moon

The office had turned into a war zone of spreadsheets and caffeine. Quarterly season always burn people to no ashes. Calendars stacked, tempers short, everyone on edge.

Johnny, too, he looked worse than the deadlines. He had powered through an eighteen-hours day, voice already hoarse on calls, pretending the chills were just the office AC. By the time he got home he was swaying in the doorway, skin burning, eyes glassy. She took one look at him and marched him straight to bed, stripping off his suit jacket while he grumbled, “It’s just a cold, baby.”

He’d been running a fever since Saturday, though of course he refused to admit it. By Sunday evening, his fever hits 39.8 °C.

She forced medicine down his throat, spooned warm soup into him, changed the cold compress on his forehead every twenty minutes. Eventually the fever pulled him under, but even half-delirious he wouldn’t let go of her with his arms locked around her waist and face buried in her stomach. She stayed there, letting her body be the only thing keeping the shivers at bay. She fell asleep sometime past three, cheek against his burning shoulder, one leg thrown over his.

Monday morning came grey and slow. The fever had dropped to 38.2°C, which is better, but still a fever. She woke first, slipped out of bed, and padded barefoot to the kitchen to cook them breakfast. Then she showered quickly, hair still damp when she came back in one of his white dress shirts, sleeves rolled, hem brushing mid-thigh.

Johnny was half-awake when she sat on the edge of the bed. He made a low, pitiful sound and immediately latched onto her, arms around her waist, face pressing into her thigh.

“You smell so good,” he mumbled, voice wrecked while he nosed along her skin, kissing lazily, open-mouthed and needy, hands sliding under the shirt to palm her bare back. He tugged her down gently until she was half-lying beside him, letting him burrow into her neck like a needy cat, his lips doesn’t stop dragging over her collarbone, her throat, the tops of her breasts.

She let him cling for a minute, fingers combing through his messy hair. “You’re still warm. Stay home today. I’ll cancel everything.”

“No, I can manage...” The word came out stubborn even through the congestion. She let him cuddle for a good ten minutes, rubbing slow circles on his back, humming softly until his breathing evened out again. Only then did she ease away. “Shower time, handsome. I’ll be ready when you are.”

Johnny groaned but obeyed, shuffling to the bathroom while she moved to the walk-in closet. She blow-dried her hair into soft waves, did light makeup, and slipped into a fitted cotton blouse and high-waisted cut-bray jeans. By the time she fastened her watch, Johnny is already in dressed more laid back style than usual. They finished almost at the same time.

She walked out first and he followed a step behind to the kitchen and then she reheated the soup for a bit and scooped fluffy rice into his bowl. Suddenly, Johnny came up behind her, arms sliding around her waist, chin on her shoulder.

“I should be paying you higher, shouldn’t I?” he murmured against her ear.

She giggled, leaning back into him. “Why is that?”

“You’re giving me wife-level service,” he said, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Should promote you straight to wife.” One-quarter joke, three-quarters dead serious. He really, really wanted to wife her up.

She turned in his arms, spoon still in hand. “Hmm, I don’t know… is the pay raise worth the additional job description?…”

He didn’t let her finish. Midway through the kitchen he stopped her, spun her gently, and kissed her slow and deep while his hands cradles her face where his thumbs stroking her cheeks. When he pulled back his eyes were soft, fever-bright but earnest.

They sat at the dining table to eat and he managed most of the bowl while she watched. His head was still heavy, the room tilting slightly if he moved too fast, but he powered through the very last bite and willingly swallow the pills she put on his palm after he’s done eating.

After breakfast they walked hand-in-hand to the private parking garage. She reached for the driver’s keys; he tugged her back.

“Nope. Princess doesn’t drive when I’m in the car. Fever or not.”

She rolled her eyes but let him open the passenger door for her. The drive was quiet, and when they pulled into the underground lot he stole one last slow peck, murmuring “love you” against her lips before they slipped into CEO and executive-assistant masks.

They stepped out of the car together. In the elevator lobby they ran into a handful of early employees whose whispers of why they’re coming to work together before the doors even closed, accompanied by knowing glances and tiny smirks. Typical. Neither of them cared.

On their floor he pat her back once, let go, and walked toward his office while she went to her desk near his door. When she barely finished to check the shared calendar on her computer, the desk phone buzzed.

“Get in here,” Johnny’s voice came through, hoarse but unmistakably needy. “I need you for the meeting.”

And he barely lasted through the first meeting.

Now, sitting slouched a little lower than usual in his leather chair, Johnny rubbed at his temple and sighed. “Just work from here,” he said, voice rough but not truly weak. “Don’t go back to your desk. I’ll need you in every meeting today.”

She tilted her head to study him. He wasn’t that sick— just a little pale, remainings of the fever from the weekend was visible, but the way he said it sounded less like a request and more like an excuse to keep her close. Still, she only nodded. “Alright.”

She took a seat near him at the long meeting table inside his office close enough that her perfume lingered over every time she leaned in to slide him a file, then in between calls, she handed him water, slid a snack across the table, reminded him about his meds in such a caring voice that made his chest flutters. Occasionally she met his eyes to check if he needed anything. And she never lingered, never made it obvious. Perfectly professional, yet lethal.

Because every time she spoke with that razor-sharp intonation, she’s questioning half-baked analysis before the idiot even finished his sentence, Johnny felt his cock stir against the seam of his slacks.

He was already annoyed from his heavy head, sinuses throbbing, skin too warm. And now his girlfriend was sitting two feet away being unfairly clever and unfairly pretty, existing solely to make him look untouchable while simultaneously ruining him. She’d catch the flaw first, always, because today the headache and arousal seems to win over him, then silently slide him the exact annotated page that let him win the argument in three sentences.

The way she structured chaos into weapons for him alone, feeding him kills with that soft, professional smile; she looked extraordinarily sexy being his, and only his. Every flawless assist made him want to pin her to the conference table and pound into her right there, just to feel her brilliant mind shatter around him.

She was so fucking smart it literally whipped him, and it felt like sin to get hard for her when she was just innocently doing her job.

Johnny watched her in quiet awe, his supposed fever reduced to background noise because every time she spoke, her brain lit up like a firework, and it went straight to his dick.

She wasn’t just competent; she was brilliant, existing solely to make him look untouchable, and fuck if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever seen. She was his perfect right hand, perched at his side in that low-cut blouse that shifted just enough to remind him how perfectly it cupped her tits, the cutbray jeans clinging to her hips every time she stood up and walking with the casual sway that’s her own.

Sapiosexuality didn’t even cover it— her intelligence was foreplay, and she was edging him in front of the entire executive team without anyone suspecting a thing.

But the second the meeting ended, the door clicking shut behind the last VP, the room finally empty, she dropped straight into his lap, thighs bracketing his hips as if the leather chair had been built for exactly this. Johnny’s hands found her waist immediately, a low chuckle rumbling out of him as he pulled her closer.

“Baby,” he rasped, voice rough with the strain of the last two hours, palms sliding down to grip her ass through those sinful jeans.

“My brilliant little weapon.” He squeezed harder, grinding her down against the ridge in his slacks.

“You have no idea how hard you get me when you’re being this smart for me.” She didn’t even blush. Just hummed, completely sidestepping the heat in his words, and pressed the cool back of her hand to his forehead.

He tried to chase her mouth, but she just kissed his cheek, then the corner of his lips, soft and maddening. Her fingers threaded through his hair, nails scraping his scalp exactly the way he liked.

“You’re warm, Johnny. Stop talking filthy and let me take care of you” She whispers, then sliding her hand down to cup his cheek, thumb stroking the stubble along his jaw with tenderness only she possessed.

Johnny whined, burying his face in her neck while his hands still kneading her ass shamelessly. “I’m warm because I’ve got a fever, my head’s pounding, and my dick’s been hard since nine-thirty because you’re so pretty and so fucking sexy and so goddamn smart at the same time.”

“Shh.” She cut him off with another kiss to his cheekbone, then his eyelid, her palms sliding under his jacket to work the knots at the base of his neck with exactly the right pressure. “Let me baby you for five more minutes.”

He melted, burying his face in her hair and letting her fuss, even as his hands refused to behave entirely. But when the soft chime of her phone reminder went off to remind them next meeting in three, she slides off his lap, blouse straightened, executive assistant mask slipping back into place.

By noon, the morning’s marathon of meetings had finally ground to a halt, Johnny leaned back in his chair, tie loosened just enough to breathe. “I’m starving,” He comments.

She was already reaching for the intercom. “Hi, could you have two Japanese bentos sent up, please? Grilled salmon, miso and rice. Thank you.”

“On its way,” She replies.

Johnny didn’t wait for the food. The second she set the receiver down he tugged her wrist to the lounge sofa anf pulls her to sit on his lap.

“Hi,” he mumbled into the silk of her blouse, nuzzling like a needy cat. “Missed you.”

“You saw me one seconds ago.”

“Still missed you.” He tilted his face up, eyes glassy with leftover fever and pure mischief. “Kiss me better.”

“You’re sick,” she laughed, trying to step back. “You’re gonna move your cold to me!”

“If you kiss me, I’ll be better and I can kiss you better,” he protested instantly, tightening his hold, which makes her snorted.

“Come on,” He puckered his heart-shaped lips in the most ridiculous pout known to man.

She lasted exactly three seconds before caving— because she never could resist those lips, low key.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she breathed, and then he was kissing her. His hands slid up under her blazer, while she braced her palms on his shoulders as he licked into her mouth like he’d been starving for her taste all morning.

He tried the dirty talk, voice low between kisses. “You looked so fucking hot being so pretty-”

She cut him off with a quick peck. “Food’s coming.”

“-I know a way to fuck you dumb tho-”

Another peck, firmer. “Behave.”

She kissed him harder, swallowing the rest of the sentence, and he groaned into her mouth, hands dropping to grip her hips. The kiss turned messy with filthy slides of tongue and little nips at her bottom lip while her fingers threads through his hair to tug just enough to make him slip a moan or two.

They were still tangled up when a soft knock sounded at the door. She jolted upright to sit beside him, leaving a polite space between them while Johnny just smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself, lips swollen and hair a little bit messy.

“Come in,” he called, voice only a little hoarse.

The secretary entered and set down the bento boxes and a thermos of hot tea in front of them, then give them sincere smile before excusing herself, “Enjoy your lunch,”

The food was perfect, their silly conversation ridiculous and warm, and by the time the boxes were empty he was laughing so hard his eyes crinkled at the corners. They talked and talked for a while until he looked a lot fresher and energized, like he could run the next four meetings blindfolded.

When they’re done eating, she teases him, just because. “Alright,” she said, “I’ll work from my desk now. You seem..” she gave him a look, “—miraculously cured.”

Johnny didn’t even pretend to hide the small grin that curved his mouth. In one smooth motion, he reached out and pulled her into a hug, chin coming to rest on the top of her head. “Stay here,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a low, boyish whine that had no place in a CEO’s tone. “I still feel terrible.”

She laughed, her voice muffled against his shirt. “Why are you such a baby?”

“Because I’m sick,” he said simply although she could practically hear the mischief behind his words.

She leaned back, looking up at him with an amused, exasperated smile. “You’re ridiculous. Come on, let’s freshen up. We have 15 minutes to was our face, brush our teeth. Four more meetings, Daddy”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t let go right away, squeezing her tighter for one last second before finally releasing her. “But you’re staying in here with me.”

She rolled her eyes but was smiling as she grabbed his hand and gestured toward the private washroom. They stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink; she’s brushing her teeth while he washed his face, and when he switched, brushing his teeth lazily, she was already holding out a towel for him, smiling. “You’re cute,” she teased.

Johnny chuckled, taking the towel from her hand, his voice low and warm. “Oh, I know.”

She laughed, but the blush that crept up her cheeks gave her away, and before she could hide it, he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

When Johnny is done drying his face with the towel, his eyes lingers on her. His fever long forgotten, replaced by a different kind of heat he has been suppressing since the morning.

He caged her against the marble sink counter, arms locking her in place, hips rolling forward so the thick bulge in his slacks pressed insistently against her. “I’ve been rock-hard all day,” he whimpers.

She bit her lip, eyes sparkling with amusement. “All day? Because your assistant is so smart?”

“Dead serious,” he rasped, shameless, crashing into her mouth. The kiss was initially soft and teasing, but quickly deepened into something hungry, his tongue slipping past her parted lips to tangle with hers in a slow, filthy french kiss that had her gasping into his mouth.

She melted against him, hands fisting his shirt as he pressed flush, grinding that aching cock against her belly so she felt every inch. His palms surged up her sides, thumbs dragging over her breasts before cupping and kneading them hard.

Johnny groaned into her mouth, thumbs already circling her nipples through the fabric. He pulled back just enough to reach for the buttons.

“Don’t!” she gasped, hands flying to cover his, cheeks flushed. “Sir-”

“Door’s locked,” he murmured against her lips, nipping the bottom one. “It’s not like we never do anything filthy here, right, Baby?”

She hesitated another heartbeat, breath hitching.

“Please, doll,” he whispered, forehead resting against hers, voice raw. “Let Daddy see them”

She gave in with a tiny, defeated nod, fingers falling away. He made quick work of the buttons, silk parting to reveal delicate white lace. He tugs the cups down to allow her breasts to spill free.

He squeezed them together, thumbs sweeping over her nipples in broad, teasing strokes until they tightened into stiff peaks, then trapped each one between thumb and forefinger— pinching hard enough to make her gasp, rolling them slow and deliberate, tugging just to watch them bounce back, flushed dark and begging.

“God, these tits,” he rasped against her mouth, voice wrecked as he kept rolling her nipples between his fingers. “Will you let Daddy fuck them again? Like how you like it? Hmm, Baby??”

She nodded submissively, eyes half-lidded and glassy with pleasure, a soft whimper escaping as she arched further into his hands, savoring the pleasure from his fingers pinching and twisting both nipples at once until she feels like her body is melting under his control.

Their kisses grew messier, wetter, tongues sliding and sucking as he devoured her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip before plunging back in, his hips grinding subtly against hers to ease the ache in his pants.

His free hand slid down to her blouse, fingers hooking into the button, ready to take this further right there on the sink.

She froze, breath catching. “Now?” The word came out small, timid, half-shocked, half-tempted.

Johnny let out a dark chuckle, forehead pressed to hers. “Hmm… would be nice if you could just kneel down for me right now,” He wasn’t exactly asking for now, but shit yeah, he was absolutely down for a tit job now if she let him, he could imagine the pounding in his head would stop the moment he painted her tits.

She bit her lip, eyes flicking to the locked door, then back to him. They’d christened this bathroom before, yes, but never in the middle of quarterly-reporting chaos. Her mind was split between the sexy offer and the next three meetings’ agendas which are flashing like neon behind her eyes.

Johnny sensed the hesitation and pushed gently, lips brushing her ear. “Come on, doll. Ten minutes.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head, hands coming up to rest on his chest. “Not now, Daddy…”

He froze immediately, hands stilling on her but not pushing, his eyes searching hers with genuine concern. “Why?”

She bit her lip, adjusting her blouse as the haze cleared. “It’s just… my mind is completely filled with agendas and notes.”

Johnny let out a low chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before stepping back, hands dropping to his sides without a hint of pressure. If she wasn’t feeling it, that was that.

“Alright, fair enough,” he said softly, zipping his own desires away with a playful wink.

“Work first.” He grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers as they headed back to the office, his grin wicked but patient. “My smart girl.”

As they stepped out of the washroom, Johnny dropped into his chair, already freshened, although there’s still a strain in his pants, eyes following her as she moved around his office to prepare for the next meeting.

The room began to fill slowly, the quiet hum of voices mixing with the soft clicks of laptops and the shuffle of papers. Johnny greeted a few of the directors with a nod, his expression composed again, but his posture still relaxed against the chair.

Once everyone settled and the discussion began, she took her seat beside him, quietly typing away on her laptop, noting his comments and questions, and summarizing the directors’ responses until came the finance segment, the part that usually demanded his full attention.

He turned slightly toward her, voice low but clear. “You lead this one,” he said, leaning back, fingers steepled. “I don’t have the energy to talk through numbers today.”

He meant it, partly. Finance reviews always demanded double the effort, double the brainpower, and he wasn’t at his prime. He could already feel the dull ache settling behind his eyes, and the thought of missing a detail or dragging the meeting longer because he wasn’t sharp enough irritated him. So, halfway between practicality and curiosity, an idea formed: let her handle it. He knew she could cover him.

She blinked. “Me?”

He hummed in reply, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve been shadowing me long enough. Go ahead.”

In truth, he was testing her. A little cheeky experiment under the fatigue. He wanted to see how much of his world she’d absorbed without him spelling it out. He’d back her up if things turned messy, of course, but he wanted to see how far could her band stretched.

At first, she was just reading notes. But then she began asking the exact questions he would have asked— sometimes even better ones.

Johnny watched her with a faint smile, his elbow propped on the armrest, knuckles against his mouth. Every so often he added a quiet “Mmm” of agreement, but mostly, he just listened, watching her run his meeting like she’d been born to sit beside him.

He was aware of the dull ache in his head, the fever behind his eyes, but the only thing he could focus on was her.

The clarity in her voice.

The soft crease between her brows when she was thinking.

The little pause before she delivered a number, like she was weighing the consequence of each word.

God, she was good. Not loud, not showy, not trying to play his role. Just.. efficient.

He admired the way her mind worked. How she’d learned to pick things up so fast over the years, absorbing every bit of him. From the way he analyzed numbers, asked questions, dissected trends, and then shaping it into something that was entirely her own. She mirrored his perspective, yes, but she’d also grown sharp enough to challenge it, to see angles even he hadn’t considered. She was exceptionally smart.

His chest ached in a different way. Pride. Admiration. Something warmer, deeper.

When the Board Meeting was done, she moves to set up a Zoom call on the big screen, sleeves rolled just a little, hair pulled back loosely. The light from the projector bathed her in a soft glow, outlining her shape against the screen.

Johnny watched her navigate the tech with the kind of focus he loved about her— lips pressed together, brows furrowed, all business.

He didn’t even realize he’d stood up until he was already behind her, until his arms had slipped around her waist like they belonged there, palms spreading wide over the soft curve of her stomach, pulling her gently back against his chest.

“Sir?” she whispered, half-laugh, half-scold, with the big screen remote still in her right hand.

Johnny didn’t answer with words. He just buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in like oxygen he’d been missing all day, lips brushing the warm skin just below her ear. God, she is perfect.

“You’re so fucking smart,” he mumbled against her temple, pressing a slow, reverent kiss there, then another, and another, like he couldn’t stop. “So stupidly, ridiculously brilliant. Do you know that? Do you know how insane you make me?”

She laughed softly, the sound vibrating through her back into his chest, and her hand came up to cover his, thumb tracing lazy circles over his knuckles. “I’m pretty sure I did a well-done job in keeping you staying sane, Sir.”

“I’m serious,” he whined, like actually whined, tightening his arms until she was fully flush against him, her smaller frame tucked perfectly under his chin. He swayed them both side to side, just a little, like he was trying to rock the pride out of his system and into her. “You were flawless. I just sat there and couldn’t stop thinking this brilliant, gorgeous baby woman is mine.”

She tilted her head back to look up at him, eyes sparkling with that soft, fond amusement she saved only for when he got like this, big, clingy, and stupidly in love man. “Johnny…”

He dropped his forehead to hers, voice dropping to that raw, quiet register that always made her breath catch. “I’m proud of you I could burst. And also I kinda wanna bite you because how dare you be this competent and this pretty at the same time? It’s unfair. It’s rude.”

Her laugh was brighter this time, cheeks pink as she reached up to cup his jaw. “Aggression noted, Mr. Suh.”

He turned his face into her palm, kissing the center of it like a puppy, then nuzzling back into her hair. “You smell good. You feel good. You’re good. At everything. I’m keeping you forever. Non-negotiable.”

She hummed, leaning fully into him now, letting him take her weight. “Pretty sure that was already in my contract.”

“Good.” He pressed one more lingering kiss to the crown of her head, arms squeezing tight enough that she squeaked. “I couldn’t have survived today without you”

For a few long seconds they just stood there, swaying gently in the quiet office. The late afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, painting gold stripes across the room, and he watched the light catch in her hair like she was something holy.

She broke the silence first, soft and teasing. “You’re being really dramatic just because you have a fever”

He made a dramatically wounded noise, but his arms loosened just enough for her to spin in the circle of them, facing him now. She smoothed his lapels slowly, fingers lingering at his collar before sliding down to toy with his tie, tugging it loose one notch.

“Let’s survive the last two, yeah?” she murmured, tipping up on her toes until her lips brushed his ear. “Then… I’ll give you that titjob you begged for earlier.”

Johnny’s breath hitched; his hands dropped instantly to her ass, squeezing hard enough to lift her an inch off the ground. “Yeah?”

She nodded, nipping his jaw. He groaned, grinding his hips forward so she felt every inch straining against his slacks. “Give me more.”

Her fingers slipped lower, palming the bulge in his pants with a teasing squeeze that made his hips buck hard into her hand. “I’ll let you put the tip in again,” she whispered, stroking him through the fabric slow and torturous, thumb pressing right against the head until he leaked through his slacks. “Just the tip… bare. I promise I’ll look pretty under you, take it like a good girl.”

Johnny’s eyes went wide and glassy, like she’d just handed him the keys to paradise on a silver platter. His breath stuttered out in a ragged groan, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise because fuck, just the tip of him nestled in her pussy. He’d do anything. Literally anything.

“Promise?” he asked, voice cracking into something small and desperate and so far from CEO it was laughable, his forehead dropping to hers like he was pleading for mercy.

“Promise,” she breathed, and sealed it with a slow kiss, yet still filthy, tongue sliding deep just once before she pulled back with a wicked little bite to his lower lip.

Only then did he step back, hands trailing down her arms until their fingers tangled for one last desperate squeeze. He looked at her like she’d hung the moon, pride and adoration and a whole lot of cute, helpless aggression blazing in his eyes— because she was brilliant, she was his, and she’d just promised to let him inside her heaven in the cruelest, sweetest way possible.

Mine, he thought again, goofy smile splitting his face so wide it hurt.

And as she turned to start the call, voice shifting back to crisp, professional assistant-mode in the blink of an eye; he leaned against the desk, still half-hard and dizzy, watching her like a lovesick fool.

The last meeting dragged like molasses, but she was a goddamn masterpiece. Johnny barely spoke because every time he glanced her way, she was already three steps ahead. Her blouse had shifted just enough during one lean-over that he caught a glimpse of lace cupping her breast, and the memory of her promise— just the tip, bare, inside her makes him shiver. His cock swelled instantly, thick and insistent against his thigh, trapped under the conference table while he nodded along like a functioning human.

“Finally!” she exclaimed the second she clicked on the “Leave” option in the Zoom meeting room, she kicks off her heels with a relieved sigh that made her breasts bounce just enough to torture him further before she went to the mini fridge to have some beer she stashed away with his permission, and gulped it down like a champion. The day was over. Freedom.

“Let’s go home,” she said, grabbing her bag with a grin, already halfway to the elevator in her mind.

Johnny’s voice dropped an octave, rough with eight hours of pent-up want. “Baby, go sit on the couch. Wait for me.”

She arched a brow but obeyed, because she always did when he used that tone, sinking into the plush leather of his office couch, legs crossed demurely even as her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

He disappeared into the private washroom, door half-open. Water ran. Soap. A quick rinse of his hands, a splash of cold water on his face to keep from bending her over the desk right then and there. When he came back, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie gone, top buttons undone, he looked like a man on the edge of sanity.

He didn’t speak. Just dropped to his knees in front of her, big hands sliding up her thighs, pushing them apart until she was spread wide on the couch, feet planted on either side of his shoulders.

“Sir!” she gasped, half-shocked, half-breathless, and her cheeks flushing as the cool office air hit her skin.

“Let me have this first, babe,” he growled, voice raw.

His fingers made quick work of her button and zipper, tugging the denim down along with her lacy panties, exposing her completely. God, her delicate folds were petite and neat, clit peeking shyly from its hood, entrance so small and tight it looked untouched, beautiful.

He spat directly onto her petals, watching the saliva drip down her slit, then he dove in like a starving man. His mouth sealed over her whole pussy at once, tongue flattening to lick a long, filthy stripe from her tiny hole to her clit. She jolted, hands flying to his hair, but he pinned her thighs wider.

She caught her breath for a second, fingers tightening in his hair. “Why… why’d you suddenly want to eat me out?” she asked, shy but curious, cheeks burning.

Johnny pulled back just enough to grin against her thigh, lips glossy. “Because I spent all morning watching my pretty, brilliant doll rip apart those shitty arguments,” he rasped, giving her entrance a slow, possessive lick. “Wanted to taste the smartest girl in the building- and remind both of us who you belong to when you’re not being a genius.”

She laughed, breathless and flustered. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously good at this,” he corrected, sucking her clit lightly just to watch her eyes roll. “Admit it, baby. You like how well I eat you out.”

His lips sucking on her petals, pulling them into his mouth one by one, tugging until they slipped free with a wet pop, flushed dark and shiny. His tongue fucked into her entrance, shallow, then deep, curling to taste every inch of that virgin-tight channel.

“You like it?” he groaned between licks, voice muffled against her pussy, eyes flicking up to check her face.

“Y-Yes!” she whimpered, voice small and breathy, hips twitching under his iron grip. “So much…”

She whimpered, submissively while his hips trying to rock but held still by his tight grip. He slid two fingers in alongside his tongue slowly, stretching her open while his mouth latched onto her clit. He sucked hard, then soft, flicking the swollen bud with the tip of his tongue until her thighs shook. His free hand spread her lips wider, exposing every secret inch, and he spat again right onto her clit before chasing it with his mouth, slurping noisily, messily, like he was trying to drink her dry.

He ate her relentlessly, tongue thrusting deep, fingers scissoring to open her up, thumb rolling her clit in tight circles while his lips pulled and sucked on her petals until they were puffy and red. Every time she got close he slowed, teasing the entrance with shallow licks, blowing cool air over her clit until she whined, then diving back in twice as hard.

She was a mess above him. Head thrown back, hands fisted in his hair, taking every filthy thing he gave her like the good girl she was. No fighting, no demands, just soft, broken moans and the occasional “Daddy... please,” that only made him hungrier.

When he finally sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked hard, with his tongue flicking nonstop, two fingers now buried deep and stroking fast, her pussy clenched around him in rhythmic pulses, juices flooding his tongue as she came with a cry, thighs trembling, back arching off the couch. He lapped her through every wave, slowing down only when he knows she has become oversensitive.

“Good job, baby,” he murmured, voice hoarse and awed, pressing a soft kisses to the puffy outer lips of her pussy, still swollen and glistening from his tongue. She squirmed, oversensitive, a whimper escaping as his lips brushed her clit again, this time deliberately light and teasing. He chuckled darkly, holding her down with one massive palm splayed across her lower belly, fingers almost spanning her entire waist.

He lapped her clean with gentle strokes, gathering every trace of her release, swallowing it down with low, satisfied hum. He sucked lightly on each petal until they were pristine again and watch her shiver, then kissing it apology-soft.

He looked up then, and fuck. There she is— his terrifyingly clever girl, now utterly brainless, eyes unfocused, cheeks flushed cherry-red, and her plump lips parted in a dazed little “o.” Dumb and perfect and his.

His chest swelled with smug, possessive pride. He did that. He turned the smartest woman in the building into a puddle with just his tongue.

Johnny wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes hooded and satisfied, but his cock strained painfully against his slacks, a thick outline she couldn’t miss.

She bit her lip, voice soft and submissive, reaching for his belt. “Do you want me to suck you off?…”

“No,” he rumbled, catching her wrist gently but firmly, pulling her hand away before she could undo him. “You owe me that titjob later, baby. We’re saving this load for that.”

He crouched in front of her, voice low and teasing. “Look at you… staring at Daddy’s cock like you’re starving. Behave, doll. We’re going home.”

He helped her up gently, sliding her lace panties back up her legs, then her jeans, zipping her up with a lingering touch. He fixed her blouse, buttoning it with careful fingers, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, smoothing her blazer. By the time he was done, she looked pristine again, except for the faint flush on her cheeks.

One last kiss and he pulled away.

“Let’s go home, baby.”

They stepped out of his office together. No skinship in the hallway. A few employees still hunched over their desks looked up, bowing politely as the CEO passed. None of them suspected a thing.

The moment the elevator doors slid shut, Johnny’s arm snaked around her waist from the side, tugging her flush against him. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in as the floors ticked down.

That’s how their days ended sometimes:

filthy in locked offices,

professional under office white lights,

and lovers the second they’re in their private bubble.

Jaehyun arrived in Switzerland on a fog-soaked morning.

The air was thinner and colder here, and the quiteness doesn’t help to tone it down; it was almost sharp. Everything felt slower, softer, untouched by the noise he had lived in for years. The town was small, exactly as Eunwoo had described. A few cafés, a tiny bookstore by the corner, a row of pastel houses overlooking the lake. A church bell that rang every hour. Children’s laughter echoes from the small school courtyard at noon.

It was almost too peaceful.

He checked into a small guesthouse near the lake, under a different name. The owner was kind, a woman in her sixties who didn’t ask questions when he said he was a writer. She gave him the key, wished him a good stay, and told him breakfast was at seven.

That night, he didn’t sleep much. How could he when he’s literally, most probably, in the same town as she is after almost 4 years crossing countries over countries without a single clue. That night, he barely slept. How could he?

He was here, finally and impossibly, in the same town she might be breathing in after almost four years of chasing shadows across continents with nothing but hope holding him together.

Every time he closed his eyes, the thought hit him again:

She could be just down the street. He could find her.

The possibility kept him wide awake.

He lay on the stiff guesthouse mattress, staring at the wooden ceiling beams, listening to the distant hum of the lake wind and the occasional passing car. His heart wouldn’t slow down. For the first time in years, he was close enough that the ache in his chest sharpened into fear and hope tangled together.

What if she wasn’t the same? What if he wasn’t?

The questions chased him until dawn. By the time pale morning light leaked through the curtains, he’d barely managed an hour of sleep.

The next morning, he still got up from bed despite the lack of sleep, and he went to the café Eunwoo had mentioned. The same one with the big window and the smell of roasted beans that lingered in the air. He sat by the window, ordered a black coffee, and waited.

The first day passed without anything. So did the second. And the third.

He waited every morning, sometimes until the café closed. He’d walk around the neighborhood, memorize the streets, learn the names of the shopkeepers, and nod politely at the locals.

Some days, he’d stroll by the school Eunwoo mentioned, the small building tucked at the corner across from the café, right at the intersection. He’d sit on the bench across the street, pretending to be just another stranger passing the time.

From there, he watched the everyday life of parents coming and going, calling out names, laughing, bending down to zip jackets or tie shoelaces. Little hands reaching up, bigger hands reaching down. A hundred tiny reunions repeating themselves every afternoon.

He watched quietly, letting the scene pass through him like a memory of something he’d never had.

But she never appeared.

Not once did he see the face he’d memorized. Not once did he hear her laugh carried on the wind. Not once did a child’s voice sound like it could belong to them.

On the seventh day, he started doubting himself. Maybe she’d moved again. Maybe Eunwoo had only seen someone who looked like her. But still, he stayed.

Every morning, he walked the same route. Every afternoon, he found himself in the same café. Every evening, he sat by the same bench, watching the same doors open and close.

The locals began to recognize him. The café owner started greeting him with a smile, already knowing his order. “Americano?” she’d ask. He’d nod. “Yes. Thank you.”

Sometimes she’d ask if he was waiting for someone.

He’d just smile and say, “Yes.”

The tenth day came with rain. He sat under the awning outside the café, watching the water bead along the pavement, watching people hurry home under umbrellas. He thought of her— how she used to hate the rain, how she’d always cling to his arm and complain about wet shoes, how he’d tease her for it just to hear her laugh.

He missed that sound more than anything in the world. He closed his eyes, let the sound of the rain fill the silence. He whispered to himself, “If you’re still here, please… just one sign.” But the rain only fell harder.

And then came the fourteenth day.

The sky was clear, pale blue— the kind of day that made the town look like a painting. Jaehyun sat on the same bench across the school, a coffee in hand, his breath turning faintly white in the crisp morning air.

Children were starting to gather in front of the school gate, saying goodbye to their friends and running up to their parents right away. Small backpacks bouncing, little boots splashing the last bits of melted frost.

Every school day, he watched them, and every time, despite himself, he smiled at the sight. His mind wandered to the thought he tried not to linger on: his child.

Would they run up to him like that? Would they laugh that freely when they saw him?

Would they throw their arms around his neck and shout, “Daddy!” as if the whole world existed only in that one word?

He imagined it sometimes without meaning to— standing there among the other parents, waiting, heart pounding, until a small figure spotted him and broke into a run. He imagined scooping them up, spinning them once, feeling small hands clutching his coat, a kiss on his cheek.

How sweet it would be. How simple, how ordinary, how impossible.

A sting burned behind his eyes. He blinked it away quickly, swallowing the tightness in his throat. So he pushed himself off the bench, ready to leave before the tears could betray him, but just as he stood, he froze.

She stepped out from between a line of parents, walking slowly toward the gate with a little boy beside her.

For a moment, he genuinely thought his heart had stopped beating.

She looked the same. A little older, perhaps. A little calmer. Her hair was longer and flowed just right, the same way it swayed years ago, her movements gentler, her face softer in this cold winter light. She was talking to the boy, her voice low, affectionate.

The child laughed, loud and bright, and his laugh rang a sound so achingly familiar it punched the breath out of his lungs. He has his laugh.

There she is. There you are.

He couldn’t move or breathe properly. After years of searching, of waiting, of dreaming, they were right there, just across the street.

He blinked once, twice, almost afraid they would disappear if he moved. But they didn’t.

Her coat fluttered gently in the breeze. She crouched down, fixing the boy’s scarf, brushing her thumb over his cheek in a way that was so tender, so familiar, it almost brought Jaehyun to his knees.

It was a small, ordinary moment. But to Jaehyun, it was everything. After all this time, after all those cities, all those empty mornings… He’d found them.

His thoughts started to spiral.

What was he supposed to do now? Walk up to her? Call for her name? Would she even want to see him?

His mind flooded with possibilities, each one clashing violently against the next.

She looks well. Does she hate me? Does she think I hate her? What if she’s married now? No… she isn’t wearing a ring.

What if she moved on? What if she’s happy without me? Would it be selfish to appear now, after all this time?

His gaze shifted to the boy, holding her hand, smiling as he pointed at a bird perched on the gate. Jaehyun’s heart clenched so tightly he thought he might stop breathing.

He had his eyes. His small, round cheeks. The same way his brows furrowed when he laughed too hard. The same set of dimples decorating his cheek.

That’s my son.

The thought hit him like a punch to the chest. It didn’t feel like pride. It didn’t even feel like joy. It felt like disbelief, like something precious and painful all at once.

How many birthdays had he missed? How many nights had she stayed awake alone, comforting the baby he never held? How many first words, first steps, first laughs had he never seen?

An invisible grief unfurled inside him. He’d spent years looking for them, and now that they were right there, so close he could reach them but he couldn’t move a single step forward.

She stood up, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder, looking down at the boy. He said something that made her laugh. That bright and easy sound he hadn’t heard in years nearly broke him.

He bit his lip hard, his vision blurring as his fingers trembled in his pocket. All this time, he thought he had prepared himself for this moment, but nothing, not even the years of searching, had prepared him for how alive she still looked.

Alive without him.

She didn’t look lost or broken like he had imagined.

She looked whole. Peaceful. Grounded. Like she’d built herself back up from everything they had destroyed. And Jaehyun didn’t know whether to be proud or devastated.

For a moment, he imagined walking up to her, calling her name, seeing her face lift in shock, maybe even tears, maybe forgiveness. He imagined crouching down to the boy’s level, introducing himself— Hi, I’m your dad.

He imagined all of it. Her voice, the boy’s laughter, the weight of what-ifs collapsing into something real.

But another image came right after; darker, quieter.

Her expression turned to fear. Her eyes hardened. Her pulling the boy behind her, saying, Don’t come near us.

The thought made his stomach drop. He couldn’t do it. Not yet.

He couldn’t just shatter the peace she had built. Not when she looked so steady, not when their child looked so happy. So he stayed where he was across the street, in the shadow of the bench, watching silently as they walked away.

When they turned the corner and disappeared, Jaehyun finally exhaled— the kind of breath that trembled out of him like a confession. His coffee had gone cold beside him, untouched.

He sat there for a long time after that, staring at the empty gate, his mind replaying the scene over and over until it became unbearable. He wanted to just walk up to her. Call her name, to see her turn and look at him the way she used to. But he didn’t.

14 days of waiting. And now, he couldn’t even bring himself to say her name.

Every time she glanced in his general direction, his body went rigid, his heart hammering against his ribs. He’d duck his head, shift on the bench, pretend to be someone else— a stranger waiting for no one. Because what if she saw him? What if the first thing she did was run?

He couldn’t risk that. So, he waited.

Day after day, he came back. The same bench. The same café across the street. The same cup of lukewarm coffee that went untouched most days. Sometimes he came in the early hours, watching from a distance as she led their— his son toward the small preschool by the corner. Sometimes he stayed through the afternoon, just to see her again when she came to pick the boy up.

He learned her rhythm.

How she always held the child’s hand a little tighter when they crossed the street. How she always crouched down to kiss his cheek before he went inside the school, or after he ran up to her after school. How she always smiled at him like he was her entire world.

And Jaehyun just watched quietly, like a man sitting in a movie theater watching his favorite film. Every day, the scenes played out the same way. Her walks the boy to school, kissing the top of his head before letting him go. Then later, her waiting by the gate, her smile lighting up when she saw him run back into her arms.

He never got tired of it.

The sight of them hurt and healed him at the same time.

Twenty-nine days of waiting. Twenty-nine mornings and evenings on that same bench, just watching their routine like a film he couldn’t stop replaying.

But the more he watched them, the harder it got. He wanted to be part of that picture so, so badly. Not just the man watching from the corner seat, but the one standing beside her in that frame. The husband who carried the groceries, the one she turned to when she laughed, the father who held their son’s hand on the walk home.

He wanted to fill the missing piece of their small world, and to actually do that, he couldn’t just sit there anymore.

He wouldn’t know how she would react when she saw him, whether she’d cry, run, or turn away. But none of it mattered. What mattered was that he needed to try.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered, the word barely escaping his lips.

Tomorrow, he would walk up to her. Gently, just be himself, the man who still loved her, who still carried her in every breath he took.

He would tell her that he still loved her. That he’d never stopped. And if she needed him to beg, he would. If she needed time, he’d wait. If she asked him to prove it, he’d spend the rest of his life doing so.

The next morning, Jaehyun fetched himself a coffee from the same café he’d been visiting for the past twenty-nine days. The barista smiled when she saw him, already pouring his usual order before he even said a word. 

Then he returned to the same bench, the one he’d sat on yesterday, across from the small school. It had become his place. He watches as parents begin to dropped their children off by the gates, greeting teachers and waving goodbye to their children. He was used to the sight by now. He watched it every morning like a ritual.

But then he saw her standing near the entrance of the school, her back turned slightly, hair falling loose around her shoulders. She was holding a little boy’s hand, then crouching down to check his fit.

He swallowed hard and took a small, shaky step forward. Then another. Each step felt heavier, slower, like wading through water. His heart was hammering against his ribs so hard it almost hurt.

And when he reached the opposite curb close enough to call her name, his throat went dry. His fingers tightened around the paper cup until it crumpled.

His voice came out low at first, almost fragile.

She didn’t react. She was focused on the child, crouched down, tying his shoelaces. He tried again, louder this time, and his voice breaking halfway through. That made her freeze.

Her head lifted slowly, her body stiffening before she turned toward the sound. Their eyes met for the first time in four years. It felt like the world stopped moving.

She blinked once, twice, disbelief flickering across her face, her lips parting soundlessly.

“Jae… how did you…” she breathed, her voice trembling, words barely forming. In that split second after his name left her lips, something inside her cracked wide open.

She didn’t know what she was supposed to feel.

Agony? Relief? Terror? Grief? Every emotion slammed into her at once, a violent collision that made her could barely breathe.

For four long years, she had lived with the belief, almost certainty— that she had outrun fate. That she had gone far enough, erased enough of herself, buried enough of her past that he would never find the path back to her.

She thought she was safe. She thought she had done everything — protected him, protected their child, protected herself from the risk of losing him all over again.

But here he was, standing in front of her like God had returned something she had begged Him to take away because she was too weak to bear it.

Her knees wobbled enough that she felt her bones loosen under her weight, although not visibly. She wanted to cry right there on the sidewalk, to crumble into herself and sob until the world made sense again. But her body refused to move. Every muscle locked, every nerve short-circuited. It was like her brain couldn’t process the image in front of her.

She could only stare.

He looked exactly like the Jaehyun she remembered — and yet not the same at all. Jaehyun is still heartbreakingly handsome, wearing that same warmth in his eyes when he looks at her, but he's definitely thinner, like he’s unattended. A little rough around the edges, as if grief had lived under his skin too long.

His hair was longer and jaw sharper, while the shoulders that she loved to lean on are now slumped from the weight she couldn’t see.

But his smile— that small, trembling smile he gave her hit her like a punch. It’s the same smile he had always reserved for her alone. The smile he gave when he was relieved, when he was scared, when he didn’t know how else to express how much he loved her.

God, she wanted to run to him.

To bury herself in his arms, to feel his warmth again, to say “I missed you” until the words lost meaning. To finally let go of the years she had spent pretending she didn’t need him.

But the fear rose faster.

Why is he here? How did he find me? Is he angry? Hurt? Looking for answers I can’t give?

Every horrible possibility flashed through her mind in the span of a heartbeat, and so she stayed still, motionless, unreadable, torn between wanting to reach for him and wanting to hide behind the nearest wall.

Her eyes drank him in with a desperation she didn’t dare show. Her lips trembled but wouldn’t form words, and her fingers curled against her palm where he couldn’t see. She could only stare at him, frozen between hope and terror.

Jaehyun felt it too, all of it. The shock, the longing, the fear. He stepped forward, just barely, his breath shaking, his eyes glassy with everything he had wanted to say for years. He wanted to run to her, to close the space between them, to touch her just to prove she was real, but before he could opened his mouth to say something, a small voice cut through the stillness.

“Mommy…” The boy tugged gently at her sleeve, confused by the silence stretching between the two adults. He looked between them; his mother frozen like a statue, and the man who looked at her like she was the sunrise. Then, curious and yet unafraid, the boy’s gaze lifted to Jaehyun.

Jaehyun’s eyes darted to the boy, and everything inside him fell apart. The soft, round cheeks, the dark brown eyes, the shape of his nose, a small dimple forming when he smiled, everything mirrored him.

“Hi…!” the boy chirped, his voice bright and innocent.

She stiffened the moment her son spoke, her hand instinctively tightening around his small fingers, not yanking him back, not hiding him, just holding him a little closer, as if her body wanted to shield him before her mind had even caught up.

He felt his breath hitch. His chest tightened painfully, “Is he… mine?”

She had imagined this moment a hundred times; in nightmares, in lonely nights, in the spaces where fear lived. But the real thing was so much worse. So much heavier. So much more human. Her lips parted, but no words came. 

Her eyes burned, her vision blurring, her whole body trembling from seeing the man she loved, standing in front of her, staring at their child with a look so raw it broke every carefully built wall inside her.

She knew lying was impossible. She knew running was impossible. She knew everything she’d tried to protect— his career, his peace, their separation; was collapsing right there, at the school entrance.

So she simply looked at him. And the silence itself was an answer.

Jaehyun’s breath hitched, then a stream of tears fell before he could stop it. Of course, he’s mine.

Panic flickered in her eyes when she saw him crying, so she adjusted the boy’s backpack hurriedly, her voice rising just slightly as she said, “Jae, I have to go to a parent meeting right now.”

“How long will it take?” he asked quickly, desperate, trying not to let the tremor in his voice show. “I’ll wait. Please, let’s talk.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll wait at the café right up front,” he said again, softer this time, like a plea. “Let’s talk after you’re done, please.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. Then, quietly, “…Okay, let’s talk.” She turned to her son, holding out her hand. “Let’s go.”

The boy waved his hand to him, his voice clear and bright. “Goodbye!”

Jaehyun smiled faintly despite the ache in his throat. “Bye, baby,” he said softly, his voice cracking at the edges.

He didn’t even remember how he got to the café after that. The whole world had blurred for him. The walk, the sound of traffic, and even the taste of the coffee he ordered while waiting. All he could think about was her voice and the little boy’s eyes, his reflection staring back at him from another face.

He sat by the window, hands clasped tightly, heart beating in uneven rhythms. The minutes dragged like hours until the bell over the door chimed softly.

She was there.

She approached quietly, almost warily, and sat down across from him. Her hair framed her face the same way it used to. Her voice, when she spoke, was cautious, like testing fragile ground.

“How have you been?” she asked.

He swallowed, forcing a small smile. “I’ve been… surviving. What about you?”

She shrugged faintly, eyes flicking down to her cup. “Well, I’ve been alright… What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been searching for you for years,” Jaehyun said, his voice trembling. “I never imagined I’d actually find you.”

“I told you not to look for me,” she said quietly.

“I know,” he replied. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About you raising him alone.”

Her eyes shimmered slightly. “I’m sorry…”

“Why are you sorry?” His tone softened. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“I told you, it was my choice,” she murmured.

He let out a shaky breath. “Why did you decide to live here? How have you been living?”

“I just wanted to go somewhere far,” she said softly. “The farthest I could. I don’t do anything now.. I just live as Seonwoo’s mom.”

“What about work?”

“I stopped. I don’t want to leave him alone; he only has me. I have my parents’ money, we can live comfortably even if I don’t work, the money is enough for just the two of us. So don’t worry.”

He didn’t miss the tone she used, calm, gentle, factual. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm either. It was the tone of someone explaining her life like a boundary.

Like she was telling him just enough,

but not inviting him in.

It stung, but he swallowed it quietly. He understood what it meant; she didn’t want him to meddle.

Didn’t want him to think she needed help.

Didn’t want him thinking he had room in the life she had built alone.

“That’s… good,” Jaehyun said, though his voice cracked on the last word.

“The baby’s beautiful…” he said after a pause, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Can I see him again, just for a moment?”

She paused, her lips pressing together before she answered.

“I… I could show you pictures,” she said politely.

And Jaehyun heard the meaning instantly. The rejection wasn’t harsh, but it was careful, although it still felt like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed until it hurt to breathe.

He nodded once, eyes dropping. He got it, really did.

She wasn’t being cruel to him; she was just being cautious and protective because she’s a mother.

Their son’s mother.

He’d spent nights imagining what it might be like to meet the baby, hearing him speak, holding him. But now that he was here, face-to-face with the one person who had kept his child alive and happy, he knew he couldn’t push and just force his way into their peace.

“Okay…” Jaehyun whispered, forcing himself to accept it. “That’s okay.”

She exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around the edge of her cup. She knew what he wanted, and part of her wanted to give it to him, to see his smile when he met their son, to watch them side by side. But she couldn’t.

Her mind spun with fears she couldn’t voice.

What if this were temporary? What if he only came to see, confirm, then leave? What if he changed his mind? What if he regretted finding them? What if Seonwoo’s peaceful life were shattered? What if Jaehyun couldn’t stay? What if his presence caused more chaos than calm?

She didn’t know what he wanted, nor what he intended.

She didn’t even know if he had come here out of love, grief, guilt… or all three tangled into something dangerous.

So she decided to build another wall to keep Seonwoo safe until she could understand Jaehyun’s intentions.

“I understand…” Jaehyun nodded slowly, then changed the topic. “What’s his name?”

“Seonwoo. Jeong Seonwoo.”

“Jeong Seonwoo…” he repeated the name quietly like a prayer.

The moment the name left his lips, something deep inside him trembled. Seonwoo. He remembered it. The name his own father almost gave him when he was born. He had told her that once, long ago, in one of those soft, late-night conversations they used to have when dreams still felt close enough to reach.

“That’s…” His voice shook. “That’s beautiful.”

He blinked hard, tears gathering again, but he didn’t let them fall. Not when she looked so tense, so guarded, so frightened of what this might become.

He just never thought she’d remember.

And now, here it was. Their son, carrying not only his surname, but also the name his family had once meant for him. A name that now belonged to someone far more precious.

His throat tightened as warmth rose behind his eyes. He blinked hard, trying to steady his breath, but his voice still came out weak.

“How old is he now? Four?”

“Yeah. His birthday’s the same as yours.”

Jaehyun froze, a faint laugh of disbelief slipping out of him before it turned into a shaky exhale. “Really…?”

The coincidence, oh no, more like the connection, hit him like fate. Born on his birthday. Named after the name his father once wished upon him. Carrying his blood, his name, his history. It felt too perfect, too divine to be anything other than destiny.

He looked up again, his tone fragile. “What do you tell Seonwoo about not having a dad?”

“I tell him his dad is far away,” she answered softly. “That’s because of certain circumstances; he can’t live with us.”

His eyes dropped to the table. “…Has he ever asked who?”

“I always avoided the question,” she said, her voice breaking just slightly.

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Something painful twisted inside her chest. Her mind wanders to every time Seonwoo asked about his dad.

She never lied to him; she just couldn’t give him the whole truth just yet.

She would say, “Daddy is far away.” And Seonwoo would nod, innocent and trusting. But now that he was older, he asked harder questions.

“Where is he?” “Why can’t he come here?” “Does he know me?” “Is he coming back?”

And each time, her heart crumbled a little more.

She’d smile through the ache, stroke his hair, and distract him with something else. It always worked, eventually. He’d laugh, move on, play with his toys, and she’d exhale in relief.

But when night came, when the house was quiet and Seonwoo finally asleep, she’d curl into herself and let the tears fall, because deep down, she knew that she didn’t even know how to answer those questions herself.

Then they talked more.

At first, it was awkward and cautious, as if either of them could shatter the fragile air between them with the wrong word. But as minutes turned into hours, the stiffness faded.

They began talking about everything. From A to Z, like they never got into an argument about her wanting to disappear from his life and him wanting to have him by his side.

They talked about the little things, how cold the winters get here, and how pretty the scenery is, how she learned to bake because Seonwoo refused store-bought bread. About how she’d found comfort in the small routines, and how he’d been traveling so much that he’d forgotten what “routine” even meant.

Their faces began to light up as time went on, smiles coming easier, laughter finding its way back between the pauses.

Sometimes, they didn’t even need to speak; they just looked at each other and understood. The years apart felt less like a wall and more like a long, winding detour that had finally led them back here.

It was everything for both of them. Every word, every look, every breath filled the hollow parts of them that had ached for too long.

Jaehyun’s heart felt full for the first time in years. She was right there, sitting across from him again, the way her hands wrapped around a warm cup of coffee, her eyes soft and calm. It was just like any other time they went on a café date a few years ago.

But then her voice broke the air: “Why are you here, really?” The question was a key turning in the lock of the Pandora box.

Jaehyun set his cup down, fingers trembling just slightly. Then he looked her in the eyes and answered with a sure, gentle smile. “I want to be with you. And our baby.”

She could feel the sincerity in every inch of him. In his voice and gaze. In the way his hands curled nervously around the cup while he looked at her like she was something sacred.

She tried to find doubt, hesitation, or uncertainty, but there was none.

Of course, there wasn’t. Jaehyun had always been sincere when it was about her.

“I don’t know, Jae…” she whispered.

She wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to stay or disappear again. She had missed him more than she could bear; she imagined him here in a thousand lonely moments, but seeing him now felt like a dream she shouldn’t touch.

It had taken her everything to build this life without him.

Brick by shaky brick, she rebuilt herself and Seonwoo a home, and learned how to stand on her own two feet.

Letting him in now felt like knocking all her hard-earned safety down with one touch.

What if he didn’t stay? What if he realized this life wasn’t enough? What if fame and pressure pulled him back? What if one day, he looked at her and regretted everything? What if he walked away again?

How would Seonwoo survive that? How would she?

Finally, her voice came out small, trembling, “I’m scared… Jae…”

He inhaled sharply, eyes softening with an ache so gentle it made her chest hurt.

“You don’t have to rush,” he said quietly. “I’ll be here. I’ll wait until you make your decision.”

“Jaehyun…” Her voice broke. She hated how grateful she felt. How familiar his tenderness was. How much she still loved him after all these years.

He gave her a bittersweet smile, the one she remembered too well, one she once kissed off his lips.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered. “I’ll wait.”

Jaehyun watched her carefully. She looked torn, fragile in a way he had never seen before, not even during her pregnancy, not even when she left. This was different. This was a woman who had built an entire life alone and was terrified someone might walk in and rearrange the furniture of her world.

He leaned forward slightly, whispering, “Let me try,” he said. He could notice her startled expression, but he still continued.

“Not as a stranger. Not as someone who showed up after years. But as myself. As the man who loves you. As the man who wants to be in our son’s life.”

“Just… give me a chance,” he whispered. “One chance. So you can see for yourself if I’m still worth staying for. If I’m still worth letting in.”

Her fingers curled around her cup, knuckles whitening.

He added, more gently, “If I’m not… if you decide I’m not the man you or Seonwoo deserve… then I’ll walk away. I won’t force myself in. I won’t break what you built.”

Her eyes glistened, throat tightening at the quiet sincerity in his tone. He wasn’t demanding or claiming anything. He was offering himself.

“And if you think I could be part of your life again,” he whispered, “then I’ll spend every day proving I deserve it.”

She exhaled shakily, eyes dropping to the table. A long silence stretched between them before she finally nodded, barely visible. “…Okay.”

Jaehyun’s breath left him in a quiet rush. He didn’t smile, but there’s a visible soft yet fragile curve at the corner of his mouth, the kind that held more gratitude than joy.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

She wasn’t sure, but she nodded again. Yet, despite the tension, they kept talking, cautiously peeling away the distance between them.

She told him small details about Seonwoo— how he loved cats, how he hated carrots unless they were shaped like stars, how he always slept with one hand curled under his cheek, and Jaehyun listened like every word was a treasure being handed back to him.

He told her where he had been, what he had gone through, how he had spent years flying from country to country and had gotten nearly a million of mileage on his frequent flyer membership. She kept her eyes lowered but listened closely. Every word he spoke cracked her heart open just a little more.

And then, eventually, she checked the time and stood up. “I should go pick him up,” she said softly.

Jaehyun rose too, instinctively, but then stopped himself, not wanting to overstep. She offered him a small, almost shy smile and a promise to meet him again tomorrow before leaving the café.

Later, she returned with Seonwoo, laughing, carrying his backpack while he bounced excitedly at her side. They walked home like any other afternoon. She held his hand while he pointed at random flowers throughout their walks. She corrected how he said Schmetterling because he had been loving German words lately.

She’s a perfect mother. Gentle, patient, and loving mother. Everything Jaehyun had imagined and more.

But once she’s done with her role of a mother, she locked herself in her bedroom, her breath broke. She pressed a hand to her chest as the tears poured out uncontrollably.

Every emotion collided at once until she couldn’t separate one from another. She curled into herself, pressing her forehead to her knees, and the trains of what-ifs hit for the second time today.

What if he stayed forever? What if he didn’t? What if Seonwoo loved him instantly and then had to lose him? What if life finally gave her everything she wanted… just to take it away again?

She cried until her chest ached and her throat stung for the years they lost, for the boy who didn’t know his father, for the man who cried on a street corner, for the love she thought she buried but found alive again.

Meanwhile, Jaehyun was still sitting in the same café.

He hadn’t moved from his seat. He was staring out the window, one trembling hand covering his mouth, trying to process the fact that she had said okay, and trying to wrap his heart around the idea of being allowed back into a life he thought he had lost forever.

The next morning, Jaehyun returned to the same bench he had claimed for nearly a month, hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat as he fought against the bite of winter air. He looked tired, but calmer than yesterday.

His gaze drifted upward, following the pale sky as if memorizing the softness of it, his hair lifting slightly whenever the wind brushed past him. He looked like a still frame from a quiet European film, the kind where the main character sits alone in cold morning light, waiting for something or someone who means everything.

She saw him before he saw her.

From across the street, with Seonwoo’s small hand in hers, she spotted his figure sitting there; he looked older, a little thinner, but still so heartbreakingly familiar.

She hadn’t seen him in a winter coat in years, and he looked unfairly good in it. Sharp jawline slightly hidden by the collar, his breath visible in soft clouds, the tips of his ears flushed pink from the cold.

God, she missed him. The one she ran from, yet she still loved, maybe even more than before.

When she reached the school gate, she crouched to adjust Seonwoo’s jacket, smoothing the collar and giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. The boy grinned, already excited to join his friends. With a small wave, he ran off toward the entrance, his laughter echoing lightly among the other children. She waited until he disappeared inside before she stood, exhaling a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

When they reached the school gates, she crouched to fix Seonwoo’s jacket, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Have fun, okay?”

The boy grinned, already spotting his friends. He darted toward them, laughing brightly, disappearing through the entrance. She stood up again, exhaling softly, but when she looked across the street, Jaehyun was no longer sitting.

He was standing with his hands still tucked in his pockets, shoulders slightly raised from the cold, but he smiled timidly, lifting one hand to do shyest wave. It was such a gentle gesture that she felt the faintest smile tug at her own lips, unable to suppress it.

She smiled back, then she crossed the street. He stepped closer immediately, his expression softening the moment she neared.

“Hi,” she greeted, breath forming a faint cloud in the cold air.

“Hi, baby,” Jaehyun replied gently.

Oh god, she missed that. She missed him calling her that soft, affectionate pet name, like it was the most natural thing in the world. She looked down, smiling faintly, trying to hide the silent acknowledgment.

“Do you… Want to walk for a bit?” she asked, her voice shy but steady. Jaehyun didn’t even hesitate. His breath left him in a small, relieved huff.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I would love that.”

She gestured toward the small park by the lake, and they began walking side by side, naturally falling into the same rhythm they once knew by instinct. The path toward the small lakeside park was lined with bare trees dusted with snow, the world quiet except for the occasional crunch of gravel beneath their boots. 

The wind was cold, but the silence between them wasn’t.

Jaehyun kept stealing glances at her often enough that she felt each one like a gentle tug. His gaze lingered on her profile, on the soft scatter of sunlight on her hair, on the quiet strength in her expression. She pretended not to notice until she couldn’t.

“How did you sleep?” she asked, her voice low.

He let out a small breath that formed a cloud in front of him. “I didn’t,” he admitted.

She frowned slightly. “You didn’t? Why?”

His smile was faint but immediate. “I was too happy to sleep.”

She blinked at him, startled by the simplicity of it. His breath fogged in the air as he searched for the words. “…because I was so happy to see you again.”

“And because I knew I’d see you again today. You promised you’d meet me.” His voice softened, dipped into something fragile. “I guess I was… excited.”

Her breath caught. She looked away quickly, but he saw the small smile pull at her lips.

Then silence washed over them again, warm this time. Comforting. The kind that used to sit between them naturally when they were still a 'we'.

She looked away, focusing on the lake ahead. The water was still partially frozen, glimmering softly beneath the winter sun. They walked more slowly as the path narrowed, their boots brushing snow-covered grass. The air around them felt warmer somehow, though the temperature hadn’t changed.

He spoke again, voice gentler this time. “You looked happy yesterday,” he said. “I haven’t seen you smile like that in years.”

“I was happy,” she admitted quietly. “It’s been a long time since I talked to someone who knows me.”

“I thought you looked happy yesterday,” he said softly. “When we talked. I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long time.”

She swallowed, her hands curling tighter inside her pockets. “I was,” she whispered. “It’s been a long time since I talked to someone like that.”

They walked past a cluster of pine trees, the breeze carrying the scent of resin and cold lake water. The quiet between them wasn’t uncomfortable anymore, just delicate. 

They just kept walking, the distance between them shrinking without them even realizing, the air around them thickening with everything unspoken, and the aching possibility of something beginning again.

And in the days that followed, their meetings became a routine. They exchanged phone numbers almost awkwardly, like they were just a stranger to each other.

But after that, plans began to take shape naturally. Another walk, another coffee, another sweet, tentative conversation in a park bench where once lovers sat with ease.

They avoided calling them “dates,” but they were essentially dates— gentle and careful ones, tucked away from Seonwoo’s eyes. She made it clear, even without saying it outright, that she still wasn’t ready for him to meet Jaehyun.

And Jaehyun accepted it every time, no matter how deeply it hurt, because he understood that she was rejecting him out of the instinct of a mother who had spent years surviving on her own, protecting a fragile little world built with her bare hands.

Sometimes, when they sat by the lake and watched ducks skim across the icy surface, she would slowly let her walls lower one brick at a time.

“I’m not doubting you,” she told him one afternoon as they sat beneath a bare-limbed tree, “I’m just… scared.”

He nodded, eyes fixed on her profile. “I know.”

“I’ve been doing this alone for four years,” she continued, her voice trembling at the edges. “Every decision. Every mistake. Every night he was sick. Every worry. All alone. I can’t just let someone in and risk having everything break again.”

Jaehyun swallowed hard. “I’m not someone, you know?” he said quietly. “I’m.. I’m his dad.”

Her eyes flickered with emotion — guilt, fear, love she wasn’t ready to admit. “I know,” she whispered. “That’s what scares me.”

Her honesty gutted him.

He knew she wasn’t wrong or being dramatic, nor was she punishing him. She was terrified of losing the stability she fought for and letting Seonwoo love a man who might leave again.

And Jaehyun listened wordlessly, because he wanted to know every fear she carried so he could understand exactly what he needed to protect.

But at night, when he went back to his small guesthouse, that quiet understanding tore him open.

Some nights, he paced the small room like something wild. Other nights, he sat on the edge of his bed, hands in his hair, whispering to no one, “Please… please trust me…”

And some nights, when the ache sharpened into something unbearable, he cried because he had a son in this town— a living, breathing piece of him, and he wasn’t allowed to see him.

He cried because he missed four years he could never get back and because every instinct inside him screamed to run to Seonwoo, to hold him, to kiss the top of his head, to whisper “I love you” into his tiny shoulders.

But he stayed patiently still. Because if patience was the only way back into their world, he would give it. If silent longing was the price for their trust, he would pay it.

And he never once let her see the pain behind his smile.

Every time they met, he greeted her gently, and never missed to compliment her without going too far.

Listened to her talk about the little things Seonwoo did that week, from a drawing he made, a word he mispronounced, to silly jokes he told.

Jaehyun smiled through every detail, but each one felt like a knife twisted between his ribs. He tried not to show it and just be happy just hearing about his boy. But sometimes she would catch the way his eyes glistened, but she’d only look away, guilt burning in her chest, because she knew that keeping them apart hurt him more than he let on.

Still, she wasn’t ready. Not yet.

And he respected her timing. He only asked, gently, once in a while, “How do you feel about… everything? About us? About the possibility?”

She always answered honestly.

“I don’t know yet.” “I’m trying.” “Just give me a little more time.”

Her uncertainty hurts him, but he nods every time, the corners of his lips lifting in a sad, soft smile. “It’s okay,” he always said. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

He meant his word, even if he would spend the night crying quietly into his hands until he woke up with swollen eyes. Or on the afternoons, he walked past the school just to catch a glimpse of Seonwoo’s classmates, imagining which little silhouette might be his boy.

He stayed and waited, while loving them quietly from just a few streets away. Then, something happened on a quiet Thursday afternoon.

She had told Jaehyun she would be busy that day, so he didn’t go to the café or the bench, but his feet still led him toward the school district around dismissal time because he couldn’t help the way his heart pulled toward the places where his son existed.

He stayed in some random outdoor café across the main road, far enough not to be noticed, close enough to feel close to a life that wasn’t his yet.

He didn’t expect to see Seonwoo holding a little paper butterfly craft bouncing excitedly as he tugged her hand, and he definitely didn’t expect her to turn her head and see him standing there.

Their eyes met from across the street, but then, slowly, her expression softened in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time. Seonwoo tugged her coat, asking her something, and she bent down to answer him. When she straightened again, her gaze moved back to Jaehyun.

This time, she didn’t look away.

And for one terrifyingly hopeful second, Jaehyun thought to himself,

Is she bringing him to me? Is she ready?

She took a step forward, then another, while Seonwoo followed, happily swinging his hand, unaware of anything changing around him.

Jaehyun’s heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the sound of traffic. He stood still, breath caught in his throat, as she approached the crosswalk. Her eyes flickered to him with uncertainty but also open in a way they hadn’t been before.

He felt it was her fighting herself. A silent war inside her:

Should I? Should I not? Is it time? Will this hurt him? Will this hurt us?

When the traffic light turned green, she took one more step. While Jaehyun inhaled sharply and pressed a hand to his coat to steady himself, trying not to look too eager or desperate.

But then her shoulders tensed and her hand immediately tightened around Seonwoo’s small fingers.

And he watched how she shook her head before her feet stepped back from the crosswalk while she mouthed a silent “I’m sorry.”

Then she turned around and walked away with Seonwoo.

Jaehyun didn’t move for a long time. He stood there on the other side of the road, watching the small boy hop along the path, clutching his butterfly craft, while she guided him back to go home.

He didn’t blame her, but he felt something break inside him. He sank back onto the chair in the café where he was before, pressing both hands over his face as his breath trembled out of him.

“Not yet,” he whispered to himself.

Three days passed after the moment at the crosswalk where she almost introduced them, the moment her heart leaned forward and her fear yanked her violently back.

She felt her stomach twist with guilt the entire walk to the café they had planned to go. She arrived early this time, choosing a seat by the window. She ordered tea but didn’t drink it, tracing the rim of the cup with her fingertip as her thoughts spiraled. She kept replaying that moment at the crosswalk— the step she took forward, the fear that pulled her back, and the obvious hurt written on his face.

Jaehyun arrived a few minutes later. He smiled when he saw her, but she saw something different today. He looked more tired than yesterday.

“Hey,” he said gently and sat down slowly. He sat across from her, taking a moment in silence until the barista set down his cup of coffee in front of him.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

He offered her a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes while exhaling softly, “I’m fine.”

His voice lacked the usual steadiness. His shoulders drooped even more than the last time they walked around the city. And the way he kept pressing his thumb into the cup, like grounding himself, told her more than any words could.

“Jae…” she tried again, gentler this time. “What’s wrong?”

He stared at the surface of his untouched coffee, lips parting but no words coming. His throat bobbed once, twice, and his fingers tightened slightly around the cup.

He inhaled slowly, but the breath wavered on the way out. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

She blinked, confused. “For what?”

“I’m trying to be patient.” His voice cracked. “I really am.”

Her heart clenched.

“I don’t want to push you. Or overwhelm you. Or make you feel trapped. I promised I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t ever want you to feel cornered by me again.”

The word again cut straight through her.

He rubbed his thumb against the cup, still not looking at her. “But sometimes…” he swallowed hard, “…sometimes it hurts more than I know how to handle.”

His throat bobbed. “…I don’t know how to explain this without sounding selfish.”

“I see you, I get to talk to you, laugh with you, walk with you… And I’m grateful for every second. More than you know.” His voice trembled. “But then I go back to that room alone, and I keep thinking I have a son in this town. Right here. A boy I’ve never held. Never hugged. Never kissed goodnight.”

Her eyes filled instantly, and her fingers tightened around her cup.

“And I know it’s my fault too,” he said quickly, before she could form the thought. “I know I didn’t make it easy back then. I’m not angry about any of that. I understand why you left. I understand why you’re scared.”

“I wait because you need time. And I’ll keep waiting, no matter how long it takes. But some nights, I just…”

His voice broke completely. “…I just sit there and cry because I miss someone I’ve never even met.”

The air between them stilled.

She stared at him with painful clarity, truly seeing him this time, not just the man she once loved, but a father who had been starving for four years without knowing what he was missing until the moment he saw it standing on a sidewalk.

She made Jaehyun into a father grieving a child he was never allowed to hold.

A father who broke quietly because he had to be strong in front of her. A father hurting in a way she had never allowed herself to imagine. A man who had carried this pain alone, just like she had carried hers.

His eyes shimmered, but he blinked the tears back forcefully, refusing to let them fall in front of her. He let out a trembling breath and finally looked up.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” he whispered. “I’m not asking you to change your mind right now. I’m not asking you to hand him to me. I’m not demanding anything.”

“I just needed you to know,” he said, voice fragile but sincere. “That I’m hurting too. And that I’m trying my hardest to respect your pace even when it breaks my heart.”

She reached across the table before she even realized it,  her fingers brushing the back of his hand in the smallest, most fragile touch. 

Jaehyun froze when he felt her touch on his skin. He didn’t look away, didn’t breathe, didn’t even blink, as if the slightest movement might scare her off. She exhaled, steadying herself, and slid her palm fully over his.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know you were hurting that much.”

He swallowed, his lashes lowering as he absorbed her touch like something sacred. He looked down at their joined hands when fingers curled around his, then her thumb brushed the side of his hand once, almost shyly, before she stilled.

“I’m trying,” she whispered again. “I’m trying so hard to figure out what’s right.”

“I know.” His voice softened instantly, genuine and warm. He blinked away the tears that threatened to fall and gave her the smallest, saddest smile she had ever seen on him.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered. “I’ll wait.” Her breath trembled. The pet name felt like something she hadn’t realized she needed right now— it was a reminder of softness, of familiarity, of a love that never fully died.

He bowed his head slightly, unable to hide the emotion tightening his throat, because after everything, she was the one holding him.

After a few moments of silence, Jaehyun finally dared to close his fingers around hers. He tightened his hold slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to, but she didn’t. She didn’t move her hand away from his, and for a long moment, they sat like that, two people who once shared everything, now sharing a quiet heartbreak across a small café table.

The next week, they sat on the bench by the lake, the cold settling deep into the wood beneath them. She pulled her coat a little tighter, while he kept his hands in his pockets. For a moment, neither spoke.

Then she asked, almost cautiously, “How’s your life in Seoul? Are you really quitting?”

Jaehyun looked down, jaw tightening. When he finally spoke, the words were low and honest.

“I quit it all,” he said.

Her head snapped slightly in his direction. “All?”

“I was barely living after you left,” he admitted, voice steady but soft. “I couldn’t stay there anymore.”

A faint crease formed on her forehead. “What about the members?”

“They asked me to give them and the fans closure,” he said. “So I did. I stayed for one more year, then I ended everything and went looking for you.”

Her breath lodged in her throat. “Jae… you worked so hard for your career.”

“I had enough,” he murmured. “I just want to be with my little family.”

The phrase my little family made her heart twist painfully.

He continued, almost whispering, “The baby came unexpectedly, but still… You and the baby mattered the most to me.”

Her fingers curled on her lap. He looked at her then, openly, sincerely, without hesitation. “I would easily trade everything I have if that’s the only way to be with you and our baby.”

He wanted her to see the truth, that he wasn’t here on impulse, or out of guilt, or because he was lonely. He was here because he had made a decision a long time ago, and everything he did afterward was a consequence of that one decision.

He wanted her to understand that quitting wasn’t a sacrifice he regretted. He didn’t sit up at night wishing he could take it back. He walked away because it became impossible to live a life and get every achievement without a place to bring it home to. And because the thought of her carrying their child alone made the rest of the world feel meaningless.

He wanted her to know he had years to think about this. Years where every version of the future he imagined always ended with her and the baby. The need to find them, to make sure they were okay, to hope he still had a place beside them.

More than anything, he hoped she could see that he was a man who had lived four years thinking about nothing but how to be worthy of coming back.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I didn’t wake up one day and decide to find you,” he said. “It wasn’t a sudden… impulse. I planned things through,” Her jaw tightened, but she stayed silent.

“I started visiting the cities you mentioned before. The ones you liked or you said felt like home. I didn’t know where else to start.” He swallowed hard.

“After I quit, I traveled nonstop for three years,” he continued. “Every country I thought you might run to, I went. Every place you had ever pointed at on TV, every story you told about wanting to see something… I tried everything.” Her eyes blurred.

She bit her lip, feeling it tremble.

“At some point, I was losing myself,” he admitted quietly. “I barely ate, barely drank, I wasn’t taking care of myself at all. Until one day Doyoung called me because he saw a picture of me online and said I looked like shit. And he told me—” Jaehyun let out a weak laugh, “that if he were you, he wouldn’t trust a man who looked the way I did to start a family with.”

A soft, rueful chuckle escaped him. “He was right. I did look like shit.”

“So I stayed in Chicago… your first hometown, for a while to fix myself,” Jaehyun said. “To pull myself together. To look like someone you could still see as… yours. Someone you’d still want next to you.”

He exhaled slowly.

“But I never stopped. Not once. Because I kept thinking… you’re out there, somewhere, carrying our child alone. And I can’t live like nothing happened.”

“I just needed to know you were okay,” he whispered. “You and the baby. Even if you didn’t want me anymore. Even if you hated me.”

She shook her head quickly, tears gathering fast.

“I didn’t hate you,” she breathed. Jaehyun’s lips parted, but she spoke again before he could.

“I didn’t think you’d come. I thought eventually you’d give up looking.” He looked at her like the thought itself hurt him.

“I could never give up on you,” he said simply.

Silence slipped between them again, until Jaehyun’s voice lowered to something careful, almost afraid.

“Do you still love me?” he asked.

She froze.

The question didn’t surprise her. What surprised her was how gentle he sounded asking it, how careful he was with the words, as if he was afraid they’d bruise her on the way out. He wasn’t demanding an answer. He was just… asking. 

Although the answer lived in her chest is certain and undeniable, she hesitated, not because she doubted her feelings, but because she knew the weight her answer carried. Saying it meant opening a door she wasn’t sure she was ready to walk through.

But lying to him was impossible. Not after all this time, he had stood in front of her so honestly, so stripped of defenses.

So she lifted her gaze slowly, breathing out just once to steady herself before she let the truth spill out.

“Yes,” she said, barely above a breath.

“Then… It’s enough for me.”

Her answer alone steadied the ground beneath his feet. It told him he wasn’t walking into this alone. It told him he didn’t have to fear her rejecting him. It told him that whatever walls she built weren’t built to keep him out forever… just to protect herself until she was ready.

“That’s enough,” he repeated softly, almost to himself.

“I’ll wait,” he murmured. He smiled then, small and tender, a little sad around the edges but filled with something warm.

They walked back toward the school slowly, lingering a little longer at every turn as if neither wanted the moment to end too soon. When it was time to part ways, Jaehyun only squeezed her hand gently and whispered, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” before letting go.

Later that afternoon, after she picked up Seonwoo and walked him home, the weight of everything settled on her chest. She had confessed she still loved him. She had let him hold her hand. She had let him wait.

Now, she needed to know what Seonwoo felt. If his little heart was ready to let Jaehyun into their life, even just a little.

After all, this wasn’t only her story now— it was Seonwoo’s too.

Back home, the afternoon sun warmed the living room as Seonwoo sprawled on the carpet with his coloring book. She sat beside him, watching the steady movement of his small hands. Her heart kept beating too fast.

“Seonwoo, baby,” she began gently. “Do you remember the man we met in front of the school?”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, not looking up as he filled in the sky with blue crayon.

She hesitated to choose her words carefully, but left hook, right hook, Seonwoo cuts her first. “He’s Daddy… right, Mommy?”

“Yes, baby…” she exhaled. “He’s Daddy.”

Seonwoo paused his coloring. His voice softened. “Mommy, why did Daddy leave so fast? Does he hate me?”

The question stabbed right through her.

“No, baby,” she rushed to say, pulling him closer. “No, Daddy doesn’t hate you. He just had to rush, so he didn’t get to greet you properly.”

“Oh…” he nodded slowly. “I thought he hated me.”

His innocence crushed her. Her eyes burned with tears she couldn’t let fall. She brushed his hair gently. “Baby… why didn’t you ask Mommy anything about Daddy? It was your first time seeing him.”

“Because Mommy looked sad,” he said simply. “Did you fight with Daddy?”

She swallowed. “No, baby… Mommy was just surprised Daddy came without telling Mommy first.”

He nodded like he understood.

She took a breath. “Baby… are you okay if Daddy stays here? But maybe…” her voice softened painfully, “maybe Daddy will have to leave for work sometimes, like now. Will you be okay with that?”

It was a test. What if Jaehyun leaves again? How do I protect him?

Seonwoo blinked up at her, thoughtful in that rare, serious way only he could manage. “I want to meet Daddy,” he said honestly. “But it’s okay if Daddy works far away.”

God, he was too smart for his age.

Then he asked, “Is Daddy coming, Mommy?”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

Seonwoo’s reaction was instant. He jumped to his feet, eyes sparkling, voice squealing, “Really? I get to see Daddy??”

She laughed, half relieved, half emotional, then she pulled him into a tight hug. “Yes, baby. You get to see Daddy.”

He hugged her back with all his little strength. “When? When will Daddy come?”

“Tomorrow,” she told him, smoothing his hair. “Daddy will pick you up from school.”

Somehow, saying it out loud settled something inside her.

Seeing Seonwoo so bright, so excited, so ready… it made her heart quieter, calmer, even hopeful.

Maybe this was okay.

And if one day he changed his mind… she would deal with that future herself. All she needed was his commitment to be Seonwoo’s father.

She looked at her son again. “Baby… how did you know it was Daddy? You’ve never seen him before.”

Seonwoo shrugged. “He just looked like me.”

She laughed through a breathy exhale, shaking her head.

“Yeah… he does, doesn’t he?” And for the rest of the afternoon, she let him talk.

They sat together on the carpet, coloring side by side as he rambled about Daddy— how tall he was, how nice he seemed, how he smiled, how he waved, how “Daddy looks like a superman,” and how he wanted to show Daddy all his toys tomorrow.

She listened, smiling, heart aching, and full all at once.

For the first time since Seonwoo was born, she wasn’t imagining a father for him.

That night, after tucking Seonwoo into bed and brushing his hair off his forehead the way he liked, she walked quietly into her room. She sat on the edge of her bed for a long moment, fingers twisting together, her phone cold in her palm. Her heart beat too fast. She took a slow breath and pressed his number.

Jaehyun answered before the second ring.

“Hello?” His voice was gentle, almost cautious.

“Jae…” she said softly. Jaehyun sat up abruptly from where he had been lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah? I’m here.”

She hesitated, tucking her knees to her chest. “How about we just meet at the café tomorrow?”

“Okay…” But the next second, his voice tightened with worry. “Baby, did something happen? Are you okay?”

She shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. “No, I just… want to go to the café instead.”

“Okay, baby,” he murmured. His tone softened into something almost relieved. “Tomorrow, at the café.”

She nodded. “Mm. Tomorrow, 9 a.m.”

There was a silence, but Jaehyun broke it first. “Goodnight,” he whispered.

She smiled at her knees, cheeks warming. “Goodnight, Jae.”

She ended the call and let the phone fall gently onto the bed beside her, and for a long moment, she just sat there, staring at her hands, feeling her pulse everywhere, in her throat, in her fingertips, in her ribs.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Jaehyun would meet Seonwoo properly.

The thought alone made her chest full with excitement and fear tangled together. She lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling as her breath wavered.

She wanted this, but she was terrified of this.

She wanted Jaehyun to finally be happy after everything she put him through. She wanted him to be the father he deserved to be, and most of all, she wanted Seonwoo to know he wasn’t abandoned, wasn’t unloved, wasn’t unwanted. She didn’t want to be cruel to Seonwoo, to Jaehyun, not anymore.

She had been selfish once. She realized running away, deciding everything alone, choosing fear over trust, was already cruel, both to her and the baby inside her womb and Jaehyun. For the last 4 years, she carried that guilt every day, knowing she’d raised a fatherless boy not because he didn’t have a father, but because she had taken that choice from both of them.

But now… after spending time with Jaehyun again, after hearing his truth, after seeing him look at her with the same sincerity she thought she’d lost forever… she’s started to trust him, maybe not fully yet, but enough to know he wouldn’t abandon Seonwoo, and that Jaehyun would be faithful to them. She chooses to believe when he said that he came here not on impulse, not on guilt, but because he truly wanted to stay.

And she wanted him here, too.

If things fell apart… and if her trust shattered again…, because maybe… one day Jaehyun woke up and decided he couldn’t live this quiet life with them— she could still ask him to stay in Seonwoo’s life. Co-parent, visit, be there as his father, even if he couldn’t be by her side.

But deep down, beneath the fear and the caution and the years of loneliness, she believed Jaehyun would be an amazing father. A steady partner. A lifelong presence. Which was actually what she wanted and needed the most, that, if she was brave enough to admit it.

She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, letting the warmth of that hope settle into her bones.

The words felt strange, surreal— introduce him to his own son— but that was their reality.

She wasn’t sure how it would go, but for the first time since Seonwoo was born, she was willing to try.

For Seonwoo, for Jaehyun, and for herself. For their little family.

credit: divider by @viviansturns

Johnny stood at her door, a pistachio latte in one hand and a paper bag of fresh pastries in the other, his heart racing with anticipation. He’d woken up that morning with no schedule, no responsibilities, just the cheeky plan to surprise his girlfriend and play a good boyfriend to her. He knocked gently, his tall frame leaning casually against the doorframe, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

When the door swung open, there was his angel, already dressed for work in a slim-fitted shirt that hugged her curves perfectly, paired with wide-leg trousers that swayed elegantly with her movements. Her hair was styled flawlessly, her makeup on point, highlighting the sparkle in her eyes that always made his heart skip a beat. She looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine, and Johnny couldn’t help but drink her in.

“Good morning, my angel,” he said, his voice low and warm, dripping with affection. She beamed, her eyes lighting up as she leaned forward to plant a quick, soft peck on his lips.

“Why are you here?!” she squealed, her excitement bubbling over as she snatched the latte and pastry bag from his hands, then she threw her arms around him, the latte and pastries still clutched in her hands as she hugged him tightly, peppering his cheek with playful kisses. Her lips were soft, warm, and every time she planted a kiss, there’s little traces of her lip gloss on his skin. Johnny laughed, the sound deep and genuine, his chest vibrating against her as he wrapped his arms around her waist to bring her closer.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her hair as he inhaled her familiar scent. Work had kept them apart for weeks, quick meals and late-night calls barely enough to ease his longings. Seeing her now, so vibrant and full of life, made his heart feel full.

“I missed you too,” she whispered, nuzzling into his neck, her breath warm against his skin as she breathed him in. His cologne, which she told him a thousand times she likes, and a thousand times he sprays because she likes it— wrapped around her like a comforting embrace.

“Your latte, be careful,” he teased, his tone gentle but firm as he guided her out of the hug, his large hands steadying her. He led her to the kitchen like it was his own, his long legs moving with easy confidence as he set the pastries on the counter. She trailed behind him, her smile so wide it hurt, her eyes glued to his broad shoulders and the way his dark grey coat hugged his frame. God! her handsome boyfriend is finally here.

“I was thinking of driving you to work, picking you up, and then taking you to your favorite place for dinner,” he said casually, tossing her a grin over his shoulder as he rummaged through her fridge for her morning Greek yogurt like it was second nature.

“Don’t you have schedules?” she asked, leaning against the counter, her voice tinged with hope as she watched him move with that effortless grace.

“I’m totally free,” he replied, closing the fridge and turning to face her, yogurt in hand. But before he could take a step, her smaller frame was already closing in, her hands reaching out to cage him against the fridge. She stood on her tiptoes, her eyes sparkling with mischief and adoration as she looked up at him, her lips curled into a grin that made his heart melt. She’s absolutely adorable.

“You’re really free today?” she asked, her voice soft but brimming with excitement, her gaze locked on his deep hazel colored eyes; the ones that had captured her heart, even more when the sunlight hit those beautiful eyes.

“Yes, baby,” he said, his voice low and indulgent, a fond smile spreading across his face. She was so cute like this, her smaller figure trying so desperately to pin his much taller, broader frame. It was adorable, the way she thought she could overpower him, but he let her be.

She squealed, a high-pitched sound of pure joy, and cupped his jaw, pulling him down into a kiss. Her lips crashed against his with a hint of hunger, the initial squeal melting into a soft moan as their mouths moved together. Johnny chuckled into the kiss, his free hand dropping the yogurt onto the counter so he could grip her waist, because she likes to be held there, and the other hand to cup her cheek, his favorite place to hold her. His long fingers splayed across her lower back, pulling her flush against him as she tiptoed higher, desperate to close the height gap.

Their kiss was electric. It was deep, passionate, and just a little cheeky. Her lips were soft and plush, tasting faintly of pistachio from the latte she’d sipped, and Johnny couldn’t get enough. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, his tongue teasing hers in a slow dance that sent heat pooling in her stomach. She responded eagerly, her tongue flicking against his, playful but daring, a silent challenge to keep up with her. Her hands slid from his jaw to his neck, fingers tangling in the soft hair at his nape, tugging gently to keep him close, and sometimes just rubbing soft circles there; because he likes it.

Johnny’s hands tightened on her waist, lifting her slightly to ease the strain of her tiptoes, his thumbs brushing the bare skin where her shirt had ridden up. The contact invites a squeal out of her, and she pressed herself closer, her body molding against his. She was so small against him, her delicate frame almost swallowed by his broader one, and it drove him wild how she fit so perfectly in his arms— although almost a bit too small, and how her bold cheekiness contrasted with her petite size, and even though he know he could lift her with one arm if he wanted to, he let her have him the way she likes. He loved it, loved her, every single inch of her fiery, adorable self.

But then her hips rolling subtly against his, a naughty little grind that made his breath hitch. He pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his forehead resting against hers as he caught her in the act. “You’re being naughty,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes were dark with want.

She grinned, eyes starting to get hazy from all the kiss and his touches, and her lips swollen and glistening from their kiss.

“C’mon, it’s 8:30. You’re gonna be late for work,” he said, his hands still on her waist, trying to gently push her back, but his heart wasn’t in it. Not when she was looking at him like that, all mischief and love.

“We’re not going anywhere today,” she declared, her voice firm but playful as she leaned in again, peppering his lips with wet, teasing pecks. Her lips brushed against his over and over, each kiss louder and messier than the last, her hands sliding down to grip his coat as she tried to keep him pinned.

“Baby~” Johnny started, but his protest was weak, a sweet smile spreading across his face as he tilted his head away, letting her kisses land on his cheek instead. He was enjoying this far too much, from the way she was taking charge to her smaller body pressing against his like she could actually hold him down. It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen, and his heart felt like it might burst with how much he adored her.

“Let me have you all day today,” she whispered, her voice dropping into a seductive plea as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear. Johnny chuckled while dipping his head to press a soft peck to her lips as his hands caressed her waist, his thumbs tracing lazy circles against her skin.

“What about your work?” he asked, his tone laced with concern but also amusement, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation.

“I’m calling in sick,” she said with a cheeky grin, and that was all it took. Johnny’s smile widened, his heart swelling with adoration as he let her she pushed him back against the fridge, her small hands intertwining his big hand so he couldn’t move much, pinning his much larger frame with a determination that made him weak. He didn’t resist— because how could he? She was too cute, too perfect, her sparkling eyes and mischievous smile undoing him completely.

Their lips met again, and this time, she was in charge. Her kiss was hungry, playful, and dripping with sexual innuendo as she pressed herself against him, her body flush against his. She tiptoed again, her hands sliding up to grip his shoulders, and Johnny helped her, his strong hands lifting her slightly so she could reach him better. Her lips moved expertly, sucking gently on his lower lip before releasing it with a soft pop, only to dive back in, her tongue teasing his in sensually. She nipped at his lip, a playful bite that made him groan softly, his hands tightening on her waist as he pulled her closer.

Johnny tilts his head to give her better access to his lips as she kissed him deeper, her tongue exploring his mouth with a boldness that sent heat coursing through him. Her hands roamed his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. She was so small, so delicate, yet so fierce in her desire, and it drove him absolutely wild.

His hands slid lower, resting just above her hips, his fingers digging in slightly as he steadied her against him. He kissed her back with equal fervor, his tongue teasing hers accompanied with a low hum vibrating in his throat as he savored her taste. She moaned softly into his mouth, the sound sending a shiver down his spine, and he couldn’t help but smile against her lips. God, she was perfect… his perfect, naughty little angel.

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his voice thick with adoration as he pulled back just enough to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and red, and her eyes were bright with love and mischief. “You’re so damn cute when you try to take charge.”

She giggled, her hands still gripping his coat as she leaned in for another kiss, slower this time, savoring every second. “And you’re so damn adorable when you let me,” she teased, her voice breathy as she nipped at his lip again.

Johnny chuckled, his hands sliding up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks as he kissed her deeply, pouring every ounce of love he felt into it. They kissed and kissed, lost in each other, work, schedules, responsibilities— none of it mattered. All that mattered was her, his beautiful, fiery girlfriend, and the day they were about to steal together.

“Guess we’re staying in,” he murmured against her lips, his voice warm and full of promise as he lifted her onto the counter, her legs wrapping around his waist as their kisses grew even hungrier.

“Mm-hm,” she whispered, her hands tugging at his hair as she pulled him closer, ready to make the most love of every second they got to spend today.

Airports were just checkpoints now. Nothing more. Jaehyun went from one to another, barely sleeping, barely eating. Every arrival felt the same. Every departure felt heavier. He had stopped counting the flights. The miles. The hours. The number of times he thought he saw her everywhere he went, he looked for traces of her. A familiar face in a crowd, a voice that might’ve been hers, a figure similar to hers. But it was never her.

He had lost so much weight. His face had thinned, and his sparkling eyes were now gone dimmer. Even his voice, which once was smooth and warm, had gone quiet, roughened by sleepless nights and words he never got to say.

He went everywhere she had ever wanted to go.

Paris, because she said she wanted to see the cherry blossoms along the Seine; Florence, for the buildings looked like something out of a dream; Kyoto, with its peaceful the temple she’s seen on TV.

He sat by rivers she’d have loved, walked through markets she’d have found beautiful, ordered specifically just decaffeinated coffee the way she did just to feel closer to her. But no matter how far he went, she was never there.

As months turned into years, frustration grew. What if he had been there, but just the wrong city, the wrong corner, the wrong time? The questions dug into him with every flight, every check-in. So he kept moving, circling the same countries, the same airports, again and again, as if the universe might give her back if he searched hard enough.

The questions wouldn’t stop. They dug into him with every flight he boarded, every hotel he checked into. So he kept moving, he returned to the same countries, the same airports, landing in different cities, different seasons, over… and over… and over again— as if he searched hard enough, the universe might give her back.

He woke every morning before dawn, no matter the city. He’d walk without direction until his feet gave out. Then he’d collapse on a foreign bed, scrolling through old photos of her just to see her laughter, her beautiful eyes, the way she used to look at him like he was the whole world, replaying videos of her that he took at the happiest, prettiest, and silliest moments they shared. He’d replay her videos until the sound of her voice became unbearable. Some nights, he’d even text her, knowing the chat room was empty and that she’d never see his words. It was the only way to pretend she still existed somewhere near him.

Jaehyun had stopped taking care of himself long ago. He barely ate, barely drank, barely slept. His body only ran on the minimum; just enough water and food to keep his eyes open, just enough strength in his legs to keep searching for her.

The mirrors in his hotel bathroom had long been ignored; his reflection was now just a stranger with hollow cheeks and tired eyes. Jaehyun, a man who was once adored for his calm charm and effortless elegance, had faded into someone the world could barely recognize.

In his first year of Jaehyun: the explorer, he always smiled at the strangers who found him by accident in airports, at cafés, or along foreign streets. He would take pictures, bow politely, and even exchange a few words, and act like he was fine and not shattered inside. There was still a trace of warmth then. Still a ghost of the Jaehyun they remembered.

But as time goes on, Jaehyun doesn’t smile as easily anymore. He even hides when he notices someone is staring at him; he doesn’t have the strength to pretend to be okay anymore. But the fans still talk about him, not at all meaning to be harmful; they’re just concerned about how he looks these days.

Pictures, videos, eyewitness accounts— each one painting a grimmer portrait of a man with no happiness left in his body. Then one day, the photos surfaced on fan forums, and the members saw them too. Doyoung was the first to call.

It took thirty-six missed calls before Jaehyun finally picked up.

“Hi, what?” Jaehyun answered the phone flatly. He wanted to ignore it, but guilt tugged faintly at his chest. Doyoung didn’t deserve just silence after trying so many times. So he picked up.

“Hi, Jae. What have you been up to?” Doyoung asked. His tone was light, but the hesitation and concern laced through every word.

Jaehyun blinked at the ceiling. “What do you want to talk about?” he replied curtly, knowing exactly where this was going. Doyoung never called just to chat anymore. None of them did.

“You look… concerning.”

“How do you know how I look?” Jaehyun asked, a trace of dry humor in his voice.

“The fans still got updates of you, you know? Once in a while, a fan catches you with your iconic backpack, and you really look bad,” Doyoung explained.

Right. The fans. They were still out there, following his trail like breadcrumbs scattered across the globe.

“Jaehyun, I’m serious,” Doyoung said softly, voice trembling a little now.

“We talk about you every day. Taeyong still checks your tagged photos. Yuta tried flying out last month to find you in Vienna. You disappeared before he landed.” Jaehyun’s lips parted, but no words came. The sound of the airport announcement filled the silence between them, another boarding call, another place he wasn’t meant to go but would anyway.

“And what if she doesn’t want to be found?” Doyoung’s words cut sharper than intended, and Jaehyun flinched. Doyoung immediately regretted it, his breath shaky on the other end. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just-”

“No. Don’t start anything if you’re just going to tell me to stop.” Jaehyun’s tone sharpened. He had heard it all before — the pleas, the gentle reasoning, the firm interventions. His members had been calling in turns for months, begging him to come back to Korea, to rest, to just let go. They offered to go with him, to travel by his side if he refused to stop. But he didn’t want them to see him like this.. desperate, half-alive, clinging to a ghost.

Doyoung sighed, a sound full of exhaustion and helpless affection. “Eat well, Jae… take care of yourself.”

“I’m doing fine myself,” Jaehyun brushed it off.

“You’re not. Do you even look at yourself?” Doyoung asked rhetorically, but Jaehyun didn’t respond. His eyes drifted to the window again, to the sun burning faintly through the sheer curtains.

“What would she think if, when you find her, and she saw you looking like a shit?” Doyoung challenged.

That one stung. His mind flickered for a moment; to the way she used to scold him gently for skipping meals, the way she’d smooth his hair and say, “You’re no good to anyone if you’re running on empty, Jae.”

He swallowed. “I don’t look like shit.”

“If I were a woman, I wouldn’t trust a man looking like the state of you right now to start a family with.”

“That’s hurt." There was a pause, just his breathing and static.

“She won’t even start a family with me when I had millions saying I was handsome,” Jaehyun muttered, half mocking himself, half pitying.

Doyoung rolled his eyes, the sound of it almost audible through the phone. “You said it yourself.”

“Seriously, Jae, take care of yourself. We won’t ask you to come back.. just stay healthy, take care of yourself.”

At some point during Doyoung’s quiet rambling, Jaehyun’s patience faltered. He turned off the phone, tossed it somewhere on the table in front of him, and rubbed his face in frustration.

He had booked the flight two days ago after finding one of her old notes tucked inside a travel journal she had left at his place. In that note, she had a picture of little her, mom, and dad in front of a classic American house, with a caption: “Home.”

He remembered her stories about walking to school on snowy mornings, clutching a thermos of hot chocolate her mom made. How she’d count the pumpkins that appeared on porches every October, and how she loved the sound of leaves crunching under her shoes.

“Chicago’s cold,” she’d said once, smiling at the memory, “but the people are warm. It may be just a city but it was home to me.”

Back then, he didn’t think much of it. He had only smiled, tracing his fingers through her hair as she talked, listening to her like he’d have all the time in the world to ask again later. But “later” never came.

He stayed like that for a while, elbows on his knees, head hanging low, until the soft airport announcement pulled him back to the present. The voice echoed through the near-empty waiting area, calling passengers for boarding. He glanced at the digital screen above the gate, where he found it was his boarding time.

Jaehyun stood up, slung his worn backpack over his shoulder, and walked toward the plane. The hum of conversation around him was faint, muffled under the sound of his own thoughts. The flight was long. He didn’t eat. He didn’t sleep. Just sat there, eyes half-open, remembering the way she described the city lights of Chicago until the plane finally touched down.

When he stepped off the plane, he was immediately met with the sharp chill of late October air seeping through the terminal doors. The airport was already dressed for Halloween with fake cobwebs stretched across storefronts, pumpkins lined along the baggage claim exit, and people in costumes coming and going, their laughter echoing down the hall.

He hailed a cab outside, slipping quietly into the back seat. The driver tried to make small talk, asking if he was in town for the festivities. Jaehyun only smiled faintly, eyes fixed on the blur of city lights outside.

“No,” he murmured. “Just visiting someone.”

The cab ride was quiet until they reached his hotel in the city center. He checked in, nodded to the receptionist, and took the elevator up to his room. The moment he stepped in, he let his bag drop onto the carpeted floor and sank onto the edge of the window. For a long minute, he just sat there, staring at nothing.

The city is loud with people celebrating Halloween night; the street is filled with spooky decorations, not at all scary to him, because the horror is the life he’s living right now, that’s for sure.

As he had spent any other night in agony, Jaehyun sat on the cold floor at the edge of his bed, his back slumped against the mattress, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he scrolled through their memories on his phone, trying to relive the Halloween night they spent together. The soft glow of the screen illuminated his face, reflecting the warmth of a video where her laughter rang and her beautiful eyes crinkled with joy as they tried on their silly Halloween costume.

His fingers lingered on the play button, replaying the moment, and for a second, he felt her presence beside him, her voice a gentle echo in his mind. He chuckled softly, tracing the edge of the phone with his thumb, lost in the nostalgia of happier days.

But as he swiped to the next video of her whispering sweet nothings during a quiet night under the stars at the park where it was their secret agit— his smile faltered.

“I wish we always stayed this gentle.”

His chest tightened as the first tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, but more followed. Then his shoulders began to hunch, his body curling inward as the weight of her absence settled deeper. He watched another clip of her kissing his forehead, and the tears came faster, streaking down his reddened face.

Then the dam broke. A shudder ripped through him, his body trembling violently as the pain of longing surged like a tidal wave. His back arched slightly off the bed, then slumped again as a guttural wail tore from his throat, raw and strained, scraping against the walls of his chest. 

"Baby… where are you…?" he cried, his voice cracking, softening into a desperate, broken whisper. His head tilted back, resting against the mattress, eyes squeezed shut as tears streamed. His hands shook, one gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles whitened, the other pressing against his chest as if to hold his fracturing heart together.

"My baby…" he sobbed, his body rocking forward now, hugging his legs as if he was hugging her body. The shuddering intensified, his shoulders jerking with each ragged breath. His face, flushed a deep crimson from the overwhelming agony, his lips trembling, jaw clenching, and then he couldn’t help but release another wail.

"Baby, please come back… Baby, please…" The pleas spilled out, softening into a hoarse murmur as he rocked back and forth, his fingers digging into his scalp, tousling his dark hair into a chaotic mess.

He cries harder than any other night until the imagination of her figure materializes beside him, her arms sliding around his trembling frame, her voice soothing, "I’m here, I’ll stay." The delusion was so vivid, he cried harder and harder until his body convulsed with sobs, his legs drawing up as he curled into a tight ball on the floor, the phone slipping to the ground with a soft thud. Tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt, his throat burning with every strained cry, his face a map of grief with swollen eyes and a quivering mouth.

"Baby…" he whimpered, his voice barely a thread now, his head resting on the floor, while the phantom touch of her lingered on his skin— a ghost of her fingers brushing his cheek until his eyelids grew heavy, exhaustion seeping into his bones. His breathing slowed, shallow and uneven, his hands falling limp at his sides, one still twitching as if reaching for her. The room grew silent save for the occasional hitch in his breath, and he cried himself into a deep, tear-soaked sleep.

The morning light felt cruel as he felt the sun was shining bright on his face because he forgot to draw the curtain last night, and then the memory of her caressing his skin replayed in his mind. He pressed his hand against his chest, where he swore he could still feel her touch.

At first, he thought it was just exhaustion from long days, the empty nights, and the endless walking were catching up to him.

Those nights repeated.

Sometimes he’d wake to the faint scent of her perfume. Other times, he’d swear he felt the mattress dip beside him. He told himself it was nothing, just tricks of grief, but each night, she came back a little clearer.

Her ‘presence’ comforted him because in those fleeting illusions, he could breathe without breaking. even though the warmth is always gone after the sun has risen. Still, he welcomed it— night after night… because even an illusion of her was better than nothing.

Sometimes, he’d wake in the middle of the night, the air thick with her perfume, smelling like a faint sweet floral scent that used to linger on his shirts. Other times, he’d feel the mattress dip beside him, as if someone had just sat down. He’d freeze, breath held, waiting, hoping, and when nothing followed, he’d roll over, convincing himself it was just a dream.

Her voice, soft and melodic, was whispering his name from the corner of the room. The sound of her laugh, faint but familiar, echoed through the hallway when no one was there. A gentle featherlight touch at the back of his neck sent shivers down his spine.

He tried to tell himself it was nothing. Just tricks of the mind. The way grief rewired you made you see and hear what you wanted most.

But each time, it grew stronger. More vivid. More real.

Jaehyun began to dread sleep because every time he closed his eyes, she came back. He’d reach for her, but his hands would pass through air. And when he woke, his pillow would be wet with tears he didn’t remember shedding.

He thought he must’ve cried himself to sleep more often now. And when mornings come, his head pounds and his stomach feels uncomfortable, even after a sip of water.

His hands began to tremble more often. His vision blurred when he stood too quickly. Sometimes the world tilted, and he’d grip the nearest wall to steady himself.

It became his melatonin. Her ghost would cradle him into half-dreams, her whispers quieting the noise in his chest, until exhaustion finally dragged him under. 

Jaehyun knew these vivid dreams of hers were dangerous; the line between memory and madness was thinning with every sleepless dawn— was doing to him, he wasn’t lost enough to believe it forever. He was lucid in his grief. He knew how easily comfort could turn into ruin. That these visions, sweet as they seemed, could one day pull him so far in that he might not return. 

Somewhere, buried deep in his mind realizes that he must survive her absence, even if he never stopped missing her.

Shit. I really start to lose my mind.

He knew what was happening. He wasn’t stupid. His body was screaming, shutting down, but he couldn’t stop.

He dragged a hand down his face, staring blankly at the sunlight spilling across the room. The hallucinations had started as comfort, something small and merciful to soothe his misery away. But now… now they scared him.

Jaehyun pressed his palms against his eyes until colors bloomed behind his lids. His breath came shallow, uneven.

Jaehyun sat up slowly, his head throbbing. He dragged himself to the bathroom, feet heavy, and turned on the light. The reflection that stared back at him almost made him recoil.

His skin was dull, pale under the harsh bathroom lamp glow. His lips were dry, cracked from neglect. His hair stuck out in uneven tufts, and faint stubble shadowed his jawline, the beginnings of a mustache barely visible. His eyes are ringed with dark circles, hollowed by sleepless nights.

He leaned closer to the mirror, studying his face as if he were looking at a stranger.

Doyoung’s voice echoed in his head.

“What would she think if, when you find her, and she saw you looking like shit?”

He swallowed hard.

“If I were a woman, I wouldn’t trust a man looking like the state of you right now to start a family with.”

His fingers trace the lines of his face that had grown harsher. He remembered how she used to cup his cheeks and tease, “You’re too pretty for your own good, you know that?” And he’d grin, pretending to agree, while secretly hoping she’d keep saying it.

Now, the only thing that stared back at him was the ghost of that man— maybe still pretty, but buried under the weight of grief of losing his woman and child.

Jaehyun inhaled deeply and turned on the tap. The cold water splashed against his skin, shocking him awake. He reached for his razor, dragging it on his skin until the thin mustache disappeared, revealing a clean jawline beneath.

When he finished, he wiped his face with a towel, staring again at his reflection. Still tired and lost. But… a little less ghostly.

He put on an old hoodie, a cap, a mask, and stepped outside. The air was crisp, sharp with the smell of roasted coffee from a nearby café. For the first time in months, he didn’t walk aimlessly; he had a mission to be pretty now.

He stands in front of a beauty and pharmacy store. The bright fluorescent lights, the rows of skincare bottles, and the soft scent of lotion felt oddly foreign to him now, when a few years back, skincare and even makeup were something he got and did every day. He hesitated at the entrance, hands shoved deep into his pockets, before finally stepping in.

He wandered through the aisles, eyes scanning the labels. Moisturizer. Toner. Sunscreen. Lip balm. Things she used to remind him to use. He picked up the same brand she used to buy, or something close enough to it. He didn’t really know anymore. The act itself felt like an apology, like a small promise to be better, for her, and for their baby.

Outside, the chill nipped at his skin. He stopped by a small grocery next door and bought real food. Rice, fruits, some roasted chicken, and vegetables. It wasn’t much, but it was something more than airport snacks and instant noodles.

Back in his hotel room, he unpacked the skincare, the groceries, lined them neatly by the bathroom sink. It felt ridiculous, but he knew he had to do it.

He washed his face again, this time slower, gentler, feeling the cool water run over his hands, his cheeks, his neck. He moisturized, brushed his hair, and trimmed the edges of his fringe. When he looked back in the mirror, the change was subtle, but it was there.

“I’ll look pretty for you,” he whispered, voice barely audible. He stared at his reflection, eyes tracing the faint curve of his jaw, the line of his mouth, the softness that had been swallowed by time and grief.

He wanted her to see him the way she used to… through eyes that lit up whenever they met his.

She always had a way of making him feel seen. He remembered the way she’d grin and grab his face after a kiss, giggling, “God, you’re so pretty, it’s unfair.”

How she’d press her lips to his cheek when the cute aggression hit, squeezing him tight until he laughed, muffling a playful protest against her palms. Sometimes she’d just stare at him for no reason, brushing her thumb along his jaw before whispering, “You don’t even know how much I love looking at you.”

He wanted that again. That gaze, warmth, wordless adoration that made him feel like the most beautiful version of himself. Because she always makes sure that he feels loved and worthy of being loved.

She used to fix his hair when he was too lazy to, the way she’d tap his nose and say, “Pretty boys shouldn’t look sloppy.” She’d tease him, but her eyes always softened after, full of fondness.

And when they kissed— slow and gentle, how she liked it,  she’d pull back just enough to whisper against his lips, “Your lips look prettier after I kiss them.”

Now, as he stared at his reflection, Jaehyun realized how much he missed feeling like he was someone she could be proud of.

He wanted to be that man again, not the one who wandered aimlessly through airports and streets in foreign lands, but the one she could hold onto like home.

So he promised himself to start again carefully. To look right, to look like someone who could stand beside her without shame. Someone who looked steady, warm, and capable. Someone she could trust to be a father.

He pictured her holding their child, how cute and radiant they must’ve been, taking all of the best features of him and her. And he thought, She wouldn’t want someone like this. Not the man I’ve become. Not with hollow eyes and trembling hands.

She’d want someone healthy. Someone who smiled. Someone who could hold her hand and make her feel safe. So Jaehyun straightened his posture in front of the mirror, combed his hair back with deliberate care, wiped the steam from the glass, and looked himself in the eyes.

Jaehyun stayed longer in Chicago. Longer than he’d stayed anywhere in years.

He stayed to visit every each of places she’d talked about, walk her streets she mentions, and search for any traces of her through people that might know her. He stayed until the sharp air of autumn turns harsher wind of winter.

Every morning, he woke up with that vow to be better planted in his mind first thing in the morning. He’d pull the curtains open, let the sunlight spill in even when it hurt his eyes. He’d take a shower, go jogging, and eat a proper meal before he goes to his rendezvous to search for his long-lost lover.

For the first time in a long while, Jaehyun almost looked for the version of himself she used to love, although still far from it. The more he stared into the mirror, he could see and imagine the barest outline of the man he used to be, and it made something inside him stir.

He wanted more of it.

So he kept at it. At first, the changes were small, almost tentative, but he put his best effort into whatever he took to be pretty for her. He washed his face every morning, letting the cold water wake him properly. He shaved before the stubble could turn into neglect. He brushed his hair until it fell neatly again, the way she used to run her fingers through it, humming absentmindedly while telling him how beautiful his thick hair is.

He started to really eat, not just enough to survive, but to feel human again. Real food. Warm meals. Fruit that wasn’t bought out of pity for the old lady. The first few bites were difficult; his body resisted, unfamiliar with being cared for. But he forced himself to because how could he ever face her again, looking like he hadn’t tried to live without her?

He used the moisturizer she once bought for him, massaging it into his skin the way she did. He’d trace his fingers down his jawline, remembering how she used to pepper her soft kisses there just to say, “Sharp edges look good on you, but i like you a little round.”

There were days he almost quit. Days when his reflection mocked him for how dead he looked. But he’d push through, haunted by one thought that terrified him more than anything else: What if she saw him like this?

The image alone made his stomach twist. Her standing there, the softness of her eyes dimming into pity or disgust… or worse, sorrow. He could imagine the way her smile would falter if she saw what he’d become. That, more than disgust, frightened him. He couldn’t bear the thought of being the reason she looked sad, not when she had gone through everything by herself and promised him that she would be fine in that one goddamn letter.

If she could somehow see him now, he wanted her to see a man who didn’t waste the life she had to leave behind. A man who lived enough for all three of them. And he wanted her to see him and think he was still beautiful. Still capable of love. Still, the man she once called her man.

Someone she could still be proud of, a husband she could have loved longer, a father their child could have one day looked up to.

So he began to style his hair the way she liked, intentionally leaving it a little messy because she likes how the way it makes his hair look fluffy. He cleaned his nails, trimmed them properly, and ironed his clothes. Each act became a quiet devotion to her memory.

Sometimes, as he buttoned a shirt or brushed his fringe away from his forehead, he’d imagine her voice again, that teasing, tender, proud voice that always keeps him going. “There’s my pretty love. Always so handsome.” And in that echo, he found purpose.

He began to walk differently, too. Slower, steadier. Not like a ghost wandering through airports, but like someone who might have a destination again. The world around him still hurt, but it didn’t blur as much anymore.

Every glass that’s dark enough to cast a reflection became a test. He’d glance at himself and wonder, if she saw me now, would she still smile? Would she still touch my face like she used to? Would she still call me pretty?

He didn’t know the answer. But he wanted to earn it.

And so, Jaehyun kept going. Washing. Eating. Sleeping before midnight when he could. Relearning the rhythms of being alive. He was rebuilding himself into someone who might someday stand in front of her again and be worthy to be by her side.

On the other side of the world, she went through her days quietly, carefully, as if learning how to reboot her life.

The day she arrived, Mr. Yoon was waiting for her at the airport. He greeted her with a small, reassuring smile, handed her the house keys, and drove her through the winding roads that led to what would now be her home.

The house stood at the edge of a small village, the kind that seemed untouched by time. It wasn’t grand like the word mansion suggested, but it carried the kind of warmth that only homes built for family dreams could hold. 

The essentials were already there: clean sheets, stocked cupboards, a vase of fresh flowers by the kitchen window. He had been thoughtful, as always.

“I made sure everything was ready before you came,” he said, his tone casual but careful, as if testing how fragile her calm might be.

She nodded, tracing her fingers along the smooth wooden table. “It’s more than enough. Thank you, Uncle.”

To Mr. Yoon, she was like a daughter. It didn’t matter that she saw him only as her family’s lawyer; he had known her before she was even born, handled her parents’ matters, and watched her grow up. After her parents’ tragic death, he became the quiet guardian of what they left behind, and of her.

Now, seeing her carrying a child, holding herself together through sheer will, pained him in a way he couldn’t fully express. He remembered her father’s warmth, the way he used to speak about her with pride, his eyes soft every time he mentioned her name.

Her father had been the gentlest man Mr. Yoon ever knew. Kind to a fault, patient even when life tested him. He could imagine what her father would do if he were still alive. The man wouldn’t scold her, wouldn’t raise his voice, wouldn’t ask why. He would be sad for the weight she carried, and then he’d pull her into his arms. He’d tell her it was all right, that mistakes didn’t erase love. He’d forgive her before she even asked.

The thought tightened something in Mr. Yoon’s chest. Her father had loved her with a tenderness few people ever receive, and standing here, Mr. Yoon felt that same love echo through the quiet of the house.

He sighed softly and reached for the teapot.

Mr. Yoon poured tea for both of them, his movements steady, practiced. She held her cup with both hands, letting the warmth sink into her palms.

“You know,” he said quietly, a faint smile pulling at his lips, “Your father would end up crying on the floor if he knew what you’re up to.”

Her lips curved, not quite a smile. “He’d cry on the floor too if I decided to kill his grandchild.”

Mr. Yoon chuckled softly, but the sound faded quickly. He used to talk about this house often, back when it was still just a blueprint and a dream.

He wanted it to be a place for warm winters and noisy summers, a home that would overflow with laughter and the smell of food cooking on the grill. He used to tell her to marry well, not for money or status, but for love and to give him many grandchildren to fill this house with life.

Mr. Yoon had been there for all of it, a living witness to the man’s quiet excitement. He remembered the sparkle in her father’s eyes whenever he spoke about saving up his pension plan, preparing his inheritance, and setting everything aside for those imaginary grandchildren he already loved long before they could exist. He’d talk about how he wanted to be the kind of grandfather who spoiled them too much, who built snowmen shaped like himself every winter, who grilled too much food every summer, and laughed when no one could finish it.

Unfortunately, he passed before he ever reached retirement age. He never got the chance to live in this house, or to become the warm, doting grandfather he always dreamed of being. But as she sat there now, surrounded by everything he built and hoped for, she knew in her heart that he would’ve been at peace with her decision.

Her father would’ve wanted her here, to be safe, sheltered, raising his grandchild in the home he once imagined filled with laughter. He would’ve understood.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Mr. Yoon asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” She smiled, while rubbing the growing bump. Mr. Yoon’s eyes dropped to her stomach, and he sighed. The little lady who used to cling to her mom and dad is now all alone, carrying a child. He still couldn’t understand why she would do this to herself.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked eventually.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered, rubbing her stomach absently. The bump wasn’t big yet, but it was unmistakable now. A truth she couldn’t hide even if she wanted to.

Mr. Yoon’s gaze softened. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you go this far?” She hesitated. Her thumb drew slow circles on the porcelain cup before she spoke.

“Because I’ve seen how bad it can get,” she said. “And I can’t let it happen to him.”

Her voice didn’t waver, but her eyes glistened like she’s been holding back a flood.

She remembers the one superstar who fell out of the sky he’s been living in because he fell in love and welcomed a baby into their life. She remembered how fast it happened, how vicious it was.

The man was no longer a celebrated artist but a scandal to be consumed. People tore him apart. They mocked his apology, called him selfish for daring to be human. The same crowd that once adored him now dragged him through the mud, and his music became background noise to his downfall.

His enemies, who had waited for his fall, took their chance. They dragged his name through every gutter they could find, spreading rumors until truth no longer mattered. She remembered the hollow look in his eyes during that last public appearance, the way he smiled weakly as if pretending not to feel the world collapsing beneath his feet.

And it didn’t end quickly. The public’s cruelty lingered for years. They didn’t forget; they just got bored and moved on to the next tragedy. The damage was already done. No one saw him as the artist he once was. He was just “that guy who got his partner pregnant.”

She had watched the interviews, the press conferences, the trembling apologies. His smile turned hollow, his eyes dimmed, and she thought: so this is what love costs when the world thinks you don’t deserve it.

She couldn’t let that happen to Jaehyun.

Not the man who gave his whole life to his music, who lost sleep perfecting every note, who smiled through exhaustion just to make people happy. She had watched him push himself beyond reason, even the tears no one saw. He had worked too hard, sacrificed too much, for the world to throw him away over something as simple as love.

“I’ve seen the worst, Uncle,” she said with a faint, practiced smile. “I know what it looks like when they turn on you. I couldn’t let that happen to him.”

She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his name trend for the wrong reasons, watching people tear apart the man she loved because of her. She pictured the disgusted comments, the accusations, the “fans” turning their backs on him, all because of the child she now carried.

Her voice grew quieter, trembling not from fear but from conviction. “I know how much he loves what he does,” she said. “I was there, Uncle. I saw it.”

She smiled faintly, remembering. “I was the one he proudly showed the fan letters to. The projects they made for him, the edits, the banners, the little messages from people saying how much his songs meant to them. He would show them to me with that childlike grin and say how lucky he was to be loved like that.”

Her eyes softened. “Do you know how happy it made him? It’s not about fame to him. He really cares about the people who find comfort in what he creates. I’ve seen the tears, the sweat, the nights he didn’t sleep because he wanted to get a song right. I couldn’t take that away from him.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, but she kept going, forcing the proud smile back onto her lips.

“I couldn’t bear to see all that love turn into hate.”

Mr. Yoon felt his throat tighten. He’d known love in his life, the quiet, grown-up love— but never this kind. Never love that demanded self-erasure. Watching her speak, he realized how deeply she had thought this through; how her pain wasn’t impulsive but deliberate, like a wound she chose to carry because it meant he’d stay safe.

She lowered her gaze, her voice barely a whisper. “He wasn’t supposed to find out. That was a mistake.”

Her words trembled in the air, heavy with guilt. She traced her finger along the rim of her teacup, eyes unfocused, her mind miles away.

She had been careful not to leave traces, but in the end, love makes people careless. One misplaced piece of paper, and suddenly, everything unraveled.

Her chest tightened as the memory replayed. His expression, confusion turning to heartbreak, haunted her in every quiet hour since. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.

Even if she had stayed, what then? She’d watch the press, the fans, the world tear him down for something he didn’t do wrong. She’d watch his hard-earned peace crumble, his joy turn to fear. She couldn’t bear that. It was better to break his heart— but not his life.

So she left. Not because she stopped loving him, but because she loved him too much to stay.

He sighed, eyes heavy with pity. “Things must’ve been hard for him,” he said softly.

“I wish he’d just hate me,” she murmured, staring at her cup. “It would make everything easier. If he hated me, maybe he’d move on.”

Her hand rested on her belly again, gentle and protective. “He should hate me,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

After Mr. Yoon left, the house fell too silent. She stood by the door for a long time after it shut, the sound of his car fading into the distance, until all she could hear was the wind pressing softly against the windows.

That night, she started erasing herself.

She sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through her contacts, deleting names that led back to him. Mutual friends, colleagues, stylists, anyone who might accidentally bring him news of her. One by one, the numbers disappeared until the screen looked empty, sterile, like a clean wound.

She told herself this was protection. Protection for him, for the baby, and for the life she had chosen to step away from.

Her days became a pattern of quiet discipline. Mornings began with the kettle’s whistle and the steady rhythm of her breath as she forced herself to eat, even when food felt tasteless. She attended her prenatal check-ups alone, answering the same gentle question each time.

“Will the father be joining us?”

“He’s abroad for work,” she would say, smiling politely. It wasn’t a lie, she knows he was always working somewhere, always moving— but it was the kind of truth that hurt more than any fiction.

There were nights when she almost gave in, when her fingers hovered over the search bar, ready to type his name, but she stopped herself every time. Seeing his face, hearing his voice, and reading about his music or performances would unravel everything she was trying to hold together. So she stayed offline, guarding her heart from the one person she missed most.

Still, grief found her in smaller ways.

In the quiet hum of the refrigerator when the house felt too big for only her to live in. In the single plate she washed after dinner. In the echo of her own footsteps down the hallway.

Sometimes, when the loneliness grew unbearable, she’d unlock the only private folder on her phone she hadn’t deleted. There were photos and short clips of them: blurry smiles, half-whispered jokes, the soft way he used to look at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention.

She was just the same as him, still reaching for ghosts through a screen, still trying to fill silence with the echo of a voice that would never answer.

It was a simple clip, one she’d forgotten she even took. She was intended to film the cute street cat they rescued in the middle of a snowstorm, but when the cat left the frame, she forgot to turn it off when it caught their moment.

Jaehyun was lying on the couch, half-asleep, his head resting in her lap while she absentmindedly ran her fingers through his hair. The camera had been on the table, recording without them noticing.

In the video, she could hear herself humming softly, a tune she’d made up just to calm him after a long day. Jaehyun’s eyes were closed, his voice low and tired when he said, “Don’t stop. I love hearing you sing.”

She’d laughed quietly, her hand stilling for a moment.

“You say that about everything I do.”

He’d smiled, eyes still shut. “That’s because I love everything you do.”

Now, watching it again, she pressed a hand to her lips as tears welled up. The silence that followed the video’s end was unbearable, so she played it again. And again.

While across the ocean, somewhere far from her, another phone glowed in a dark room.

Jaehyun sat on the floor beside his bed, his back against the wall, the same video playing on his screen. The faint static of the recording filled the room, carrying the soft hum that used to lull him to sleep.

He smiled weakly, his eyes stinging. He remembered that specific day when he’d been very exhausted, how peaceful it had felt just to rest there while she ran her fingers through his hair. He hadn’t realized she was filming them. He was glad she had.

When the video ended, he stayed frozen for a moment, his reflection faint in the black screen. “I miss you,” he whispered, voice trembling.

Two people, half a world apart, still loving each other, still in the only way they could.

Some other nights, a slow, twisting ache that started in her lower back and climbed to her lungs until it stole her breath. She would jolt awake and turn to one side, gripping the edge of the blanket, whispering through the haze, “Be nice, baby, please… Mommy’s hurt.”

The words always broke her. She’d whisper them again, softer this time, like a plea and a lullaby all at once. The pain would ebb eventually, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Because every time it came, she missed him more— missed his steady hands, his voice, the way he used to rub small circles on her lower back whenever she said she was tired.

Before Jaehyun found out, she’d been strong enough to hide it all, and the pain never felt this bad. But after he knew, she couldn’t tell if it truly worsened, or if she’d simply become weaker because she knew he’d be there to soothe her.

She could still remember one of those nights.

When she lay curled on her side, one hand pressed to her belly as another wave of pain tightened through her. 

Every time the pain hits, Jaehyun shifts beside her, instantly awake. “Is it bad again?” he asked, voice low and rough with sleep.

She nodded, biting her lip. “It’s fine. It’ll go away.”

He reached over without another word, resting his warm palm over the curve of her stomach. His hand moved in slow, careful circles. “Here?” he murmured.

“Mm,” she breathed out.

“Better?”

A small pause. Then, quietly: “A little.”

He stayed like that for a while, rubbing gentle patterns into her skin until her breathing evened out. The pain dulled under his touch, like her body trusted him enough to stop fighting.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered suddenly.

She turned her head toward him, eyes half-lidded. “For what?”

“For making you go through this,” he said, his thumb brushing over her skin. “For every time it hurts.”

Her lips curved faintly. “You didn’t make this happen alone, you know.”

“I know,” he sighed. “But still… thank you for carrying our baby.”

The way he said our always made her heart ache a little.

He leaned closer, resting his forehead against the back of her shoulder. “Sleep, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’ll keep rubbing until it stops.”

When she didn’t answer, he started to hum their favorite lullaby. His voice was soft and low, the vibration of it warming the skin between her shoulder blades.

Within minutes, her pain faded into the rhythm of his touch. She fell asleep to his voice, his hand still on her belly as if guarding both her and the little life beneath it.

And now, every time the pain returned and no one was there to hold her, she pressed her own hand over the same spot, trying to recall that warmth.  The memory only made it worse.

The memory came and went like a small wave, leaving her chest tight. She stares at the space beside her on the bed while her hand slips down to her stomach again, tracing the same spot where his had once rested.

The silence felt heavier after remembering the sound of his voice. She whispered into the dark, almost without meaning to, “Daddy’s not here to caress you anymore, baby…”

Her throat closed around the words.  The ache in her back returned, sharper now, and she folded over it, pressing her palm against her skin as if she could summon the past back into the room.

“My baby…” she murmured through a shaky breath.  “Mommy’s in pain.”

The baby kicked in reply, small and insistent.  She smiled through the tears that came anyway.  “You remember, don’t you? How calm it was when he rubbed mommy’s belly?”

Then the guilt washed in.  She shouldn’t have let herself, nor should the baby have remembered. If he had never known, she would never have had nights like that— his hand, his voice, that impossible gentleness.  She would have been spared the comparison.  Now she knew exactly what was missing; she couldn’t un-know it.

As the months passed and her belly grew, she talked to the baby more often. On bright mornings, she’d sit by the window, sunlight warming her legs, and tell more stories about Jaehyun.

And that’s how her time slipped by softly.. day by day.

She kept her routine steady; she started with breakfast by the window, short walks through the garden, and afternoon naps when the baby pressed too hard against her ribs. Each morning felt heavier, slower; her body told her the time was drawing near.

Then one afternoon, she woke from her nap to a deeper ache than usual, not the kind she’d learned to breathe through, but something heavier, yet certain that it was the contraction.

She sat up carefully, one hand bracing her back, the other resting on her belly. “It’s time, isn’t it?” she whispered. The baby shifted in reply, as if to say yes.

There was no panic. She just reached for her phone and called the young nanny she had hired a few weeks before— a sweet local girl who lived not far from the house and had been coming by to help with errands and preparations for the baby.

“Hi, Lina,” she said, her voice steady but trembling just a little. “I think it’s time.”

The girl arrived within ten minutes, then, without any briefing needed, she helped her gather the small hospital bag that had waited by the door for weeks, then eased her into the passenger seat.

As the car rolled down the quiet country road, she pressed a hand to her belly, breathing through each tightening wave. Maybe, she thought, the universe was being kind for once. Maybe it pitied her for all she’d carried alone. Or maybe it was Jaehyun’s prayer— still lingering somewhere above her, asking God to make this part gentle.

The memory came easily.

One night, months ago, he lay on his stomach beside her stomach with his cheek pressed against the swell of her belly, giving her trails of sweet kisses as he spoke softly to their child.

He murmured, tracing lazy circles over her skin, “Don’t hurt Mommy too much, okay? I’ll pray you come at the right time.. and easy, so Mommy won’t feel so much pain.”

She had laughed and run her fingers through his hair, teasing, “You’re talking like the baby can hear you.”

He’d looked up at her then, eyes warm. “They can. They always listen when it’s about you.”

The memory lingered as the road curved toward the hospital, replaced by the rhythm of her breathing and the soft hum of the engine. She smiled faintly at the thought and rubbed slow circles over her belly.

“Come to Mommy nice and easy, okay?” she whispered.

The baby kicked once, gentle but sure, as if answering her. She let out a shaky laugh and focused on her breathing the way the doctor had taught her—slow in, steady out. It didn’t take the pain away, not really, but it kept the fear small.  Each breath felt like a promise to her child that everything would be all right.

When they arrived, the nurses looked surprised to see her already calm and ready. She smiled at their questions, explaining simply that the baby hadn’t wanted to wait any longer. They moved quickly around her and guided her into the delivery room.

Three hours later, after quiet concentration and the steady coaching of the midwife, the cries finally came— clear, bright, and new.

“5:49 p.m., February 14th,” one of the nurses announced softly as she checked the monitor. “Healthy baby boy.”

“Hi, Mommy!” the doctor said with a playful grin, trying to lighten the air in the room as the nurse placed the tiny, wrinkled body on her chest. The baby’s small fingers curled around hers instantly, impossibly strong for someone so small.

She smiled weakly at the joke— then the words sank in. February 14th.

Her breath caught.

His birthday.

A sob escaped her before she could stop it, half laughter and half ache. The nurse looked up in surprise, but she only shook her head, smiling through the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

“You came on your daddy’s birthday,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

She looked down at the tiny face resting against her chest. Even with his features still soft and new, she could see his nose, his mouth, the faint curve of his brow. It was all Jaehyun. Every piece of him reflected there, small and perfect and breathing.

Her tears fell freely now, onto the baby’s blanket. “You really took everything after him,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his forehead. “Happy birthday, my loves.”

Later that evening, after the whirlwind of labor had quieted and she was settled into her inpatient room, the world finally seemed still again.

She held him in her arms, tracing her thumb along the curve of his tiny cheek, still flushed from crying. He was so impossibly small, warm, alive, and hers, or… Theirs.

Lina sat nearby, folding small blankets into neat stacks, smiling each time the baby made a sound. “He’s already got your lips,” she teased.

She laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to the baby’s knuckles. “It’s his daddy’s lip. He got everything from his daddy,” she said, voice full of wonder. “He’s so pretty.”

She couldn’t stop staring at his soft lashes, his small fingers that curled instinctively around hers. For the first time in months, her heart felt full.

A nurse entered with a gentle knock. “How are we doing, Mommy?” she asked, smiling.

“Tired,” she admitted with a small laugh, “but happy.”

“That’s good to hear.” The nurse adjusted the clipboard in her hand. “Do you have a name in mind?”

She looked down at her son again, the words coming to her easily, already decided long before. “Yeah, I do.”

“Tell me, mommy, what’s my name~?” The nurse played with her tone while giving attention to the baby.

“Seonwoo,” she said softly. “Jeong Seonwoo.”

The nurse smiled. “Beautiful name.”

Her mind drifted back to a night years ago when Jaehyun’s voice echoed in the quiet of their apartment. 

He had been lying on the floor, flipping through an old photo album, when he said, “Did you know my name was almost Seonwoo? My parents couldn’t decide until the last minute.”

She’d laughed from the couch. “Seonwoo? That actually suits you.”

“You think so?” he’d asked, smiling.

“Yeah,” she’d said, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “It sounds warm. Like you.”

And so she took it, not meaning to steal it from him, but as something returned. A name meant for him, now belonging to their son.

Then the nurse excused herself after they exchanged a few more words, explaining details on his birth certificate, and a few hours later, she came back with the documents.

“Welcome to the world, baby Seonwoo,” The nurse commented before she left. 

“Your daddy would love this,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his temple. “If he knew you had his name, he’d never stop smiling.”

And that’s how her new life began. She was a mother before everything else now.

Every day was a lesson: learning how to soothe his cries, how to tell hunger from tiredness, how to hold him just right so he’d fall asleep against her chest. She learned by doing, by failing, by trying again.

As the months passed, Seonwoo grew into a bright, curious boy with a smile that could undo not only her but everyone who spared a glance at him on the spot. And the older he got, the clearer it became. He looked exactly like his dad.

Seonwoo had that same round face, that same thick hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes, that same dimple when he smiled, that same spark that made her laugh even on the hardest days.

Sometimes, it hurt to look at him. The resemblance was so striking that it caught her off guard. The tilt of his head, the way he scrunched his nose before laughing, and when he laughs or smiles a little too excited, a cat whisker-like wrinkle will form on the side of his nose, exactly like Jaehyun. But even through the ache, she found comfort. Because even if Jaehyun wasn’t here, a part of him was.

Her life became simple, rhythmic mornings filled with tiny giggles, afternoons spent chasing him through their garden, evenings humming lullabies she once sang with Jaehyun. There were still lonely nights, of course. But loneliness no longer defined her.

Because now, she had Seonwoo. Her, their miracle.

Her proof that love has never truly disappeared. It just came back in smaller hands, brighter eyes, and softer laughter that filled their home.

Then the second winter they spent together came softly this time.

The first snow fell overnight, blanketing the village in silence, inviting the little, curious boy to play with the snow.

From the kitchen, she could see him through the window. Bundled in his little coat and wool hat, he waddled through the snow with unsteady steps, his cheeks flushed pink, breath puffing in small clouds. Lina trailed behind, keeping a careful distance, letting him explore.

He bent down to scoop a handful of snow, his mittened fingers fumbling as he tried to shape it into a ball. Then he looked up at the sky, giggling, eyes curved like crescents.

For a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe.

He looked exactly like Jaehyun— the same mischief in his eyes and the soft grin that tugged at the corner of his lips, the same way he tilted his head when he smiled. It was as if time had folded in on itself, and she was seeing that old photograph come to life.

She leaned her forehead against the cold windowpane, a quiet smile breaking through her tears. “Look at him, Jae,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “He’s everything you wanted to be.”

Outside, Seonwoo turned suddenly, as if he’d heard her. He waved at her clumsily until he fell from tripping over his own steps, and she waved back, laughing softly.

She felt her old love wasn’t really gone, it just changed its form; from a man’s embrace to a child’s laughter, from shared dreams to a single, steady life lived in peace.

As snowflakes drifted past the window, she whispered to the empty room, “Thank you for giving him to me.”

3 Years Later

A woman with her head down, one hand clutching a tote bag, the other gently holding a small boy’s hand as they crossed the street toward what looked like a schoolyard. The boy couldn’t have been older than two, maybe three. His hoodie was too big for him, and his cheeks were round and pink from the cold.

Eunwoo wouldn’t have looked twice. But there was something about her that pulled at the back of his memory like a voice he hadn’t heard in years.

He frowned slightly, leaning closer to the glass. Then his heart stopped.

“Oh my god,” he whispered under his breath.

It was her. Jaehyun’s ex… His her.

He didn’t even know the right word anymore— ex, girlfriend, lover, the one who got away. 

Eunwoo’s hands trembled as he pulled out his phone and snapped a quick photo, almost in disbelief at what he was seeing. His mind was racing, and he was half-terrified imagining it, but the other half was already rehearsing how to tell Jaehyun.

He hesitated before standing up, slipping out of the café quietly. He didn’t want to intrude, just… to make sure.

Outside, the woman was walking slowly now, her little boy skipping beside her, giggling.

And that’s when Eunwoo heard the boy’s laughter, light and melodic, echoing down the quiet street. He froze. That laugh was definitely his.

That night, back in his hotel, Eunwoo couldn’t shake it off. He stared at the ceiling, running the image over and over in his mind: the woman’s face, the child’s eyes, the way they held hands.

He opened his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found the name he hadn’t called in over a year.

Jaehyun.

His thumb hovered over it for a long time before he pressed call. It rang twice before a familiar voice answered, low and cautious. “Eunwoo?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said quietly. “Uh, are you… Somewhere you can talk?”

“Yeah. What’s going on?” Eunwoo hesitated for a second, then exhaled. “I think I saw her.”

The silence that followed was sharp, electric. “What?”

“I’m not sure,” Eunwoo said quickly. “It was here, in Switzerland. In a small town, she was walking with a little boy. Jae… I swear to God, he looked just like you.”

For a moment, there was nothing. No sound, no breath, no words. Then a soft, uneven inhale. “Where?”

Eunwoo told him the name of the town. The café. The school. The street. Every detail he could remember.

“Thank you,” Jaehyun said finally, voice trembling, the first real emotion Eunwoo had heard in years. “Thank you.” And for the first time in years, Eunwoo heard something in Jaehyun’s voice that had been missing…a hope.

He stayed frozen after hanging up. The phone was still pressed to his ear even though the line had gone dead. For a long time, Jaehyun didn’t move. The silence in his apartment stretched thin, broken only by the faint hum of the city outside.

Switzerland. A small town. A little boy.

His hands trembled as the words sank in.

He hadn’t expected this. Not tonight, not from Eunwoo, not from anyone. For years, all he’d had were pieces of nothing. Cities he’d wandered through. Cafés he’d sat in until closing. Faces that blurred together as he searched for hers in every crowd. Every false lead had worn him thinner, quieter.

He pressed his palms to his face, breathing hard, tears spilling freely at the thought of her smile. The way she used to look at him after he came home late. The way she laughed with her whole body. The way she’d kiss him in the morning to wake him up.

And now she was out there, alive, breathing, raising their child. He let out a shaky laugh between the tears, the sound cracked and raw. “Thank you,” he whispered into the quiet, as if saying it to Eunwoo, to the universe, to the God he stopped praying to years ago.

Maybe this was the universe making things right.

He didn’t hate her for leaving. He never had. Not really.

He’d spent so long trying to understand her, and maybe, deep down, he did. She did what she thought would protect him. But it didn’t make it right.

He got up from his seat by the window of his hotel room in Monaco, the city lights flickering against his reflection. His hands were steady for the first time in a long time as he began to pack. A few clothes. His worn leather notebook. His passport. And, of course, his old Prada backpack.

He zipped it up carefully, then looked at the map spread across the table, a patchwork of pins, scribbles, and cities he’d crossed off over the years.

Switzerland had always been there. He just hadn’t known where to start. Until now.

He booked the earliest flight he could, typed a short message to Eunwoo with a single word. Leaving. and closed his phone. It didn’t matter how far it was, how much it cost, or what came next.

For the first time in years, he had a direction. And this time, he wasn’t wandering. He was going to find her.

credit: divider by @cursed-carmine & @saradika-graphics

She met Johnny during her internship at his company. She was assigned to the executive communications team, which meant working directly with him, the CEO. From the start, she stood out.

Johnny wasn’t the type to pay much attention to interns because why should he? they came and went too fast to matter. But her? Fucking hell, it was hard not to notice her. Make up clean, clothes fitted, perfume subtle but lingers. She was gorgeous, yes, but that wasn’t what hooked him. It was the way she carried herself: polite but assertive, and never the kind to fumble when things got complicated.

He started to pay closer attention. At first, he told himself it was just curiosity because he had a tendency to be drawn to intelligent woman— yes, he’s a sapiosexual. So if she turned out to be just another pretty face, he’d make sure she got reassigned to another department. But if she was smart, capable, someone who actually matched his pace, then it’d be trouble for her to not do unethical things to her.

And it was.

She kept exceeding his expectations. Every project he threw her way was handled with precision. She worked seamlessly with his team, always eager to learn and contribute, earned everyone’s respect, and made his office run smoother without even trying. Watching her in action, he realized she wasn’t just efficient in her work but she was instinctively good at reading people and adapting to them.

He’d been surrounded by professionals his whole career, people in all kinds of “fonts”, but she was a rare balance of competence and composure. The kind of person who got things done without making a show of it.

He found himself giving her more work, just to see where her limits were. But every single time, she impressed him more.

He wasn’t blind to how that made him feel. Johnny was a man with both high intelligence and balanced emotional control he prided himself on it. So watching her felt like watching a reflection of everything he valued in himself, just in someone younger, fresher, and prettier.

And when she’d walk into his office, perfectly put together, that soft fucking perfume of her signature trailing in, smiling as she handed him a finished report— he thanked God he still had enough rationality not to pound into her right there.

One afternoon, he said casually, “Come with me to the conference in Birmingham. You’ll learn a lot.”

She smiled, a little apologetic. “I’m sorry, Sir, but my internship ends this week. I’m really grateful for the opportunity, but I’ll have to decline.”

“That’s bad,” he muttered, leaning back.

She hesitated, then added quickly, “I’d still be happy to help prepare the materials for your presentation, though.”

He nodded, masking his disappointment, but inside, gears were turning. He liked having her around and Johnny didn’t want her to walk away. He wanted to keep her as an employee, as something closer, something he could justify.

While having his lunch, he thinks a way to tie her, and when he got the idea, he called her into his office one afternoon.

“I have an offer for you,” he said.

She blinked. “A job offer?”

“Something like that.” He leaned back in his chair.

He told her the offer. A sponsorship agreement, he called it. He’d pay her tuition, buy her clothes, shoes, bags, jewelry, cover her travel and entertainment— everything she could possibly want. In return, all she had to do was be grateful, look pretty, keep her grades up, graduate, and later come work for him.

She blinked at the papers in front of her and asked, “So… it’s like a sugar daddy, sugar baby thing?”

He smirked. “To put it simply, yes.”

What in the world is this? She never imagined her respectable CEO, would offer her something like that. She didn’t even think she had the “material” to be someone’s sugar baby. She wasn’t seductive or flirty, not the type to flaunt herself. Sure, she thought she was pretty, but not the kind that turned heads in that way. The whole thing made her wonder what exactly he saw in her that made him confident enough to propose something like this.

Well, to be fair, Johnny was a successful, well-known figure in the industry, maybe nine years older than her, but looked like he was still in his late twenties. He’s handsome and charismatic. It wasn’t hard to imagine how easily other women might have said yes.

For a split second, she imagines what it would even look like, being with him like that. But she pushed the thought away. She didn’t want to be part of that kind of transactional relationship. She frowned and went quiet for a moment. “I’m not sleeping with you, if that’s what this is.”

He leaned back, curious. “Why?”

“I’m a virgin,” She said plainly. No embarrassment, no attempt to soften it. Just the truth.

That caught him off guard, but he recovered quickly.  Most men would laugh or move on, but Johnny wasn’t most men. He was already too taken with her rare mix of purity and confidence. 

So he said, “Then we’ll put a no-sex clause in the contract.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said easily. “You just can’t take another job offer. You’ll be working for me after graduation.”

She stared at him, trying to make sense of it. This man is generous, she thought. He was practically offering her a safety net for the rest of her academic life, and now, a strictly no-sex clause? It sounded less like an arrangement and more like charity.

Her suspicion got the better of her, and so she narrowed her eyes. “Do I have to call you daddy?”

She meant it half-jokingly, half-accusingly. Something about the whole setup screamed daddy complex, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d already had a few young women calling him that. If that was part of the deal, she was ready to walk. away. No way she’ll submit to that.

His grin was slow and amused by her cheekiness. “It would be nice. But no, you don’t.”

Thank God, she thought.

She thought about the money, the stability, the opportunity, and only God knows if it was because of her innocence or boldness, she said yes.

He kept every promise. Her tuition was paid in full. Her apartment was upgraded to something safer, quieter, with rent covered a year in advance. He sent her designer bags for her birthdays, paid for her study trips abroad, and never questioned the price tags of her textbooks or the cost of her hobbies.

Johnny didn’t just fund her life; he made sure she felt taken care of. When her classes ran late, he sent a car to wait outside campus, and even drive her himself if he had the time. When she had fun dinner and drink with her friends, he was the one to pick her up and get her home safely. It wasn’t just about money; Johnny actually pays attention to her.

He’d check in, sometimes he’d take her out for dinner after her long day, just simple meals where he’d listen to her stories and ask about her professors. He didn’t talk much about himself, but when he did, it was in a way that made her feel trusted, like she was part of his inner circle.

It tiptoed on the edge between a ceo mentoring a bright student and a man doting on his sugar baby. There were moments she felt like his favorite project, other times like his doll.

One day, she realized that he liked seeing traces of his choices on her— the bag he’d picked out, the necklace he’d insisted she wear, the set of clothes he bought her. Everything she wears, she uses, was his choice for her, and every time, he would say, "My pretty doll."

The first time he called her that, she froze, but not because it was inappropriate, but because of how gently he said it. Like she was something fragile and cherished, not owned. From then on, he used it only when they were alone, in that same careful tone. My pretty doll. And every time he said it, her heart fluttered before she could stop it.

When he was near her school or apartment for work, he’d text her to meet him for coffee. She always said yes. Their meetups had become easy and comfortable enough that she could tease him without worrying it would cross a line.

Like when they met at a small café near her campus, she was halfway through her iced latte when he noticed.

“You’re not wearing it,” he said, eyes flicking to her neck.

She blinked. “Wearing what?”

“The necklace I sent you last night,” he said, leaning back in his seat. His tone was light, but there was something pointed underneath.

She winced, realizing instantly what he meant. “Oh, that. I’m sorry, I wasn’t home last night. I stayed over at my friend’s place to finish a group project.”

“That’s not an excuse,” he said, stirring his coffee slowly. “You should’ve texted me that you weren’t going home. What if something happened?”

“Johnny, I was literally in my friend’s. Nothing happened,” she said, laughing a little.

He didn’t. “You still should’ve let me know.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “You sound like my dad right now.”

He gave her a sharp look. “Don’t start.”

She smirked, leaning forward on her elbows. “Sorry, daddy.” She felt the air had changed, and when she looked back at him, he was already facing forward again, jaw tight, expression unreadable.

“Don’t call me that,” He held her gaze for a beat too long, then exhaled and looked away, a wry smirk tugging at his mouth. “Never mind. Just… don’t test me like that.”

The tension eased after that, drifting back into casual conversation, but part of her couldn’t stop thinking about how just a single word had knocked his composure off balance. And how much she liked knowing she could.

Or the other time when he helped her with something small, like carrying her bag, adjusting her scarf, or holding the car door open.

“Thanks, daddy,” she’d say with a grin, her voice light, teasing.

He’d always roll his eyes or sigh, muttering, “You’re going to get yourself in trouble one day.”

But his tone wasn’t sharp anymore. It was low, almost quiet. Her grin widened. “What? You don’t like it?”

He looked away, exhaling slowly, his hand coming up to rub the bridge of his nose like he was trying to hide a smile. "You’re lucky I’m still being rational.”

She kept thinking about it later— the way his voice had dropped, that look in his eyes when he said it. She’d managed to throw him off balance again, and she liked that more than she wanted to admit.

As her final semester began, Johnny’s involvement in her life deepened. He became her quiet support system. When she started writing her final paper, he made sure she had everything she needed.

Her fridge was always stocked. Someone came by twice a week to cook for her. He hired a driver so she wouldn’t have to worry about commuting or coming home late. Every time she tried to thank him, he brushed it off with a simple, “Focus on graduating. That’s your job.”

When she walked across the stage to receive her diploma with a summa cum laude honor, she caught sight of him sitting quietly in the audience. Johnny had a way of blending in, but to her, he stood out more than anyone else. A rush of warmth hit her. He actually came.

She’d known he was always busy, but seeing him there, looking proud, made something tighten in her chest. This man, practically a stranger when they met, had supported her through everything, quietly shaping the years that led her here. And now he was clapping for her.

After the ceremony, he took her out to dinner. It wasn’t a crowded, showy restaurant, just a quiet, elegant place with soft lighting and a private corner booth. He ordered for both of them, knowing exactly what she liked by now.

When dessert came, he slid a small velvet box across the table. Inside was a white gold tennis bracelet, understated, elegant. “A graduation gift,” he said simply. Then came a leather-bound planner, a custom pen, and a key card to her new office.

“Johnny…” she started, but he just smiled and waved it off. “No speeches. Just promise me you’ll keep making me look smart for hiring you.”

Her first day at his office felt like coming home to a place she’d never been before. Everyone already seemed to know who she was from her intern days and, more scandalously, the new executive assistant the CEO personally picked. She could feel their curiosity, their whispers, but she ignored them.

By midday, Johnny called her into his office.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. He was at his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, that usual look of control written all over him.

“Sit,” he said, nodding toward the chair across from him.

He walked her through her new role, but as the conversation went on, his tone shifted, quietening into something only she ever heard from him. “You’ll be my right hand,” he said. “Everything that comes to me goes through you first. You handle it, filter it, and fix it if needed before you hand them to me. I trust you not to make stupid mistakes.”

He paused, his lips curling into a faint smirk, his eyes glinting with something more personal. “And, off the record— look pretty for me. Just for my eyes, baby. It helps me get through the day.”

His voice dropped lower, a teasing edge to it as he leaned back in his chair, studying her. “Dress up nice, wear that perfume I like, keep being my pretty little doll, okay?”

She blushed, her cheeks warming under his gaze, her fingers twisting in her lap as she nodded, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll try, Sir,” she murmured, her voice soft, a mix of nerves and flattered warmth.

“Good girl,” he said, his smirk widening, his tone dipping into that possessive warmth that made her stomach flutter. “And make time for me off-hours, yeah? I need my pretty doll to make everything better.” He leaned forward again, his elbows on the desk, his eyes roaming her face like he was already imagining it. “You do that for me, and I’ll make sure you’re always taken care of, in and out of this office.”

She quickly became his right hand. Everything that went to him first passed through her. She handled his correspondence, his meetings, his schedule, all with the same calm precision she’d shown a year ago. His team learned fast: if you wanted something done for the CEO, you went through her, no exceptions. Her desk became the gate to Johnny, her sharp mind filtering and organizing his world with a quiet competence that earned her respect across the office.

A year has passed, and they spent nearly every day together, their dynamic evolving beyond the professional. Somewhere between board meetings, late-night travel planning, and every usual business. Johnny began giving her subtle authority, trusting her with decisions others couldn’t touch. When a senior manager once tried to bypass her to schedule a meeting directly with him, Johnny shut it down with a curt, “Talk to her first. She handles my calendar.” Yet, when she rearranged his entire week to accommodate an urgent client pitch, he just grinned, signing off on her changes without a second glance. “Whatever you think’s best, sweetheart,” he’d say, his voice low, a private smile in his eyes that no one else got.

It showed in small ways. When she got accused in a meeting of mishandling a report that wasn’t even her responsibility, he didn’t let it slide. “She works for me, not to clean up your mess,” he said firmly, shutting down the conversation in seconds. Everyone understood the unspoken rule, that she was untouchable.

He’d let her interrupt his calls to bring him files, her soft knock earning an immediate “Come in,” while others would have to drop their files and inform their arrivals in the secretary’s desk. It wasn’t favoritism in a way that bred resentment— the office wasn’t toxic, and Johnny ran a tight but fair ship, but it was clear to everyone she was different to him, his trust in her is absolute.

She remained a sweetheart, though, her warmth making her a favorite among the team. She’d chat with colleagues over coffee breaks, share her snacks during late-night work sessions, and offer a kind smile to anyone stressed out, her gentle nature disarming even the most cynical staffers. They adored her, not just for her competence but for her genuine care, always quick to help or listen. Yet, Johnny’s special treatment didn’t go unnoticed— how his eyes lingered when she spoke, or how he’d let her sit in on high-level meetings, valuing her input where others were rarely invited.

She also had access no one else did. When they traveled, she got upgraded suites next to his complete with room service he’d order for her without asking. When other staff has to take company’s car, he insisted on driving her himself. At the office, she’d find her favorite snacks stocked in the break room, a quiet nod to his attention to her tastes. 

He justified it easily. She was recruited to make his life easier, and she did that perfectly. But deep down, he knew it was more than convenience. He just couldn’t stop spoiling her.

At some point, stopped seeing her as the girl he sponsored— and started seeing her as the woman he wanted. And to her surprise, she seemed like she wanted him too.

One evening, after a long day of meetings, Johnny was leaning back in his chair, tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up, watching her as she organized a stack of files on his desk. He’d been dropping hints of his feelings all day— subtle, romantic ones, like brushing her hand when passing her a pen, or murmuring, “Thanks, doll,” with a warmth that wasn’t just professional. She always responded with a shy smile, keeping her cards close, not rejecting him but not fully opening up, though her eyes sparkled with something that told him she enjoyed the shift.

As she straightened the last file, Johnny said, something out of raw admiration. “I don’t know how you do it— keeping me in line, get shits done and be so pretty for me all the time.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Sir,” she said, her voice quiet but steady, a playful lilt creeping in that was new, bolder than she’d ever been with him.

“I mean, you make it pretty easy to want to stick around, always looking at me like I’m… I don’t know, special or something.” Her eyes flicked to his, holding his gaze for a moment longer than usual, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips, her heart racing but her words carrying a warmth that matched his. It was the most honest she could be, letting him see she felt the shift too, that she was a woman who saw him, wanted him, even if she wasn’t ready to say it outright.

Johnny’s grin was slow and warm, his heart kicking at her words, at the way her shy boldness lit up her face. “You are special, sweetheart,”

His composure cracked when he notices the sparkles in her eyes as she stared at him, “Keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you’re falling for me.”

She laughed softly, her blush deepening, but she didn’t back away, her smile growing as she tilted her head. “Maybe I’m getting there,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, playful but honest, her eyes shining with a mix of nerves and affection. 

It was the closest she’d come to admitting her feelings, and the air between them hummed with a quiet, pure romance, no naughty edge, just a man and a woman seeing each other for who they were.

Johnny chuckled, his hand dropping to his side, respecting her pace. “Good. I can wait, but don’t make it too long, yeah? I’m not that patient.” His tone was light, teasing, but his eyes were full of promise, of a future where their arrangement would be nothing compared to what they could build. She nodded, her smile soft and warm. It was a step closer to something real.

After that evening, their connection evolved beyond stolen glances and subtle flirtations at work. They began spending time together outside the office, not just as a CEO and his assistant or a sponsor and his beneficiary, but as a man and a woman exploring something real. Johnny, sensing her growing openness, started taking her on proper dates after office hours, each one a step toward truly knowing each other, peeling back the layers of their initial roles.

Johnny treated her like his equal, not his sponsored assistant, asking her opinions on life, not just work, and sharing pieces of himself—like how he felt the weight of being CEO, or how her smile was the best part of his day. She, in turn, let her guard down, her shy responses turning into playful banter, her touches lingering longer, her eyes meeting his with a warmth that matched his own.

Then come another day, another late night meeting with a client from the other side of the globe, they were having a break in the balcony of his office, just watching the city night scenery, standing side by side but neither of them talking much.

She turned her head slightly. “You’ve been quiet.”

He glanced at her. “Just tired.”

“Same.”

A pause. Then, softer, “You haven’t slept in days.”

He smiled faintly. “You’ve been paying attention.”

She looked away, but she was smiling too. “Hard not to.”

The silence stretched, not uncomfortable, just different now. Familiar in a way that didn’t feel professional anymore. When he reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, she didn’t pull away.

He said quietly, “You don’t make it easy to stay professional.” His voice was low and his dark eyes searching hers. She smiled faintly, a little nervous, her cheeks flushing with a shy warmth, but she didn’t back down. 

“You don’t either,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady, a spark of boldness in her timid gaze.

He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath and body hear against her skin. “Is this okay?” he asked, his tone gentle, checking in with her as he always did, giving her space to set the pace.

She met his eyes, her heart racing but it’s so exciting. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, then a nervous but certain nod following.

He lifted a hand, tracing his thumb along her jaw, which makes her tilted her chin up slightly, her lips parting in anticipation, and he leaned in, faintly pressing his lips to hers. The kiss is soft and tentative but when she leaned into him, he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against hers with a gentle intensity. His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading gently into her hair, holding her close but not forceful, letting her melt into the warmth of his mouth.

The kiss grew deeper, his tongue brushing hers softly, coaxing a quiet whimper from her as she pressed closer, her hands resting lightly on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It was tender but hungry, his lips tasting faintly of the coffee they’d shared earlier, and her softness drawing him in further.

A sharp ping from his phone shattered the moment, the reminder for their Zoom call with the overseas client blaring insistently. Johnny pulled back reluctantly, his forehead resting against hers for a moment, both of them breathing unevenly.

“Fucking meetings” he muttered, a small, apologetic smile tugging at his lips. She giggled softly, still flushed, her eyes shy but warm. He stole a few quick pecks, soft and playful, brushing his lips against hers one last time before stepping back. “Alright, sweetheart, back to business,” he said, his voice shifting to a professional tone, though his eyes still lingered on her with a flicker of heat.

She smoothed her blouse, her fingers trembling slightly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, slipping back into her role as his executive assistant. Johnny straightened his tie, clearing his throat as he grabbed his laptop from the desk. They moved to the office table, setting up the Zoom call with practiced efficiency, their professional masks back in place. 

Johnny as the confident CEO, her the poised assistant, though the air between them hummed with the unspoken promise of what they’d pick up later.

It wasn’t sudden. It just happened. Two people who’d spent too long pretending it was just transaction finally gave in to what had been there all along.

Then, their romance had blossomed over months, transforming a once-transactional arrangement into a deep, tender love that felt like home for both of them. She was still a little awkward at first, especially in the early days of their shift from professional to personal. Johnny, ever the gentleman, provided not only just material support anymore, but a steady stability that made her feel safe and cherished.

He was attentive, always checking in with a gentle word or a reassuring touch, his presence a quiet promise that she was loved. It didn’t take long for her to warm up to him, her initial hesitance melting into the role of his cute, adoring girlfriend at home— giggling at his teasing, curling into his side on the couch, her eyes bright with affection as she looked up at him.

At the office, though, she was a force: the best executive assistant he could ask for, sharp and efficient, handling schedules, emails, and client prep with a precision that made his work seamless. They kept their hands to themselves at work, their interactions minimal and professional, exchanging only brief glances that held a secret warmth. But outside the office, they were inseparable, always together; whether grabbing coffee, strolling through the city, or tangled up at home, hugging and cuddling at every chance, her head tucked under his chin, his arms wrapped around her like she was his world.

Their sex life, however, was a slower journey, the fact that she’s a virgin and she knows that he’s undoubtedly experienced makes her nervous. Her inexperience making her hesitant, her cheeks flushing at the thought of intimacy, her body tensing with both curiosity and fear. Johnny, a man of virtue and patience, never rushed her, sensing her hesitation without needing to ask. He was content to wait, guiding her gently into their intimacy with a care that made her feel safe. He’d never push her beyond what she was ready for.

It started with soft, lingering kisses that melted into fevered make-out sessions, lips swollen and breaths ragged, leaving trails of purple love bites across her collarbone. After sometimes, Johnny’s hands had grown bolder, roaming her body then cupping the weight of her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples into tight peaks, or sometimes he has his hands squeezing the plush curve of her ass. He’d guided her patiently, teaching her how to please him.

“Like this, baby,” Johnny rasped one evening in his office, his voice gravelly with desire as he sat on his leather chair while she sit on his lap, facing him. He guided her, showing her the slow, firm rhythm that made his breath catch. The heat of his shaft pulsed against her palm, and his low groans vibrated through her as she found her confidence. His fingers slipped between her thighs, parting her slick folds, coaxing soft whimpers from her lips as he teased her clit. “So good for me, sugar,” he murmured, their shared gasps filling the quiet room, her skin flushing under his heated gaze.

Time deepened their exploration. He’d introduced her to the dizzying pleasure of his mouth, his tongue painting slow, deliberate circles between her thighs until she was trembling, her fingers tangled in his hair. Then came her turn to learn and taste him, her curiosity outweighing her nerves.

She knelt on the plush cream carpet of his living room, the city lights spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting soft shadows across her bare shoulders. Johnny lounged on the sofa, his thighs spread, the musky scent of his arousal heady as she leaned in. “Relax your jaw, baby,” he instructed with a low voice, his fingers threading through her soft strands. Her lips parted, tentative, as she took him in, the warm weight of him foreign on her tongue.

Getting her confidence by his encouraging hum, she tilted her head, experimenting with the angle to take him deeper, her lips stretching as she eased forward, breathing through her nose to ease the tightness in her throat. Her tongue pressed flat against the underside of his shaft, swirling lightly as she pushed past her comfort zone, and she took him too far, her throat constricting as she choked, a soft gag escaping as her eyes watered. 

Johnny’s hand tightened briefly in her hair, his touch gentle but firm as he guided her back, helping her ease his cock out of her mouth, his voice soft with concern. “Easy, love, take it slow,” he murmured, but pride curled his lips.

“It’s hard because Daddy’s big, isn’t it?” he teased, his voice thick with satisfaction. She pulled back, gasping, her lips glossy, but her eyes burned with determination. With a shaky nod, she leaned in again, stretching her lips around him, her tongue experimenting, earning a guttural groan that sent a thrill through her core.

Their rhythm grew bolder— dry humping that left her thighs slick with arousal and his cock throbbing, her timid grinding on his thigh and cock coaxing breathless moans as she chased her climax, her shy movements turning bolder with each shuddering release. Sometimes, he’d ask for a tit job, her soft breasts enveloping him, the sight of her flushed skin and nervous glances driving him wild, her innocence and eagerness a potent mix that tested his control.

But today, Johnny was a fucking wreck, his stress from work boiling over into a relentless inferno. The unending pile of contracts and deadlines had him on the edge with no goddamn break, grinding his nerves raw. Worse, a male client had been all over her during a morning meeting, his smug smiles lingering too fucking long, his compliments, calling her “stunning” and “sharp as a tack”; dripping with intent that wasn’t professional. 

Johnny saw the way the bastard’s eyes raked over her, lingering on her curves, his handshake with her lasting a beat too long, and it set his blood on fire. It ignited a possessive rage in him. The idea of someone else even looking at her like that made him want to pin her down and claim her until there was no question. The jealousy, mixed with the suffocating weight of his work, was a perfect fucking storm, shredding his usual cool-headed composure.

He needed her to drown out the frustration and that very midday, he called her into his office, his voice sharp and jagged over the intercom, barely masking the territorial tone.

She arrived instantly, stepping through the door in her fitted pencil skirt and blouse, her eyes wide with concern. “Lock the door,” he instructed, his tone low and commanding.

“Oh- okay,” she said, her voice soft and questioning, but she obeyed, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet office. She turned to him, standing in front of his desk, “Are you okay?”

He stood, getting himself closer to her, his presence towering as he reached her, cupping her jaw with a firm but gentle hand, his thumb brushing her lower lip. “Get on your knees for me, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with need, eyes dark with possession.

“Sir,” she said, her tone hesitant, a reminder of their office setting, though the word took on a kinky edge in the charged moment. She usually called him Johnny, saving “Daddy” for their intimate nights, but now it felt like she was testing the line, her professionalism clashing with his command.

“It’s Daddy for you now,” he growled, ignoring her subtle protest, while his hand delivering a quick, playful slap to her ass, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “C’mon, baby, Daddy’s not in the mood for patience.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she nodded, her timidity clear as she sank to her knees. She reached for his belt, her fingers trembling slightly as she undid it, pulling his trousers and boxers down just enough to free his cock. Her breath hitched at the sight, but she leaned in, her lips parting as she took him into her mouth slowly.

Johnny groaned, his hand resting lightly in her hair, guiding her gently as she worked him, her tongue swirling along his length, her lips stretching to accommodate his size. She tried to take him deeper, her throat tightening as she gagged softly, her eyes watering, but she pushed past the discomfort, her hands resting on his thighs for balance, her gaze flicking up to meet his, seeking approval, making his cock twitch harder. “Just like that,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, his hips rocking slightly as she sucked him, her warmth and inexperience driving him wild.

As she found a rhythm, her lips sliding along his shaft, her tongue pressing against the sensitive underside, Johnny’s breathing grew ragged, his control slipping. The sight of her on her knees, her pretty lips stretched around him, her cheeks flushed and eyes glistening, pushed him closer to the edge. 

“You’d look so fucking pretty with my cum painted all over your face, you know that?” He teased, his tone dark and playful, testing her reaction as his climax built, his cock throbbing in her mouth.

She whined, a muffled sound around his length, her eyes widening with a mix of shock and shyness. Pulling back just enough, his cock slipping from her lips with a wet pop, she looked up at him, her voice soft and trembling. “No… Daddy,” She stammered, her cheeks burning, her glossy lips slick with spit as she shook her head, her timidity clear in her nervous gaze.

“Keep going” Then he guided her back to his cock, her lips parting again as she resumed, her tongue swirling with renewed effort. His groans grew deeper, his hips twitching as he felt the pressure build.

This wasn’t her first few time giving him head anymore. After a few tentative tries over the past weeks, she’d started to get the hang of it. She knew now how he liked it: the slow licks along the underside of his shaft, the way she’d swirl her tongue around the tip before taking him deeper, she knows what ticks him. Her once-shy movements had grown bolder, her technique still laced with that innocent eagerness but now guided by a growing intuition for his pleasure.

She worked him with a steady pace, her tongue flicking just right, her small hand stroking the base of his cock in sync with her mouth. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, a shy pride glimmering in them as her lips sliding along his length, her tongue teasing the sensitive spots she’d learned he loved, each move pulling him closer to the edge.

“Baby, I’m cumming,” he growled, his voice rough as he gripped her hair a little tighter, holding her in place. He came hard, his cock pulsing as thick, hot ropes of cum spilled into her mouth, the taste flooding her senses. She whimpered softly, her throat working as she swallowed, her eyes squeezing shut as she took every drop, her hands clutching his thighs for support.

Instinctively, her small fingers wrapped around the base of his length she couldn’t fit in her mouth, stroking him with hesitant but eager movements. He bet she didn’t even realize how her tight grip and steady pumps intensified his pleasure.

He kept cumming, his groans loud and raw, each spurt filling her mouth as she struggled to keep up, a little but of cum dribbling from the corner of her lips, her innocence making the act even hotter.

Finally, as the last pulses faded, he loosened his grip on her hair, his breathing heavy and ragged. He looked down at her, and fuck, the sight nearly made him hard again. When she pulled back, his cock sprang free, still thick and heavy, hovering near her small, heart-shaped face, and the contrast fucking wrecked him. His size kink kicked into overdrive. Her petite features, those delicate cheekbones, tiny nose, and her soft, pouty mouth looked almost too small to handle him, yet she’d taken him so well. He was fascinated, his mind reeling at how someone so small, who’s face barely big enough to frame his cock, her hands so delicate wrapping around him could make him cum so hard, so good.

The way her flushed cheeks glowed, her swollen lips parted slightly as she caught her breath, made him want to pull her back and see how much more she could take. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered under his breath, voice rough with awe, “how’s a little thing like you handle me like that? So fucking perfect.” His eyes stayed locked on her, captivated by the sight of his cum lingering on her lips, her small face a perfect mix of innocence and raw, unintentional seduction. A faint smile tugged at her mouth as she wiped it with the back of her small hand, the gesture so innocent it drove him wild.

He took a moment to catch his breath, then reached for a box of tissues on his desk, gently tilting her chin up with one hand. He wiped the cum from the corner of her lips, his touch careful as he cleaned her flushed cheeks, making sure she was comfortable before he takes care of himself. He tossed the tissues aside, then scooped her up by the waist, lifting her effortlessly to sit on the edge of his desk, her skirt riding up slightly as she settled. “Pretty baby,” he murmured, stepping between her legs, his hands resting on her hips as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss.

Their mouths melded, his lips firm but gentle against her swollen ones, savoring the warmth and softness, the faint taste of his cum lingering on her tongue. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers in a teasing manner, coaxing soft whimpers from her. His hands slid up to cup her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones, the warmth of her flushed skin grounding him.

Her lips parted wider, letting him lead, her tongue meeting his with hesitant flicks that grew bolder as she melted into him. The kiss was hungry but controlled, a mix of tenderness and beat from their earlier act. Her hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, her breaths coming in soft, needy gasps between each press of their lips, the sound driving him wild.

He pulled back slightly, their lips brushing in a few soft, lingering pecks, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath. “Thank you, baby,” he whispered, voice low and sincere, 

“You did so fucking good for me.” She smiled, shy but pleased, her cheeks still pink as she looked up at him, her eyes warm with affection.

Her voice came out soft, a little hesitant. “What’s with you today?” She asked, tilting her head, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Johnny chuckled, his hands still resting on her hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I didn’t like how that guy thought he stood a chance with you,” he said honestly, his voice low, a possessive edge creeping in as he thought of the client’s flirty smirk.

She giggled, her shyness easing into a playful glint in her eyes. “You’re jealous?” She teased, her voice light, poking at his chest with a finger. “He’s got nothing on you, you know that.”

Johnny grinned, leaning in to steal another quick kiss, his lips brushing hers with a playful nip. “But I’m still gonna remind you who you belong to.”

She laughed softly, swatting his chest. He then stepped back, helping her off the desk. He smoothed her skirt, his touch lingering just a moment before he shifted back to professional mode. “Alright, sweetheart, back to your desk. We’ve got work to finish.” His voice dropped, a smirk tugging at his lips. “But I expect you ready to continue this at home later.”

She blushed, nodding shyly as she adjusted her blouse, her smile small but knowing. “Sure,” she murmured, slipping out of his office with a quick glance back, the promise of later hanging between them as they returned to their roles as CEO and assistant.

In the comfort of his home, that midday blowjob under his desk hadn’t been enough, and now, as he slid his cock against her dripping folds, naked humping her with desperate need, he was still unfulfilled. Her slick pussy teased him, so close yet so far, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking good it would feel to be inside her virgin pussy.

He bet every ounce of frustration from work, that jealousy he felt with that flirty bastard client, would melt away in seconds if he could just bury himself deep, completely wrapped in her tight, warm heat, her walls squeezing him as he claimed her fully. His desperation clawed at him, raw and consuming, his cock throbbing with every slide against her.

He tested her limits a few times, he let his tip “accidentally” bump against her slick slit, nudging just enough to feel her tight entrance, groaning at the tease of her warmth. Once, he pressed a little harder, the head of his cock catching briefly at her opening, making her gasp and squirm away, her thighs clamping shut. “D-Daddy, no,” she whispered, her voice timid, her eyes wide with nervous fear. He would just ease back, kissing her softly to soothe her, but his patience was shot. He needed to feel her, to be inside her, to make her his in a way that left no doubt.

His lips bruised the sensitive skin of her neck with hungry, open-mouthed kisses, each one leaving a faint mark as he pressed himself closer, his cock sliding against her soaked folds. “Would you let Daddy slip it in tonight, baby, hm?” His voice rough with need, the heat of his breath tickling her ear as his hips pressed harder.

“No… Daddy, don’t,” She whispered, her voice laced with hesitation, but her body arched into him, still craving the delicious pressure of his cock against her pussy.

“Just the tip, please,” He urged, his tone bordering on desperate, his lips grazing the shell of her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

“Daddy-” she whimpered, her voice trembling. She was still scared of the possible pain she’ll feel, and though she didn’t admit it, his size— is kinda intimidating. Yet his words, filthy and coaxing, wove a spell.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby,” he murmured, his voice dripping with promise, “I bet it’ll slide in so easy.” His cock nudged her clit, sending a jolt through her, and she gasped, her resolve fraying. For what feels like fifteen minutes, he teased, his whispers painting vivid images of pleasure. Finally, her voice barely audible, she relented. “Just the tip.”

Johnny froze, then lifted his head, kissing her deeply, a silent thank you. He shifted, kneeling between her thighs, spreading her legs and draping them over his thighs. His fingers grazed her slit, slick with her arousal, before he lined himself up, rubbing his tip along her folds. Slowly, he pushed just the head inside, groaning at the tight, warm grip of her virgin pussy.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his eyes glued to the obscene sight of her labia stretching around his thick tip, glistening with her arousal. It had been, like, three years since he’d been inside anyone and her tight pussy did him no good. It was almost too much for him.

He thrust shallowly, careful not to go deeper, savoring the way her walls clung to him. “Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” He rasped, his voice thick with lust, his gaze raking over her body— her breasts laid bare for his eyes, her nipples hard, her lips parted as she whimpered, the sound high and needy.

And he was right. It did. The heat of him and the weight of him was overwhelming in a way she never felt before. Every small movement sent a ripple of warmth through her. Her skin was flushed, a sheen of sweat glistening under the low light, and the sight of her spread bare beneath him, trembling from just his tip, made his cock throb painfully. 

“Imagine taking all of Daddy’s cock, baby,” he teased, his tone wicked, “How fucking good that’d feel.” Once, he pushed a fraction deeper, her sharp gasp and squirm pulling a dark chuckle from him. He chuckled, easing back to the agreed depth. “Too much for my pretty girl?”

She nodded as she gripped the sheets, still not entirely familiarized herself to the feeling of having something in her. Johnny’s hand slid to her waist, his fingers caressing the soft curve of her skin, warm and reassuring, grounding her as he murmured, “You’re doing so good, baby.”

His gaze dropped, fixating on the view below. The thick, flared head of his cock, glistened with her arousal, nestled just inside her tight, virgin pussy. Her folds were swollen, slick with her wetness and his precum, stretching beautifully around his tip. He moved his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, careful not to push too far.

“Your pussy looks even prettier with my cock in it,” he growled, his voice thick with lust, eyes locked on the way her lips parted for him, hugging his tip. He savors the way her pussy pulsed around him, each movement making her slicker, her arousal dripping down to the sheets. She glanced down, noticing how fixated he was, his eyes dark and hungry, and her cheeks flushed deeper, a mix of shyness and curiosity sparkling in her.

“Can I see?” she asked, her voice shy but thick with curiosity, her cheeks burning as she bit her lip, nervous but wanting to share in his fascination.

Johnny grinned, charmed by her boldness and his hand was still caressing her waist as he nodded. “Of course” He grabbed a pillow, propping it behind her so she could lean on her elbows, giving her a clear view of his thick cockhead nestled in her slick, stretched pussy. She lost her words when she sees her folds parted wide clinging to the broad head of his cock, the contrast of his size against her small, tight entrance making her heart race. “O-Oh,” she whispered, there’s a mix of awe and nervous excitement, her cheeks burning hotter as she stared, mesmerized by how her body stretched for him.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he said, his voice low and dirty. “Look at your little pussy stretching for me, baby.” She watched his tip slid in and out, her folds glistening, parting to accommodate him. The sight was raw and pornographic.

Now, as she stared at the sight of their connection, her voice trembled again. “It looks so… big,” she whispered, her eyes still fixed on the filthy scene below and she couldn’t look away.

Johnny chuckled softly, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing her flushed skin. “It is, baby, but you’re taking me so well,” he said, his voice warm with pride and lust. 

“Look at how pretty your pussy looks, stretched just for me.” He thrust shallowly, letting her see the slick movement, her arousal coating him, and she whimpered, her body responding despite her nerves. It was just the tip, but it was enough for their first step, a moment of trust and intimacy that left them both craving more, her shyness easing with every gentle word and touch he offered.

Johnny reveled in it, treating the shallow thrusts like an edging game, each stroke a test of his control. He memorized the way her breasts jiggled, the way her fingers clutched the sheets, the soft, desperate sounds she made. His cock ached to plunge deeper, but he held back, savoring the torture.

When his climax built, he reached down, his thumb circling her clit in tight circles, determined to pull her over the edge first. Her pussy clenched tighter around his tip, and he cursed under his breath, the sensation nearly undoing him.

“I’m cumming,” she gasped, her voice breaking as she feels the wave coming. 

“Cum, baby,” Her orgasm slammed into her, raw and intense, nothing like the softer climaxes his fingers or tongue had coaxed out before, this was deeper, harder. She was so fucking tight clamping on his tip, so wet, her body responding to him like it was made for this, and it took everything in him to keep his thrusts shallow, to not bury himself deep and claim her right then. The sight of her spread out, flushed, and fucked out just from his tip made his balls tighten, his mind flooded with the primal urge to fill her.

Her pulsing heat was maddening, pushing him closer to the edge. “Daddy, pull out!” she cried, her voice urgent as she sensed his climax. His mind flashed; he’d get her pills, or maybe not. Maybe he’d skip it entirely, imagining when they finally fucked properly, he’ll knock her up.

He groaned, low and pissed off, but pulled out just enough, his swollen tip pressed against her parted slit as he came hard, thick, hot ropes of cum shooting across her pussy, splattering her folds, dripping down to her tight little ass and soaking the sheets messily.

The sight of her filthy aftermath got him the second time. He couldn’t resist sliding his tip back in, feeling her pussy twitch, imagining he was balls-deep, pumping her full of his cum. The vivid fantasy has his cock twitching as it spurted a final, thick burst of cum, then dripping down her folds, mingling with the mess he’d already made.

“That’s the first and last time Daddy’s pulling out,” he vowed, his voice rough with resolve, his eyes dark with promise. She smiled, soft and knowing, her body still humming from her release. After a year and a half of patience, of guiding her step by step, he’d earned this—and she knew the next time, there’d be no holding back.

“Look at this, baby,” Johnny’s voice breaking the silence, voice thick with lust, his eyes locked on her cum-soaked pussy. He dragged his forefinger through the mess, smearing his cum over her swollen folds, plunging it into her slightly parted slit, her warmth sucking him in. “Fuck, it was just my tip, and your pretty little pussy’s already spread open for me,” he growled, his dirty talk rough and unfiltered as he watched her squirm, her breath hitching at his touch.

He pushed his finger into her slightly parted slit and he groaned at how impossibly tight she was, he kept scooping his cum from her folds, pushing it back into her tight hole, obsessed with the sight of her tiny entrance stretches around his fingers, clamping so hard it was like she was begging for more.

“Not satisfied, are you, baby? Your pussy’s gripping my finger so fucking hard” He pumped his finger slowly, then added a second, stretching her just enough to pull a whimper, his cum slick on his skin as he teased her. 

She whimpered, her eyes fluttering open, wide and glistening with nervous hesitation, her cheeks burning a deep pink as she looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper, trembling with shyness. “D-Daddy, I-I’m so sensitive,” she stammered, her words faltering as she bit her lip hard, her hands clutching the sheets tightly, and her thighs trembling uncontrollably. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so needy,” Johnny growled, his thumb finds her swollen clit and pressing down with steady circles. Her pussy clenched harder, the wet squelch of his cum and her arousal filling the air as he worked her.

Her breath hitched, a soft moan escaping. “D-Daddy, it’s… it’s too much,” she whispered, voice shaky, eyes pleading. He smirked, curling his fingers deeper, thumb rubbing her clit harder.

She whimpered, hips twitching. “I-I’m gonna cum again,” she stammered, her voice tiny, desperate.

“That’s it, baby, let it go,” Her pussy pulsed wildly, her moans turning to high-pitched cries, and thighs shaking harder.

Her body tensed, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as her pussy clamped down, spasming around his fingers in a wet, filthy rush. “Daddy!” she sobbed, cumming hard, her juices mixing with his cum, her body trembling as he kept pumping, drawing out every shudder.

“Good girl,” he growled, slowing his fingers but not stopping, milking her orgasm as her pussy twitched and pulsed, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. He watched her collapse back to steady her breath.

After some time, she shifted, her body still trembling as she crawled shyly toward him on the bed. Johnny was still kneeling between her legs, his cock half-hard, glistening with the remnants of his release. Her eyes flicked up to his, timid and hesitant, as she bit her lip, her voice barely above a whisper. “Daddy, can I… can I suck you off?” she asked, her tone soft and submissive, just as he’d taught her to do whenever she wanted his cock, her cheeks flushing with nervous anticipation.

Johnny’s eyes softened, but he shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing her swollen lower lip. “Enough, baby,” he said, his voice low but firm, laced with care. “It’s already two in the morning, and we’ve got that early meeting tomorrow. You need rest, and so do I.” He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, his hand sliding to her shoulder to ease her back onto the bed. “Come here, sweetheart, let Daddy take care of you.”

He shifted, lying down beside her, pulling her trembling body into his arms, her skin warm and a little bit sticky against his. He grabbed a soft blanket from the edge of the bed, draping it over her, tucking it around her shoulders to keep her warm. “You did so good for me,” he murmured, his fingers stroking her hair as she nestled against his chest, her breaths still uneven. He reached for a bottle of water on the nightstand, uncapping it and holding it to her lips. “Drink, sweetheart,” he urged, tilting it gently as she took small sips, her eyes fluttering closed as she relaxed into his hold.

Remembering the sticky remnants of his cum still clinging to her thighs and folds, Johnny reached over to the nightstand again, grabbing a box of wet tissues he kept for times like this. “Let’s clean you up, baby,” he said softly, his tone tender but practical. He pulled a few sheets to carefully wiping the mess from her inner thighs, his touch slow and deliberate to avoid startling her sensitive skin. He parted her legs slightly, dabbing at her swollen, glistening folds, cleaning away the slick mix of his cum and her arousal, his eyes flicking up to her face to make sure she was comfortable. “Can’t leave my girl all messy,” he murmured, a faint smile in his voice as he worked, tossing the used tissues aside before grabbing fresh ones to finish the job, ensuring she was clean and comfortable.

He kept her close, one hand rubbing slow circles on her back, soothing her as her body calmed. “Get some sleep, baby,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head, his tone warm and protective. “We’ll have plenty of time for more later, I promise.” She nodded faintly, her cheek pressed against his chest, already drifting as he held her, ensuring she felt safe and cared for.

The city glittered that night, still humming from the echoes of applause and flashing cameras. Jaehyun had just come from the award ceremony, the Daesang trophy is still gleaming in his hands, his name still trending across every feed. But the noise, the lights, and the glamour mattered as much as the thought of her.

The moment he stepped through the apartment door, the familiar scent of her cooking greeted him— warm, buttery, and a little sweet, like home. “Baby, I’m home,” he called out, his voice still soft from exhaustion but tinted with a smile.

There was a shuffle of hurried footsteps, and before he could even take his shoes off, she was already running toward him.

“Sweetheart!” he laughed, barely catching his breath as she threw her arms around him. She cupped his face, peppering his lips, his cheeks, his jaw with tiny kisses between words. “I’m so, so proud of you!”

Her excitement was contagious, the kind that made Jaehyun giggle like a boy again. She smelled like specifically like tuberose and warmth and everything familiar. Her smile, bright and unguarded, made the long night worth it.

He hugged her back tightly, pressing his face into her hair. “You’re gonna make me blush,” he teased, but his voice was tender. To Jaehyun, she was more than a girlfriend. She was his home.

His biggest fan, his quiet muse, the person who waited through sleepless nights and cheered through every rough patch. The one who reminded him to eat, who listened to him ramble about melodies and scripts, who never let him forget that beyond fame, he was still just a man worth loving.

They were three years in.

Three years of rushed and slow mornings, shared takeout boxes, little notes left on mirrors. Their love was gentle and consistent, growing quietly in the spaces between days.

Jaehyun loved to provide for her. To nurture her, to protect her, to spoil her with small, thoughtful things, even jewelry that sparkled like her smile. Food that she said she wanted to try. Books she mentioned once in passing. Clothes and bag and shoes he caught her pressed a like button on Instagram. Flowers “just because.”

And she gave back in her own ways through devotion, through effort, through the quiet pride she carried for him.

She was still a student, and the way she repays his attentiveness is with her attitude in living her own life— always striking for perfection, hardworking, endlessly motivated, just like what he does in his job. Straight A’s, perfect attendance, internships lined up like stepping stones toward a bright future. She always said she wanted to make him proud.

And she did. Every single day.

They met by accident, almost like fate when you look back. It was the wrap-up party for one of Jaehyun’s dramas. She wasn’t supposed to be there. She had only come to pick up her friend, who were his junior stylist who’d still unfamiliar with her drinking limit.

He noticed her right away. Not because she was trying to stand out, but because she didn’t. She was polite, quiet, but the way she smiled when she talked to people, bright, genuine, and unfiltered caught him off guard. Not to mention her looks. She looks like an angel in his eyes.

Later, he asked his stylist to set them up. Just coffee, he’d said. Just to talk.

Coffee turned into dinner. Dinner turned into laughter. Laughter turned into something neither of them expected.

They fell into rhythm easily, like they’d been waiting for each other all along.

Through the years, they built a world together.

She was there when Jaehyun got his first win, his first record-breaking chart, his first scandal that came out of nowhere and nearly broke him. When he was lost in doubt, she was the steady anchor that pulled him back.

And he was there when she faced her own storms; when her parents passed, when the grief sat heavy on her chest and made it hard to breathe. He held her through the quiet nights, through every tear, through the silence that followed.

He was there, too, for her victories. When she finally finished her bachelor’s degree, Jaehyun was the first face she saw in the crowd—holding the biggest bouquet of white lilies and baby’s breath, smiling so bright she swore he lit up the entire hall.

After the ceremony, he slipped a small box into her hands. Inside was a watch— sleek, silver, and far too expensive for him to justify, but he just grinned when she tried to protest.

“You worked hard for this,” he’d said, fastening it around her wrist. “Let me be proud.”

He told everyone about her—his friends, his staff, even his manager. He bragged like she’d won a Nobel prize when she got scouted by a multinational company.

When she landed her first real job, he made it his mission to celebrate properly. He took her shopping for work clothes, insisting on picking every blouse and blazer himself, pretending to be the fashion expert he wasn’t. On her first day, he woke up early to drive her there, waiting in the car until she disappeared through the lobby doors. And when his schedule allowed, he’d pack her lunch, meticulously packed, with little notes tucked inside: Eat well, little baby.

They weren’t perfect. But they were each other’s.

The third year was supposed to be their year—steady, secure, finally at peace. They had survived so much, and this was meant to be the time they thrived.

Until it wasn’t.

It started small. A missed period. Then another. She brushed it off at first, blaming stress, diet, anything else. But soon, she couldn’t ignore the changes. Her body felt strange, unfamiliar. Her stomach felt tight sometimes, her appetite erratic, the morning nausea too consistent to be a coincidence.

And one evening, after sitting on the edge of her bed for what felt like hours, she gathered the courage to go out and buy a handful of pregnancy tests. She came home trembling, locking herself in the bathroom.

First time in the evening. Second time in the next morning. Third time in the afternoon. Fourth time right now.

Each one spelled the same word: Pregnant.

She didn’t have the heart to read the result, and she avoids it until the fourth time she didn’t it. Her heart dropped. She sat on the cold tile floor, staring at the tiny plastic sticks as if they might change if she just blinked long enough. But they didn’t.

The next morning, she went to the nearest gynecology clinic, the one just a few blocks from her office. Her hands shook when she filled out the forms. The doctor, who’s a woman in her forties with kind eyes performed an ultrasound quietly.

After a moment, the doctor smiled gently. “You’re about eight weeks along,” she said. “The baby’s developing well.”

She couldn’t even process the words. “But… I’m on birth control,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “I never missed a day. Not even once.”

The doctor nodded sympathetically. “It happens, sometimes. Very rare, but possible.”

Her eyes filled with tears she didn’t even feel falling. “So… what now?”

The doctor hesitated, typing something on her tablet. “If you’re not ready to continue, I can write you a referral letter to a clinic that provides termination services,” she said carefully. “We don’t handle that procedure here.”

She just nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

She came home that night in a daze. The walls of the apartment felt smaller, quieter. She cooked dinner. She showered. She sat beside Jaehyun while he talked about his upcoming schedules, smiling when he smiled, laughing at all the right moments.

But she didn’t hear a word.

The next few days passed like that. She went to work, clocked in, clocked out, but her thoughts were trapped in one looping question: What am I supposed to do?

Every answer led back to him.

If she told Jaehyun, it would destroy everything he’d worked for. The career he loved. The fans who adored him. The company that would never forgive him.

And if she kept it secret… she’d be the only one to bear the cost.

She avoided him for days, claiming exhaustion, hiding the truth behind small smiles and weak excuses. She needed time to think, to plan, to be brave enough to make a decision that would break both of them.

She thought about him crying because of her. Because of this. So she made a choice.

She’d protect him, even if it meant breaking her own heart.

She started building a plan. Switzerland. Her father’s dream country. He used to talk about it often— the quiet towns, the clean air, the peace. 

Her father’s voice echoed faintly in her memory was his stories about Switzerland, the place he always dreamed of retiring. He used to say he wanted to see his grandchildren grow up there someday, in a quiet town surrounded by mountains.

After he passed, she’d learned he had a small house there, tucked away under his name.

That’s where she turned first.

She remembered that. And now, it felt like destiny.

She went through her finances carefully, calculating every possible cost. Her savings. Her insurance. Her inheritance. She contacted her father’s old attorney—an older man named Mr. Yoon who used to handle her family’s affairs—and told him she wanted to fulfill her father’s wish of “spending part of her life in Switzerland.”

He agreed to help. He handled the paperwork, reviewed the house ownership, and arranged all the documents she’d need.

Within days, everything was ready.

“Your application looks strong,” Mr. Yoon told her over the phone. “You have the inheritance, the property, and the qualifications for residency. All that’s left is your confirmation. Shall I proceed?”

She hesitated. Her hand tightened around her phone. “Not yet,” she said quietly. “Please wait until I tell you to.”

He respected that. “Of course,” he said. “When you’re ready.”

She hung up, staring at her reflection in the dark window. Everything was in place. She just had to find the strength to walk away.

But she couldn’t. Not yet.

Every time she looked at Jaehyun, his soft smile and the warmth in his voice when he said her name, she froze. She told herself she’d leave tomorrow. Then tomorrow became another day. Then another week.

When night came, she’d lie beside him and whisper, Just one more day. One more night. One more morning waking up next to him.

One more time seeing him thrives in his element. To see how he shines the brightest when doing what he likes to do in his life.

Weeks passed that way. The thought of leaving him crushed her, and she kept delaying it, waiting for the courage to do the one thing she swore was necessary.

And then, Jaehyun won his second Daesang.

She sat in front of the TV that night, watching him smile on stage, his face glowing under the lights makes her heart swell with pride and breaking at the same time. He looked so happy, so fulfilled, so radiant glowing under the lights, his smile full of everything she’d always loved about him— his passion, his grace, his endless dedication.

And she realized it was time.

Her excuse was up.

After wiping her tears, she reached for her phone and called Mr. Yoon.

“Please go ahead with my visa application,” she said quietly. “Process everything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she whispered, eyes glistening. “I’m sure.”

She wanted him to come home to something warm, something real. So she spent the entire evening cooking his favorites — mushroom soup, steak, mashed potatoes, and even buying his favorite wine from their regular wine shop just across the street.

He deserved to be celebrated. And she wanted to be the one to do it. When they finally sat down together, it didn’t feel like a dinner but it felt like love.

He told her stories from the night, about the speeches, the laughter, the backstage chaos. She listened, eyes shining, resting her chin on her palm, smiling like she’d never get tired of hearing his voice.

He teased her for overcooking the steak a little; she rolled her eyes and said he was lucky she even cooked at all. He kissed her temple as an apology. She giggled.

Everything about them that night was full of unspoken devotion. After dinner, they moved to the living room. She put on a movie neither of them really watched, and Jaehyun sprawled out on the couch, lazily twirling his fingers, his head heavy from comfort and wine.

In the kitchen, she was taking a fresh batch of cookies out of the oven, humming softly to herself.

As the night goes deeper, Jaehyun was sprawled on the couch, a half-watched Netflix series running in the background. His hands fidgeted restlessly, rubbing his knuckles, tugging at a loose thread on his sleeve. In the kitchen, she was taking a fresh batch of cookies out of the oven, humming softly to the sound of the timer.

Jaehyun glanced at his hands again. “Shit,” he muttered. He realized it was past his nail care routine so his nails had grown longer than she liked.

“Baby,” he called out, already standing. “Can I borrow your nail clippers?”

"Yeah, it’s in my wardrobe drawer" She answered casually— absentmindedly, forgetting what she was hiding in that specific drawer.

Jaehyun walked into her room, and he pulled the drawer open, expecting the small metal clipper he always borrowed but he froze when he sees something else.

There was a neat pile of used test packs, folded clinic papers, ultrasound photos, and a sealed envelope with a hospital logo and her name typed cleanly on it.

He blinked once. Twice. Then sat down on the edge of her bed, staring.

Each test pack read the same word: Pregnant.

His heart thudded unevenly fast, heavy, panicked. He ran a hand over his face, inhaled through his nose, exhaled shakily. The images blurred as he tried to process what this meant. There were too many scenarios happening in his head, and it was stressing him out.

Yes, he dreamed of having his own family with her, but not in this way, and not now.

He went out of her bedroom, coming over to her whose eyes are glued to his new drama on TV. There were cookies and a glass of warm milk in front of her, her little domestic ritual.

He stood adjacent to her with all of the things he had found, he then called her name softly. "Baby…"

Her head turned. The color drained from her face instantly. Then, her eyes darted to his hands, to the test kits, the photos. She froze.

Oh shit.

Jaehyun could read the horror in her eyes when she saw what Jaehyun had been holding in his hand. He wasn’t supposed to find out about her pregnancy. She had no plans to tell him about it.

In her plan, as cold, careful, and cruel as it might’ve been, he was never meant to see this part of her. She had already decided to play the villain. To become the bad guy who left without reason and hurt him so he wouldn’t come after her.

“I have so much I want to do.” “I need to find myself.” “I can’t stay in Korea anymore.” Excuses that sounded believable enough, painful enough, final enough to take the blame and let him hate her if that’s what it took to keep him safe.

But never I’m pregnant. Never I’m scared.

Because she knew exactly what would happen if Jaehyun ever found out.

He was never supposed to find those test kits, those ultrasound photos, that sealed envelope with her name on it. He was never supposed to see proof of the life that was tying them together.

The look in his eyes was a mix of shock, confusion, something raw and trembling underneath, and he wouldn’t ever imagine every lie she’d built, every escape route she’d planned, had just fallen apart in his hands, would he?

There was no way to lie now. He’d already seen everything, yet, it was him that broke her, not the evidence.

It was the way Jaehyun was looking at her softly, not angry, not accusing. Just… worried. The same kind of worry he always had when she caught a fever, or forgot to eat, or worked too late. That gentle, instinctive concern that made her feel both loved and small.

She could feel her defenses unraveling under that gaze.

He’d always had that effect on her. No matter how strong she tried to be, no matter how stubbornly she held her ground, she could never withstand him when he looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

And now, when he should’ve been furious, or at least disappointed, he was just here with her, giving her the gentleness she needs for now.

Jaehyun crouched in front of her, setting the items gently beside her thigh. “Want to tell me what this is?” His tone wasn’t sharp, but soft and confused.

When she didn’t speak, he reached for her hands, thumbs brushing her knuckles. “Sweetheart,” he murmured. “Is this yours? Are you pregnant?”

The tears came before she even realized it, spilling down her cheeks without her permission. She tried to look away, to hide her face behind her hands, but Jaehyun’s presence made it impossible. His silence pressed softly around her, not demanding answers, just… waiting.

She nodded slowly, barely breathing. When she senses no anger in his voice and his voice is somehow soothing her anxiety, she looks at Jaehyun with teary eyes. She broke down in front of him, silently crying in frustration and relief at the same time because Jaehyun’s response is far better than what she expected. 

Jaehyun’s chest sank. He exhaled a long, heavy sigh that sounded like it came from somewhere deep in his soul.

He stared down at the test pack still resting in his hand, the word Pregnant burning through him like a heartbeat.

Yeah, he could read the words printed in bold on the plastic, he could see her name on the ultrasound photo, the tiny smudge of what was now a life inside her— but it hit him differently when she actually said it.

Something about hearing it from her lips made it real in a way a device never could.

He sat beside her, silent for a few seconds, just watching her fall apart. His throat tightened, his mind swirling in fear, confusion, love, all tangled together but when he reached out, his hands didn’t shake.

Without another word, he pulled her into his arms.

“It’s okay,” he whispered against her hair, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “It’s okay, baby.”

He didn’t know what okay meant right now.

It didn’t mean he was ready. It didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified. It just meant she wasn’t alone.

His world was spinning too fast for him to define what came next, starting from his career, their future, to the tiny heartbeat they hadn’t planned but all that mattered was that she was trembling in his arms, and he needed her to know she was safe there.

He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, frantic and scared, and he tightened his hold as if he could shield her from everything— the world, the fear, even himself.

“Shh,” he murmured softly, rocking her just a little. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He kept hugging her to give her assurance that he would not react badly to whatever situation she’s going to explain to him. Although he wasn’t welcome to the idea of having a baby right now and he knows how fucked up his career could be if this gets to the public, he knows it must’ve been 300% harder for her to take in the situation since she is the one carrying the unwanted child in her body.

She cried quietly against him, her fingers clinging to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright. He could feel her body trembling in his hold, so he hugs her even tighter. His hand soothes her back, and he gives small kisses on top of her head for long enough until she calls his name.

“Jae…” she whispered when her voice finally found strength.

He leaned back a little, brushing her hair away from her face. Her eyes were red, her lashes wet, her expression half-guilt, half-relief.

Seeing Jaehyun’s face makes her tears run down even more because he has been taking the news unexpectedly well. She knows it must’ve been hard for him too, but she knows he prioritizes her, and she is very grateful for it.

“When did you find out?” he asked softly.

“Last month,” she said, voice cracking. “It’s been twelve weeks now.”

“But you’re on birth control.” Jaehyun knows she was never not on birth control. He knows she even had alarm to take her pill. He is confused about how she can get pregnant when she’s on birth control.

“I know,” she muttered, wiping her cheeks. “They said… it’s rare, but possible.”

"I don’t know," She doesn’t even know how and what to explain. It was all white when the doctors explained to her how can it actually happened, which makes him confused even more, Jaehyun never knows that case would be possible. Never in his life he ever thought a birth control device planted inside her body could be faulty.

"It’s possible..?" He asks, not sure on how to responds to this new information.

“They- they write me a referral letter to… remove it.” Her voice broke on the last words. She swallowed hard, trembling again.

“Remove it?” His tone was quiet, but pained. “Baby, are you thinking about that?”

She shakes her head at his question and Jaehyun doesn’t really know how to respond and what to feel by her answer. He knows it will turns their life around either way. He feels like he rationally should encourage her to do what’s best for them, which is to abort the unwanted child, but Jaehyun doesn’t want to do that.

He worries more about her than his whole life career, he doesn’t have the heart to get rid of the— his child, and he couldn’t bear to see her going through any of those kind pain. Not just physically but mentally too.

“I’m scared, I don’t want to do that” she finally said, voice small, and her eyes are filled with frustration, tears are constantly streaming down her eyes, her voice is trembling. Jaehyun couldn’t help but to cry with her, understanding how overwhelming this situation is. 

"Ooh my baby.. how much have you gone through on your own?" Jaehyun’s heart feels like getting ripped into pieces to imagine how distressed and painful it is for her to endure and hide all of what she has been going through alone.

He imagined the past eight weeks. Her waking up alone, sick and scared, trying to act normal around him while her world quietly shifted inside her body. The doctor visits she must’ve gone to by herself. The fear that probably kept her up at night.

The thought made his stomach twist. He couldn’t believe she’d been carrying all that pain and God’s sake, carrying their child, without ever reaching out to him.

“God,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You must’ve been so scared.”

She didn’t answer. She only pressed her lips together, shaking, and he pulled her closer, holding her as if his arms could undo the weeks she’d spent alone.

He could feel the tremors in her shoulders, the uneven rhythm of her breath against his chest. And all he could think was how fragile she felt in his hands. All while, Jaehyun’s mind kept racing, not about the press or the company or the headlines waiting to devour him if this ever got out.

All he could think about was her.  Her health. Her heart. The small, invisible life growing inside her.

He tilted her chin up gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Have you… been feeling okay?” he asked softly. “Any pain? Morning sickness? Have you been eating enough?”

His voice trembled with genuine worry. He was desperate for details, not for control, but to understand how to take care of her. She nodded weakly, voice faint. “A little sick in the mornings. I feel tired all the time… but it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” he said, shaking his head. “You should’ve told me sooner, baby. You shouldn’t have gone through this alone.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she murmured. “You’ve been so busy. And I…” Her words trailed off, her gaze flickering to the floor. “I didn’t want this to ruin anything for you. If people found out… it could all just… fall apart.”

Her voice cracked, but Jaehyun wasn’t even listening to that part. His thoughts were still stuck on her face, pale and tear-streaked, still imagining how she must’ve held it together every day while a secret like this was eating her alive.

He didn’t hear the fear in her words about his career; all he heard was the quiet echo of how alone she’d been. He brushed her hair from her face, fingers trembling. “Don’t think about that right now,” he whispered. “I just need to know you’re okay. That both of you are okay.”

She didn’t answer. She only looked at him, something tender and heavy in her eyes. She could tell his mind was somewhere else, spiraling quietly in his own panic. So she said nothing.

She just leaned into him, letting him hold her tighter.

Letting him have this moment of comfort, the same onr she didn’t know she’d been craving until now.

Her hands slipped around his waist, her cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the uneven rhythm of his heart. They stayed like that for a while.

He wasn’t an idol with a career on the line. She wasn’t a woman drowning in fear. They were just two people who loved each other so much that, even in a moment of chaos, their first instinct was to hold on tighter.

Some time later, the TV had been switched off. The room was dim, filled only with the faint smell of cookies and the sound of their breathing. They sat curled together on the couch, her head on his shoulder, his fingers tracing slow lines down her arm. Neither of them spoke for a long while.

Jaehyun’s mind wouldn’t stop, and the silence between them was filled with all the possibilities that were tearing him apart.

If he told her to remove it, if he said that word aloud, he knew what it would do. It would shatter her. He’d seen the way she trembled when she mentioned the doctor’s referral letter, how she couldn’t even bring herself to say abortion. If he pushed her toward it, she’d do it for him. He knew that. She’d do it out of love, out of fear of being a burden.

But then she’d carry that pain forever. Her body scarred, her mind haunted, her heart empty. And he’d live with it too, the guilt of asking her to destroy a part of herself, and of ending a life that, no matter how small, was his.

He couldn’t even imagine looking at her afterward, knowing he’d chosen himself over them. But if they kept the baby, if he asked her to keep it, he knew the world wouldn’t be kind.

His career would collapse overnight. The news would explode; headlines, hashtags, speculations. He could already hear the whispers in company halls, the cold, calculating tone of his managers. The brand deals would drop, fans would turn rabid. The people who once screamed his name would spit it out like a curse.

And she would be hunted. Dragged through hate, lies, death threats, paparazzi following her every move. All for something as human as loving him.

He clenched his jaw, trying to breathe through it all.

Every scenario ended the same way: with someone broken. Her. Him. The baby. No version of this was painless.

He looked at her then, at the way her lashes clung together from dried tears and the faint redness around her nose, at the small rise and fall of her chest against his shoulder.

What did she really want?

Did she want him to tell her to end it so she could stop being afraid, because maybe she didn’t have the courage to make that choice herself?

Or did she want to keep it, truly, deep in her heart, because something in her.. maybe some motherly instinct, had already accepted it?

Was it fear that made her hesitate, or love?

Was she already picturing them as a family, the three of them together, somewhere far from all of this?

He didn’t know. And that terrified him.

His throat tightened. The longer he sat there, the heavier it all felt. He felt her shift beside him, and when he turned, he saw that silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

Without saying anything, she reached for him, her hand trembling as she cupped the side of his face.

Then she pulled him close.

Jaehyun didn’t realize he’d been crying too until her thumb brushed away a tear on his cheek. She didn’t say a word. She just held him, her small fingers tracing soothing circles at the back of his neck.

Jaehyun’s hands were still on her knees, as if to ground her while thumbs drawing aimless circles against her skin. His voice trembled when he spoke, careful but heavy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked quietly. “Were you… were you planning to hide it from me?”

She lowered her gaze, her lashes wet, tears gathering again at the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” she whispered. Her voice cracked in the middle of the sentence, barely hanging on.

Jaehyun didn’t push her. He could feel her teetering on the edge, and he knew better than to force her to fall apart again. So he stayed silent, although his mind wouldn’t rest.

Why? Why would she hide something like this from him?

Did she want to end things quietly, maybe cutting it off before it got too complicated? Or was she just scared? Scared of worrying him, of being a burden, of ruining something she thought was precious to him?

But he would’ve known eventually.

No matter how carefully she hid the test kits, no matter how quietly she tried to move through it, he would’ve noticed. Her body changing. The signs. The distance.

Why would she keep something like this from him?

The thought stung deeper than he expected.

“Jae…” Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, small and hesitant. He hummed low in his throat. “Hmmm?”

She hesitated again, as if weighing whether to let the words out. Then she breathed out, almost trembling.

“I want to keep the baby.”

Jaehyun’s hand froze mid-stroke, as his breath caught before he even realized it. “Sweetheart…” he said softly, unsure of what to say next.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, full of tears but steady with resolve.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted,” she continued before he could say anything. “I know how much this will ruin you and everything you’ve worked for. I know that. And I don’t blame you if you don’t want this.”

Her lips trembled, but her words stayed firm. “I don’t resent you for thinking that way, Jae. You don’t have to pretend.”

His chest tightened, guilt crawling up his throat. He didn’t even know what to feel. At one point it was a relief that she wanted to keep the baby, or grief for how she said it, like she’d already decided he wasn’t part of the picture.

“You don’t have to be with me,” she said quietly, eyes glistening. “I can do this alone.”

Jaehyun’s head snapped toward her. The world tilted. His heartbeat stuttered and then thundered in his chest.

What did she just say?

Do this alone? Without him?

What did she mean he didn’t have to be with her? That she would keep the baby but leave him out of it? That she would rather disappear than let him carry the burden with her?

His mind spiraled, disbelief and panic tangling together. Jaehyun shut his eyes briefly, trying to steady his breathing, but his fingers tightening on her thighs, trembling against her skin. He exhaled sharply, trying to find his voice through the ache.

“You were planning to leave me?”

She didn’t answer, and her silence hit harder. Jaehyun turned to face her, his expression breaking apart into disbelief and hurt. “How are you gonna raise the baby alone?”

His tone sharpened, no longer the soft whisper of comfort. He wasn’t angry at her but he was terrified, because the words she spit out doesn’t make any sense.

In his mind, there were only two possible outcomes. Either she aborted the baby, although it’s something he could never forgive himself for, or they kept it, and he’d marry her, no hesitation. There was no third option.

No version of this where she carried his child and he wasn’t by her side. What kind of madness was that?

His voice cracked under the weight of it. “You were gonna do this without me? Hide from me? Pretend like I didn’t exist?”

She blinked hard, tears pooling until they spilled. “I can’t do abortion, Jae,” she said, voice trembling. “I’m so scared.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued, words tumbling out fast and broken.

“And I couldn’t drag you into this. Your career, your life… I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Jaehyun exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Baby, that’s not how this should work—”

But she cut him off before he could finish.

“I’ll sign a contract, an NDA, whatever you need,” she blurted out, her hands trembling as she spoke. “Just let me keep the baby. Please, Jae. I’m so stressed just thinking about hurting it. I don’t care what happens to me, I just can’t—” Her voice broke completely. “I can’t do that to the baby.”

Her words hit him like a punch. She was terrified of the world, of him, of everything, yet still determined to face it alone.

Jaehyun’s jaw tightened. His heartbeat was deafening in his ears. “Then we raise them together,” he said, his tone low, steady, leaving no room for negotiation. “I’m not letting you do it alone.”

She looked at him like he didn’t understand, like he couldn’t possibly see the bigger picture she was trying to protect him from.

He leaned forward, his hand gripping hers. “Listen to me. I want this baby. I want you. Stop thinking I don’t. Yes, it wasn’t planned and even terrifying to think of all the possible outcomes, but I’m not walking away from either of you”

His voice wavered but didn’t break. “Do you think I could live knowing you’re out there, carrying my child, struggling alone while I’m pretending to smile for cameras?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “I can’t. I’d rather ruin my career than ruin you.”

She shut her eyes tightly, tears spilling over. “No.”

It came out sharper this time. A clean, final cut.

He froze. “Why not?” His voice softened, almost pleading. “I’m the father.”

She looked away. “No. I wish you to continue living your life like this. I don’t plan on ruining your life even if I have the baby.”

Jaehyun sat there, silent, but his thoughts were anything. He couldn’t stop thinking about her and the baby. About everything that could go wrong. If this got out, he knew what would happen. All of it could crumble overnight.

And yet, somehow, that wasn’t what scared him the most. What scared him was her.

He swallowed, his voice rough. “Then what about your life? It’ll ruin yours too. I know exactly how much you’ll struggle! Do you really think I can just sit still and pretend I don’t know?”

The image of her doing this alone. Crying alone. Carrying his child while pretending everything was fine. He hated that she’d already been through weeks of that without him knowing. He hated that she’d even thought she had to.

His mind started replaying the past few weeks, every small thing that suddenly made sense.

Her body had already been changing, hadn’t it?

She’d been sleeping more than usual, curling up on the couch long before midnight, saying she was just tired from work. Her appetite was off too. She skipped breakfast most mornings, claiming she wasn’t hungry, then snacked on crackers in the middle of the night. Sometimes she’d wince quietly, hand over her stomach, but when he asked, she’d smile and say, “Just cramps, don’t worry.”

He should’ve noticed.

Her clothes had gotten looser, her mood softer, quieter.

There were moments when she’d disappear into the bathroom for too long, and he’d joke that she was taking too long fixing her hair. She’d laugh, pretending not to be pale and sweaty, and he’d brush it off like an idiot.

How many times had she looked unwell, and he just assumed she was tired? How many times had she hidden her trembling hands behind a smile, and he let her?

He rubbed his face roughly, dragging his palms over his eyes, guilt burning through him like fire. He should’ve seen something or anything.

He didn’t even know where to start, how to fix this, how to make it right. His career had always been the center of his life— his dream, his purpose, his pride. And now, for the first time, he hated it.

He hated that it was standing between him and her. Between him and the baby he didn’t even know he wanted until now.

What kind of man would he be if he just let her go through this alone? What kind of father?

He glanced at her, sitting small and broken beside him.

She looked too delicate for all of this. Her shoulders were trembling beneath his oversized shirt, her hair messy from all the crying. Her face was pale, eyes swollen, and still she looked so young— too young to be sitting here talking about something as heavy as a pregnancy.

Jaehyun’s throat tightened. She was only twenty-three, still figuring herself out, still glowing with that kind of curiosity and energy he’d always admired. She was brilliant, always had been sharp and witty, with a mind that could outsmart anyone in a room. He used to tease her for how easily she got lost in her thoughts, in her books, in the little dreams she collected. He loved that about her— how full of potential she was, how her bright future still stretched wide open ahead of her.

And now she was here, carrying his child inside her body.

The realization hit him like a wave. He ruined it for her.

He hated that his love had become something that might clip her wings. She shouldn’t have to trade her future for a mistake they never meant to make. She shouldn’t have a baby as a weight she has to drag into the years she was meant to be chasing her dreams.

She was his baby— the one he always wanted to protect from the noise, the pressure, the world that could be so cruel. But now, she was having his baby.

Her hands were trembling against her knees, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. She looked so small, and yet she was carrying a whole new life inside her, bearing the weight of something he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

He didn’t know how to process it— the fear, the awe, the guilt. What he knew was she shouldn’t have to go through this alone. Not her. Not this delicate girl who still giggled when he teased her, who still made faces when she finds a vegetables she didn’t like on her plate, who still looked at him like he was her whole world.

She reached out instinctively, touching his wrist. “Jae…”

He shook his head. “No, listen.” His eyes were glassy now. “If I have to quit, I’ll quit. I’ll save, invest, whatever it takes. I’ll prepare everything to leave with you. You and the baby come first, always.”

“Stop—” she whispered, “Jaehyun.” Her voice cracked. She grabbed his hands to make him stop. “Don’t say that.”

Tears welled in her eyes again. She pulled her hands free, covering her face.  Her voice trembled, raw and quiet. “You’ve worked your whole life for this. I know how much you love doing music. I don’t want to be the one taking it away from you.

Jaehyun moved closer, lowering her hands from her face. “You’re not taking anything away from me.”

She shook her head slowly, her lips quivering. “I know you know the consequences better than I do. It’s not worth it, Jae”

He was quietly staring at her like he was memorizing her face. Then, softly, almost brokenly, he said, “You worth so much to me, don’t say that”

“Where would you even go?” he asked, voice low, heavy with disbelief. “Just vanish with my kid and pretend I don’t exist?”

Her hands trembled, resting on her lap. “You have so much to achieve in your life… I don’t want to be an obstacle in your life.”

He stared at her for a long time that she almost thought he’d stop fighting. But then he leaned forward again, pressing his forehead to hers. His voice was barely above a whisper.

The night grew cold. The cookies were long forgotten on the table. They stayed on the couch, tangled in each other’s arms but miles apart in thought.

Jaehyun fell asleep eventually, head resting against her shoulder. His lashes were still damp, his hand still holding hers even in sleep. She turned slightly to look at him — the man who loved too deeply, too recklessly.

Her thumb brushed over his knuckles. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I love you too much to ruin you.”

She leaned forward, kissed his forehead, and let him sleep.

Outside, the city was quiet. The only sound left was her uneven breathing; the sound of a decision already forming in her chest.

The next few days passed in a blur of soft mornings and fragile normalcy. She smiled more, cooked for him, let him hold her at night but every time Jaehyun turned away, her eyes lingered too long on him, memorizing everything she knew she’d soon have to leave behind.

When he went to the studio, she started preparing quietly. She sorted through her clothes when he wasn’t home only to tell him it wouldn’t fit her anymore when he asked about it, going to her own apartment and started putting away documents and important files into a small folder. She checked for visa requirements, applies for it, do all the things she needs for her visa to be approved, and even looked up flight schedules.

She told herself it wasn’t goodbye yet, but every drawer she emptied made it feel more real.

Meanwhile, Jaehyun was doing the opposite.

He was making too many plans for them. Late at night, she’d wake up to the glow of his phone screen as he scrolled through his financial reports, his brows furrowed, lips pressed tight. He’d call people quietly, his voice low and serious, asking about investment options, property values, contracts.

In the morning, he’d act normal make her breakfast, kiss her forehead, brush his thumb over her wrist before leaving, but there was something new in his eyes now: determination.

He kept trying to talk to her about getting married before her baby bump showed.

“Baby, we should just do it quietly. No one has to know yet. We can figure out the rest later.”

She always smiled faintly, tucking his long hair behind her ear.

“Next time, Jae. Let’s talk about it next time.”

He’d sigh, press his lips to her temple, and drop it for the moment, but he always brought it up again.

She kept giving him the same answer.

“Next time.” “Later.” “We still have time.”

But they both knew time was exactly what they didn’t have.

Every “next time” made his chest feels heavier, every deflection made him hold her longer at night, his arms locked around her waist, his hand resting over her stomach and tell the baby to convince her mama to just marry daddy already. He didn’t know that she’d already booked a flight.

He thought he was buying time to build a new life, but she was buying time to say goodbye.

He told her he was ready to drop everything— the fame, the music, the cameras if it meant being with her and the baby.

“Just tell me where to go,” he said one night, brushing her hair out of her face. “Anywhere you want, I’ll go with you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I love seeing you stand on stage, singing your heart out and getting all the love you deserves, Jae.. I want you to see you spark under the beautiful lights directing at you. You shine the brightest when you sing”

She looked up at him, eyes soft but sad. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, memorizing every bit of him.

“Jae…” she whispered. “I want you to live the life you’ve worked hard on. To stand on stage so bright and alive, singing your heart out, getting all the love you deserve. I want you to keep shining like that. You shine the brightest when you do what makes you happy”

He frowned, shaking his head slightly. “What’s the point of shining if you’re not there to see it?”

She smiled faintly, even though her eyes were glossy. “I always will.” He just held her tighter, pressing his face into her neck. She smelled like jasmine and laundry soap, like home.

After that night, they fell into a rhythm that almost felt normal again. They woke up together, ate breakfast together. He’d watch her every time she got dizzy or tired, hovering close enough to catch her if she stumbled.

He became so protective it made her heart ache.

He bought every supplement that the moms on the blog recommended and kept them lined up neatly on the kitchen counter— both his and her house. When the nausea got bad, he learned how to cook plain foods ranging from variety of rice porridge to soft soups, cuts her fruit with honey, nutrients packed snacks. He even memorized what scents made her queasy and banned them from the house.

Sometimes at night when they staying the night together, he massaged her calves and ankles, rubbing slow circles to ease the soreness. Sometimes, when she was half-asleep, he’d rest his palm gently over her almost nonexistent bump, his thumb brushing back and forth, reverent and quiet because he grows to love the baby even more.

It was the kind of tenderness she’d never imagined could exist. For a brief moment, she almost let herself fall into it. She imagined a version of life where she stayed— where they raised the baby together, cooked breakfast in the same kitchen, listened to his songs while folding tiny clothes.

It felt too good.

Too easy. Too dangerous.

The world would chew him up for this, and she’d be the reason, and she wouldn’t let him pay the price for a thing he never has to burdened with.

So she set her heart again. Harder this time.

A week earlier, she’d gone to the Swiss Embassy for an interview. It was just a set of formal questions, document checks, polite smiles that felt heavier than they should. She remembered sitting across from the officer, answering every question with careful calmness while her stomach churned quietly under the weight of what this really meant.

When she left the building, she looked up at the pale sky and told herself she’d done the right thing. The embassy said they would reach out within a week. She’d nodded, thanked them, and walked away pretending her heart wasn’t breaking with every step.

Since then, she’d been staying mostly at Jaehyun’s place. It was easier that way she haf fewer moments alone with her thoughts. His house had become her safe little lie. She still woke up to his scent, cooked breakfast while he hummed his new melodies, kissed him goodbye before his rehearsals like nothing was wrong.

But today, while Jaehyun was out at rehearsal, she returned to her own apartment for the first time in weeks. She’d been expecting the letter to arrive any day now and something deep inside told her today was the day.

She walked through the quiet lobby, nodding politely to the doorman, and stopped in front of the row of mailboxes. Her fingers hesitated for just a second before unlocking hers.

There it was.

A small, crisp white envelope tucked neatly inside.

Embassy of Switzerland.

Her chest tightened. She held the envelope carefully and made her way upstairs to her unit. The apartment smelled faintly of the old candle she’d forgotten to blow out weeks ago.

She placed the envelope on the table for a moment, staring at it like it might disappear. Then, slowly, she tore it open.

Visa approved.

The words were clean and simple, terrifying in how final they felt. Her fingers trembled as she folded the paper neatly, slipped it between the pages of her passport, and tucked both into the drawer on her wardrobe. The same drawer where Jaehyun once found the test packs.

For a while, she just stood there, staring at nothing. Then she exhaled shakily, wiping her face, and moved to the closet.

If she was leaving, she might as well start now. 

She opened her suitcase, pulled the first drawer open, and began to pack her things, in a way someone dismantling a life piece by piece.

The next day, she got ready for work just like always. She tied her hair neatly, put on light makeup, picked the same blazer she always wore to the office. To Jaehyun, nothing looked different. She smiled the same way, kissed him goodbye the same way, told him she’d text when she got there — exactly like every other day.

But when she reached her office, she didn’t go straight to her desk. She walked quietly to the HR department and handed over an envelope.

“It’s my resignation,” she said with a small smile. “One month notice. Personal reasons.”

The HR officer blinked, surprised, but nodded. “We’ll process it.”

She hesitated, then added softly, “Can I ask you for one favor? Please don’t tell anyone the reason. Just say it was personal.”

Her voice was calm, polite, professional— but her fingers were twisting the strap of her bag so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

After that, she went back to her desk and worked like nothing had changed. She answered emails, joined meetings, laughed at her colleagues’ jokes. Every day for that one month, she played the part perfectly. The reliable coworker, the quiet woman who never brought her private life into work.

And every evening, she went home to Jaehyun like nothing had happened. He never noticed the faint exhaustion behind her smiles, or how she lingered a little longer each night when he hugged her goodbye in the morning.

She said nothing.

When her notice period ended, she’d still dress as if she were heading to the office— blouse, trousers, the same bag she always carried, and she’d leave right on time.

But she wasn’t going to work.

She was driving back to her own apartment, the one she hadn’t lived in since Jaehyun got out of his dorm and bought his own apartment. It was half-empty, but it still smelled faintly like her perfume. She started going there every day, quietly sorting through her belongings, deciding what to keep and what to leave behind.

She packed boxes little by little, labeling them under false names and shipping them out through private couriers so Jaehyun wouldn’t notice any missing luggage. She even arranged everything through multiple shipments, spacing them out so it wouldn’t raise attention.

She contacted a real estate agent. They met discreetly at the apartment one afternoon. “I’ll let you know when to list it,” she told the agent. “Not yet. Wait for my call.” The agent nodded, unaware of the weight behind her words.

At home with Jaehyun, everything looked the same. She still smiled when he came through the door. Still cooked his favorite meals, still curled up next to him on the couch while he talked about his studio sessions and music. She laughed when he teased her back. She leaned into his chest when he hugged her, kissed him goodnight like she always did.

Everything looked right.

But her heart wasn’t staying.

One night, they were sprawled across the couch after dinner, the faint light from the TV flickering over their skin. Jaehyun was kissing her lazily— slow and deep like he always did when words weren’t enough. His hand slid under her shirt, not with hunger but with care, resting over the small swell of her stomach.

He pulled back just a little, smiling down at her with that lazy, tender expression that always made her melt. “You know,” he murmured, his thumb tracing light circles against the small curve of her belly,  “You’ve been glowing lately,” he murmured against her lips, half teasing, half in awe.

She laughed softly, the sound small and nervous. “You’re imagining things.”

“Maybe.” He smiled, pressing another kiss to her jaw, then down to her neck. “Or maybe I just notice everything about you.”

She looked at him, trying to memorize the way he smiled with the same smile that made her fall in love with him three years ago. That gentle, unassuming grin that felt like home.

He kissed her again, slower, resting his forehead against hers when they both need an air. His voice came out so groggy, “I hired a lawyer,” he murmured. But before she could say anything, his voice dropped, serious and soft all at once.

“Someone who can help us. Make it less of a mess. They said there’s a way to handle everything quietly, no press, no noise. If we move carefully, I can protect my job… and us.”

“I’ve been thinking,” he continued, brushing her hair away from her face. “We don’t have to wait. We can get married soon. Before it shows too much. I’ll make sure everything’s ready, I promise.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Jaehyun’s eyes softened. He cupped her face, thumbs brushing the tears that threatened to form before they could fall. “So please,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Don’t even think about leaving me. I promise I’ll protect us. Both of you.”

God, he meant it. Every single word.

He wasn’t saying it out of guilt or fear but he was saying it because that’s who he was. The man who always showed up. The man who carried everything on his shoulders, no matter how heavy.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Instead, she kissed him back as if she could pour all her love and apology into that one moment. Her hand moved to his hair, her heart aching as she realized how deeply he meant every word, how certain he was of a future she could never let happen.

She gave him an answer just ambiguous enough, neither yes nor no, only a hum between kisses, the kind of silence that sounded like agreement but wasn’t one.

She had already booked her flight.

A one-way ticket to Switzerland, set for the night Jaehyun would be flying back from Los Angeles after his overseas schedule. She’d timed it perfectly. He’d be on a plane when she left. He wouldn’t even realize she was gone until hours later, when she’d already be far away, somewhere he couldn’t follow.

It wasn’t cruelty. It was precision.

She planned it thoroughly so it would hurt less, or at least, so it would hurt cleanly. No scenes. No goodbyes. No begging from him to stay, because she knew she’d never be strong enough to say no to him if he asked for her to stay one more time.

And so, for the last few weeks, she lived as though nothing had happened. She smiled. She lied. She made love, laughed, and dreamed— all while building the quiet exit that would save them both.

Every night, she watched him sleep beside her, hand resting protectively over her belly. Commemorating the last few nights she could feel his gentle touches.

The last night before his departure to L.A, when he came home tired but smiling, she hugged him tighter than usual. Usually she’d wait on the couch, scrolling on her phone or half-watching something on TV, but tonight she came straight to him— arms looping around his waist before he could even take his shoes off.

He laughed softly, surprised. “Hi, baby…”

Suddenly, she tip toed to kiss him, slinging her arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. She was never bold like this; she was shy, gentle, always waiting for him to make the first move.

Her kiss caught him off guard as her lips pressed against his with an unfamiliar confidence, igniting a warmth that surprised and delighted him. He melted into her, ever the gentleman, returning her kiss with a tender yet deep intensity, savoring the moment.

They keep kissing on the doorway, his hand steadying her waist while she clung to him, her fingers curling into his shirt, her breathing uneven. He wrapped his arms around her carefully, stroking her back.

When he pulled back, she leaned in closer, her breath soft against his ear. “I want you,” she whispered, her voice a mix of need and timidness.

“You have me, baby,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips, not yet catching the innuendo behind her words.

She shook her head, a shy blush creeping up her cheeks as she buried her face in the curve of his neck. “No…” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. “I want you to touch me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with longing. She wants to feel him for the last time. Before she left him for good. Before she couldn’t feel his touches anymore.

He hesitated, concern flickering in his eyes. “I don’t think it’s safe for the baby, sweetheart,” he said gently, his voice laced with caution. He wasn’t sure about the risks of intimacy during pregnancy, but the thought of harming her— or their baby made him wary.

She pouted, her voice turning playful yet insistent. “It’s from the baby,” she whined, using their unborn child as her charming excuse.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Already using our baby to get your way, princess?” he teased, his tone warm with affection.

“Babe…” she whined again, her eyes pleading, tugging at his heartstrings. He could never resist her— not when she looked at him like that, not when her happiness was all he ever wanted to give her.

“Alright,” he relented with a soft laugh. “Wait for me in the bedroom. Let me wash up first.”

“No. Now,” she demanded, her voice firm but laced with a playfulness. So he scooped her up effortlessly, her legs dangling as he held her close, their faces inches apart. Her laughter bubbled up, and she peppered his face with quick, playful kisses.

“My baby’s getting impatient, I see” he teased, his eyes sparkling with adoration as he carried her to the bed. Gently, he lowered her onto the soft sheets, her giggles fading into a tender smile. A fleeting thought crossed his mind. What’s gotten into her?, but he brushed it aside, chalking it up to the wild dance of pregnancy hormones.

He leaned over her, his hands framing her face as he kissed her again, slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of her lips. She sighed into the kiss, her body relaxing beneath him, her hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders and circling it behind his neck so she could play with his hair. “You’re sure?” he asked softly, pulling back just enough to search her eyes, his voice thick with concern. “I don’t want to possibly hurt you… or the baby.”

“I’m sure,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, her touch featherlight. “I promise I’ll tell you if it’s hurt.”

He nodded, his heart swelling with love and a fierce need to make her feel good. He moved with care, his hands gentle as they roamed her body, mapping the familiar curves now softened and rounded by her pregnancy. He undressed her slowly, as his fingers lingering on the swell of her belly, where their child grew. She watched him, her eyes heavy with trust and desire, letting him take the lead as she surrendered to his care.

His fingers brushed along her arms, up her shoulders, tracing the curve of her neck before resting on her cheek. When he looks at her, she can see the care and love that never wavered, no matter how much the world demanded of him.

He kissed her forehead first, then her nose, and finally her lips again in a slow and patient manner like he was memorizing her. His movements were careful, almost hesitant, the same way he’d ever hold her to make sure she felt safe.

He moved with patience and tenderness, taking care of her like she was made of glass. His love wasn’t in what he did but how he slowed down for her, how his hands is always ready to anchor her when she shivered from the pleasure, and how he kept whispering sweet nothings along her name like a prayer.

And she let herself feel every heartbeat, every sigh he let out, every trace of warmth he gave her. She memorized his face, the rhythm of his breathing, the sound of his voice murmuring soft words she could never forget.

Because she knew this was the last time she’d ever have him like this to feel his love so close it almost hurt.

So she held him tighter, letting the weight of their bodies and their love surround her. She wanted to remember it exactly as it was, his gentleness, his devotion, and the way he always put her before himself.

When he whispered her name again, she closed her eyes, letting the tears slip quietly down her cheeks, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

But he did. Of course he did.

He stopped immediately, his movements stilling as his hand moved up to cradle her face. His brows knit together, his voice soft but laced with worry. “Does it hurt, honey? Want me to stop?”

She opened her eyes, blinking through the blur of tears. All she saw was concern and his familiar tenderness that never failed to disarm her.

It wasn’t pain. It was everything else.

But Jaehyun didn’t know. He smiled softly as if to comfort her, brushing his thumb under her eye to wipe the tear away, completely unaware that each one carried a goodbye she couldn’t say out loud.

So she smiled through her tears, forcing her voice to stay steady. “No… It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “It just feels so good.”

He let out a quiet laugh, a sound that made her heart ache even more. “I know, baby,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. He pressed a kiss there, light and reassuring, still thinking it was just hormones kicking in.

He started again, picking up the same pace he left earlier to give her the pleasure she’s been craving. His touch was filled with the kind of care and devotion which only came from years of loving someone deeply.

If heaven ever existed on earth, it was this. His warmth. His love.

When they both reached their peak, he stayed there for a long moment, feeling her breathing steady against him, the warmth of her hand still resting on his chest. The world outside could have fallen apart and he wouldn’t have noticed.

She let him believe everything was fine, that they still had forever ahead of them, while she quietly memorized the way his hands felt on her skin and the warmth of his breath against her neck.

Eventually they shifted, finding the familiar rhythm of each other again. She turned onto her side and he followed, curling around her, one arm draped across her waist, his palm settling instinctively where their child grew. She laced her fingers through his and sighed, a small, content sound that eased something deep inside him.

Jaehyun pressed a final kiss to the crown of her head. Her breathing evened out first, soft and slow, and he closed his eyes, letting the calm pull him under.

For the first time in a while, sleep came easy. Two heartbeats, steady against each other, filling the room with a fragile kind of peace.

By the time dawn began to edge its way across the sky, they were still there, wrapped around each other, asleep, as if nothing had ever threatened to pull them apart. And for that brief stretch of time, the world stayed perfectly still.

Jaehyun left for Los Angeles on a Tuesday morning.

It was still dark outside when she woke to the faint sound of him moving around the bedroom— zipping his suitcase, checking his passport, quietly humming under his breath like he always did before a flight. The smell of coffee filled the air, rich and warm, and for a brief second it felt like just another morning.

She watched him from the bed, her hands folded over the barely noticeable swell of her stomach. He was dressed neatly, hair pushed back, the picture of calm professionalism— ready to be pictured by thousands of camera the moment he stepped on the airport. But she could see the weariness beneath his eyes. He’d been running on half-sleep for weeks now, trying to juggle his schedules while still making time to care for her.

He noticed her watching and smiled, that small soft curve that always melted her.

“Did I wake you?”

She shook her head, trying to smile back. “I just didn’t want to miss saying goodbye.”

He sat beside her, brushing her hair out of her face. His hand lingered on her cheek, then trailed down to rest over her stomach. His thumb moved in slow circles as he spoke.

“It’s just a few days. Promise me you’ll rest. Eat properly. Take the supplements I bought, yeah?”

Her throat felt tight, but she nodded anyway. “I will.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead — light, almost hesitant.

“I’ll call you when I land.”

She nodded again, forcing another smile. She didn’t trust her voice not to crack.

When he left, she followed him to the door. He kissed her before leaving, his hand on her belly, promising to bring back the baby’s first toy. She smiled, waved, said she’d miss him. He turned once, flashed her that boyish grin, the one that had made her fall in love with him in the first place.

She meant it.

“Love you, baby.”

“Love you too,” she managed to whisper back.

She stood there long after he disappeared into the elevator. The echo of the doors closing felt final somehow.

When she went back inside, the apartment already felt emptier and quieter in a way that made her skin crawl. His mug was still on the counter, half-drunk coffee gone cold. His jacket hung neatly by the door. His scent was everywhere— soap, cologne, a trace of warmth that made her chest ache.

She wandered through the rooms slowly, fingertips brushing over everything he had touched. The couch where they’d spent lazy evenings. The kitchen where he’d cooked when her morning sickness got bad. The bed they’d fallen asleep in just last night.

Hours passed. The light shifted from morning gray to golden afternoon, spilling across the floor in quiet patches. She finally sat down at the dining table and unfolded the printed visa approval. The paper shook slightly in her hands. Switzerland.

It felt unreal, but it was her final escape, the only way to protect him from the mess her existence would bring.

By evening, she went home without touching anything of hers in his house. She left everything behind. She wanted him to come home to pieces of her still scattered everywhere, like she’d only stepped out for a moment. Maybe it would soften the blow. Maybe it would make it harder. She wasn’t sure.

On the nightstand beside his side of the bed, she placed an envelope.

The handwriting was steady, though her heart wasn’t.

Jae, You told me you’d give up everything for us. That’s exactly why I have to go. You were born to light up every stage you’re standing on. Don’t let me take that away from you. I’ll be fine. I love you. — Always,   Your girl

She folded the letter neatly and slid the ultrasound photo underneath it— the one he’d first discovered from her drawer.

Then she sat on the bed and looked around the room. Every object carried a piece of memory, laughter, arguments, apologies, comfort. She whispered into the still air, “Thank you.”

When she finally stood, she hesitated at the door. Her hand rested on the doorknob, trembling slightly. It wasn’t hesitation about leaving— it was the weight of knowing this would break him. But she turned it anyway.

The door clicked softly behind her. The sound lingered.

She walked down the hall with her suitcase rolling quietly behind her, each step echoing against the walls. The elevator doors opened with a dull chime. She pressed the button for the lobby and watched the numbers count down, her reflection in the metal walls pale and still.

The cab she’d booked was waiting at the curb, engine humming. The driver helped her load her luggage without a word. She climbed into the back seat and whispered, “Incheon Airport, please.”

The drive was long and silent. Every building, every corner felt like it carried a memory of him— the bakery they went to almost every morning for almost 6 months because they were obsessed with the donuts there, the bridge they crossed when he first told her he loved her while holding hands. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, watching it all fade into the distance.

When the cab finally stopped, she stood for a moment outside the terminal, gripping the handle of her suitcase so tightly her knuckles hurt. She drew in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and walked inside.

When she reached her gate, she sat down near the window. Planes blinked across the runway, red and blue lights cutting through the dark. Somewhere across the ocean, Jaehyun was already boarding his flight back home. She thought about him sitting there, maybe scrolling through messages, maybe thinking about what did she prepares him for dinner when he landed.

She blinked fast, forcing herself not to cry yet. Not here. Not where anyone could see.

When they called for boarding, she stood. Her legs felt heavy, but she walked forward anyway. She handed over her ticket, smiled faintly at the attendant, and stepped into the jet bridge.

The moment she sank into her seat, everything around her turned into a blur. The hum of conversation, the overhead announcements, the shuffling of passengers — it all sounded distant. She gripped the armrest when the engines began to roar.

As the plane lifted off the ground, the city lights below grew smaller and smaller until they disappeared entirely.

That was when it hit her.

She buried her face in her hands and finally broke. The tears came hard, uncontrollable. Her shoulders shook, her body curling in on itself. She didn’t cry out of fear of what was ahead or regret for what she’d done. She cried because she could already imagine the moment Jaehyun would walk through the door and find her gone— how he would look for her, call her name, wait for a reply that would never come.

She wept for the sound of his laugh, for the way he said her name, for the warmth of his hands over her belly. She wept for the life they could have had if the world had been kinder.

The flight attendant approached quietly and asked if she was okay. She nodded without looking up, pressing the heel of her hand against her eyes, trying to steady her breathing.

When she finally lifted her head, the sky outside the window was ink black, scattered with faint stars. Her reflection looked fragile, her face streaked with tears but calm now.

She exhaled, long and slow, resting her palm against her stomach. “We’ll be okay,” she whispered. “We have to be.”

The engines hummed louder, the clouds swallowed the city beneath her, and for the first time, there was no turning back.

When she already was above the sky, Jaehyun came home.

He was exhausted, jet-lagged, his body still running on Los Angeles time. The flight had been long and noisy; and all he wanted was the quiet of home— to snuggles into her arms, and tell her about the ridiculous jet lag, and to give her the tiny teddy bear he’d bought for the baby.

On the way home, he tried to call and text her but he got no answer back. It was almost late at night, so he thought maybe she falls asleep.

He unlocked the door, still tugging off his shoes, calling out lightly, “Baby? You awake?”.

No answer.

He frowned, expecting her to be asleep. But when he stepped inside, the air felt wrong. Too still. Too quiet.

“Baby?” he called again, louder this time. He moved through the apartment, his chest tightening with every empty corner he passed.

Then he saw it.

The envelope on the nightstand. He reached for it slowly, his fingers trembling before he even opened it. He read it once. Then again. The third time, his eyes stopped seeing words. Everything blurred together.

He sat down heavily on the bed, the letter clutched in his hand. His chest ached, breaths coming too shallow, too fast. The room tilted. He stared blankly at the wall, replaying every conversation they’d had in the past month, every smile, every “next time.”

He hadn’t realized those were goodbyes in disguise.

For hours, he didn’t move. The only sound in the apartment was his breathing— uneven, broken, the quiet unraveling of someone who had just lost something he didn’t know how to live without.

When morning came, he drove to her old apartment, still wearing the same clothes, eyes bloodshot, hair unkempt. The building manager recognized him instantly but said nothing as he passed. 

Her door was locked. The sign taped beside it read For Sale.

He stood there for a long time, staring at those two words. Then his knees buckled, and he pressed his forehead against the cold wood of the door.

“Please,” he whispered, voice raw. “Please don’t do this to me.”

But the silence answered back.

After a while, when the numbness started to fade and panic began to crawl up his chest again, he forced himself to move. There had to be someone who knew something. Anyone.

He walked down to the security office, his steps uneven, his voice trembling when he spoke.

“The woman who lived in 459— do you know where she went?”

The old guard looked up from his newspaper, startled. “Ah… she moved out.”

“When? Where?” Jaehyun pressed.

The man frowned, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “A few weeks ago, maybe. She didn’t say where. Said she was going overseas, but I don’t know where exactly.”

That was all. No address. No number. Nothing.

Jaehyun thanked him quietly and walked back out into the street. His hands were shaking so badly that he shoved them into his pockets just to hide it.

He ended up driving to her office next, not even thinking about what he’d say. He waited in the lobby for hours, sitting there with his cap pulled low, ignoring the curious stares of the employees passing by.

Finally, he spotted a familiar face— a woman she’d once mentioned, the one who sat beside her desk, who goes crazy for iced lattes and had a samoyed dog named Leo.

He stood and hurried toward her.

“Excuse me… you work with—” he stopped himself, voice cracking on her name. “With her, right?”

The woman blinked in surprise, recognizing him immediately but too stunned to comment. “Oh… yes, I did. But she left. She resigned about a month ago.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

She hesitated, pity flickering in her eyes. “No. She just told HR it was for personal reasons. She didn’t tell anyone much else.”

Jaehyun stared at her, waiting for her to change her answer, to add something, anything — but she didn’t.

He nodded once, muttered a thank you, and walked out.

The drive back home was a blur. Red lights, gray skies, the sound of the engine washed together into noise.

When he finally reached his apartment, he didn’t even turn on the lights. He dropped his keys somewhere near the door and sank to the floor, staring at the half-empty living room.

He couldn’t stop his mind from spinning. He went through every possibility— her coworkers, her friends. He even searched her name online, scrolled through old texts, reread every message she had ever sent him.

Then he opened Instagram.

He typed her friends’ usernames one by one, sending polite, desperate messages.

“Hey, it’s Jaehyun. Have you heard from her?”

“Please, if you know anything…”

Most didn’t reply. A few read his messages and left them unseen. The ones who answered only said the same thing:

“Sorry. She hasn’t contacted us in weeks.”

He sat there on the couch, staring at his phone screen, thumb hovering over her contact name. Every photo of them together was still in his gallery, still there like proof that none of this should have been possible.

He called her number again. Straight to voicemail.

He tried her email. No reply.

Then he opened her social media, one app after another.

Every account was gone. Deleted. No trace of her whereabouts, no old posts, no comments under his pictures. Even her tagged photos had disappeared as if she’d never existed online at all.

His chest tightened. He checked their shared iCloud account— the one they used for calendars and location sharing. The location bubble that used to show her somewhere in the city was gone. “Location not available,” the screen said.

He refreshed it again. And again. Nothing.

Her last seen marker showed the address of their apartment. After that, blank.

He tried one last thing— .

The blue bubbles that once filled their chat were still there, but her profile picture had vanished, replaced by the default gray icon. When he sent a new message, it didn’t even deliver.

It was like she had erased herself completely.

He went through her drawers, her bags, the trash, every corner of the apartment; searching for any trace, any clue, any tiny sign of where she could’ve gone. Receipts. Notes. Old letters. Anything.

But there was nothing. Just silence, clean and absolute.

He sank to the floor, pressing both hands to his face, his body shaking as the weight of it all finally hit him.

She was gone. Not missing. Not stolen.

Gone.

And no matter how many times he called, searched, begged, or prayed— there was nothing left to reach. The apartment, once filled with warm laughter and music, now echoed only with the sound of his breathing, uneven, empty.

Nobody heard from Jaehyun for almost a week.

At first, the members thought he just needed time. He’d been overworked, maybe jet-lagged— it wasn’t unusual for him to go quiet after long trips. But when his phone went straight to voicemail for days, when the unread messages kept stacking up without a single “seen” mark, concern turned to panic.

It was Johnny who finally couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his keys and drove straight to Jaehyun’s apartment.

When he arrived, the hallway outside was silent. He knocked once, then again. No answer. He tried calling and the muffled ringtone sounded from somewhere inside, but no footsteps followed.

Johnny’s heart started racing. He found the pass lock key that Jaehyun wrote him once when Johnny asked to borrow one of his camera when he was abroad, hoping that it still the same one, and luckily, it was.

The moment the door opened, a heavy smell hit him— stale air, spilled liquor, decay of uneaten food.

No lights. Curtains drawn tight. The air was thick and unmoving.

“Jaehyun?” Johnny’s voice cracked as he stepped inside.

The place was a mess. Empty bottles of vodka, whiskey, soju, whatever he could find lined the coffee table and the floor. Some had toppled over, sticky patches of dried liquor staining the carpet. Fast food containers lay scattered, half-eaten and cold.

And there, slumped against the couch, was Jaehyun.

At first, Johnny thought he was asleep— head tilted back, one arm limp at his side, the other clutching a crumpled piece of paper. But when he got closer, he froze.

His friend’s skin was pale, his lips dry, his breathing shallow. The letter in his hand was wrinkled, the ink smudged where it had been held too long.

“Jaehyun!” Johnny dropped to his knees beside him, grabbing his shoulders.

Jaehyun stirred faintly, his eyelids fluttering open. He blinked up at Johnny, eyes unfocused, voice barely audible. “Hyung… She’s gone.”

Johnny swallowed, trying to steady his own voice. “What do you mean she’s gone? What happened?”

But Jaehyun didn’t answer right away. His gaze was fixed on nothing, his pupils glassy. Johnny glanced around again, realizing how bad it was.

“Jesus, Jae,” he muttered under his breath. “How long have you been like this?”

He grabbed Jaehyun’s face gently, forcing him to look at him. “Hey. Talk to me. What happened?”

Jaehyun laughed— a sound so hollow and cracked that it barely resembled laughter. “I should’ve known it,” he said weakly, his voice trembling.

Johnny frowned, gripping his arm. “Known what?”

“That she’d go,” Jaehyun whispered. “She told me not to worry. Said she’d be fine.” His breathing hitched, a painful sound leaving his throat. “And I believed her.”

Johnny’s chest tightened. He had no idea what was happening, but the sight of his friend like this— the strongest one among them, now barely holding on, made his stomach twist.

“Alright,” he said, voice firm now. “Enough. You need to get up. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He tried to pull Jaehyun to his feet, but the man’s legs gave out almost immediately. Johnny caught him before he hit the floor.

“Jae, hey—” He patted his cheek gently. “Stay with me, alright? Look at me.” But Jaehyun’s eyes rolled back, his body going limp in Johnny’s arms.

Panic shot through him. Without wasting another second, Johnny grabbed his phone, called for help, then half-carried, half-dragged Jaehyun to the hallway while waiting for the elevator.

By the time the paramedics arrived, Jaehyun was unconscious again, his pulse faint but still there. The letter was still clutched in his hand— even as they lifted him onto the stretcher, Johnny had to pry it loose from his fingers.

At the hospital, the doctor panicked at how deathly his condition were. They were checking his condition, injecting shots after shots to stabilize his heart rate and get him to at least a calm state.

The white fluorescent lights buzzed quietly. Machines hummed somewhere nearby. Johnny sat in the chair beside the hospital bed, hands clasped tightly together, staring at the IV tube running into Jaehyun’s arm.

The doctor had said he was severely dehydrated, malnourished, and intoxicated— a combination that could’ve gone very wrong if they hadn’t found him when they did.

Jaehyun hadn’t woken up since they brought him in. His face looked pale against the white sheets, lips cracked, dark circles under his eyes.

Johnny exhaled shakily and rubbed his face with both hands. The letter lay folded on the table beside the bed, the paper still wrinkled. He hadn’t read it. He didn’t need to. He already knew what it said— or at least what it had done to Jaehyun.

He looked at his friend again, voice barely above a whisper. “What happened to you?” The heart monitor beeped steadily, each sound cutting through the silence.

The first few days after he woke up were the hardest.

He didn’t speak much— barely at all, really. The nurses would come in and check his vitals, ask if he wanted to eat, and he’d just nod or shake his head. Johnny stayed with him as much as he could, sleeping on the couch by the window, waking up every time Jaehyun stirred.

The other members came in turns. They brought flowers, coffee, small things to make the sterile room feel less like a cage. But nothing seemed to reach him.

He’d just sit there, staring at the window. Sometimes he’d hold the hospital wristband in his hand, turning it over and over, the paper wrinkling between his fingers. Sometimes he’d whisper her name under his breath, so softly that no one else could hear it.

News spreads fast when you’re famous— too fast and too loud.

Someone had seen the ambulance. Someone else had seen Johnny’s car parked outside the hospital that night. By the next morning, there were grainy photos online, and by noon, Jaehyun’s name was trending everywhere.

“NCT’s Jaehyun reportedly hospitalized due to intoxication.”

“Fans express concern after sudden schedule cancellations.”

“SM declines to comment on Jaehyun’s health condition.”

The headlines stacked one after another, each one louder than the last. Speculation turned into rumor; rumor turned into chaos.

Calls flooded his phone, messages from staff, sponsors, friends, people he hadn’t spoken to in months. He didn’t answer any of them. Johnny kept the phone on silent, turning it face down on the bedside table.

When he was discharged a week later, the doctors told Johnny to keep an eye on him to make sure he ate and he wasn’t alone for too long.

For a while, that’s exactly what they did.

They took turns staying over at his place, cooking for him, dragging him out for air. But Jaehyun barely participated. He moved through the days like a ghost—awake, breathing, but not really living.

Music didn’t help. He tried once, sitting in front of his piano with trembling fingers, but the sound felt wrong, hollow. Every chord brought her back. Every lyric reminded him of her laughter. So he stopped trying.

His absence from events didn’t go unnoticed. Every brand partnership, every scheduled appearance, every project he was supposed to lead— all suddenly on hold. Fans demanded answers. The company’s silence only made things louder.

The members and management tried to contain it. They released short statements — “Jaehyun is resting for health reasons.”

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Inside the dorm, the group decided on one thing together: protect him.

Doyoung changed all the passwords on their shared accounts so Jaehyun couldn’t accidentally scroll through the noise. Johnny blocked every YouTube channel, gossip site, and trending tag that mentioned his name. Mark deleted push notifications from news apps.

They took turns screening calls, telling managers he wasn’t available yet, that he needed more time.

When directors started pushing about canceled brand deals, Taeyong stepped in sharply.

“He’s not coming back until he’s ready,” he said. “If that’s a problem, take it up with me.”

The others followed his lead. No complaints. No resentment. Just quiet solidarity. Whenever they had interviews or individual schedules, fans would ask, “What happened to Jaehyun?”

And every time, they gave the same gentle answer. “He’s resting. Please wait for him.”

They didn’t owe anyone more than that.

And Jaehyun didn’t know the half of it.

He barely used his phone anymore. Johnny had hidden the social media apps entirely. The other members came by every few days, keeping things light— bringing food, chatting about music, telling stories like nothing was wrong.

He didn’t ask what was happening outside. He didn’t have to. He knew the noise was out there. For now, he stayed inside the quiet they built for him. A fragile little world where no one demanded anything, where the only sound was the hum of his air purifier and the low murmur of his friends telling him to eat.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that— drifting in and out of sleep, avoiding mirrors, forgetting what day it was.

And slowly, painfully, he started to realize: they weren’t just giving him space. They were giving him a reason to keep living.

The studio was quiet when Jaehyun finally spoke. His voice came out low and hoarse, almost hesitant.

“Hey.. I need to talk.” The other members looked up. The air shifted immediately— they could tell it wasn’t something trivial.

“What is it?” Taeyong asked carefully.

Jaehyun exhaled slowly, his hands trembling slightly where they rested on his knees.

“My girlfriend is pregnant.” Silence fell. No one moved.

“And… what?” Doyoung finally said, brows furrowed.

Jaehyun’s eyes dropped to the floor. “But she left me. With the baby.”

“What do you mean?” Johnny asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

“She-” Jaehyun’s throat tightened. “She said she didn’t want to ruin my career. I tried everything; called her, texted, searched her socials, but her accounts are gone. Everything’s gone. I even went to her office, but they said she resigned. I asked her friends, but they don’t know where she is either.”

No one spoke for a long moment. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioner. “Then she did it for you,” Jungwoo said softly. “She thought she was protecting you.”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun said bitterly. “But how am I supposed to live with that? How am I supposed to pretend I don’t have a child out there?”

Haechan frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “Couldn’t she have… I mean,, why didn’t she, you know-”

“She couldn’t,” Jaehyun cut in quickly. “She was scared. And even if she wanted to, I wouldn’t have allowed it.” He looked up, his voice breaking. “That’s too cruel for the baby.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

“I told her I’d take responsibility,” he continued quietly. “I told her I’d marry her, but she said it’d ruin everything. She kept saying she’d raise the baby alone. I didn’t believe her at first, but… she left. She even left me an NDA. It’s all so… planned.”

Yuta rubbed his face, letting out a slow exhale. “So, what are you thinking now?”

Jaehyun swallowed. “I want to quit.”

Every head snapped up. “What?”

“I want to quit,” he repeated, firmer this time. “I can’t just be here, pretending everything’s fine while my baby’s out there without a father and her without a husband. I need to find her.”

Johnny’s voice came out first. rough, disbelieving. “You’re fucking insane.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun whispered.

“I’m sorry but I won’t allow it,” Taeyong said flatly. His tone wasn’t cold, but it carried authority. “You’re not thinking straight.”

“She said she would raise them alone,” Doyoung added quietly. “You have to respect that.”

Jaehyun looked up, eyes wet and desperate. “How am I supposed to respect that? She’s alone raising my kid”

No one answered at first.

Finally, Johnny sighed and crouched in front of him, voice lower, steadier. “Jae, listen. When you leave for her, it only destroys what you’ve built, you know that, right?”

“She is the very reason I built everything I had” Jaehyun shot back, voice cracking.

Jaehyun’s shoulders trembled, his hands clenching into fists. “How can I live like this? How can I leave my baby without a father?”

No one in that room blamed him.

They understood, even though maybe not really. They saw the way his eyes dimmed, how he was barely holding himself together. But they also knew what losing him to guilt would mean, not just to the group, but to him.

So they stayed firm. Not to cage him, but to keep him from collapsing further.

Taeyong stood, exhaling softly. “We’ll handle the schedules. You focus on yourself for now. Don’t do anything drastic.”

Johnny placed a steady hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out.”

Jaehyun nodded slowly, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. The room stayed silent after that— heavy, raw, but filled with an unspoken promise: they wouldn’t let him fall apart alone.

Weeks blurred into months. Schedules resumed. He went through them like clockwork, smiling for cameras, answering questions, doing interviews; his professionalism intact, his soul elsewhere.

It wasn’t until one evening, months later, that something cracked open again. The conversation about him quitting never really went away.

It lived like background noise— like something everyone pretended not to hear, but always felt humming in the silence between schedules.

At first, they thought it would fade. That time and routine would wear down the edge of his grief. But Jaehyun didn’t change his mind. He did his work, smiled when he needed to, sang with the same precision as always, but there was a distance in him now— a quiet finality in the way he looked at things.

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t lost anymore either.

He was just certain.

“I won’t be able to keep doing this much longer,” he said once, late at night after rehearsal. His voice was calm, almost gentle. “When the contract ends next year… I’ll stop.”

No one argued this time.

Taeyong rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. “You’ve really thought about it, huh?”

Jaehyun nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it every day since she left.”

There wasn’t much left to say.

So they compromised. They agreed to finish the decade together — one last renewal, one final promise to their fans.

Eleven years.

They would do one last comeback, one more world tour, and let Jaehyun go on his own terms. It wasn’t resignation; it was respect.

The decision stayed private, something only the members and management knew. Outwardly, nothing changed. They kept releasing music, filming shows, smiling for the cameras. But underneath, everything felt like a countdown.

During the group’s final world tour, Jaehyun was the most diligent he’d ever been. He made sure every performance was perfect— every smile, every bow, every thank-you to the crowd. There was no exhaustion on his face, only the quiet urgency of someone who understood that this was his last time standing under those lights.

But it wasn’t just him who felt it. The fans did too.

They couldn’t explain how they knew — they just knew. Something had changed. Something unspoken was hanging in the air between songs, in the way the members clung to each other a little tighter during the encore, in the way Jaehyun’s eyes lingered on the crowd longer than usual before he waved goodbye.

The forums started filling with threads:

“Did anyone else notice how emotional Jaehyun looked tonight?”

“He smiled, but it felt different… softer. Like he was saying thank you.”

“He’s not the same since that break he took last year. You can see it in the way he sings.”

And then there were the gentler ones, messages from fans who didn’t pry, who simply understood. He saw them sometimes, late at night, scrolling through his mentions quietly when the dorm was asleep.

It made his chest ache that wasn’t pain, exactly, but something heavier. He’d spent years building this connection, standing on stages that made him feel alive, and now, as he read their words, he realized they understood him more than he ever thought they could.

He was grateful— deeply, painfully grateful.

Yes, there were still the loud ones. The fans who pried, who dug for rumors, who speculated about everything from secret relationships to health issues. But Jaehyun didn’t care anymore.

The noise didn’t matter. The ones who stayed, who saw the cracks in his smile and loved him anyway, they were the ones who kept him steady through every flight, every stage, every sleepless night.

So when he bowed after each concert, he meant it.

When he said, “Thank you,” it wasn’t scripted. It was real. And even though no one else knew it, he was already saying goodbye.

Jaehyun worked harder than anyone. If he was leaving, he wanted to leave something whole.

He recorded two solo albums in that period— quiet, intimate records that sounded more like confessions than performances. Songs about heartbreak, waiting, distance, and love that doesn’t fade.

But the last album sounded different from anything he’d done before— stripped down, honest, almost fragile. The kind of music that doesn’t chase charts but leaves an imprint. It wasn’t about his heartbreak, wasn’t about his yearn, but about his life, his love for music, and the greater, meaningful things in his life. 

He was meticulous, spending long hours in the studio, rewriting lyrics, rerecording lines until the sound matched the ache in his chest. He didn’t talk much about what the songs meant. He didn’t have to. The members knew. The producers knew. Everyone who listened knew.

Behind the scenes, he was preparing everything.

He met with financial advisors, lawyers, and managers; arranging investments, closing accounts, finalizing contracts. He quietly pulled his name out of endorsements, told his stylist to donate half of his wardrobe, and began organizing what he would leave behind.

Every night he came home, his apartment was a little emptier. Every morning, he felt a little lighter and a little lonelier.

It wasn’t that he stopped loving what he did. He still loved the music, the fans, the stage; but his heart was somewhere else now. Somewhere far away, where he hoped the person he lost was still waiting.

But he didn’t want to vanish suddenly. He wanted to say goodbye properly on his own stage, in his own way.

So he agreed to one last solo concert.

No special announcement, no grand theme. Just him.

He called it “11:11 Dinner Show.”

The posters were minimalist— a deep red portrait of his back, his name in simple lettering. Fans thought it was a creative choice, but to Jaehyun, it was symbolic. He didn’t want to market it as a farewell. He wanted it to feel like one— subtle, quiet, real.

The concert sold out in minutes.

On the night of the show, the air inside the arena was electric but warm, the kind of energy that came not from hype, but from love that had aged with time. His band was ready, the lights dimmed, and the audience erupted when he walked out.

He smiled, genuine and soft, a little overwhelmed by the sight of it all.

The setlist was a map of his life; songs from when he was still learning who he was, songs from when he almost lost himself, and songs that sounded like peace. Some tracks had the crowd dancing and shouting, others had them swaying quietly, holding up lightsticks like constellations that refused to fade.

By the time the encore came, the chant of his name filled every corner of the dome. The echo rolled like thunder, but there was gentleness in it too. The sound of people who didn’t just admire him, but knew him.

Jaehyun stood center stage, the golden lights soft around him. His breath came out slow and shaky, his chest rising and falling as the music faded behind him.

He raised the mic.

“I don’t really know where to start,” he said with a small laugh. “Usually, I plan what to say, but this time… I just wanted to speak honestly.”

The crowd quieted, listening.

“It’s been eleven years now,” he continued. “Eleven years of standing under these lights, sometimes I still can’t believe that all of this happened to me.”

He looked out at the crowd, eyes glimmering. He paused, swallowing hard.

“I think I’ve shined long enough to say I’ve done my best. Eleven years… that’s a long time to live inside a dream, right? And I’m grateful for every single second I got to spend here.”

The fans screamed his name, voices trembling.

He smiled, the corners of his mouth quivering slightly.

“When I was younger, I used to wonder what would happen if one day I couldn’t do this anymore. If one day the lights went out and the stage got quiet even when I stood there, ready to sing my heart out. It used to scare me. But now, I think… I’d be okay. Because even if I disappear from this stage, the songs will still be here. You can still play them, again and again and again...”

The big screen behind him showed flashes of old performances— his debut smile, his early concerts, his memories with the members. The fans gasped softly, sensing something in his tone.

“That’s why I always tried to give you my best version— every note, every lyric, every little detail. Because maybe I won’t be around forever, but my music will. And when you listen to it, I hope you remember how much I loved this...”

His voice cracked slightly, but he kept going.

“Music made me who I am. It taught me sincerity, discipline, love. If people remember me someday— not as an idol or a celebrity, but as someone who truly loved to sing, that would be enough for me.”

The crowd was silent now, tears streaming, some smiling even through it.

“I’m thankful,” he whispered. “For letting me live this dream. For believing in me when I couldn’t. They weren’t always easy. There were days I wanted to disappear, and nights I couldn’t sleep wondering if I was enough. But all of you made these eleven years the most beautiful part of my life.”

He looked up, blinking rapidly to clear the tears before they fell. “So please… whenever you miss me, just play the songs. That’s where I’ll be.”

The audience broke. Thousands of lightsticks waved in unison, glowing like a galaxy. Up in the VIP seats, the members were clapping, some openly crying. The fans caught glimpses of them, smiling faintly through their tears. They thought the members were moved by how Jaehyun had overcome his slump, by how radiant he looked again.

But the truth was quieter, deeper— the sorrow of watching their brother take his final bow.

And down on the stage, Jaehyun smiled one last time, the lights soft on his face, the microphone trembling in his hand.

“Thank you for loving me,” he said.

The roar of the crowd was deafening when the lights dimmed. The screens behind him faded to black, leaving only a faint, golden glow tracing the outline of his figure. The fans expected one more encore— maybe another upbeat song like Timeless, something to close on a high note.

But Jaehyun didn’t move right away.

He stood still, head bowed slightly, microphone resting against his chest. When the cheers softened into silence, he lifted his eyes toward the crowd. His expression was calm, but his throat was tight.

He took a slow breath, then spoke.

“This…” he started, his voice low but steady. “This is the last song i’ll sing for you.”

The crowd erupted— cheers, whistles, screams, thinking it was the usual concert banter, a routine way to close the night. But there was something different in his tone. He lingered on the words last song like they meant more than they should.

He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. He exhaled slowly. The lights dimmed further, leaving only a single spotlight following him as the intro began. Soft piano, delicate melody of Try Again.

He began to sing.

His voice was low and rich but unsteady, trembling in places it never used to. He sang the first verse almost in a whisper, eyes down, as if each lyric weighed more than he could carry.

He took a step forward, walking down the narrow runway that extended into the crowd. Fans reached toward him, holding lightsticks and banners, tears already glistening in their eyes.

Jaehyun smiled at them softly as he sang, but his lips quivered. His eyes glistened beneath the lights. When the chorus hit, his voice cracked not from strain, but from emotion he couldn’t swallow back anymore.

He stopped singing for a moment, letting the fans carry the line. The sound of thousands of voices filled the dome, wrapping around him. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and just listened.

Tears slid down his cheeks, slow and quiet at first. He wiped one away with the back of his hand, laughing softly at himself. The mic caught the sound— a small, broken laugh that made the crowd cry harder.

“Ah… sorry,” he whispered between verses, voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to cry.”

The next verse came, and he kept walking— down the aisle, across the smaller side stage, toward the corner where the members sat watching.

In the VIP section, the members were crying too. Johnny had his hand pressed to his mouth. Taeyong’s head was bowed, shoulders shaking. Doyoung mouthed the lyrics along quietly, his eyes never leaving Jaehyun.

The tears came harder then. His shoulders shook as he sang, but he didn’t stop. He turned slowly, facing the sea of light, thousands of fans singing with him, waving their hands gently as if trying to hold him there for a little longer.

He reached the bridge and crouched slightly, both hands gripping the mic, his voice raw now— imperfect but so heartbreakingly real.

He stood there, breathing hard, his entire body trembling from the weight of it all. The tears kept falling, but this time he didn’t hide them. He let them fall freely, one by one, glistening under the soft golden light.

The fans screamed his name. Some cried. Some just stood there, motionless, too overwhelmed to speak. He smiled through the tears, placed his hand over his heart, and whispered into the mic— his voice small but steady, “Thank you”

And as the lights dimmed and the sound faded, Jaehyun stood alone on that stage — tears still on his cheeks, microphone in hand, glowing softly under the last light of his career. To chase the life he sought.

It wasn’t just the end of a concert.

It was the end of his career.

Exactly one week after the concert, the announcement came. It dropped early in the morning, sudden and quiet; the kind of statement that didn’t need teasing or explanation.

SM Entertainment Official Statement:

“After long and thoughtful discussions, Jaehyun has decided to end his activities as a member of NCT and as a solo artist under SM Entertainment. We respect his decision to take a step away from the spotlight and live a more private life. We sincerely thank all fans for supporting Jaehyun throughout his journey, and we ask for your continued love and warm encouragement for his future.”

That was all it said.

No scandals. No excuses.

Just a clean, dignified ending.

The statement spread like wildfire. Within hours, #ThankYouJaehyun was trending worldwide. Fans posted concert clips, old photos, handwritten fan letters. Messages poured in from everywhere — Thank you for the memories. Thank you for growing with us. We’ll wait for you.

And then, later that night, his letter appeared.

To everyone who has been part of my journey, For the past eleven years, I have lived the most extraordinary life. I’ve been loved beyond measure, supported in ways I could never repay, and given the chance to do what I love every single day. There were bright days, and there were heavy ones too. But every moment; every stage, every song, every shared smile was a gift I will carry with me for the rest of my life. I believe I’ve done everything I could as Jaehyun of NCT. And now, I want to take a step back to live quietly, to breathe, to rediscover myself not as a public figure, but simply as Jeong Yuno. I hope you’ll remember me not for the noise or the lights, but for the sincerity in my music and the heart behind my voice. Please don’t worry about me. I’m happy. I’m at peace. And I’ll always be grateful. Thank you for letting me live this dream— and thank you for letting me end it with love. With all my heart, - Yuno

The letter broke the internet for days. It wasn’t long or dramatic. It was very him, soft-spoken, polite, full of gratitude and calm finality.

Fans cried, but there was comfort in his words. It didn’t feel like loss and closure. The members reposted the letter with their own quiet messages:

“Proud of you, bro.” “Once a member, always family.” “Wherever you go, we’ve got you.”

After the official farewell, Jaehyun vanished again, this time for good.

He hasn’t sold his apartment in Seoul yet, but he barely live in it, he withdrew from his public accounts, and left the country quietly to search for his love, only comes back when he needs longer rest. There was no media trail, no appearance at the airport, no new updates.

During fan events, when asked about him, the members smiled and reassured everyone.

“He’s doing well.”

“We still meet up whenever we can.”

“He’s okay. Let’s just wish him the best.”

They never hid him. They spoke of him warmly— as if he was still there, just living a different kind of life and when they said that, the fans only smiled and relieved that he wasn’t lost to darkness, that he was still living, even if they didn’t know what for. His friends— the members, especially Johnny knew what he was doing. They didn’t try to stop him.

He wasn’t chasing fame anymore. He wasn’t chasing music. He was chasing her.

The woman who had once carried his heart, and somewhere out there, the child who carried his eyes.

He never stayed long anywhere. A week here, a few days there. Sometimes a month if something in the air. A view, a song, a scent that made him feel closer to her.

He carried a small worn out notebook filled with scribbled notes, addresses, and dates. Leads from people he trusted, tiny hints of where she might’ve gone.

Sometimes, when he saw a woman with long dark hair pushing a stroller, he froze— his heart leaping before reason caught up. Sometimes, he’d walk into cafés she might’ve liked, just to feel close to her.

He didn’t know where to start, so he went everywhere. Tokyo. Prague. Vancouver. New York. Jakarta. 

Everywhere that looked like a place she could’ve chosen to disappear into.

Fans began to notice.

Every few weeks, someone would spot him— blurry photos surfacing online. He was always alone, dressed simply, no entourage, no schedule, no noise. Just a man moving through cities like a ghost, eyes distant, searching for something no one else could see.

The fans notices a worn Prada backpack, the same one fans had seen him carry through airports back in his idol days. It was old but he couldn’t let it go. It had been with him through everything. The tours, the late-night flights, the years of noise and light.

And now it followed him through quiet train stations, small cafés, and unfamiliar cities.

A grainy photo in Florence; Jaehyun sitting by the Arno River, sketchbook open on his lap. Another in Tokyo; walking through Shinjuku at night, his hood up, but unmistakable. Then one from Prague; standing near the Charles Bridge, watching street performers under the fading sun.

They started collecting them.

A small corner of the internet turned into what fans affectionately called “The Jaehyun Atlas.”

A map covered with pins, each one a photo, a sighting, a tiny sliver of his life after fame.

“Found Jaehyun in Italy!”

“Nope, he’s in Connecticut now!”

“Bro’s out here collecting countries like postcards.”

It became a running joke — Jaehyun: Dora the Explorer Edition.

Fans edited memes of him in a little explorer hat, carrying his iconic Prada backpack and a compass, wandering across the globe.

And Jaehyun wasn’t angry about it. In fact, when fans recognized him, usually one or two at a time— he’d smile and greet them back softly.

“Hi,” he’d say in his quiet, polite tone. “You found me.”

Sometimes he’d let them take a photo, sometimes just exchange a few words before walking away. He never seemed bothered, never cold. Just… gentle.

The fans, out of respect, rarely pushed.

They’d post their blurry photos later with captions like, “He looks healthy.”

“He smiled. That’s enough.”

It became a kind of comfort— seeing him alive, moving, living freely after all those years under the spotlight.

They joked about him, yes— about him being a real-life Pokémon, spawning randomly across countries, about his “Prada backpack era” that never ended. But underneath the humor was affection. They missed him. They loved him. And they respected the peace he had chosen.

Meanwhile, Jaehyun lived quietly in between those sightings. He’d book small guesthouses under fake names, write down addresses, check local registries, searching for anything that might lead to her. Hospitals, clinics, embassies, schools… any place that might have a trace of her name or a child’s birth record.

Sometimes he’d follow a lead for weeks, only for it to go nowhere. Sometimes he’d find nothing but silence. And yet, he never gave up.

Each city he left behind became another note in the song he was chasing— the unfinished melody of her voice, the echo of a life that once belonged to both of them.

He wasn’t searching for closure. He was searching for them. And even if the world saw him as the quiet, wandering ex-idol who disappeared to find peace— he knew better.

He wasn’t at peace. Not yet.

credit: divider by @uzmacchiato & @saradika-graphics

A | Affection: How do they show love? Are they touchy, verbal, or more subtle?

Johnny is the kind of man who shows his love in quiet, tender ways— through soft touches whenever he gets the chance, never needing to put his affection on display for the world. His love is gentle, low-key, and deeply personal. He expresses it through acts of care woven into your everyday moments: carrying your bags, tying your hair back before you eat, wiping away your makeup when you’re too tired, massaging you when you softly complain about your body aches. There are countless little things Johnny would do for you, each one subtle, but filled with all the devotion in his heart.

B | Butterflies: How did they behave around their partner when they first fell in love? How did they confess their feelings?

Johnny found himself drawn to you, lingering nearby whenever he could, quietly making sure you felt at ease with his presence. With thoughtful care, he dropped subtle hints, gentle signs to let you know he was falling for you. And once he sensed you were open to him— when you gave him that green light, he didn’t hesitate. With quiet confidence, he spoke his feelings directly, his words sincere and sure. Then, he asked you out on a romantic date, making his intentions clear and official.

C | Cuddles: Do they like to cuddle? How do they hold their partner / like to be held?

Johnny loves to cuddle with you, but never in a clingy way. When he craves closeness, he pulls himself to be the smaller spoon, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, legs tangled with yours, his face buried in your neck as he breathes in the scent that soothes him like nothing else. On other nights, he melts beneath your touch— your arm around his neck, your hand on his back, your fingers in his hair, your kisses on his head, reminding him he’s loved. And when the need runs deeper, he draws you closer, leaving no space between you, his lips trailing soft, lingering kisses along your skin to feel more of you.

D | Domestic: What is Domestic life with them like? Do they take over chores?

Johnny truly believes in the saying, “Happy wife, happy life,” and he lives by it. He’s more than willing to help with whatever chores you ask of him, seeing it as one of the quiet, steady ways he can show his love and care. To him, it’s never about duty, it’s about sharing the little things that make your life together easier and happier. There may be moments when he’s a bit slow to start— he’s only human, after all. But in the end, he does it gladly, simply because he wants to see you smile. He can't bear the nagging; just be a little patient, and he’ll always come through, eager to do his part for you.

E | Ending: How would they break up with their partner?

For Johnny to end a relationship with you, it would take a wound so deep. A betrayal or mistake so unforgivable— that it shatters all the patience and understanding he’s built with you. He’s a man of reason, always seeking compromise, always fighting for common ground. So if he ever reaches the point of walking away, it means his heart has been broken beyond repair. And when that moment comes, he won’t drag it out; as much as it tears him apart, he’d end it in a heartbeat, unable to bear the pain of prolonging something he knows is already lost.

But if it’s him who’s made the fatal mistake, or if you’re the one asking to let go, that’s where the agony runs deeper. Johnny wouldn’t fight or beg — it’s not in him to cling when he knows your heart is no longer his — but inside, he’d drown in his own torment, replaying every moment, every word, trying to understand where it all started to fall apart. He’d respect your boundaries, give you the space you ask for, but beneath that calm surface, he’d be haunted by what could have been, carrying the weight of it in silence.

F | Flaws: How do they handle their own / their partner's flaws?

Johnny’s a man of compromise. He approaches flaws with patience and a sincere desire to understand. When something troubles him, he believes in open, honest conversations, even when the topics are uncomfortable, because he wants to work through it. When it comes to his own shortcomings, he can be a little hesitant, sometimes needing time to process before fully facing them. But he’s always quietly working on himself, trying to grow, even when it’s hard. He may feel frustrated at times, especially when he stumbles, but his heart is always striving to be better— for you, and for himself.

G | Gestures: How do they express their love? What are their Love languages?

His love shines brightest through acts of service. He would go miles and beyond to make his significant other feel fulfilled, seen, and cherished. As I said, it’s in the way he’s always there— quietly and steadfastly, making sure you’re never left to struggle alone when he can be the one to ease your burden. He loves doing things for you, not because he expects anything in return, but because it’s how his heart speaks. All he wants is for you to be there, looking pretty for his eyes only, appreciating the care he gives, and offering your presence — because for him, simply having you near is the sweetest comfort he could ask for.

H | Honesty: How honest are they with their partner - even when it's hard?

Johnny would rather face a difficult yet honest conversation than let unspoken words grow between you, choosing to be truthful even if it risks stirring disagreement. At times, he can be difficult to deal with. He has a way of firmly pressing for the truth, even when he knows it’s uncomfortable for you to share. But it comes from a place of wanting clarity and connection, not control. He’s a man of compromise, and once the truth is out, he’ll always try to reason with you, working to find a way that brings peace and makes things easier for both of you.

I | I love you: Who said it first? How often do they say it? Do they show it without words?

Johnny says it first, but he’s not the type to say it often. For him, love is something to show, not something you repeat. He lets his actions speak— like holding your hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss them, so you never feel ignored when his eyes are on the road, or pulling you closer when you’re together, making sure it’s not just sex, but making love. Every touch, every glance, is his way of reminding you how much you mean to him. To Johnny, his devotion is louder than a thousand “I love yous.”

J | Jealousy: Do they get jealous? How do they handle insecurity or attention?

Johnny doesn’t get jealous over small things, but when that deep, possessive instinct stirs within him, it’s impossible to miss. Like a wolf marking his mate, he becomes more protective over you. His touch firmer, his presence stronger, as if silently warning the world that you’re his. Without even realizing it, he grows more territorial, pulling you closer, as if his very arms could shield you from everything else. And in those moments, what he truly longs for is your reassurance— the soft touch of your hand, the quiet words of love that ease his heart, even when he doesn’t realize just how much he needs them.

K | Kindness: How do they show tenderness and care, especially on hard days?

Johnny shows his care for you in quiet, steady ways. He’s always a patient listener. If you want to talk it through, he offers his thoughts gently; if all you need is to be heard, he listens without a hint of judgment. He loves sharing those moments with you over dinner, maybe with a glass or two of beer, letting the world slow down around you. And when words no longer help, he draws you into his arms, holding you close in bed, sharing his warmth. He whispers lighthearted jokes and nonsense, anything to ease your heart, until you drift off or until sleep takes him first, still wrapped around you.

L | Loyalty: Are they loyal? What does loyalty for them look like?

From the moment Johnny fell for you, his heart was yours alone. His loyalty runs deep, unwavering, and absolute. Once he’s given you his love, he’s fully committed, with no space in his world for anyone else. He places you at the center of his life, making you part of every meaningful choice, always considering your thoughts and feelings before taking any step that matters. And in return, all he hopes for is that same fierce devotion— that you’ll involve him in your world as much as he’s woven you into his.

M | Milestones: What are meaningful “firsts” to them? Or are there any meaningful moments they got to share with their partner?

He’s not the type to romanticize every little “first” in the relationship. Johnny cherishes the journey with you more than any checklist. But the day you met his parents is planted in his heart like no other. Seeing you laugh and talk with them so effortlessly, as if you’d always belonged there, filled him with a quiet, overwhelming warmth. In that moment, he knew he wasn’t just imagining a future with you— he was witnessing it begin. That memory became one of his most treasured, a reminder of how perfectly you fit into the pieces of his life.

N | Nicknames: Do they call their partner petnames? What Nicknames (petnames) do they give their partner?

He keeps it simple but sweet when it comes to pet names, calling you “Babe,” “Baby,” and, once you’re his, “Wife” — words that feel natural on his lips because they’re filled with affection. He’s not the most creative with nicknames, but the way he says them, soft or teasing, still makes your heart skip a beat. He loves hearing you call him “Babe,” the familiar warmth of it feeding his need to feel close to you. And behind closed doors, he secretly melts when your words turn bolder— when those spicier pet names slip from your lips in the heat of the moment, just for him.

O | Open: How open are they with their partner? Do they share everything with them or are they more reserved?

Johnny values honesty and openness, so he shares everything with you. You’re his little walking personal diary— he tells you about his day, every little detail, down to how Doyoung’s gagging sounds when he accidentally eats a cucumber. With you, nothing feels too small to share, because you’re the first person he wants to tell. But when it comes to more serious or delicate matters about your relationship, that’s where he grows more reserved. It’s not because he wants to keep things from you, but because he’s deeply considerate. He thinks through a thousand ways to bring it up gently, wanting to choose the words that won’t hurt you, wanting to make sure the conversation brings you closer, not pushes you apart.

P | Protection: How protective are they? How do they protect their partner / would like to be protected?

Johnny protects you the way an alpha wolf guards his mate— fierce, devoted, and unshakable. He would do anything and everything it takes to make you feel safe, to shield you from anything that might bring you harm. His greatest pride is in being your provider, your protector, the one you can always rely on. And in return, what he longs for is simple yet precious— for you to be his safe place, his warmth at the end of every long day. You’re his home, the light he comes back to. He needs to be ready to shower him with love and reassurance that he’s safe, that he’s cherished, and that the world beyond your walls will be kind to him, because in your arms, everything feels right.

Q | Quiet moments: How are they during quiet moments with their partner? Is it a peaceful silence or do they make it awkward somehow?

With Johnny, quiet moments are filled with a gentle, peaceful kind of love. What you share is a mature and steady connection, where even silence feels warm and full, never once awkward. On those rare days when you had nothing much to do or say, you both simply fell into the little hobbies that bring you joy— maybe him reading a manhwa, and you playing Animal Crossing, both lost in your own small worlds. But even then, Johnny would stay close, his skin brushing yours just enough to pass along that quiet comfort, a silent reminder that you’re there for each other, always.

R | Romance: How do they keep the Romance alive in the relationship? Big gestures or small surprises?

Johnny’s not the kind of man who showers you with grand gestures or little surprises— that’s simply not his way. Instead, he chooses to walk beside you through every step of the journey, quietly offering his strength, his support, and everything you need. His love isn’t found in fleeting moments of spectacle, but in his steady presence— that’s how he shows you, every single day, that you are deeply cherished.

S | Smooches: What are they kisses like? Where do they kiss their partner? Where do they like to be kissed?

Johnny isn’t the type to be overly clingy, so kisses from him feel rare and treasured— but when they come, they linger. He’s not one for quick, casual kisses; he prefers them slow and deep, the kind that pulls you into his world. It often starts playfully. Soft, teasing pecks, gentle nips at your lips— but it never stays innocent for long. When the moment builds, his kisses grow sensual, his hands pulling you onto his lap, facing him, so he can hold you close and lose himself in the warmth of you. More often than not, a simple kiss would turn into something deeper, something that leaves you both breathless, and sometimes, leads to a quick stolen moment just for the two of you.

T | Trust: How do they build trust in the relationship? How important is it to them?

Deep down, Johnny is pure-hearted and trusting. A man who loves with open hands and an open heart. When he gives you his love, he gives you his trust just as freely, never clouding his view of you with doubt or suspicion. For Johnny, love and trust are inseparable. He never feels the need to question it, because in his eyes, trust is sacred— something he offers you without hesitation, and something he believes you hold just as dearly. His loyalty, his devotion, they go without saying; with Johnny, trust isn’t something you talk about, because it’s simply the quiet, unshakable foundation of everything you share.

U | Unwinding: How do they like to relax with their partner? How can their partner help them relax after a hard day?

Johnny finds comfort in simple, quiet rituals at the end of a long day. He doesn’t seek loud distractions, just the soothing presence of you, the soft hum of shared silence. He’s the first to head to the fridge, pulling out a cold beer, not to lose himself in it, but to savour the calm. With a gentle glance and a small, knowing smile, he offers, “Beer?”— an unspoken invitation for you to sit beside him, unwind together, and let the world slow down for a little while.

V | Vision: What is their vision of their shared future? Will they two buy a house and grow old together?

The moment Johnny saw you laughing and getting along with his parents, he made a quiet promise to himself— that one day, he would make you his wife. With every day spent by your side, his vision of the future grows clearer, more vivid, like a beautiful dream close to reality. He imagines a life where you share a home filled with warmth— a house with a wide, sunlit lawn, a swimming pool where your children’s laughter echoes, and a living room that always feels like a safe haven for your little family. He’d love to have a child— or two, or three— whatever your heart desires, as long as he sees a reflection of you in their smile. And more than anything, he dreams of growing old with you, of living long enough to see the family you build together flourish, and of breathing his last breath with you still by his side, the love of his life, his forever.

W | Wholesome habits: What habits did they pick up from you? What habits did you pick up from them?

In the early days of your relationship, Johnny noticed that whenever you were deep in concentration, you would purse your lips into a tight line, making your cheek puff up like a round mochi. At first, he found it so cute that he couldn’t help but mimic you. But over time, he started doing it unconsciously himself. When he would catch himself making that same expression, he’d giggle quietly, reminded of your adorable habit.

Meanwhile, the habit you picked up from him was the way he always stood in front of the full-length mirrored wardrobe door while doing his skincare and body care routine after a shower, even though there was a whole wardrobe desk right beside him. When you asked him why he preferred standing there, he said it simply felt more comfortable to do skincare while standing. Curious, you tried it yourself, and it really did feel better. From then on, you began mimicking his way, and he found it endearing whenever he saw you doing things his way.

X | eXes: Do they talk about their past relationships? How do they handle the knowledge of their partners' exes?

Johnny isn’t the type to bring up his past relationships on purpose or make them into a heavy topic. When it does come up, it happens naturally. Usually, when he’s reflecting on his past, how certain experiences shaped him, how he was affected, and what he learned from it all.

As for your exes, Johnny would never pressure you to talk about them. Unless an ex poses any kind of threat or harm to you, his protective side comes out. Other than that, he has little concern about who you’ve been with before, because what matters is that you're his now.

Y | Yearning: Who misses the other the most? Can they be away from their partner for long?

His girlfriend tends to miss him more. Johnny, while deeply caring, isn’t the clingy type. His demanding work schedule has taught him how to balance love and responsibility, and he handles time apart with mature emotions and over the time it helped him learned to navigate distance well.

Johnny also maintains healthy boundaries, which can sometimes leave you feeling a bit lonely, especially when you’re longing for him and he seems to be unbothered. But under that composed exterior, Johnny cherishes you deeply; he just expresses it in ways that are grounded rather than needy.

Z | Zzz: What are their sleep habits like as a couple? Do they cuddle, sprawl, fall asleep mid-conversation?

Johnny loves being the big spoon, pulling her close so her back rests against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. He peppers soft kisses along her shoulder, a quiet ritual until they both drift off. Though you may shift apart in the night, whenever Johnny stirs and notices the distance, he instinctively draws near again, needing to feel her warmth beside him.

It was nearly 12 p.m. when the group finally finished their choreo practice, and all I wanted was to sprint to my car and head home. I spent no time engaging in whatever conversation my teammates talked about and went straight to the car park. I was so done spending time with them, bickering about the same things over and over. I was starting the car engine when I heard a notification from my phone, which showed several bubble of texts from her.

Her. The love of my life. Whose contact I saved as “Sweetheart 🤎”. But instead of smiling, a long sigh came so naturally out of my mouth as I read every line she wrote.

Babe, I have to stay late at work again today You’re still practicing, aren’t you? It must’ve been so tiring for you :-( Just text me ‘I love you’ when you’re done, so I know you got home safely! Don’t forget your dinner and rest well~ I wish I could see you soon…

I stared at my phone long enough to feel things. To feel nothing. There is nothing wrong with her text, and I know I wasn’t supposed to feel like what I feel right now. I was supposed to be smiling to receive her text, and concerned about her well-being. She had a tough week, and I was supposed to immediately call and tell her I’m done practicing and ask if she wants me to pick her up, bring her favourite mushroom soup from a joint she likes whenever she has a long day, and stay the night with her, like I always did. I’m supposed to be excited that I finally got the chance to meet my sweetheart. I’m supposed to be smiling from ear to ear just at the thought of her.

But no, I sighed again, as if it was the most right thing to do. I threw my phone to the side and was eaten by hollowness when I caught a glimpse of the seat. Her seat. Full of her traces. A warm blanket that I prepared for her when the temperature starts to drop, her favorite Pompompurin pillow I gifted her, a bunch of hair ties in the side compartment, sunglasses, perfume that she knows is my favorite, and lip balm, which she left in the front compartment. 

I didn’t even want to open our chat room, let alone reply to her. It felt so wrong, but I couldn’t bring myself to. The simple text that could have gotten me smiling and feeling recharged now feels like any other text I could ignore. I start driving out of the parking lot to head home. The road is unusually quiet, and the silence drew me into my deepest memory of her, of us.

What we had was the epitome of perfect love. She came to me like an angel when I lost all of my hope in genuine love, bringing warmth through her presence, words, smile, gestures— and everything else in between. Our love was so warm, people around us envied what we had. I love her even more each day for showing me the flying colors of what love could feel like.

We were there for each other through everything. She was there when I feel the shittiest, she loved me through all phases of me. Like a ship keeping itself at bay, she was my anchor. She was what kept me grounded all this time.

But I know I have changed. It was not overnight, I gradually changed into what feels like a stranger to her— even to myself.

This emptiness has been eating away at me for a few weeks, and I was fully aware of it. I was aware that I was damaging our relationship.

During our three-year relationship, yes, we occasionally fought. But none of us could stand being mad at each other for too long before we decided to talk, expressing our feelings with each word picked carefully so we’re not hurting each other, we are so considerate of each other that we always resolve everything well. Ego is not our enemy to fight when there’s a problem, so it’s easy for us to put ourselves in each other’s shoes to try to understand our feelings better.

She teaches me selflessness, how to be truthful, how to be considerate, how to compromise without having to give in a part of our needs and wants just to please each other, how to learn from our mistakes and be a better person and a better lover. Our bickering has never ended in a bad term, and no one is left unheard and upset. Because I wouldn’t let my sweetheart hurt, and neither would she to me.

It was like that… but… I was distancing myself from her for no apparent reason— even though I know it must’ve hurt her.

I think… I stopped loving her.

And admitting that my love for her has gone cold is such a nonsense. 

While driving, I distinctly remember every bit of my feelings when I felt like she was the world to me.

My love for her was so big that I could give the world to her.

I would do anything to keep my sweetheart smile.

Every day, I missed her too much and wanted to spend any spare time with her. Before we both had to get going with our day, I was the one who always wanted to see her face, so I used to drop by her apartment with a bag of croissants and a cup of hot dolce latte from her favorite shop just so that I could get my morning kiss.

How I always insisted on driving her to and from work so I could spend a little longer time with her and hold her hands a little longer. I lived for the goodbye kisses she gave me on my temple, nose, both of my cheeks, and lips before she got out of my car, a ritual she never skips, a ritual that always had me giggling like a middle schooler madly in love. When I picked her up from work, she always greets me with a cheery hand wave from afar and eyes sparkling with excitement as if she sees her favorite person in the world— I am her favorite person, she tells me, and I take huge pride in that. My sweetheart, who never fails to make me feel wanted and appreciated.

How when I’m off-schedule and have nowhere to be, I would stay in her apartment, where everything is hers, just because being surrounded by every little thing of hers is like a soothing balm for me.

How I would wait for her to come home from work, greeting her like a sunflower greeting its sun, following her like a puppy missing their owner, listening to her yapping about anything before we would either cuddled up in the lounge sofa and order food for dinner, or helping her cook dinner for both of us.

How some nights, I would make love to her, worshipping her body I love so much, giving her all the pleasures she deserves, while I savor her gentle touch on my skin, the pretty sound she makes, how beautiful her pleasured face looks, and the warmth she gives— all for me. The intimacy we had is priceless to me. It was beyond lust; it was a complete love.

And how when we sleep, I always have her tiny body close to me, because I want to be as close to her even when I’m unconscious, even when I go into deep slumber. I love holding her tiny body, which is always warmer than mine, and I thought it was the perfect size match for me. She's so adorably tiny, so precious, and so beautiful in my arms. It took me lightning speed before I drifted off to sleep because just her presence is enough to give me comfort than any sleeping supplement could provide. I always get the best sleep when I’m with her.

To be with her for as long as I can is so important to me, I would even fight for it. As far as sacrificing things, so I could be with her. So I could keep her all to myself— right next to me.

But now, I don’t yearn for her like I used to. When she said she missed me, I went out to meet her just because it tires me even more when I hear her whines. And she never has to whine for me to come for her. I wouldn't give her the chance to miss me in the first place. She never had to tell me that she misses me. I was always there before she even missed me.

I blame it on my crazy schedule just to deny my fading love for her,  and I know it was not even correct. I just need something to blame for. That I changed because time has drifted us apart. And because of time, I no longer pine for my sweetheart as I did before.

Is she even my sweetheart anymore?

These days, I don’t come to her house anymore,

And I don’t contact her even if I have time,

Because I feel like I need time for myself rather than time with her. 

And even when she does contact me, it's just … empty talk.

When we decided to spend time together,

I was quiet and indifferent,

Listening to her story like it was just another story I could ignore,

Spending time with her was a chore for me.

She knows. At first, she thought that maybe he was just tired, so she made even more effort to lift his mood, but it was no use, even the nth time they met. Her lover is still cold. Maybe what we have has become so familiar that it has become ordinary to him…Perhaps he has fallen out of love with me… She knows. She could sense every expression, every tone he spoke with, even every unnoticeable sigh he left out. She got more and more devastated and in despair every time he acted so cold when she tried to make him smile. What was once an effortless act for her has become a gruelling task.

I feel like my head could burst at any moment with this crazy ass work. Like I’m constantly walking on a tightrope with my neck tied to an invisible tie, eventually neglecting our relationship because I am so in distress. I’m tired of not being able to find anything special in rough days that don’t seem to come to an end.

I was so deep in thought that I didn’t realise I was crying until I heard a honk from a car behind me, as I was driving too slowly. When I wiped my tears and tried to refocus my eyes on the road, I caught a familiar figure at the bus stop ahead of me. I could tell even from afar that it was my sweetheart. I pulled over just far enough so she doesn’t notice my car and takes my time to look at her.

She was sitting there holding a book in her hand, but her eyes were fixated somewhere far, and she was probably listening to some music through her wired earphones. She was wearing the baby pink wool scarf I had gotten her a couple of winters ago, the one she cherished so much— because I had gotten it for her, she said.

She’s still so beautiful. She has always been.

But now I don’t feel the butterfly I always felt every time I look at her…

The pretty face and calm voice that I loved so much, the warm presence that I had always sought— to the point that they had become a lifeline for me that I felt I couldn’t survive without, have faded. Work has become my priority, and restlessness feels greater than my longing for her.

Realizing that things weren’t as they were before and that the love I thought was perfect went wrong, it hurt me.I couldn’t believe I could fall out of love with her, whom I once deemed as my whole world. Before it all happened, I remember wondering how I could ever fall out of love when I could die a happy man just by looking at her face. 

To realize that I am indeed falling out of love with her struck me like lightning.

The thought of them ending up married to each other and raising their own little family seemed like a definite close future for me, but now it has become a distant future.

I don’t see it anymore.

I don’t want it anymore.

The thought of me hurting her also haunts me.

She must’ve known. I never imagined becoming her source of pain and sadness; it was the farthest thing I would do before I was drowning in my selfishness.

Indeed, she knows. She is not a fool. She realized this a long time ago, as all she could do was wait for him and cry day after day over the fact that he might no longer be in love with her anymore.

I turned off the engine and got out of my car, slowly walking towards the bus stop where she was. She diverted her eyes when she sensed a person walking on her side, but was even more surprised when she saw me standing adjacent to her. I forced a smile when she looked up at me with her big hazel eyes I adored.

"Aren’t you cold, sweetheart?" I asked. She shakes her head no and just stays still there, waiting for me to make another move. I sit beside her, slowly taking in the features I once loved so much, while she keeps her sweet smile. Another sharp guilt clenches my heart. The more I take my time to look into her eyes, the more I notice how different she has become from the last time I met her a few weeks ago. I couldn’t help but frown when I saw how puffy her eyes were and how thin she had become. Her eyes seem to have lost their spark, the eyes that once always shone, her chubby cheeks, I can’t get enough of kissing, have gone. She looks lifeless, and I know it’s all because of me.

So this is who I have been neglecting all along…

This young, bright, and beautiful sweetheart whose heart I ripped apart…

If it were the usual me, I would take her hand and say to her that it might just be a temporary happening and that we could work things out, but I am too tired. Even when I clearly see how my sweetheart is struggling because of me, I’m not sure if I can overcome this emotion.

"I know you weren’t here to pick me up… Why did you come and see me?" She questions, and I can almost hear the tremble in her sweet voice.

Like she knows what I’m about to say to her, she just stays still, knowing that she has no chance left, even though she doesn’t want things to end like this.

"I think we should end things here," I say.

There were no words she could form, and she was just trying to hold her tears from falling in silence. She forced her head up to look at the man she loved so dearly, searching for the remains of love he might have for her. "I understand." That’s all she said while dropping her head low. To be honest, she didn’t understand one bit. The heavy silence fills the air; neither he nor she says anything, just looking far into the street, watching cars slowly passing by.

"I’m sorry" was all I said before I got up and left her.

I get back to my car, letting the heavy heartbreak I just inflicted on myself and her engulf me. The moment I see her break down in tears because of what I just did to her, I feel my tears running down both my cheeks. I blame myself for making her cry, but I couldn’t suffocate her in this loveless relationship anymore longer. She deserved to be loved indefinitely, and I know I am incapable of providing her one.

I let her go for the best interest of both of us. I can only hope that my decision will bring her better love than I could offer her. 

Jaehyun is an experienced 26-year-old guy who met her through a mutual friend. She was the epitome of a good girl. Her kindness, purity, innocence, and feminine nature attract him— not the kind that makes him want to corrupt her but to protect her. The more he knows about her, the more he falls for her. They decided to date a few months later, and Jaehyun had become her protector since day 1, showering her with love, nurturing her, and treating her like she was his queen.

She had a boyfriend, but it was in high school, and it was just a teenager’s love; being in high school, they kept their relationship innocent. They would get as far as kissing but never go beyond first base. They broke up after graduation, as they had separated to attend college in different countries and never got the chance to go beyond kissing. So he’s her first boyfriend since she turned 20. Which means it’s her first adult romance. And she knows how most adults date. She’s curious, but she’s too timid to unravel it.

She felt nervous every time they did skinship because the thought that she could do more than a kiss made her anxious, even the simplest touch, like a peck on the lips. It’s not like she’s unwilling to be more intimate with him, but she’s just overly shy. Jaehyun senses her hesitation. So he’s always sweet with her, treating her gently like she’s fine porcelain, never asking, luring, or leading her to do something more intimate with him.

He always ends the kissing session in his car on the parking lot of her apartment after a date with a kiss on the forehead when he feels her fidgeting. Sometimes he wonders why she’s so nervous while doing skinship with him. Is she not liking it? Is he doing things wrong? Does he do it badly? Does she not trust him enough? Does she have trauma? Does she want to keep it until marriage? Any sort of thought runs through his head, but he never brings it up to her. He’s afraid to push the wrong button and scare her away. He doesn’t mind if she wants to cherish her virginity, but to be honest, deep inside his heart, he wants to make love to her. He believes that making love with the person you genuinely love is such a beautiful thing to do. But he is too gentle of a sweetheart to try to push her boundaries. He loves her too much; he wouldn’t allow a chance to make her uncomfortable.

Most of the time, he will relieve himself in his own space by imagining how he would take her and how pretty she would be under him, taking what he gave her. He swears to himself that he won’t taint her and treasure her as the baby girlfriend she is to him. That’s why, even almost 1 year into the relationship, the furthest they go is just a steamy make-out, and their kiss stops around the neck. But at some point, his baby girlfriend craves something more than just a kiss. She was waiting for Jaehyun to take the lead, but he never does, yet she’s still too shy to ask him.

Sometimes, she gets brave and roams her hand further to his slim waist, then to the front side to reach the band of his pants, but more often than not, Jaehyun ends up bringing her hand to his and intertwining their hands, even stopping his kiss entirely. He would smile at her and kiss the back of her hand, then distract her by saying or doing something else. However, she’s starting to think what if Jaehyun didn’t want her because he still thinks of her as a child, and she’s not sexually attractive enough for him to lust over her.

So one day, when they were on a home date watching some blockbuster action movie, they somehow ended up making out, and she was on top of him, straddling his lap. Jaehyun’s hand would roam to her waist and back, but still keeping it polite, caressing her with passion and love. His baby girlfriend tried to slip her hand underneath his T-shirt, but he caught her hand and intertwined it with his instead. She whimpered when he pulled away from her lips, still craving more, but he would smile and ask, “Aren’t you hungry, princess?”

Instead of answering him, his baby girlfriend mustered the courage to ask him, “Am I not attractive enough for you?” He would be alert, but he understood what she was trying to convey; his gaze would soften, and he would be ready to comfort her. He would say she’s so precious to him that he doesn’t want to taint her. That she didn’t have to be pressured to have sex with him just because she feels like she has to.

Jaehyun would say, “I won’t ask you something you’re not comfortable with,” because he’s not convinced enough that his baby girlfriend actually wants to have sex with him because she wants to, not because she feels pressured that she has to have sex in this adult romance.

“But I want to… Why wouldn’t you touch me? Why wouldn’t you let me touch you?” When his baby girlfriend whined, Jaehyun immediately melted and cooed at her reaction before bringing her into a tight hug. Knowing how overly considerate and timid Jaehyun can be, she would try to convince him she’s not pressured and be honest with him that she’s actually curious what it’s like to have sex, and she wants to do it with him because she wants him all. Jaehyun remained quiet for a moment, pondering whether to give in. He took his time reading the expression on her face, which he loved so much.

“My baby wants me?” he asks, receiving an eager nod that causes him to let out a breathy laugh, half adoration, half lust. He can’t believe his baby girlfriend yearns for him— maybe as much as he does. Jaehyun cups her cheek, bringing her into a kiss slightly different from what they usually have. This time with less control as he gave in to his lust, their tongues clashed, pouring their passion into the kiss.

He would bring her to the bedroom, making sure she was comfortable on the bed before he went on top of her and started to worship her body, kissing her ever so softly from her ear, down to her slim neck, to her pretty collarbones. Clothes after clothes were taken off their bodies, leaving them naked for each other’s eyes. He would bite off the inside of his cheek because she’s so enchanting, and he needs to control himself to not let out the beast in him. He goes feral when he sees her pretty chest bare for him, so clean and pure, and inviting for him to dirty her tits with his marks. He would ask if he could mark her before he does, and when she gives him the green light, he would leave his love bites all over her body, imprinting her.

Jaehyun is the type to talk to her through everything he does, making sure that she only feels pleasure when he’s touching her. He will take his time to make sure his baby girlfriend feels good, being gentle with his touches, checking her face to see her expression. "If you don’t feel it and want to stop, tell me, okay?"

"Promise me you’ll tell me if you’re hurting." When she doesn’t say anything and nods at his words, he pinches her chin to make her face him and urges her, "Your words, princess".

"I promise." He would smile at her answer, kissing her gently while his hand runs down to her thigh and pussy. “I heard it’s hard for girls to cum on their first time… while- you know- the guy is inside. So I’m gonna make you come with my fingers first, okay?” 

Honestly, Jaehyun also feels nervous too. While it’s not his first time, but he loves her too much, so he wouldn’t want to make this a bad experience for her. He wants to make this all about her, show her a good time for her first, so he is thinking a lot more and every one of his moves is much more calculated.

All while she believes Jaehyun with her life, so she nods and let him do whatever he wants with her body, it has been pure pleasure all along, she’s sure this time will be no different, although she can’t lie and say she’s not nervous at all, since it will be her first time ever getting fingered after all.

She gasped when Jaehyun stroke her pussy lips up and down, and he smiled when he finds her pussy is already wet from arousal before slipping a single digit into her tight hole. Jaehyun moves his finger slowly and gently to let her feel and bask in the tingling feeling while he pays close attention to her, and it made him even more aroused.

She looked so pretty, with her beautiful, long hair sprawled out on the pillow, her cheeks pink and flushed, her plump lips slightly ajar, letting out the sexiest sound. Sometimes he would look down and watch his finger appearing and disappearing into her tiny pussy. The sight is everything to Jaehyun, he could feel his erection grow even more, and he swore he could feel his precum dripping out of him onto her lower stomach.

He almost moan when he feels her pussy grip got even tighter, it makes him imagining how amazing it must felt when he has his cock being gripped by her baby pussy.

She looks more relaxed and lets her body give in to the pleasure as he continues to finger her, curling his digit upward to find and stroke her sweet spot. He smirks when she lets out a high-pitched moan of pleasure whenever the tip of his finger grazes the spot, so he adds another finger before speeding up his movement to coax an orgasm out of her. At the same time, he pressed his lips on her cheek, not enough, so he kissed her, just wanting to be as close as her.

“I can feel you close, baby. Cum for me-“ He commands when he feels her walls pulsing against his fingers while his eyes are fixated to see how beautiful her o-face. She lets out a long moan when she cums, her thighs trembles from the immaculate high she felt for the first time in her life. Jaehyun pulls out his fingers when she finishes her high, then caresses her thigh to relax her.

“Was it good?” His baby girlfriend would be too shy to answer, so she would just let out a smile for him. She looked so fucked out and pliant for him, like she’s ready for him to use and to please, it makes him fall in love with her all over again.

“Feel me” He said when he brings her hand to reach down between their body, and guide her to grip at his erected cock. His baby girlfriend instinctively strokes his length, which invites a deep grunt from Jaehyun, while she watches his handsome face contort in pleasure. She’s eager to give him more pleasure, but he stops her hand and says, “You can do that next time”.

When he deemed his baby girlfriend all prepped for him, Jaehyun would direct his tip to her tiny pussy, rubbing his tip to her clit down to her tiny hole to gather more lubricant from her arousal. One of his hand is planted next to her face while his hand is stroking her hair, and his other hand is guiding his cock to to her entrance until the tip enters her warm hole, thrusting shallowly to give you time to familiar yourself with his size.

She whimpers in pain, feeling like her hole is being overstretched. On the other side, Jaehyun also feels a little bit of pain from pushing through her virginity, but he didn’t lose his sole focus to comfort her, and he asked if she’s okay along the way.

“You take me so well, baby.” He would shower her with compliments, bringing her into a sweet kiss to distract her from the pain. When he bottoms out, Jaehyun would stay still, giving her the time to adjust while caressing the scattered baby hair on her damp temple.

When she wiggled her hips, he took it as a green light for him to move. So he set a mid-paced tempo, pulling out until only the tip left before pushing back in, letting her to savor every ridges on his cock and him to feel her tight gummy wall gripping on his cock.

He doesn’t change his pace, only searching for the angle that hits the spot right for her. He slips his hand under her armpit to keep her from getting pushed up further to the bed’s headboard, hugging her so close to his body that their chest and stomach are pressed against each other. The lewd slapping sound can be heard loud together with her moans, whimpers, and whines, making it even harder for Jaehyun to restrain himself. Moreover when he finally felt her cunt pulse rhythmically against his cock, a sign of her impending high.  “Are you gonna cum?”

“It’s okay.. I got you,” He reassures when she nods, his movement becoming more intense to help her reach her orgasm. And when she does, it takes all his might to not cum right there and then. Jaehyun lets out a deep groan when he sees how beautiful she is under him, legs trembling, chest heaving for air, helpless and fucked out, his thigh and bed are soaked from her dripping cum, and her pussy is squeezing him so fucking deliciously. He stops his movement because he feels like he could burst at any moment if he doesn’t, and he takes his time to kiss her and let her enjoy her high. “Good girl… So pretty when you cum for me”

She lets out a tired smile and slaps his muscled chest gently. “How do you feel?”

“I feel amazing… It’s really good,” She answered, her eyes were finally able to be opened to see her lover.

“Yeah? Do you want more?” He asked teasingly, but his baby girlfriend whimpered at the thought of being overstimulated.

“No..” Jaehyun chuckled when she slung both of her arms on his neck and pulled him closer to her, burying her face in the crook of his neck, unintentionally squeezing her core so it sent a shiver down his body, triggering his pending orgasm.

“Can you hold on a little bit longer for me, sweetheart? I’m close.” Jaehyun pulls her face away from his neck with her hair, begging for her to let him finish. 

“My pretty baby,” He kissed her cheek before picking up the momentum, snapping his hip to her a little bit rougher and faster than before to chase his high. Losing a bit of self-control, Jaehyun would bring her into a rough kiss, tongue lapping at her lips feverishly before he pulls away and lets out a deep groan when he feels her walls clamping down on him. He looks down to see how her pussy lips are sucking on his length, her labia gets pulled out every time he thrust out.

Her cries spurs his orgasm, and he quickly changed his position to kneeling and pulling out of her after a few sharp thrust, “Im cumming”.

Jaehyun pumps his length frantically when he feels his climax approaching, while his baby girlfriend watches him from underneath, amazed by how hot the scene in front of her is. The way his eyes bores into her body while he pumps his thick length with his buff and veiny hand— fucking hell.

“Shit-“ He let out a curse when he shoot big loads on her stomach. He grips at her thigh while he continues to shoot ropes of cum on her body, some even lands on her chest and neck, and his head is thrown back from the overwhelming sensation. She whines when the beautiful scene ends, already missing how Jaehyun looked so good when he cums. She would love to do this over and over again to see how heavenly he looks.

When his high subsides, Jaehyun would look down at her and smile, proud of his art on her body. “You’re so good for me, sweetheart”.

He is fast to reach the tissue on the bed side table to clean her up and closing her open legs so he could brings her to his embrace, while her face is buried on his neck and his chin was on top of your head, and his hand is caressing your back with so much love. They didn’t say anything, just enjoying the after sex dopamine in silence.

“I wish we had done this sooner,” Jaehyun laughed at her comment, pulling away from her body to cup her cheek and kiss her in adoration.

“My baby girlfriend is definitely a minx,” He murmurs into the kiss, making her giggle before she kisses him back. Oh~ to make love with the love of your life.