favor, I'll do anything you ask from now on." Here it comes…

"You want me to drop the case and reconcile with MC and your two cronies?" You cut to the chase.

T - 2 days Yes," Caleb says, his voice utterly broken. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I have to protect MC. She was the only light in the darkest moments of my life." Your heart sinks to the bottom of the ocean. What in the world is Caleb thinking? Telling his lawful wife that another woman is his only light, and expecting you to help him?

"Y/N," he continues, "you know that my grandmother was the most important person in my life. MC was good friends with Zayne, an upperclassman whose parents were doctors. Through her connections was how my grandma was able to get treatment after she fell ill. One evening, when I visited Grandma, there was a bottle of origami cranes beside her pillow. The nurse said it was a gift from a volunteer. They said that with the blessing of a thousand cranes, Grandma would definitely recover. Caleb chokes up a little. "Grandma didn't recover. The blessing of a thousand origami cranes only stayed a myth. But Y/N, do you understand the loneliness of that time when my world was completely dark, and I was struggling to bear everything alone? The girl who helped me share the burden while I was taking care of Grandma, the girl who lit up my dark world with origami cranes, was MC. I thought I would never see her again after she left, but she ended up coming back to me. I'm sorry Y/N. No matter what kind of person MC is, in my heart, she will always be that light." You listen silently, finally unable to help but smile.

Caleb Xia, are you really sure that the girl who folded the origami cranes was MC?

T - 1 day What was it like to have a crush on someone in your youth?

It was having your heart feel empty when he didn't come to class; even though there was only one empty seat, the whole world became hollow; It was the world suddenly brightening when he steps into the classroom. The sunlight outside the window shining like gold, but it couldn't possibly compare to the radiance surrounding him at that moment. It was when his smile warmed your heart, and when he frowned, your heart clenched; It was the satisfaction in watching him from afar, letting time quietly slip by, wanting to give your everything to him but not wanting him to know…

That year, when you learned that the weariness and pain Caleb tried so hard to hide was because his grandmother was seriously ill and hospitalized, every weekend, you'd wear a mask and get up before dawn every morning, catch the bus to the hospital, and help his grandma with breakfast and keep her company. You lied about your identity every time, simply saying you were a volunteer. You weren't sure if paper cranes could actually make wishes come true, but being young and full of sincere wishes, you secretly folded a bottle full of paper cranes for his grandmother. There certainly weren't a thousand total, but the bottle was full. It took you a long time folding, and you wrote a blessing on each piece of paper before carefully folding it inside. While wishing Caleb's grandmother a speedy recovery, you also prayed for her own grandparents' health.

At that time, you felt that you and Caleb had so much in common. None of your parents were in the picture. You both depended on their grandparents' for survival. You were both struggling to grow up against the odds, trying your best to maintain your lives, your pride, and self-respect. You once thought that you and Caleb were like two trees growing side by side, far apart, your branches never intersecting in the air, yet your roots in the soil were always tightly intertwined.

In the end, you've been deluding yourself.

You just smile without speaking or explaining anything to him. If it were before, perhaps you would have explained to him that you were the volunteer. But now, there is truly no need.

You traded your leg for his life, saving him from being run over by a car. If in his eyes, it was all a ploy, a way to trick him into marrying you, then what would the origami cranes you folded all those years ago mean to him? Were they, like the mooncakes from that Mid-Autumn Festival, just a means to woo him as well? Even if he didn't think of you as so calculating and despicable, what difference would it make?

He simply doesn't love you. You've tried for five years already. The fact is, you saved his life. Regardless of his motives for marrying you, the end result is the same: he doesn't love you. So why add another layer of trouble? You've known him since you were twelve. 15 years now. If love could truly change people, you would have done so long ago. The truth is, no matter what you did for him, it wouldn't change a thing.

Besides, you already have a clear future and plans. You'll cut ties completely with this person and stop this entanglement for once and for all. Only a smile remains on your face. A smile that is both laughable and pathetic.

"What are you laughing at?" Caleb was probably lost in his own memories, so it's understandable that he felt a bit resentful that his heartfelt story is met with nothing but a laugh. You lower your eyes, a faint smile still on your lips. "It's nothing, I'm just very touched. I'll do as you wish under one condition." He looks at you expectantly. "I'll have my lawyer send over some papers. At long as you sign them, MC is off the hook." "You... really?" Caleb isn't sure if you're being sarcastic.

"I'm serious." You lie on the bed, looking up at him, the faint sadness in your eyes gone, replaced by a genuine smile. "I wish you a long and life."

T - 0 days When Caleb leaves this morning, he tells you to wait for him at home, the same as usual. However, he lingers at the door for a minute longer, gazing at you with eyes filled with an unfamiliar emotion. There's no point thinking about it anymore. Nothing in the world will convince Caleb Xia that his wife would want to leave him.

Will he realize you're truly gone when he sees the empty closet? It won't matter if he doesn't; your letter, the lawyer, and the divorce papers will tell him. You look back one last time at the home you lived in for five years.

You write one last line in your notebook: "0 days until I leave Caleb Xia: Goodbye, I'm going to fly higher."

You turn off the lights and close the door.

You stick a paper crane on the door; let this paper crane wait for him in your place; perhaps, it will tell him the answer.

***

T + 6 days: Caleb feels like he's actually gone insane. The first night you don't come home, he plays it off as another one of your temper outbursts. Afterall, the paper crane on the door was your way of mocking his past with MC, wasn't it?. The second night he blows up your phone. Nothing goes through. By the third day, he is contacted by your lawyer with the divorce papers prepared and already signed by you. You ask for none of his assets and no compensation. He nearly destroys the office table in anger. After another two days to calm down, the panic and unease in his chest grow to new lengths. He stalks the entire city. Tries going after your telephone records, search history. He finds your preparation to leave him starting long, long before he suspected anything out of the ordinary. He looks at himself in the mirror and wants to laugh at the pathetic sight before him. He can't possibly go to work in this state, so he turns around to go home instead. 

He takes a shower and sits in the chair in your bedroom, lost in thought. This is the chair you used to sit in. You'd sit here watching dramas, reading, oh right, probably studying how to get away form him too.  Your belongings are still on the table: pens in the pen holder, and several books you read, the most recent being art history, lying on the desk. Fiddling with the paper crane.

He opened a drawer, which was also full of books. Digging through its contents, he finds a notebook. He pulls it out and opens it. The contents read: Countdown to leaving Caleb Xia. T -  22 days: The jewelry he gave me were all mementos of someone else.  T - 11 days: He gave our wedding rings to someone else too. But I don't even want him anymore, so why should I care about the ring?

His eyes sting.

"I don't even want this person anymore…" So, from that moment on, you truly wanted a divorce. Every time you brought it up, it was from the heart. It wasn't a tactic to keep him, nor was it a way to force MC to leave. You genuinely wanted to leave him…

Looking further, you had recorded every single thought that, in the month before you left, seemed trivial to him. With each passing day, your heart seemed to die a little more. He lowers his head, forehead resting on the notebook. His eyes ache terribly. In those 20-odd days, if he had even a few moments of empathy, if he had considered things from your perspective, he might have still had a chance to salvage the relationship. But he didn't. He went down a path of no return, finally leading to a complete break between you.

He thought you would never leave him, never leave this home, which is why he stood on MC's side time and time again. He thought, "She's my wife, she's family, she'll never leave. No matter when I come back, she'll be waiting at home..." You loved him so much, you've liked him since high school, even risked your life for him. How could he have believed that you really wanted to divorce him?

T + 24 days: Caleb sighs, a bitter smile on his face. He doesn't know what was wrong with him; why everything had been so bitter lately. The food he eats taste bitter, the water tastes bitter, even the air around him seems to carry a faint bitterness.

That afternoon, Liam comes to his office, inviting him out to dinner with Gideon.  Sitting behind his desk, Caleb feels listless. "Forget it, I'm too tired. You guys go ahead, I'll cover it." "Colonel," Liam protests, before switching to addressing him by name. "Caleb. Do you think I'm starving? I can see you're unhappy these days, and I figured getting together with you and Gideon would allow you to have some fun. Caleb shakes his head, hating how his hairs bristled at the mention of his friend. "I hate crowds, forget it."

"Caleb, what's wrong with you?" Gideon pops in, looking at him, his eyes filled with worry. "You used to love being with your brothers, having fun together. As long as the crew is together, your worries would disappear. I can invite MC along too, she'll make you feel better." Caleb freezes. What is wrong? He didn't know what was wrong either. It's just an instinctive reaction; he didn't want to go.

Later, at the bar, Caleb is still trying to think of why he feels uncomfortable. "Maybe... I'm getting old?" As you get older, you grow weary of crowds and want to be alone in peace and quiet. Liam laughs. "You're old? You...you're old? What am I then?" Well, if not, then Caleb couldn't find a reason.

"Caleb, what's wrong with you?" Gideon sighs. "We all know you didn't want to marry Y/N in the first place. You didn't love her. Isn't it better that you're getting a divorce now?" "Yeah..." Caleb's eyes glaze over. "Isn't it supposed to be better? But, Gideon, why am I not okay? I'm really not okay at all." "Is it just that you've gotten used to it? It's hard to let go of someone suddenly in your life, like when I had a dog when I was little. I had it for years, and one day it got into an accident and passed. I cried for a long time." Liam tries to help. Caleb shakes his head. "That's not how it works, Liam. Didn't you love your dog? You cried." Liam is stumped. "Oh, right. I definitely loved it."

All three of them fall silent.

Liam thinks for a long time before slowly saying, "Caleb, you didn't fall in love with Y/N, did you?" Caleb feels as if he's been struck on the head. He had never considered this question before. "Let me ask you this," Liam continues, "you're single now, right? If you had two choices: one, go back to Y/N, and she'd still be your Mrs. Xia; two, marry MC. You could marry MC if you want to! Which would you choose if you had these two options in front of you?" Caleb doesn't hesitate at all. "Liam, what are you saying? When did I ever plan to marry MC? Since she came back, the thought of marrying her never even crossed my mind!" Liam is stunned. "I literally thought MC was your wife the first day you brought her to the headquarters! Wasn't it because you had Y/N before? Now that you're divorced, you're still not considering MC?" "Liam, MC and I are a thing of the past," Caleb says with a small laugh, "What are you thinking?" "Then, why are you so good to her?" he stammers. "Am I not good to you?" Caleb retorts. "Am I not good to Gideon?" "Then...how...can this be comparable?" Liam didn't know what to say. "How is it different? The two of you are my brothers since we were trainees at the DAA, and we've all worked our way up to our positions now. When MC was with me, she was still a high schooler, encouraging me on when I was was nothing but a new recruit. She didn't get to reap any of the benefits of that work, she had a hard time abroad. Of course I have to pamper her when she comes back, she's my little sister, right, Gideon?" "Uhhh.... Anyway..." Liam thought it was VERY different.

"Of course it's different!" A voice booms from behind. It's Yvette. Liam quickly stands up. "Darling, why are you here?" "I came to see what nonsense you're spouting, you idiot!" Yvette's face darkens. "You guys are still talking about that two-faced bitch?" "No...wife, please... don't say such nonsense. How could MC be two-faced?" Liam quickly looks at Caleb, fearing for his job. “Try saying another word for her” Yvette points at Liam's nose, as if she's about to slap him into oblivion “No, I won’t say anything… I won’t…” Yvette's anger finally subsides. “Let’s go home!”

Liam hesitates. “Darling, how about we have dinner with the Colonel today?” “No way!” Yvette's temper flares again, pointing at Liam once more “I don’t hang out with your kind of people! You’re going home to eat too! He deserves it! He’s not worth wasting time on!” Liam looks troubled, hoping his wife would show some mercy.

Strangely, Caleb doesn't seem offended at all. He asks Yvette with a smile, "What kind of person am I?"

Yvette turns to look at him, scoffing. "I didn't want to talk about you, because you scumbags and bitches get angry and it's bad for my baby. I don't want my baby to see the ugliness of this world while still in my belly. But since you're asking like this, I've changed my mind." Liam sweats profusely. "My darling, no, let's just let our baby grow peacefully. Don't change your mind." "No!" Yvette declares. "I've decided to teach our baby to distinguish right from wrong!"

She turns to face Caleb again. "Colonel Xia, I'm not trying to be mean, but stop acting like you're some sort of saint. What's with all this talk about MC being there for you when you were down on your luck, about her suffering abroad and wanting to compensate her? Is it so hard to admit you're a cheater? Aren't you just trying to cover up the fact that you're greedy and have always looked for something better?" Caleb's face turns ashen. "I didn't, MC and I didn't..." Yvette's spirit is still high. "I don't give a fuck if you and MC slept together or not! That's not my business. I only care about Liam! But Caleb, this isn't about physical cheating!"

Liam is getting increasingly anxious hearing his wife absolutely tear through his boss without any restraint. Was this something she could just casually say? Out in public?? He immediately covers her mouth. "Let her talk!" Caleb's expression darkens.

"I'll say it!" Yvette slaps away Liam's hand. "Colonel Xia! I told you you're a cheater! The ultimate scumbag! You enjoyed Y/N's wholehearted love while flirting with MC under the guise of "taking care of a sister? What brother buys you a house, bags, and luxury goods? What kind of siblings share a room together while out on a business trip? Oh right, Liam used to get that privilege when you were cadets, but is the stuff in your brain the same shade when you sleep with MC?!" Liam tries really hard not to laugh. "The stuff in your brain isn't the same color"? His wife's mouth was really something… But then again, even he didn't believe Caleb and MC's brains were pure when they were together…

"What are you laughing at?" Yvette turns around to scold her husband. "Your boss doesn't have a brain, it's filled with tofu! You think you're so great? Yours is filled with tofu dregs!" "Darling, please;;; if you want to scold me, let's go back home to do it" "Let me finish!" Yvette hadn't wanted to say all of this, but since she was asked to, she wouldn't be happy until she was finished. She glares at Caleb. "With your filthy thoughts, ask yourself, with your non-existent conscience, when you sided with MC again and again like no tomorrow, wasn't your heart soaring? Like you were back in your youth! Wasn't that right? An old man like you, suddenly rediscovering the feeling of pure love, wasn't your life full of passion? And then what? Clearly, you were emotionally unfaithful, I don't know if your filthy body has cheated on her! But whether it's emotional or physical, it's still cheating! And yet you still insist that there is nothing between you and MC. Caleb Xia, if you openly admit to cheating, I'd respect you as a man. But to cheat and then pretend to be deeply in love, I can only give you one word: scumbag! No, add another: despicable! Finally done, she glares at Liam, "Aren't you leaving?" "Oh, oh, oh." Liam apologizes to Caleb with his eyes, quickly removing himself from the premise.

T + 25 days Caleb checks his personal set of security cameras at work. You weren't lying. MC is clearly seen talking to the secretary, putting the apple juice in her hands. Gideon walks in, and Caleb slams his laptop shut. "Colonel?" A shudder runs down his spine as he meets Caleb's dark gaze. 

T + 31 days Yvette's brutal words live rent free in Caleb's head.

Five years ago, when MC first left, it was during a period of setbacks for him. He spent his entire youth preparing to get into the DAA. But now that he was there, he realized with a start that he, a small town boy, was so woefully unprepared compared to his peers. Years of hard work were on the verge of being wasted. He had a habit of shutting others out when he was struggling. MC knew it. And did her best to call him out of her own accord, always checking in, trying to make him feel better.  But it came the day she couldn't take it anymore. She up and left him, cutting off all communications suddenly. He wasn't stupid; of course he knew the reason why. However, he also had the self-awareness not to drag her down with him. Later, he heard that a wealthy second-generation heir had gone abroad with her.

He knew all of it.

His depression during that period was partly due to the breakup, and partly due to his career setbacks—a mixed bag. He got drunk sometimes, but not entirely out of despair. Most of the time, it was from entertaining his peers, or trying to network with higher-ups, practically begging and pleading for a chance. However, the night you saved him, he was truly heartbroken. He had faced rejection after rejection, losing all confidence and almost giving up. Then you saved him, trading your leg for his rebirth.

From that moment on, he carried the weight of another person's life on his shoulders. It was at that moment that he told himself: I absolutely cannot give up, I cannot give up. There are still people waiting for me to take responsibility for, waiting for me to support them.

Fate can be truly miraculous sometimes. It was after that car accident that things suddenly took a turn for the better. When you got discharged from the hospital, it was also the time his performance soared. After that, his missions only ever returned successful. Offers and promotions came in waves, and his power increased exponentially. 

And then, MC returned.

Somewhere deep in his heart, he faced her with resentment and bitterness, thinking: "The person you looked down on back then has now made it big, standing proudly before you. How do you feel?" He would never admit it though.  Just like the necklace of MC's dreams. The first birthday he spent with you, he thought to himself, "so what? The decorations MC liked, the style she fawned over, I've given them all to another girl. I can afford to do so." So, five years later, when MC returned, he carried this resentment, enjoying her adoration and affection, feeling a childish satisfaction. The person who abandoned him back then was now obediently fawning over him, trying to please him, and the resentment in his heart finally subsided.

But the scales in his heart had been tipped.

Just as Yvette said, he despicably indulged in two relationships, becoming lost in this ambiguity. He basked in MCs adoration and retaliated by showering her with affection and indulgence, as if this would prove to his former, down-on-his-luck self: I've made it big, I'm omnipotent. He never even considered it love or lack thereof. He simply wanted to frantically prove to MC his power, his influence, that he could spoil a woman to the extreme if he wanted.

Of course, in doing so, he hurt you.

But at that time, he didn't think about any of that; he was simply gradually losing himself in his relationship with MC. He explained to you that he was only remembering MC's kindness from when she made the paper cranes and that nothing ever happened between them. Perhaps this reason held some semblance of validity? He always needed a plausible excuse to mask his dark and despicable psychology. But it was also true. He could do anything for MC, except betray you —by betraying you, he meant maintaining boundaries and not doing anything physically inappropriate.

But Yvette said that emotional infidelity also counts as infidelity. Does it? Did he cheat on you? He wasn't sure himself. He couldn't distinguish whether his feelings for MC were of resentment or love.

The only thing he was certain of was that you loved him, loved him to the point of self-sacrifice. So, no matter how his heart swayed, you would always be his Mrs. Xia, and that would never change.

That day after he told you the story about the paper cranes, MC tried to embrace him from behind at work. In that moment, he realized: he couldn't possibly cross any physical boundaries with her. His destiny belonged to you. That night, he wanted to see you more than ever. So, he returned without delay, even before dinnertime. But you were already gone.

So even you could leave him too…

Even with the wealth and luxury and everything he could give you, you could still abandon it so easily. That's right, he laughs at himself, why would you care about money? That silly girl who used to live frugally, worrying about his financial situation, trying to pay him $5 for every math problem he tutored you in - how could you care about money?

He was wrong… He'd been too arrogant for too long, forgetting the path he'd come from, neglecting the most important person in his world. How ridiculous, only realizing you were the most important person after losing you.

And before that?

It seemed everything came before you. Work was more important than you, because he needed to develop his career, earn money, and support you for life; His pride was more important than you, so he absolutely couldn't lose face in front of MC, forcing you to apologize, even though you were never actually in the wrong.

His thinking was simple: even if he had wronged you, it wouldn't matter. You loved him so much; all he had to do was sweet talk and make it back up to you. In fact, many times, between you and MC, he chose to side with MC simply because he knew you would forgive him…

But you didn't. You wouldn't forgive him forever, nor would you wait for him forever.

T + 52 days: Liam stops by Caleb's office. It's past midnight. "Colonel..." he starts, stiffening as Caleb's dead gaze shifts onto him from the screen. "You've been here for the past 5 days straight. I think... you should go home now..." Home? Caleb laughs, a hollow sound, devoid of any positive emotion. Where would he go now? What is home to him?

He admits that in the past five years, he didn't love going home as much.

Mainly, when he first got married, he was afraid to go home and face you, your overwhelming love, and your injury. Guilt and remorse weighed on his heart like a brick, so much so that he couldn't even be intimate with you. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but just seeing your leg overwhelmed him with guilt, making it impossible to continue. And this created a vicious cycle: the greater the psychological pressure, the less he tried, and the less he tried, the greater the pressure… He even saw a therapist for some time, but it didn't help. Over time, he became increasingly adverse to returning home to see you, and staying at his office until midnight.

He had many excuses: logistics, planning, meetings with important stakeholders, out on missions, and most often, just being busy with work. He did indeed spend most of his time working, but no matter how late, he always had a direction in his heart—home. Whether it was his conscience or something else, going home every night was a routine, just like his work.

And now, his home was still there, but he didn't know where he should go after you left.

He always told himself that it was his responsibility to be good to you for the rest of his life, but he didn't even know when it started to become more than just a responsibility. It turned out that when the girl who always smiled at him like a sunflower was no longer there, home was no longer home, and going home lost its meaning.

But you had promised him that you would never leave him, whether in poverty or wealth; you had promised him that you would leave a light on for him no matter how late he came home. He truly believed that this light would illuminate him forever, so he gradually took advantage of you, until ultimately, he became the one who extinguished it.

T + 93 days Caleb's phone rings. Looking down, it's Zayne. “Caleb, what's up? I can't come out for dinner, but feel free to talk on the phone. I'm busy, I have to work overtime.” “Oh…” he says wistfully, “Then it's nothing.” He just had nowhere else to go and wanted to find a place to talk about the past, about people he once knew.

“Oh, by the way, do you remember Sylus Qin?” Zayne suddenly askes.

“I remember…” A name that wasn't so pleasant. “He's gone.” Caleb is taken aback. "Gone?" "He passed away. He actually passed a while ago, abroad." Zayne sighs. "It was an accident, don't tell Y/N." He's... gone?

A voice echoes in Caleb's mind again: "Hey, Caleb, that Y/N from your class..." "Get lost!"

Zayne remembers something else. "Oh, right, you can't tell Y/N anyway, otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to dinner and rambling on and on about your past." Caleb remains silent. Lately, he keeps dreaming about when he was sixteen or seventeen, so he would occasionally chat with Zayne about it.  Zayne only ever told him the same thing: "Only those who are unhappy reminisce about the past; those who are full of vigor only stride forward. Caleb, let Y/N go. She deserves a better future."

Caleb feels a sudden, sharp pain in his heart, and his vision blurs. Now, he couldn't let it go even if he wanted to… But he had no right to not let it go…

“Zayne,” he says in a barely suppressed voice, “I regret it so much…” The more spirited and arrogant he had three months ago, the more desolate and regretful he feels now.

“Caleb Xia,” Zayne sneers on the other end, “You deserve it. Don't play victim with me now, look at your sordid affairs. How to spoke to her in front of me, in front of everyone else? You think none of us notice? How you had absolutely no respect for your ex-wife as a person?" “Zayne, I can't…” Before he can finish speaking, Zayne hangs up the phone. Caleb immediately dials him back.

After the third call, Zayne picks up again. A long silence ensues, until Zayne asks him, "Anything else to say? If not, I'm hanging up. I'm busy!" Caleb chokes for a moment before finally saying, "Zayne, if I said I love Y/N, would you believe me?"

"Bullshit!" Zayne curses, a rare occurrence. "Stop your pretentious nonsense! You don't love anyone but yourself; you're a selfish, self-serving piece of shit. Ask yourself honestly, who do you truly love? Whether was your mistress or Y/N, you only love whoever you need. Did you really even love MC or only what her reactions gave you? I wouldn't have cursed you if you hadn't said that, but hearing you say it out loud disgusts me! You bastard!"

T + 136 Days Caleb goes back to his hometown. Somewhere he hasn't been in many years. He traces the steps he once took to school, watching teenagers shout happily as they play with each other. Somehow, he finds himself in front of Sylus' house. To pay respects, he tells himself. He hesitates for another second before bringing his hand up to knock on the door. 

Two young men greet him. They can't be much older than 20. They stare at Caleb with the same, beady eyes. "Who are you?" "An old classmate of Sylus." He offers, taking his high school yearbook out from his backpack as proof. "We played soccer together. I know its a few years late, but I wanted to come pay my respects."  The twins lead him down to the basement, where many boxes of Sylus' belongings remained. Caleb flips through old textbooks and worksheets, jerseys and field-day awards, CDs and comic books from their youth.  Something small and pink falls out from a book in his hands. 

He bends over to pick it up: a single paper crane

Paper cranes? He picked up the fallen origami bird, its image overlapping with his memories of paper cranes. The page he turned to was a tutorial on how to fold paper cranes. Sylus had written notes on it with a pen. "Some silly girl is folding paper cranes for that Xia boy, and she won't let me help! How long will it take for her to fill that jar? Silly girl!" "Haha! I secretly stole one from her pile! Mischievous act of the day complete!" "Hehe, this silly girl writes something inside every single paper crane. I wonder what she wrote on the one I stole?"

"Written something?" Caleb frowns, picking up the paper crane from the ground and quickly unfolds it. Sure enough, there's a small line of writing inside: 'No matter what happens, you must be happy!'

Caleb's mind goes blank for a moment. He reads the words on the page again, then turns and runs. The noise he makes downstairs alerts the twins, who ask him if everything was alright. "Sorry Luke, Kieran. I have important work to do. I have to go back," Caleb says urgently, bidding farewell to the boys. He drives nonstop to Skyhaven, taking the stairs to the top floor and enters his office. He opens his desk drawer. Inside is a small glass box containing a paper crane.

He had buried all the other paper cranes with his grandmother, leaving only this one as a keepsake. The unfolded paper crane he had taken from Sylus' house lies open on his desk. The handwriting was all too familiar to him—yours. The other paper crane, which he had kept in the small glass box, was clearly made of the same paper but a different color.

He takes a deep breath, and without further delay, unfolds it with trembling fingers.

The orange paper crane reveals writing on it as well. This one reads: Grandma, you must recover. Caleb only has you. The same handwriting. The way you write is distinctive, always rounded and plump, with a kind of innocent charm, completely different from MC's. Looking at these words, his heart sinks as if it's been chained to an iron anchor, falling lower and lower into a bottomless abyss.

He had lost far more than he imagined…

Folding the two pieces of paper together, he finally breaks down in tears. Y/N, I'm sorry… He sits in his office, the whole world utterly silent.

If this were the end of time, how wonderful that would be; he no longer looked forward to waking with the sun the next day… But he could only stay awake, waiting for the night to pass. But the nights are too long. His life is only darkness now.

T + 613 days You carefully make your way onto the stage, eyes momentarily blinded by the sharp glare of stage lights. The applause is thunderous as a bouquet of flowers are presented to you from the dancers. Your thesis project, a fully choreographed piece, was being performed on stage by a full cast for the first time. You insisted on giving yourself a very small role, just a few small steps in the beginning as your leg continues to heal, but it was already more than enough to fill your heart as tears of joy threaten to spill from your eyes. 

Caleb watches your brilliant smile on his phone, in the darkness of his room. It's true that in the 1800 nights he was married to you, he has only wished you the best. Now you're out there, accomplishing your dreams. How much he wishes to be able to proudly say, "that's my Y/N!". But he cannot. Not now. Not that he ever had the right to say it. He reads the comments on the live stream religiously and replays your small segment of dance over and over until his vision blurs. 

Tonight, Caleb dreams of high school.

Back then, all of you were naive and full of youthful exuberance. It was a time of awkwardness and passion, everything direct and intense.

He dreams of Rafayel Shen. Rafayel loved to draw. Caleb had found Rafayel sketching you in the middle of class, and tore up his drawing after school. The two ended up having a fight, still a sore spot in their relationship to this day.

He dreams of Sylus Qin. They were playing soccer together, and you would watch them play from the most inconspicuous spot in the cheerleading squad on the playground, always leaving silently afterward. Sylus puts his arm around Caleb's shoulder, his gaze fixed on your retreating figure. "Hey, Y/N from your class looks real sweet." The young boy instantly knews what the other was up to, coldly announcing, "Get lost, I won't hesitate to beat you up if you mess with her.

Some boys would try to slip confession letters into your locker. You never received any, because Caleb always stopped them. Some boys would put treats in your desk. You never got to eat any, because Caleb always kept them for you, glaring at all the other boys in warning. It was once a childish but pure love, as bright and clear as morning dew.

Why did it change like this?

Caleb is lost in his dreams, unable to find the answer. He lost you.

He meets Zayne and ask him why you were missing. Zayne simply says, "Caleb Xia, you scumbag." He meets Rafayel, who grabs him by the collar, and the two get into a brawl. He meets Sylus, who smiles and says, "You bullied her, so I hid her. You'll never find her now." He sees many, many people, but you are nowhere to be found…

"Caleb!" A clear voice suddenly rings out behind him.

He turns around and sees a girl with a bright smile perform several somersaults, appearing before him.

"Y/N!" He opens his eyes, but all he sees is an empty ceiling. He lies on the bed, his phone still clutched in his hand, battery dead.

A dream.

His Y/N is gone forever.

his eyes drift back to you anyway, watching as you throw your head back in laughter at something giselle said, your arm twisted around somi’s.

you’re a bit tipsy now, the alcohol making your movements loose and joyful, cheeks flushed as you sway gently to the beat. it’s why you don't really notice wonbin's advances — you're just having fun with your girls and currently playing matchmaker with bunny and her long time crush, sungchan.

the riize boys settle in deeper, sungchan and bunny inching closer, while shotaro pulls somi into a quick twirl that has her squealing. wonbin, though, keeps his focus on you, edging closer with that flirty smile of his. he comments on the song playing, his hand brushing your elbow and you nod along absently, more caught up in giselle’s exaggerated retelling of a disastrous date than anything else.

to you, it’s all harmless chatter. your relationship with jaemin is solid, happy, and secure — no room for wandering thoughts about anyone else here.

from across the room though, jaemin watches it all. his initial amusement fading into something sharper as wonbin doesn’t let up. the guy’s laugh rings out too loud, his fingers grazing your lower back when the crowd shifts, his gaze lingering a little too long.

jaemin’s jaw sets, an unfamiliar coil tightening in his gut. he’s never been a jealous person. but at this moment he’s learning that maybe the green monster lives inside him too.

he’s pissed that wonbin is even trying with you.

1) everyone in this damn university knew you were his. if it wasn’t for the public confession he shared through his radio show — then the amount of times he’s kissed you in public, held your hand, pulled you to his side, should have been enough.

2) what the hell happened to bro code?

every second his “bro” stays planted next to you makes something in jaemin’s chest tighten another notch. the audacity to even breathe in your direction is astounding.

his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, gaze darkening as he watches the way you tilt your head when you listen, the way you smile politely — and suddenly he’s hyperaware of how easy it would be for someone else to misunderstand that smile.

how easy it would be to want more.

his fingers curl tight around his red cup.

it’s irrational. he knows it is. you’ve never given him a reason to feel jealousy. if anything, you’ve always been so openly his that it makes his chest ache.

and then you catch his eye through the wave of bodies, flashing him that bright, sweet smile — the one that always hits him right in the chest, making his pulse kick up.

god, he loves that smile. it's his.

before he can move, you're the one closing the distance, weaving through the crowd with determination, your hand reaching for him as you pull him toward you, “baby,” you say, voice warm and playful over the music, tugging him into your space.

he watches you, amused, the irritation from moments ago melting under your touch.

“you having fun, my angel?” he asks, his free hand coming up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, thumb lingering on your cheek as he leans in closer, the party’s chaos fading to a hum around you both.

“mhm,” you hum softly, the sound vibrating through him as your arms slide up to loop around his neck, fingers threading into the soft hair at his nape.

“why are you standing here all alone, though?” you ask, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, your breath warm and laced with the faint sweetness of whatever fruity drink you've been sipping.

jaemin’s mouth quirks into that teasing grin, his hands settling on your hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your shirt, “my girl has been stolen from me and i was waiting for her to remember i existed,” he says, voice low and playful, though there's a flicker of a hidden edge in his tone.

your eyes widen in mock surprise, a giggle bubbling up as you lean in closer, “sorry,” you smile sheepishly, “—giselle and i were full on operation get bunny and sungchan together but then she started telling this story about this date she went on and—”

he doesn't let you finish, cutting you off with a kiss that's slow and deep, lips claiming yours in a way that silences the world around you. one hand cups the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, while the other pulls you flush against him, the heat of his body seeping through your clothes. you melt into it, kissing him back just as deeply.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours for a beat, “i was kidding, angel,” he murmurs softly, “you were having fun…you don’t need to explain that.”

but even as he says it, jaemin’s mind flashes back to wonbin's hand on your waist, the way the guy had leaned in too far. it’s stupid and he knows it — you're here now, wrapped around him like you belong, which you do.

still, the possessiveness simmers under his skin, a quiet burn that makes him want to stake his claim all over again, right here if he could.

“hmm, i want to have fun with you though,” you murmur, your voice a soft, teasing lilt that cuts through the war in his mind, fingers tracing heart shaped patterns on his chest.

jaemin's eyes sparkle with interest, his last remnants of irritation fading into the background.

“want to dance?” he suggests, hand already shifting to the small of your back, ready to lead you into the crowd.

you shake your head, a playful no, “a different kind of fun...just me and you,” you say, a small sultry smile forming on your lips, your gaze locking onto his with unmistakable intent.

the words hang between you, charged and electric — he knows exactly what that means, the way your body language shifts, pressing closer.

heat surges through him. he doesn’t hesitate, nodding with a low hum of approval as you take his hand, fingers interlacing with his and start guiding him away from the dance floor, weaving through the bodies of laughing friends and strangers as you head toward the stairs.

as you pass the group — giselle mid-story with somi and shotaro listening to her, sungchan and bunny off to the side — jaemin’s gaze lands on wonbin. the guy is standing there, drink in hand, his eyes flicking toward you with that same lingering interest from before, almost like jaemin was invisible to him.

jaemin can’t help it — he glares, sharp and unyielding, his free hand dropping to your waist instead, fingers digging in just enough to tighten his hold, pulling you flush against his side. he doesn't say a word, but his eyes say enough:

she’s mine.

wonbin meets the stare for a split second, then looks away, busying himself with his drink, the message received loud and clear. you don't notice the silent exchange, too focused on the warmth of jaemin’s body next to yours, the anticipation building with each step up the stairs.

the party’s noise dulls to a muffled throb behind the closed door of his bedroom, the space familiar and intimate. you release his hand only to turn the lock with a soft click, sealing you both away from the world below.

without a word, you both kick off your shoes like it’s routine. he sinks down against the headboard, his legs stretching out and you climb onto his lap, straddling him with effortless familiarity. his arms snake around your waist immediately, pulling you flush against his chest, clingy in a way that makes your heart flutter, hands roaming lazily up your back, providing you that comfort only he could.

you settle in, your head resting on his shoulder for a moment before you tilt up with a conspiratorial grin.

“i think operation get bunny and sungchan together is a total success,” you declare, your voice light and buzzing with the thrill of the evening’s gossip.

“is it now?” jaemin murmurs, his lips curving into an amused smile against your temple, clearly delighted by your enthusiasm. he nuzzles closer, his breath warm on your skin.

“yeah, didn’t you see them? they were standing so close—like, really close,” you gush, your eyes sparkling as you replay the moment in your mind.

“hmm,” he hums thoughtfully, “that’s too bad for jeno, though.”

you pull back slightly, raising a brow in curiosity. “what do you mean?”

he chuckles softly, his gaze softening as he watches your expression, “he’s been in love with her since forever. i just don't think he knows yet.”'

your eyes widen, surprise flickering across your face, “really?!”

“mhm,” jaemin confirms with a nod, his thumb stroking soothing circles on your side.

“huh,” you muse, tilting your head as you process the revelation, “well, maybe this will finally help him see things clearly... though that's a little unfair to bunny, don't you think?” you pout, your lips pursing in that endearing way he absolutely adores.

he finds it utterly adorable, his chest rumbling with a quiet laugh, “and why’s that, angel?”

“becauseee…jeno's had all these years to figure it out, and it takes someone else giving her attention for him to wake up? i don’t know... she deserves more than that. someone who sees her right away, without needing a push.”

jaemin hums in delight, the sound vibrating through you where you're pressed together, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he drinks in your thoughtful expression.

“....unless you know something i don’t,” you add, prying with a playful nudge, eager for more of the juicy details.

he smiles, a fond, reminiscent curve to his lips, “you should’ve seen those two the start of freshman year. i used to watch them and wish i had something like that — real, effortless...the kind of connection that just clicks...if it doesn’t happen now, i’m sure it will eventually.”

“what changed then? why didn’t anything happen between them?,” you ask, completely absorbed.

“the whole party life got the best of us,” he replies with a wry shrug, his voice tinged with self-deprecating humor, “chasing thrills, avoiding anything that stuck. it was fun enough to get lost in.”

you hum softly, falling quiet for a beat, your fingers absently tracing the collar of his shirt as the weight of his words settles.

“do you miss it?” you ask, voice gentle, eyes searching his.

for a split second jaemin just stares at you, like the question itself is ridiculous. then he lets out a quiet breath and shakes his head no.

“not even a little,” his expression softens, something unguarded slipping through as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “i’m happy exactly where i’m at — with you.” his voice drops, intimate and sure, and before you can respond, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow and sweet, like a promise sealed in the quiet.

it’s tender, his mouth moving against yours with unhurried affection, soft presses that deepen gradually.

in jaemin's mind, it hits him again, sharp and undeniable — how deeply he loves you, this easy rhythm you share, the way you fit against him like you were made for it, the way you look at him like he’s more than the image everyone else sees.

and how love like this doesn’t come without it’s uglier edges.

because with the warmth in his chest comes the quieter things too — the things he doesn't always like admitting to himself. like the sharp flicker of jealousy when someone looks at you a little too long, the instinctive pull to keep you close, to remind the world that you’re his.

it’s never loud. never reckless. jaemin has always been good at keeping those feelings tucked neatly beneath the surface. but they’re there.

the kiss heats up, growing hungrier as his hands slide under your shirt, palms warm and insistent against your bare skin. your breaths quicken, bodies shifting with building need, until he can't hold back anymore.

with a low groan, he swiftly moves you beneath him, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he hovers above, eyes dark with desire.

his body settles over yours, bracing one arm beside your head, his other hand cupping your cheek. the kiss breaks only for him to trail his lips down your jaw, nipping lightly at your skin while his fingers work the buttons of your shirt open, exposing your chest to the cool air of the room. you arch up into him, hands sliding under his shirt to feel the hard planes of his abs, urging him closer.

“you're so beautiful,” jaemin whispers against your collarbone, his voice rough with need as he pushes the shirt off your shoulders, tossing it aside along with your bra.

his mouth follows, kissing a hot path down to your breasts, his large hand squeezing the flesh before he sucks it into his mouth, drawing a gasp from you. your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him there as heat sparks through you.

his free hand grips your hip, thumb dipping under the waistband of your pants, an undercurrent of urgency in his touch, his breaths coming faster.

you tug at his shirt in response, and he pulls back just enough to yank it over his head, revealing the toned lines of his torso that you trace with your nails.

clothes shed in a hurried rhythm — your pants slide down your legs, his following suit until you're both bare, skin flushed and heated.

jaemin’s cock stands hard and thick against his stomach, the tip already glistening as he positions himself between your thighs, nudging them wider with his knee. he reaches down, fingers parting your folds to stroke his cock against your clit in slow circles, watching your face intently as you moan, your hips bucking up for more.

“jaem... please,” you breathe, your voice needy, and he groans at the sound, leaning down to kiss you deeply while he teases you with his tip.

“i’ve got you, angel,” he murmurs against your lips, his eyes locking on yours, dark and possessive, before pushing in slowly. inch by inch, he fills you, the stretch burning sweetly as your pussy adjusts to his size, gripping him tight.

you both sigh at the connection, his forehead resting against yours as he bottoms out, holding still to let you adjust to his length the way he knows you need to.

“feels so good,” he says softly, starting to move with shallow thrusts, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm that builds the heat between you. your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he quickens the pace just a fraction.

but as he watches you — eyes half-lidded, lips parted in pleasure, soft moans of his name slipping past them, your breasts bouncing with each gentle snap of his hips — something twists in his chest.

the jealousy surges back, uninvited, hot and sharp.

wonbin thought he could have this? get you like this? see you writhing under him, moaning his name?

the thought fuels him, his thrusts turning harder, deeper, his hand gripping your thigh to hitch your leg higher, angling so he hits that spot inside you with every drive.

you cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as the shift catches you off guard, pleasure spiking.

“jaemin—oh god,” you gasp, doing your best to meet his movements, your pussy fluttering around his cock.

he growls low in his throat, the sound primal as he pounds into you, the bed creaking under the force.

no one else gets this. you’re mine.

his free hand pins your wrist above your head, his mouth claiming your neck with bites that will surely leave marks, sucking hard enough to bruise. the possessiveness drives him, each slap of skin against skin echoing his frustration.

fuck that guy. this is what you look like for me. and only me.

his hips snap relentlessly now, his cock dragging against your walls in a way that has you clenching tighter.

“jaem—,” you whimper his name as the ecstasy builds way too fast, coiling low in your belly, your legs shaking at the force.

something was different. sure, you weren’t strangers to rough sex, but even when it was rough, jaemin usually liked to take his time with you. liked to accompany his rough thrusts with praises and soft kisses. right now, he’s being too quiet. no whispers of sweet nothings. just frustrated grunts spilling from his lips, his eyebrows furrowed.

he grips your ass, lifting you slightly to fuck you even harder, the head of his cock brushing your cervix with each plunge. sweat slicks your bodies, his muscles flexing as he chases the edge, watching your face contort in bliss, your fingers clenching around his arm desperate to keep yourself grounded.

his hand slips between you, rubbing your clit frantically, and you were an absolute goner.

“come for me,” he rasps, his own control fraying, the jealousy morphing into fierce triumph.

he’ll never know how you feel, how you sound when you shatter.

you cum hard, mouth open in a silent moan, eyes shut in bliss, your pussy clenching incredibly tight, warm juices coating his cock.

the sensation undoes him. jaemin buries himself to the hilt, a guttural moan escaping as he cums inside you for the first time, hot spurts flooding your walls, filling you deeply, marking you in the most intimate way — it’s new. this feeling of him releasing entirely within you, his usual caution forgotten in the heat of the moment.

you’ve been on birth control since early in your relationship, so it doesn't worry you, but he’s always been so careful — always choosing to wear a condom or pulling out to spill across your stomach instead.

he collapses forward, chest heaving against yours, both of you panting in the heavy silence broken only by fading breaths.

after a moment, he rolls to the side, pulling you into his arms with a possessiveness that lingers even now. his hand strokes your stomach lazily, but you can sense the remnants of that edge in the way he holds you close, like he's anchoring himself.

you nestle against his chest, tracing patterns on his skin as your heart rate slows, the warmth of his cum inside you a tangible reminder of the difference tonight.

“that was... different,” you murmur softly, tilting your head to look up at him. “and you... you came inside me. everything okay?”

jaemin pauses, his fingers still tracing lazy circles on your back. he forces a smile, the corners of his mouth lifting, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes — the usual warmth dimmed by a shadow you recognize all too well.

“nothing's wrong... just couldn't help myself,” he says, his voice light, almost playful, as he leans in to brush his lips against your temple.

you shift slightly in his arms, propping yourself up on one elbow to search his face more closely, “jaemin... we promised we’d always tell the truth,”you remind him gently, your hand cupping his cheek, thumb stroking the line of his jaw.

he sighs, a deep, reluctant exhale that ruffles your hair, his gaze dropping to the sheets tangled around your legs before meeting yours again. the confession tumbles out like he's testing the words.

“i... i got jealous,” he admits, the admission rough around the edges, his brow furrowing as if the emotion itself puzzles him, “wonbin was all over you down there — his hand on your back, leaning in too close. and i just...i don't know what to do with it. i've never felt like this before. it's stupid, right? everyone knows you’re mine, but seeing him touch you like that... it pissed me off."

his hand tightens on your hip, pulling you closer as if to reaffirm the words. you can feel the tension easing from his body as he lays it bare, his usual confidence giving way to this unfamiliar territory.

and he knows it’s not about control. not really. it’s just that loving you this much does something strange to his instincts. it makes him protective in ways he never used to be. makes something territorial stir quietly in his chest.

meanwhile, a secret thrill courses through you at his confession, the raw edge of his jealousy making your heart flutter in a way you hadn't expected. it’s endearing, seeing the confident jaemin unravel just a bit over you, and a tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips despite the seriousness of the moment.

he notices immediately, his head tilting as he cocks an eyebrow, that familiar playful glint trying to push through the lingering tension, “are you enjoying this?” he asks, his voice laced with mock accusation, though his hand still rests softly on your hip, thumb brushing over your skin.

before he can say more, you lean in and pull him into a deep kiss, your lips molding against his with a softness that contrasts the earlier urgency.

when you break away, your breath mingles with his as you murmur, “now you know how i feel with your fanclub.”

jaemin lets out a genuine laugh then, the sound rumbling from his chest and easing the last of the green from his eyes. he shakes his head, pulling you even closer so your bodies align perfectly.

“angel, that’s different,” he says, his tone affectionate and reassuring, fingers weaving into your hair, “you know i only have eyes for you.”

you smile back, the expression warmer now, your voice dropping to a softer whisper as you trace a finger along his collarbone, “it’s not different because i only have eyes for you, too.”

the words hang in the air between you, simple yet profound, sealing the vulnerability with a quiet promise. his gaze softens completely, understanding, and he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

the intimacy lingers in the air, your bodies still pressed close in the aftermath, his warmth enveloping you like a promise.

you shift slightly against him, feeling the subtle twitch of his cock stirring back to life, and a playful pout forms on your lips as you meet his gaze.

“now fuck me properly, won't you? that ended too fast,” you murmur, your voice a teasing, adorable whine.

jaemin’s eyes darken with renewed hunger, but a soft smile curves his mouth, affectionate and knowing.

he doesn’t rush this time — instead he guides your leg over his hip so you're facing each other in a close spoon, bodies aligned perfectly, his chest to yours. his hand slides down your thigh, gripping firmly as he positions himself, his hard cock fully against your slick folds. the tip teases your entrance, rubbing back and forth through your wetness before he pushes in slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching you open with a deliberate gentleness that makes you gasp and arch into him.

“fuck, angel,” he groans low, his breath hot against your ear as he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours.

you sway your hips in rhythm with his, matching the unhurried but deep thrusts that rock you both together, his cock dragging along your walls with every slide.

“just like that, angel, look at me.”

his free hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, thumb pressing firm, insistent circles over the swollen nub, making your pussy clench around him in response.

he watches you the entire time — his gaze locked on your face, intense and unwavering, drinking in every flutter of your lashes, every parted gasp and moan from your lips. he loves watching you like this, utterly consumed by him, your body responding only to his touch.

“god, you take me so perfectly,” he murmurs, voice rough with desire, his thrusts picking up a fraction, grinding deeper to hit that sensitive spot inside you that sends pleasure up your spine.

the build is slow but electric, his cock plunging in and out with wet, obscene sounds filling the room, your juices coating him as you rock together. your hands roam his back, nails scraping lightly, urging him closer.

“only you can fuck me like this,” you whisper breathlessly, locking eyes with him, your words a soothing balm to his earlier jealousy, “only you make me feel this good — filling me up just right.”

his response is a deep, possessive growl, hips snapping forward harder now, the passion igniting as he claims you with each thrust.

he grunts, thumb circling your clit faster, pressing down to make you whimper and buck against him. your bodies slick with sweat, he leans in to capture your mouth in a soft, deep kiss, tongues tangling as he fucks into you with building fervor, the spooning position allowing him to grind his pelvis against your clit on every inward stroke.

“god, jaemin, yes — right there,” you moan into his lips, pussy fluttering around his thick length, the coil in your belly tightening unbearably. he doesn't let up, pounding deeper.

it's too much — the tight circles on your clit, the way his dick hits every nerve, the sweet words and little sounds he’s making by your ear — your orgasm crashes over you with no warning, walls clamping down hard on him, milking his shaft as you pull him in closer, trying to ground yourself, body shaking, thighs trembling.

he doesn't falter, thrusting into your oversensitive pussy as he chases his peak, the wet slap of skin echoing louder.

“shit, you feel so good clenching like that,” he grunts, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping between you.

you encourage him through your haze, legs wrapping tighter, “cum inside me again, baby — only you get to mark me as yours.”

that pushes him over the edge for the second time — his rhythm stutters, hips grinding deep one last time before he buries himself to the hilt and erupts, hot ropes of cum flooding your walls, coating you thoroughly as a guttural moan tears from his throat, holding you pinned against him, his cock twitching with each spurt until he's spent, pulsing inside your heat.

he stays buried deep, his arms wrapping around you protectively as the aftershocks fade, the room filled with nothing but your shared breaths and the profound connection that no one else could touch.

as the waves of pleasure subside, jaemin remains nestled deep within you for a lingering moment, his body heavy and sated against yours, the warmth of his release seeping into your core. your breaths slowing from ragged gasps to soft sighs.

with gentleness, he eases out of you, his hand stroking your thigh in a soothing caress. he reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing a handful of tissues, his touch tender as he wipes away the evidence of your shared passion.

“sorry for being too rough earlier, angel,” he murmurs, his voice laced with quiet remorse, eyes searching yours with a mix of affection and concern, “i just... needed you so much tonight.”

you tilt your head, pressing a tender kiss to his damp forehead, your fingers threading gently through his tousled hair, “i love you,” you whisper.

he lifts his gaze to yours, eyes soft and shimmering with unspoken emotion, a smile blooming slow and radiant on his lips.

“i love you more,” he murmurs back, his voice a velvet caress, sweeter than honey as he nuzzles closer.

with a contented hum, he pulls you into his embrace, his head finding solace on your chest. his ear presses against your heartbeat, steady and reassuring, while his arm drapes possessively over your waist, legs tangling with yours in a lazy knot.

the world fades entirely, leaving only this.

and the jealousy may come again. but he knows it would never be enough to overshadow the love. just enough to remind him how much there is to lose.

🪽

an: finally, a loverboy extra for you! notice how i didn’t say sunday? lol yeah…i could not keep up with that :( sorry…i flew too close to the sun with that idea. anyways the second sex position is inspired by benophie iykyk ;) let me know what you think of jealous jaemin 💘

love tags: @dearlyminhyung @hyuckluvr-com @fancypeacepersona @chvngminz @hyunkaluv @iluvgnabnahc @n-jules @haesunlover2 @nottkwiwin @alexameliamg @ihatefrvits @amazinggraxia @karleereadssmut @drunkhee @bamjjwi @mahae @ncityswrid @jaeminiwrld @httpsxnox @blubb0 @pocketyoun @multifandomania @mey-archive @zuzu-the-simp @markiepoo4eva @jungwooie@jwikyo @withapairofwings @cookydream @meowieshibal @remgeolli @yutasputa @kyungsooislifeu @dior-15 @hyucksnctzen @bridgertonletsgo @leleszn @hijjjjku79999 @afterhvours @mangoescrazy @vantxx95 @nctubatu

TAGLIST: CLOSED.

your eyes are wide and uncertain, darting around the crowd like you're waiting for something bad to happen. someone near the ring shouts something and you flinch, immediately pressing closer to jeno. your hand reaches out and grips his sleeve, holding on tight. jeno notices and says something to you, probably trying to be reassuring, and you nod but don't let go. your other hand clutches your bag against your stomach and all those keychains jingle softly with the movement.

jaemin wraps tape around his knuckles, weaving it between his fingers slowly. he's done this a thousand times but he keeps messing up because he keeps looking over at you. you're chewing on your bottom lip now, eyes fixed on your phone like you're trying to disappear into it. your shoulders are hunched, making yourself smaller.

you don't belong here. girls who wear dresses covered in flowers and carry bags with beaded keychains shouldn't be in places like this, watching guys break each other apart for money that barely covers rent.

he wins his match in the second round, quickly and efficiently.

his opponent hits the mat hard and doesn't get up right away. the crowd roars and jaemin spits blood into the bucket his corner guy holds out. his lip is split and his knuckles are already bruising under the tape but this is what he's good at. this is all he's good at. jeno screams his name, jumping up with his fist in the air. you clap beside him but jaemin sees how your smile doesn't reach your eyes. how you're still tense, holding your bag tight, looking anywhere but at the blood on the mat.

when his opponent finally gets up and stumbles to his corner, you let out a breath like you've been holding it this whole time.

jaemin doesn't know why that bothers him but it does.

he showers in the locker room where the water barely gets hot and the tiles are cracked. changes into black jeans and a white tank top, throws his leather jacket over it. his knuckles are swelling and his lip stings where it split but he's used to it.

he grabs his duffel and heads back out to see you and jeno sitting on a bench near the back wall, and you're completely different now.

you're laughing at something jeno said, head tilted back and shoulders shaking. you're sitting close to him, thighs pressed together, knees bumping every time either of you moves.

your bag is on the bench beside you but the strap is still looped around your wrist, and you're fidgeting with one of your keychains, spinning it between your fingers while jeno talks with his hands about something.

jaemin walks over and jeno spots him first, face breaking into a wide grin as he stands up. "there he is! dude, you absolutely destroyed him tonight. second round!" you follow jeno's actions and look up, and jaemin gets a proper look at you for the first time. delicate features, warm eyes, lips covered in something glossy that catches the overhead lights. the keychain is still spinning between your fingers and he can see now it's made of pink and white beads. up close your bag is chaos, keychains everywhere in different colors, little bells mixed in with beads, tiny charms he can't identify all tangled together.

"you were really good," you say, your voice is sweet and genuine. "i've never seen anything like that." "first time at a fight?" jaemin asks.

you laugh, tucking hair behind your ear with your free hand. the keychain still spinning between your fingers. "is it that obvious? jeno's been begging me to come for months. i finally caved tonight." jaemin watches the way you lean slightly into jeno when you talk, how comfortable you are with each other. he looks around the gym — drunk guys still arguing near the ring, voices getting louder as money changes hands. the stained floors that probably haven't been cleaned in years and the flickering lights that barely illuminate anything.

everything about this place screams danger and bad decisions.

"a pretty girl like you shouldn't be in a place like this," he concludes.

your cheeks flush immediately, darker than your dress. the keychain stops spinning between your fingers and you duck your head, smiling. beside you, jeno's grin gets wider, clearly entertained.

"i'm okay," you say softly, glancing up at jaemin through your lashes. "jeno's here."

jaemin looks at jeno, then back at you, and something about the way you're standing there in your pink dress with your cream bag and all those jingling keychains makes him want to get you out of this place.

somewhere cleaner, quieter, somewhere that doesn't reek of violence and desperation. somewhere that actually suits you.

"still," he says, nodding toward the exit. "want to get some air? it's quieter outside."

relief washes over your face immediately. "yes, please."

jeno just grins and reaches over to ruffle your hair, messing it up. you make a sound of protest and swat at his hand, but you're smiling, already adjusting your bag on your shoulder. all those keychains jingle with the movement, a soft but equally chaotic symphony of bells and beads clinking together.

the three of you head toward the exit, and jaemin notices how you walk between them, your dress flowing with each step, the fabric catching and swaying around your legs. your keychains create this constant gentle tinkling sound that follows you, somehow audible even over the noise of the gym slowly emptying out behind you.

outside, the night air hits cool and clean, such a stark difference from the stuffiness inside. there's a streetlight flickering weakly above, casting everything in hazy orange. you take a deep breath immediately, your whole body relaxing, shoulders dropping like you've been holding tension you didn't even realize was there. you step away slightly to stretch your arms above your head and your dress flows around you, all those keychains jingling softly as you move.

"better?" jaemin asks.

"so much better," you say, smiling at him. "i genuinely thought i was going to pass out in there. how do you deal with that smell?"

"you get used to it," jaemin says, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pockets. he taps one out for himself, then holds the pack out to both of you in offering.

you shake your head politely, a small smile on your face. jeno takes one without hesitation, and jaemin flicks his lighter for him first, then lights his own. the flame casts a brief warm glow across all three of you before jaemin pockets the lighter again.

a breeze picks up then, sudden and cold, cutting through the humid night air. you shiver immediately, arms wrapping around yourself, and your dress ripples with the wind, fabric pressing against your legs before billowing out. your keychains jingle softly as you shift, trying to make yourself smaller against the cold.

"shit, when did it get so cold?" jeno mutters, quickly bringing his cigarette to his fingers as the breeze hits. smoke curls from his mouth as he speaks, already turning toward the parking lot. "wait here, let me grab my jacket from the car—"

but jaemin's already bringing his own cigarette to his lips and shrugging off his leather jacket in one smooth motion. he holds it out to you, then reaches for your bag with his free hand. "here."

you blink at him, surprised, but let him take your bag from your shoulder. the weight transfers to his hand and all those keychains create this loud, satisfying jingle—bells and beads and charms all clinking together in a chaotic melody. he holds it carefully while you slip your arms into his jacket, the cigarette still between his lips.

the jacket swallows you completely. sleeves hang way past your hands and the hem falls to mid-thigh over your dress. the contrast is striking — his black worn leather over your soft pink florals. you adjust it, pulling it tight around yourself, and look up at him with a soft, grateful smile.

jaemin hands your bag back and the keychains jingle again as you loop it over your shoulder, settling it against the jacket. he takes the cigarette from his lips and exhales the smoke away from you, off to the side.

"thank you," you say quietly, pushing the sleeves up so your hands are free. "you're really sweet."

jaemin's ears feel warm despite the cold air. the contrast of his worn black leather jacket against your soft pink dress is perfect in a way he can't quite explain—two completely different worlds somehow fitting together. you're fidgeting with the zipper now, that same nervous energy, and your keychains jingle softly every time you move. jeno's phone buzzes and he glances at it, muttering something about needing to get going, and you nod in agreement. there's something reluctant in the way you adjust the jacket one more time, pulling it tighter around yourself like you don't want to leave yet.

"we should probably head out," jeno says, stubbing out his cigarette. "early morning and all that." he and jaemin dab each other up, jeno grinning wide. "good fight tonight, man. seriously." you step forward then, shy but genuine, and wrap your arms around jaemin in a quick hug. your keychains jingle loudly and you smell like vanilla and roses, and jaemin freezes for half a second before carefully hugging back. when you pull away, you're blushing, smiling up at him. "thank you again. for the jacket. and for—just, thank you. you were incredible tonight."

“Make sure I look pretty,” Si-ah said seriously.

Haon hummed in response, pencil moving without hesitation.

Jaemin paused, cloth in hand, watching.

Haon didn’t talk much. Never had. But when he focused, the world seemed to quiet around him. His lines were careful. Confident. Like he already knew where everything belonged.

Jaemin checked the time again.

If Jeno didn’t show up soon, Jaemin would just walk Si-ah home like always. Their apartments were next door anyway. That part was easy.

Haon, though—

His gaze flicked back to the cubbies.

Three emergency contact numbers. All unanswered.

And Jaemin still hadn’t properly met Haon’s mom. Only the back of her once, rushing out in heels and a long coat, voice apologizing over her shoulder.

He sighed.

Haon was sweet. Polite. Adaptable. But being the last kid picked up almost every day… Jaemin had already decided he’d need to talk to his mom about it. Gently—but firmly.

The door slid open with a rush of air.

Jaemin turned just in time to see Jeno stumble in, panting, tie loose, hair a mess like he’d run the whole way.

“Daddy!”

Si-ah squealed and bolted across the room. Jeno scooped her up immediately, pressing his face into her hair.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he laughed breathlessly. “Traffic was insane.”

Behind them, Haon finished his drawing.

Si-ah wriggled out of Jeno’s arms and ran back, eyes lighting up when Haon handed her the paper.

“It’s so pretty!” she cheered, holding it up like a trophy.

Haon smiled. Small. Satisfied.

Jeno straightened and walked over to Jaemin, pulling three coupons from his pocket.

“My friend gave me these—new place down the street,” he said. “You free?”

Jaemin shook his head apologetically. “Sorry. I still have to wait for Haon to get picked up.”

Jeno blinked. “Haon? Oh—he and Si-ah always have playdates.”

Jaemin hesitated. “Do you know his mom?”

Jeno shook his head. “Not really. His aunt or grandma usually drops him off. Picks him up too.”

He bent and patted Haon’s head gently before standing again.

Jaemin exhaled slowly.

It had been over an hour.

This was only his first month in charge of the class, and aside from Jeno, he didn’t know the parents well enough to tell what was normal.

“I can wait,” Jeno offered. “Si-ah can keep him company.”

Jaemin nodded gratefully.

Minutes passed.

Then headlights washed across the windows.

A large car screeched to a stop outside, and before Jaemin could process it, the door flew open.

A woman nearly tripped getting out, heels scraping the pavement as she hurried toward the entrance.

The door slid open hard.

“I’m so sorry!!!”

The woman burst inside, breathless, hair slightly undone, eyes frantic.

Haon immediately began packing his bag.

Jaemin blinked. “Are you here for Haon?”

“Yes—yes,” she panted. “I’m so sorry. I was just about to pick him up when my son’s school called—he got injured during football practice, his bone cracked, we had to rush him to the hospital and—” She took a breath, visibly forcing herself to slow down. “The moment I realized, I drove straight here. I’m so sorry.”

She knelt in front of Haon, hands gentle but trembling.

“I’m so sorry, honey. It won’t happen again.”

Haon nodded calmly, zipping his bag.

Jaemin cleared his throat. “Mrs…? Haon’s mom, can we talk for a moment? I’m Na Jaemin. I got assigned to Haon’s class last month.”

She stood, still catching her breath.

“He’s often the last to be picked up,” Jaemin continued carefully. “Even today he waited over an hour, and I just don’t think that’s good for Haon—”

“Wait.”

The woman frowned slightly.

“Haon’s mom?” she repeated.

She let out a small, incredulous laugh.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m his grandmother.”

Jaemin froze.

“…Heh?”

The woman laughed lightly and waved her hand.

“Oh—no, no. You must be mistaken,” she said gently. “His mom is my daughter. He’s my grandson.”

Jaemin blinked, heat creeping up his neck.

Before he could respond, Jeno’s face lit up with recognition.

“Oh—wait,” Jeno said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m sorry. You and Haon’s aunt look really similar, so I got confused.”

The woman chuckled. “I don’t blame you. My daughters and I all look the same. It happens more often than you’d think.”

She turned back to Jaemin, her expression softening.

“I really am sorry about today,” she said. “My youngest son is in his senior year of high school. He fractured his leg during practice, so I had to take him to the hospital. In the rush, I thought I’d already picked Haon up. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized I hadn’t.”

Jaemin’s shoulders relaxed slightly, guilt seeping in where concern had been.

“I understand emergencies happen,” he said quietly.

She nodded. “My elder daughter usually picks him up. But something came up at work today. I was supposed to cover, and… well.”

Jaemin hesitated, then asked, “So his aunt usually picks him up?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Most days.”

She glanced toward Haon, who was calmly slipping his drawing into his bag, entirely unbothered by the adults’ conversation.

“Haon’s mom is my younger daughter,” she continued. “She’s an ER doctor. Her hours are… unpredictable. So we help where we can.”

Jaemin’s breath caught—just a little.

An ER doctor.

His gaze drifted back to Haon.

The boy wasn’t restless. Wasn’t upset. He sat patiently, shoes already on, posture relaxed, eyes bright as he waited.

Everything clicked into place.

The quiet confidence.

The calm waiting.

The way he never panicked when pickup ran late.

Jaemin felt something inside him shift—an uncomfortable awareness of the assumptions he’d almost voiced.

“I see,” he said finally, softer now. “Thank you for explaining.”

The woman smiled, relieved. “He’s a good boy. Always has been.”

Jaemin nodded, watching as Haon stood and walked over to his grandmother, slipping his small hand into hers without a word.

Yes, he thought.

He really is.

Haon slipped his backpack onto his shoulders and turned back toward the room.

“Goodnight, teacher,” he said softly, lifting his hand in a small wave.

Jaemin smiled without thinking. “Goodnight, Haon.”

Haon turned again, eyes finding Si-ah. “Goodnight, Si-ah.”

“Bye, Haon!” she chirped, waving both hands wildly.

He hesitated for a second, then added, just as politely, “Goodnight, Si-ah’s dad.”

Jeno blinked, then laughed, touched. “Goodnight, buddy.”

Haon gave one last wave—unhurried, content—and followed his grandmother out the door.

Jaemin watched until it slid shut.

Jaemin was still smiling as the door slid shut behind Haon.

“He’s a really nice boy,” he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else.

Si-ah nodded immediately. “Haon looks and behaves just like his mommy.”

Jaemin blinked. Jeno looked down at his daughter.

“How do you know his mommy?” Jeno asked.

Si-ah swung her backpack over her shoulder. “Before Uncle Jaemin became our teacher, Haon’s mom came during career week to talk about her job. Uncle Jaemin was teaching the other class back then.”

Jaemin’s brows furrowed as he searched his memory.

Jeno stopped walking.

“…Wait,” he said slowly. “That doctor from Kwangya Central Hospital is Haon’s mommy?”

Si-ah nodded, very certain.

Jaemin’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh. She’s our age then.”

Jeno frowned. “That’s kind of impossible, though.”

Si-ah tilted her head. “Why?”

“Because doctors are old,” Jeno said simply.

Si-ah shook her head. “She lives in the hospital.”

Jaemin and Jeno both stopped.

“…What?”

“Yes,” Si-ah said matter-of-factly. “She lives there.”

They resumed walking toward Jeno’s car, still processing, when suddenly Jaemin snapped his fingers.

“Residency,” he said. “You mean residency?”

Si-ah’s face lit up. “Yes! That!”

Jeno laughed, shaking his head. “Kids really do say things in the scariest way possible.”

Jaemin chuckled too, but his mind was already elsewhere.

A doctor their age.

An ER resident.

A mother who spent every free moment with her son.

Somehow, without even meeting her yet, Jaemin felt like he already knew her a little.

Later that night, Haeyi tucked Haon into bed.

She sat beside him until his breathing evened out, fingers brushing through his hair as she hummed softly. Only when he was fully asleep did she finally step out of the room, closing the door carefully behind her.

Her mother looked up from the couch.

“Unless I get called in,” Haeyi said quietly, “I won’t have to go early tomorrow. So I’ll be able to drop Haon off at daycare.”

Her mother smiled. “That’s good.”

She paused, then added, “I would’ve told you to just rest, but it’ll be healing for both of you. For him—and for you.”

Haeyi nodded, leaning against the wall, already feeling lighter.

“Oh,” her mother continued casually, “today his teacher thought I was his mom and scolded me about Haon being picked up late.”

Haeyi winced. “Oh no…”

She waved a hand. “It’s fine. Honestly, it was nice. It means the teachers care about the kids. Haon’s in good hands.”

Then she smiled, eyes twinkling.

“And his teacher is good-looking too.”

Haeyi groaned immediately, rubbing her face. “Mom, please. I’m not interested.”

Her mother laughed. “You never know~”

She stood and gently nudged Haeyi toward her room.

“Go sleep before Haon wakes up. And make sure you look fresh tomorrow,” she added teasingly. “You’ll thank me once you meet Haon’s teacher.”

Haeyi rolled her eyes—but the faint smile she couldn’t hide followed her all the way to bed.

—

The next morning, Haon was practically glowing.

He bounced in place as Haeyi brushed through his soft curls, chuckling despite herself.

“Haonie excited?” she asked.

In the kitchen, her mother was packing his lunch, glancing over her shoulder with a smile.

Haon nodded enthusiastically, feet still hopping. “Mm!”

“But I like when Grandma and Auntie do drop-off too,” he added seriously.

His grandmother leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Of course you do.”

After goodbyes and one last check for his lunchbox, they headed out.

Haeyi drove with one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally reaching back to squeeze Haon’s fingers when he leaned forward between the seats, humming to himself.

The daycare was already lively when they arrived.

As soon as they stepped inside the compound, Haeyi spotted him.

Na Jaemin stood near the entrance, sleeves rolled up, greeting parents with easy smiles and gentle nods. He crouched to children’s eye level, taking bags, fixing straps, listening like he had all the time in the world.

Haeyi paused for half a second.

Oh.

She shook it off quickly and opened the car door.

“Okay,” she said softly, helping Haon down. She straightened his clothes, smoothed his shirt, and took his bag before holding his hand.

Haon bounced beside her, practically vibrating with excitement as they walked in together.

Jaemin looked up just as they approached.

And for the first time—

He saw her.

Jaemin’s attention shifted instantly to the small figure bouncing at her side.

“Teacher!” Haon greeted brightly, waving with both hands.

Jaemin’s face lit up. “Good morning, Haon.”

Only then did his gaze lift—really lift—to the woman standing behind him.

She bowed slightly, polite and warm.

“You must be his teacher,” she said. “Thank you for taking such good care of my son. He talks a lot about you.”

She smiled. “I’m Haon’s mom. Song Haeyi.”

For half a second, Jaemin forgot how to speak.

So this was her.

Not rushing. Not a silhouette disappearing through a door. Just… here. Calm. Tired in a way that spoke of long nights, but bright-eyed, present.

“Oh—” He straightened quickly, returning the bow. “I’m Na Jaemin. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Utterly perfect, Haeyi thought despite herself, immediately scolding the thought away. Handsome in an effortless way. Gentle. Exactly the kind of person you trusted with children without needing proof.

“I’ve heard a lot about you too,” Jaemin added, smiling down at Haon. “He’s a great kid.”

Haon beamed, slipping his hand into his mother’s like it belonged there.

Haeyi felt her chest warm.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “That means a lot.”

Jaemin took Haon’s bag carefully, already familiar with its weight. “We’ll have a good day, won’t we?”

Haon nodded eagerly.

Haeyi crouched down and opened her arms.

Haon stepped into them immediately, hugging her tight. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, then another, breathing him in like she always did.

“Have a great day,” she said softly.

Haon pulled back just enough to grin up at her and waved with all the confidence in the world.

“I will, Mommy!”

Jaemin watched as Haeyi straightened, gave one last small wave, and turned to leave.

Haon stood beside him, still smiling, until she disappeared past the gate—calm, content, completely secure.

That afternoon, Haeyi surprised even herself.

She arrived early.

The moment Haon spotted her, his face lit up. He dropped what he was doing and ran straight into her arms, hugging her tightly.

“Mommy!”

Haeyi laughed, crouching to catch him. She kissed the top of his head, holding him for an extra second before looking up.

Jaemin was nearby, tidying up.

She smiled at him. “Today’s my lucky day. It wasn’t very busy.”

“That’s amazing,” Jaemin said genuinely.

Haeyi glanced down at Haon. “Should we go home?”

Haon pouted immediately. “Can we wait?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Wait for what?”

“Si-ah and Dawon’s daddies still didn’t come yet.”

Jaemin opened his mouth. “It’s really fine—”

But Haeyi noticed the way Haon’s eyes lingered on his friends, the way he shifted closer to them instead of the door.

She smiled.

“Of course we can,” she said easily. “We can make up for all the times they waited with you.”

She looked to Jaemin for confirmation.

He smiled and nodded. “You’re welcome to stay.”

They settled back inside.

Haeyi stood near the doorway at first, taking it all in.

“So this is where my son spends most of his days,” she murmured.

Her gaze followed Haon as he slipped seamlessly back into play, laughing softly, moving with that quiet confidence she knew so well.

Then she noticed it.

A small kiddie cup on the counter—filled with green tea.

She looked up.

Jaemin smiled sheepishly. “Well… you’re in for a ride, Miss Song. Si-ah and Dawon’s dads don’t usually come until six.”

He gestured to the cup. “Sorry. We don’t really have grown-up cups.”

Haeyi laughed, genuinely this time. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

She took a sip, the cup warm in her hands.

“It’s nice,” she said softly, eyes still on Haon. “Seeing him in his element.”

Jaemin watched her over the rim of his own cup.

And for the first time, waiting didn’t feel like a burden to either of them.

Haeyi glanced over at Jaemin, still holding the small cup between her hands.

“I’ve never seen you whenever I came before,” she said thoughtfully. “Did you just start working here?”

Jaemin shook his head with a small smile. “I’ve been here for four years. I was just never assigned to Haon’s class before. It’s only been about a month.”

“Oh.” She paused. “Then… what happened to Mrs. Lee?”

“She retired,” he replied. “Moved to Jeju.”

Haeyi blinked. “Wow. Okay. I didn’t know that.”

She looked back toward Haon, watching him carefully stack blocks with Dawon, focused and calm.

“But,” she added softly, “I’m happy you’re his teacher too. Haon always talks about you during dinner.”

Jaemin placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “Bless his beautiful heart.”

She laughed.

“I really like Haon,” he continued more sincerely. “He’s very adaptable. And sweet. He doesn’t talk much, but he gets along with everyone.”

Something warm settled in Haeyi’s chest.

Time passed without either of them noticing.

Their conversation drifted—from underrated coffee blends to why instant coffee tasted better at 2 in the morning, to college, to high school.

“Oh my gosh,” Haeyi said suddenly. “You went to Seuli too?”

Jaemin’s eyes widened. “What a small world.”

After that day, it became a quiet pattern.

Even on days when Haeyi dropped him off early, or when she rushed in late or only managed a quick wave, they talked. A few words. A shared smile. Sometimes a cup of coffee balanced between them.

And little by little, Jaemin started leaving notes in Haon’s bag.

He ate well today.

He drew something special.

He was a little grumpy after nap time but felt better.

Haeyi always replied.

Sometimes with short messages.

Sometimes with small stickers.

Sometimes with a line about what happened at home.

It was nothing dramatic.

Just two adults learning how to care for the same small, wonderful person—together.

Soon enough, they exchanged numbers.

At first, it was strictly about Haon.

He ate all his lunch today.

He fell asleep holding his pencil.

He asked if you were working late.

Then it shifted—softly, without either of them acknowledging it.

Good luck today.

Did you get home safe?

Good night.

Sometimes, Jaemin sent pictures.

Haon proudly holding up a drawing.

Haon sitting quietly by the window.

Haon smiling, small and content.

Haeyi saved every single one.

That week was brutal.

She didn’t go home one night. Then another. She lived off coffee and adrenaline, scrubs blending into one long day. She hadn’t dropped Haon off even once—only heard about him through messages and photos.

She felt guilty. Constantly.

But whenever she apologized, Haon had smiled through the phone and said, “It’s okay, Mommy. I’m happy you tried.”

That evening, she finally stepped outside the hospital.

A convenience store glowed softly across the street.

She sat on the plastic stool, ramen steaming in front of her, a bag of chips pushed to the side. Her phone scrolled mindlessly through social media while her body ran on fumes.

She was halfway through a bite when someone sat down beside her.

She turned.

Jaemin smiled at her.

“Hey, beautiful~”

She gasped softly. “Jaemin? What are you doing here?”

He shrugged easily. “Didn’t feel like eating at home. Came out for a bit… and then I saw you.”

He glanced at her cup of coffee, the ramen, the tired slump of her shoulders.

“So,” he asked gently, “how are you doing?”

Something in her gave way.

She sighed and leaned forward, elbows on the counter, shoulders sagging.

“Tired,” she said. “Exhausted. Burnt out.”

A laugh slipped out, shaky and unconvincing, as she wiped at her eyes.

“Oh gosh,” she murmured. “What am I doing?”

She laughed again, but this time her eyes stung.

Jaemin didn’t rush to say anything.

He just sat there, close enough that she felt it, quiet enough that she didn’t feel embarrassed.

“You’re surviving,” he said finally. “That’s what you’re doing.”

She swallowed.

Jaemin smiled softly, then let out a quiet chuckle as he stood and pulled her into a hug.

It wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t awkward.

Just warm arms around her shoulders, one hand gently patting the back of her head as she let out a small, broken laugh that turned into tears.

“Hey,” he murmured, holding her a little tighter. “You’re doing great.”

She shook her head weakly against his chest, laughing and crying at the same time.

“Most people would’ve given up by now,” he continued gently. “But here you are. Still working hard. Still loving your son. Still showing up—even when you’re exhausted.”

Her fingers curled into his jacket without thinking.

For a moment, the world shrank to the hum of the convenience store fridge and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Then he pulled back slightly, just enough to see her face.

Without a word, he lifted his hand and carefully wiped the tears from under her eyes with his thumb, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t afraid she’d break.

“It’s okay to be tired,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

Haeyi let out a shaky breath, nodding.

“…Thank you,” she whispered.

Jaemin smiled at her again—gentler this time—and gestured toward her ramen.

“Eat,” he said. “You need fuel.”

And somehow, sitting there beside him, spoon warm in her hand, the night felt a little less heavy.

Jaemin cleared his throat, suddenly a little awkward.

“Uh… Haon drew something today,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s kind of… different.”

Haeyi looked up from her cup. “Different how?”

He reached into his bag and carefully pulled out a folded sheet of paper, smoothing it before handing it to her.

She took it without much thought.

Then she froze.

It was simple—crayons, uneven lines, familiar soft colors. Haon stood in the middle, small smile on his face. On one side was her, hair drawn long, hand reaching out. On the other—

Jaemin.

Holding Haon’s other hand.

Her breath caught.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I didn’t tell him to draw that,” Jaemin said quickly, quietly. “He just… gave it to me before nap time.”

Haeyi swallowed, eyes still fixed on the page.

“He didn’t say much,” Jaemin added. “Just said, ‘This is nice.’”

Her fingers tightened slightly around the paper.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t loud.

But it felt like something important had been placed gently between them.

“He does that,” she said softly after a moment. “When something feels safe to him.”

Jaemin looked at her then. Really looked.

Haeyi lifted her gaze, eyes a little glossy, lips pressed together as if she was holding something back.

“He doesn’t imagine things lightly,” she continued. “If he drew this… it means he feels comfortable. With you.”

Jaemin’s chest warmed in a way he hadn’t expected.

“I’d never want to overstep,” he said carefully. “I just thought you should see it.”

She nodded, then smiled—small, sincere.

“I’m glad you showed me,” she said. “Thank you… for being someone he feels that way with.”

Their eyes met.

The drawing rested between them on the table, quiet and unassuming.

And suddenly, the future felt a little closer than either of them was ready to admit.

Jaemin looked at her for a long moment—really looked.

Then, almost without thinking, he lifted his hand and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s a crime to be so beautiful,” he said quietly, like it was an observation rather than a line.

Haeyi’s breath hitched. Heat rushed to her face and she laughed softly, shaking her head.

“Don’t,” she murmured. “I’m a mess. I haven’t even washed my hair all week.”

Jaemin smiled, slow and fond.

“Messes are beautiful,” he said. “And messes are welcome when you’re with me.”

Something in her chest loosened at that.

She looked at him then—not as Haon’s mom, not as an exhausted doctor—but just as herself. Tired, human, trying.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The drawing lay between them.

The convenience store hummed around them.

And in that quiet space, it felt less like something beginning—and more like something finally being allowed.

Jaemin smiled again, softer this time, and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

It was brief. Careful.

But Haeyi froze anyway.

Her ears burned as she hurriedly lifted her chopsticks again, clearly flustered—and promptly inhaled a noodle the wrong way.

She started coughing.

“Hey—hey!” Jaemin panicked instantly, standing and patting her back. “Careful, doc. We can’t have you choking now, can we?”

She managed to wave him off between coughs, face turning a deep, unmistakable red before she finally laughed, breathless.

“Okay—okay—I’m alive,” she said, chuckling.

Jaemin laughed too, relief clear on his face as he sat back down. “Good. That would’ve been very ironic.”

They talked a little longer after that—about nothing important and everything comforting. Work. Coffee. How Haon insisted on lining up his toys before bed. The kind of conversation that didn’t drain what little energy she had left.

When she finally stood to leave, slinging her bag over her shoulder, Jaemin watched her take a few steps away.

Then he inhaled deeply.

“Hey—wait.”

He caught up to her, gently taking her hand. She turned, surprised, as he stepped in front of her.

“Uh… call me random, but…” He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “Do you maybe want to get dinner sometime? When you’re free. Anytime. No rush. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to, but I think I’d go crazy if I didn’t ask.”

Haeyi’s gaze dropped to their joined hands, her thumb brushing unconsciously against his.

“…Sure,” she said softly. Then hesitated. “But—I do have a child. Are you okay with that?”

Jaemin didn’t even pause.

He smiled and leaned in, pressing another light kiss to the top of her head.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Haon makes everything a hundred times better.”

Her eyes shimmered.

No one had ever said it like that before.

“Well,” she laughed quietly, looking up at him, “uh… sure then.”

Jaemin beamed, still holding her hand as if letting go hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“I’ll walk you back,” he said simply.

Hand in hand, fingers intertwined, they walked off together—unhurried, smiling, and a little stunned by how right it felt.

—

The day of the date, Haeyi was a mess.

She stood in front of the mirror for the third time, brushing her hair with far too much focus while Haon sat cross-legged on the bed, watching her like this was the most interesting show on earth.

She swallowed, then glanced at him through the mirror.

“Haon,” she said carefully, “let’s say… I’m going on a date with your teacher Jaemin. Would that be okay?”

She continued brushing as if her life depended on it.

Haon tilted his head. “What’s a date?”

She paused. “…Okay.”

She turned slightly. “When two people like each other, they go on a date. Like… have dinner and talk and stuff. You get me?”

Haon stared at her for a second.

Then shook his head. “Nope.”

She sighed.

Before she could try again, her elder sister poked her head into the room, grinning like she’d been waiting for this.

“Teacher Jaemin is trying out to possibly become your daddy,” she said cheerfully.

Haon’s eyes lit up instantly.

“Yess!”

Haeyi whipped around, face flaming. “That was NOT a good interpretation!”

Her sister burst out laughing. “What? I’m just telling the kid what this thing between you and Jaemin could basically mean.”

Haeyi groaned, covering her face.

Meanwhile, Haon leaned closer and whispered into her ear, voice serious and sincere.

“Teacher Jaemin makes Mommy happy,” he said. “So I like it.”

Her heart melted on the spot.

She softened immediately, pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheek. “You’re too cool for your own good, you know that?”

Fully dressed, slightly nervous but excited, she drove toward the restaurant with a small smile playing on her lips.

Then her phone rang.

The hospital.

Her heart dropped.

By the time she reached the ER, she already knew.

She parked, hands shaking slightly, and called Jaemin.

“Hey…” she said softly when he picked up.

“Hey,” he replied, cheerful. “You there yet? I’m on my way.”

Her eyes stung.

“The hospital called,” she whispered. “I… I’m really sorry. I—”

She trailed off, unable to finish.

On the other end, Jaemin chuckled gently.

“Hey,” he said warmly. “Don’t go feeling sad on me.”

She sniffed.

“It’s alright. Duty calls. Don’t think too much about it, okay? It’s not like we’re never going to meet again or something. We can always reschedule.”

She closed her eyes, relief and guilt tangling in her chest.

“Haeyi,” he added softly, “don’t worry. Don’t beat yourself up for it. Yeah?”

Her shoulders finally relaxed.

“…Thank you,” she murmured.

“Go save people,” he said lightly. “I’ll be right here when you’re free.”

Jaemin stood in the middle of the road for a moment after the call ended, phone still pressed to his ear long after the line went dead.

He exhaled slowly.

Disappointed—yeah. He wouldn’t lie to himself about that.

But more than that… he was worried.

The way her voice had wavered.

The way she’d apologized like she was doing something wrong.

He frowned, then suddenly snapped his fingers.

“That’ll do,” he muttered to himself.

Twenty minutes later, he was standing at a takeout counter ordering warm food—nothing fancy, just things that would still taste good even hours later. Soup. Rice. Something filling. Something comforting.

Then he went straight to the hospital.

The waiting area was quiet in that late-night way—fluorescent lights humming, vending machines glowing like they were half-awake. Jaemin sat down with the bag of food beside him, checking the time.

Five minutes or five hours—it didn’t matter.

He just didn’t like the idea of her thinking she’d disappointed him.

Time stretched.

Parents dozed in chairs. Nurses passed by. Midnight crept closer.

And then—

She stepped out.

Jaemin didn’t see her immediately. He was scrolling through his phone when movement caught his eye.

Haeyi.

Her shoulders were slumped, hair slightly messy, eyes tired in a way that went beyond exhaustion. She looked like she’d poured everything out and forgotten to save anything for herself.

Jaemin straightened instantly.

He lifted his hand and waved.

Haeyi froze.

Completely.

Her eyes widened as if her brain refused to process what she was seeing. Slowly, disbelief turned into shock.

“…Jaemin?” she whispered.

He stood up, smiling softly, suddenly very aware of how late it was, how tired she must be.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You looked like you could use dinner.”

For a second, she just stared.

Then her lips trembled.

“What are you doing here?” she asked quietly.

He shrugged, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You sounded sad. I didn’t like that.”

Her eyes burned.

“I didn’t know how long you’d be,” he added quickly. “But I figured—even if it was just five minutes—we could spend time together.”

She let out a shaky breath, one hand lifting to cover her mouth.

“…You’re insane,” she said, voice breaking.

Jaemin chuckled softly. “Probably.”

He held up the takeout bag. “Come sit. You haven’t eaten, have you?”

She shook her head slowly.

So he didn’t say anything else.

He just held the door open for her and waited—patient, steady—like he always did.

They ended up in the hospital cafeteria.

Most of the lights were dimmed, only a few tables occupied by night-shift staff speaking in low voices. The place felt suspended in time—quiet, calm, nothing like the chaos outside the ER doors.

They sat across from each other, sharing the takeout, shoulders relaxed for the first time all night.

She laughed softly between bites. “Sorry… this isn’t really romantic.”

Jaemin looked at her like she’d just said something unbelievable.

He shook his head. “Nothing could be more romantic than this, Haeyi.”

She paused, chopsticks mid-air.

“Just think,” he continued, voice warm and sincere. “It’s super late. Super peaceful. I’m spending time with the woman of my dreams… and we’re eating amazing takeout together.”

Her face heated instantly. She ducked her head, laughing under her breath.

“You say things so easily,” she murmured.

Jaemin smiled. “Only when they’re true.”

They ate slowly, talking about nothing urgent—about Haon insisting on matching socks, about Si-ah’s dramatic poses, about how hospital coffee was somehow worse than convenience-store coffee.

Every laugh felt lighter. Every glance lingered just a little longer.

And in that quiet cafeteria, with plastic trays and tired smiles, Haeyi realized this might be the most romantic date she’d ever had.

They left the hospital together, the night air cool and quiet, the city finally slowing down around them.

Halfway down the street, Haeyi suddenly stopped.

“…No.”

Jaemin turned. “No?”

“I left my car,” she said, eyes widening. “I drove here.”

There was a beat.

Then Jaemin burst out laughing.

“Wow,” he said, genuinely impressed. “You’re the first person I know who forgot her own car.”

She groaned, covering her face. “Please don’t judge me. I haven’t slept in—”

He reached out and took her hand, still smiling.

“It’s alright,” he said easily. “I’ll walk you home.”

Her shoulders relaxed at that, fingers tightening around his without thinking.

They walked slowly, talking about nothing important—about how night air always made food taste better, about how Haon insisted on saying goodnight twice, about how both of them were terrible at remembering where they parked.

When they reached her place, they stopped just outside the gate.

Jaemin hesitated, then smiled softly.

“I don’t want this night to end,” he admitted. “But you need to recharge.”

Haeyi looked down, shy now. “Thank you… for coming. It was really nice having you with me.”

He leaned in and kissed her forehead gently.

“Likewise, Haeyi.”

They stood there in the quiet, neither moving, neither wanting to be the first to leave.

Her heart thudded.

She took a breath.

Then she stepped forward.

Jaemin’s breath hitched as she leaned closer, hesitant but brave—and when her lips brushed his, he froze for half a second before melting into it completely.

He cupped her cheeks, warm and steady, kissing her back with a softness that felt like care, not rush.

When they finally pulled away, they both laughed—awkward, shy, faces warm and flushed.

“…Okay,” she said, breathless. “That happened.”

Jaemin grinned. “Yeah.”

They stood there smiling at each other like teenagers, hands still linked, night wrapping around them gently.

“Go sleep,” he said fondly.

“I will,” she promised.

Jaemin took a small breath, like he was steadying himself.

Then he smiled—soft, certain—and said it quietly, like it was the most natural truth in the world.

“Haeyi… I love you.”

Time seemed to pause.

She stared at him, eyes wide for a second, then glossy. All the exhaustion, the fear, the doubt she’d carried for years melted into something warm and overwhelming.

“…You do?” she whispered, voice barely there.

He nodded, stepping closer, forehead resting gently against hers.

“I do,” he said. “I love you when you’re tired. I love you when you’re late. I love the way you love Haon. I love the way you keep going even when it’s hard.”

Her lips trembled into a smile as a soft laugh escaped her.

“I think,” she said, blinking back tears, “I’ve loved you for a while too. I was just… scared to say it.”

Jaemin’s eyes softened even more.

He pulled her into a hug—slow, careful, full of intention—and kissed the top of her head.

“We’ll take it at your pace,” he murmured. “All of it.”

She nodded against his chest, arms wrapping around him tightly.

“Okay,” she said, smiling. “But fair warning—my life is messy.”

He chuckled. “Good. I already told you—messes are welcome with me.”

Thats it for this one!

I hope y'all liked it 🥹 🙏