#kpopcafeee

You woke up first, barely. The room was quiet, filled with golden morning light, and your body was not where you remembered leaving it.

You were still in bed yes but more importantly? So was he. And he was wrapped around you like a weighted body pillow. Your leg was trapped between his. One of his arms was under your back. His face was in your neck. And something…Pressed against your hip. You blinked, still half asleep, you moved slightly to reposition. Bad idea. The pressure grew. You froze. No, No.

There was no way “Is that your—” you whispered, but stopped yourself. It twitched. You almost screamed “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you whispered again. You squinted back at him, mortified. His lips were parted, hair messy, cheeks still slightly pink from the heat of the sheets. Dead asleep, Dead aroused “You better not be dreaming about me,” you hissed. Then you paused “Actually—” you blinked. “Wait. Are you dreaming about me?” A second twitch. You slapped his arm lightly. He grunted Mumbled something in his sleep. Something like “Pretty…” You froze. Your face burned “I’m gonna throw myself off the balcony,” you whispered. Falling back into deep sleep.

It was too bright. Seonghwa groaned as the sunlight cut through the curtains like knives, stabbing straight through his skull. His head was pounding. His mouth tasted like regret and imported liquor. But worst of all… he remembered.

The Memory Hits him like a truck “You’re love-whipped,” Wooyoung had said, laughing so hard he nearly spilled his drink. “You look at her like she hung the stars.” “You LIKE when she argues with you.” “You didn’t kill her because you’re in love with her.” Seonghwa groaned louder and dragged a pillow over his face. He wasn’t in love that was ridiculous. Absurd. A side effect of drinking on an empty stomach. Right? Right.

Except… he remembered what came next too. You. How you made him eat the snack. How you looked when you casually shoved it toward him like he was your bratty roommate. How you cursed at him, annoyed him, challenged him and somehow it made him want to…Nope. NO. He sat up with a sharp inhale, heart pounding like he was being hunted. You were still asleep beside him, back turned, arms tangled in the blankets. He nearly jumped when he realized he was still hugging you tightly.

And God help him, he hadn’t even let go in his sleep. Very slowly, Seonghwa untangled his limbs from yours like defusing a bomb. He swung his legs over the bed, stood up, and nearly collapsed again. “I’m never drinking with that idiot again,” he muttered. But the second he grabbed his shirt and started to leave the voice came back “You’re love whipped. You look at her like she hung the stars.”

He froze in the hallway, fingers tightening around the fabric. He had a meeting in less than an hour. He needed a shower. He needed to not think about how you curled closer to him last night like you didn’t want to leave. He needed to forget the way his chest didn’t feel so cold with you against it. “Pathetic,” he hissed under his breath. “You’re pathetic.” But no matter how many times he said it, no matter how cold he made his face in the mirror his hands kept curling like they missed you already.

You woke up again to an empty bed though. The pillow next to yours was warm proof that Seonghwa had been there but now? Gone. You sat up slowly, groggy, your neck sore from being clutched like a teddy bear for hours. Your eyes dropped to your ring finger. Still wearing the ring. The one you still didn’t understand. The one you never took off. You flopped back into the blankets with a sigh. “Coward,” you muttered to the ceiling. “Clings like a koala and disappears like a ghost.” You weren’t even sure why you were annoyed. You should’ve been relieved. But still…You remembered the heat of his skin.

The steady, rhythmic breathing against your shoulder. The way his arms wrapped around you like letting go wasn’t even an option. And yeah, okay. Maybe you didn’t try that hard to get out. You stared at the ceiling for five more minutes before dragging yourself out of bed and heading toward the bathroom. “Let’s pretend none of this happened,” you mumbled.But you already knew you wouldn’t be able to.

You woke up alone again, No warmth, No scent. Just faint memories of being wrapped up like a stuffed animal and pinned under a 5”10 emotionally unavailable mafia boss with a very noticeable morning problem. “Great,” you muttered “I’m the only one embarrassed about it.” The second you sat up, though, you winced at your own scent. Cologne, Sweat, Booze. “Ugh shower immediately.” You let the hot water run longer than you should’ve. You scrubbed off his scent, his warmth, his drunken snoring and maybe even the fact that you didn’t hate being held last night. Once dry, you skipped the stiff formalwear and picked out something easy black joggers, a gray sweatshirt, and socks. No lace, No heels, No bullshit, and No Seonghwa around no fashion police. The maids led you to breakfast and didn’t correct your outfit once. After eating, you wandered through the halls of the estate, half thinking you’d go outside and just breathe “Madam,” a maid said, stopping you. “You have visitors.” You blinked“Who?”

“Lady Song and Miss Yeona.” You paused right. You had met them at the wedding reception. But only for a minute. You’d been too overwhelmed, and Yeona had been snarking about the food the whole time while their mother tried not to cry over Seonghwa’s vows. “They’re here… for me?” “Yes, ma’am. They said to bring you right away.”You walked into the sunny drawing room, and there they were. Lady Song, in pale lavender, with that air of regality that made you sit straighter by accident. Yeona, in wide leg jeans and a designer top, lounging like she paid rent in attitude.

“There she is!” Yeona grinned. “The reluctant bride of our family’s drama series.” “Yeona” her mother warned with a smile. “What?” Yeona sipped from her iced coffee. “She knows.” Lady Song stood, kissing your cheek gently and holding out a sleek black gift bag. “We brought you perfume,” she said. “And some facial serum. It’s a family favorite.” “Thank you,” you said, still trying to process this… warmth. “That’s very kind of you.” “Of course it is,” Yeona said. “We like you way more than the last one.” Lady Song visibly flinched. “Yeona—!” “What?” Yeona shot back. “She was awful you said so.” “That was in private,” her mother hissed. “You also said she had ‘all the depth of a wet napkin.’” “Yeona.” Her mother warned “And that if she gave you a grandchild, you’d raise it yourself—” “Okay!” Lady Song interrupted, cheeks pink. “That’s enough.” You were trying not to laugh. “So… she wasn’t exactly mother-in-law material?” you asked, sipping tea.

“She wasn’t anything material,” Yeona said. “Just good at pretending. And wearing eyeliner badly.” “I told Seonghwa she wouldn’t give him an heir,” Lady Song muttered, almost to herself. “Which she wasn’t planning to anyway, the selfish little—” Your head tilted “An… heir?” Lady Song blinked, suddenly remembering you were right there. “Ah, well just a figure of speech.” “A very royal figure of speech,” you said dryly. “What can I say?” she smiled innocently. “I like the idea of grandchildren.”Yeona groaned “Mother, Please.” “I’m not saying now!” she said quickly. “But maybe one day.” “She’s literally still recovering from being kidnapped,” Yeona pointed out. “All I’m saying is—” Lady Song held your hand sweetly. “You’d be a wonderful mother. You have a strong presence. A good heart. And a very symmetrical face.” You blinked“Thanks…?” “And patience,” Yeona added. “Clearly. If you haven’t stabbed my brother yet, you deserve sainthood.”

A Surprisingly Lovely Day you actually laughed. And it wasn’t fake. Yeona dragged you through the estate gardens gossiping about designer scandals and her university flings. Lady Song made you try hand cream samples and debated whether velvet gloves were “in” again. You even helped them pick flowers from the private greenhouse for the entryway. And for a moment, surrounded by women who weren’t guards, enemies, or manipulative men. You felt almost…normal. Maybe that’s what scared you most. The sound of the main doors opening echoed through the estate. Lady Song paused mid sip of her tea. Yeona glanced at the entrance like a cat sensing a storm. You just raised your brow and kept nibbling on a tea cookie. You knew who it was. Footsteps, Sharp, Heavy, Deliberate. You didn’t have to look to know Seonghwa had entered. But you did. He stepped into the room in a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, tie tucked into his coat pocket. The second his eyes swept over you, his mother, and Yeona sitting around like old friends he stopped walking.

“You’re home,” Lady Song said sweetly. “Come sit. We’re just enjoying some tea.” His face didn’t soften. “You didn’t call ahead.” “Oh, stop,” she waved him off. “We live twenty minutes away.” Yeona snorted under her breath. “We were bored. Plus, I wanted to see your pretty wife in something that wasn’t a funeral dress.” Seonghwa’s eyes flicked toward you quickly, like he didn’t want anyone to notice. But you noticed. And you also noticed he said nothing. “She’s a delight,” Lady Song said. “We talked about flowers, perfume, skincare…” “…and your ex,” you added, just to be that level of petty. The temperature in the room dropped like a trapdoor opened. Seonghwa’s jaw tensed.

His mother, oblivious, kept going. “She asked about your last one so of course I told her! That rude thing was never going to give me an heir anyway.” “Mother,” Seonghwa said flatly. “That’s enough.” “Oh don’t be like that,” she smiled, tilting her head. “I like this one, She’s sharp, And sturdy. I just want to see you happy.” “You showed up to my house uninvited, interrogated my wife, and brought up people who no longer matter,” he said, still eerily calm. “So no, I’m not happy.” Yeona raised a brow. “Jesus. Okay, Dad 2.0.” Lady Song stood up slowly and brushed her coat smooth. “We’ll go. I can see you’re in one of your moods.” “I’m always in one of my moods,” Seonghwa replied. Yeona grabbed her drink, not even fazed.

“Still love you, bro. Even if you’re dramatic.” They both kissed you goodbye Lady Song rubbing your arm like a proud aunt and Yeona whispering something about doing your eyebrows next time. The door closed behind them. Silence. You stood. He still didn’t look at you. “You’re mad,” you said. “No.” “You are.” “I just don’t like when people talk about things that are none of their business.” “I didn’t bring up your ex. She did.” finally he looked at you. “You didn’t stop her either.” Your eyes narrowed. “I didn’t know that was one of your landmines.” “It’s not,” he said. “But you let her get under your skin. I saw it.”

You crossed your arms “What does it matter if she got under my skin?” “Because I don’t want you thinking about things that don’t matter. Or people who don’t.” He says You scoffed “So you can control what I think now too?”. He took a step closer “If I could, do you think I’d let you walk around angry all the time?” Your breath caught “Maybe I’m angry because I was kidnapped.” The words hung there. Sharp, Bruised, Too honest. And he walked right past you disappearing down the hall without another word. It was quiet. Too quiet. You stood outside the study doors, hesitant fingers knocking softly once, twice. No answer. You waited, chewing your bottom lip. Maybe he was sulking, Brooding, Reading the same page in a book just to look deep.

You knocked again. Still nothing. So, finally, you pushed the door open. Empty. The room smelled like him a mix of sandalwood, leather, and old paper. His glass from earlier was still on the desk, untouched. “Mr. Park went out,” a maid’s voice startled you. You turned around. She looked at you with slight surprise, eyes wide as if she thought you already knew. “Out?” “Yes, ma’am. With Mr. Choi and the others. They left about half an hour ago.”You blinked slowly. Your heart dipped. You had come here to apologize. But apparently… he didn’t wait long enough to hear it. “Okay,” you said simply. And that was all you walked back to your room silently. No crying, No confrontation. Just… guilt, coiled up like cold steel behind your ribs. Maybe you’d been too harsh, Maybe he was angry, Maybe he didn’t care at all. So you laid back on the bed, pulling the covers to your chin. He probably forgot about it already. This isn’t real anyway. You closed your eyes. Sleep came eventually but it felt heavy, Fake, Unrestful.

At the Club. The air was thick with alcohol, perfume, and artificial fun. San laughed over some crude joke from Jongho. Wooyoung was already three shots deep and dancing with two girls who didn’t even know him. But Seonghwa sat in the corner of the booth, his fingers swirling the rim of his untouched glass. “You’ve been quiet all night,” San finally said, sliding into the seat next to him. Seonghwa didn’t look at him. “Wasn’t in the mood to come.” “Then why did you?” A shrug, A sigh, A deflection. “Needed space.” “From your wife?” That made Seonghwa pause. San waited but no answer came.

It was about thirty minutes later when she arrived. Dahee. The ghost from his past. The mistake that burned everything to ash. She showed up like a bad omen in a tight black dress, red lips, and a look like she owned the room. The moment San saw her, he muttered under his breath “Oh for fuck’s sake…”Mingi visibly tensed. Wooyoung stopped mid dance and said, “This bitch again?” Seonghwa looked up. His eyes widened. “Dahee?”

“Long time no see,” she said sweetly, slipping into the booth beside him like she belonged there. San leaned forward, jaw tight. “He’s married now.” “So I heard,” Dahee said, smiling at Seonghwa. “Congratulations, Hwa.”“What are you doing here?” Seonghwa asked, trying to sound composed. “I was invited. Well, not by you, obviously.” She gave a pointed look at one of the flirty girls who’d dragged her along. “I’ll go,” she added, voice syrupy. “Unless you want me to stay.” He should’ve told her to leave. But he didn’t the liquor was dulling his edges. The anger from earlier still buzzed under his skin. And part of him just… didn’t want to be alone.

Seonghwa was too drunk to walk straight. His head felt like a cloud. His body was heavier than usual. “I’ll help him to the car,” she offered sweetly, reaching for his arm. His guards stepped forward immediately. “Back off. We’ve got it.” “It’s fine,” Seonghwa slurred. “Let her. She can’t walk alone out here…it’s dangerous. Drop me off at home and then take her home.” They hesitated. They knew this was wrong. But Seonghwa was their boss. And he wasn’t listening to reason. She helped him into the car. The ride was quiet. Too quiet. And then… At the mansion doors, as she tried to help him stand upright it happened. She held his face in her hands and leaned in and kissed him.

He was shocked but not enough to stop it because of the booze in his system. And he… didn’t even see her. For a split second, her face blurred into something else, Someone else, And that person was you. You had only wanted a glass of water. But what you got was a knife to the chest delivered not by rage, but by composure. You stepped into the hallway and down the stairs…And that’s when you saw them. Seonghwa and some girl you didn’t even know Locked together in a kiss by the entryway hands on each other like they’d never let go. He didn’t even register you at first. But you weren’t frozen. You weren’t shocked. You just crossed your arms… and tilted your head.

“Are you done kissing now?” you said, voice sharp and cool like ice. They both snapped apart. Seonghwa looked like he’d been hit with a truck. “Y-y/n—” “It’s okay,” you said lightly. “You obviously needed a warm up before coming to bed.” Dahee blinked Smug. But confused by your calm composure. You looked between them with all the emotion of a CEO firing someone. “Wow. Must be nice to catch up with exes. I should go call my high school crush and make out with him on the front steps. You wouldn’t mind, right?” “Y/n stop.” “Why? You didn’t.” “It was a mistake,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean to what? Grab her face and stick your tongue down her throat?” You took a step closer “Tell me, Park Seonghwa, what did you mean to do?”He was silent. You smiled coldly. “That’s what I thought.” You turned on your heel, heading back up the stairs. But paused. Just long enough to say one thing under your breath loud enough for him to hear “You just started a war, Park Seonghwa.” And then you disappeared into the dark, without a single tear shed. You were gone. The echo of your footsteps faded down the hallway, but your words still hung in the air like a curse “You just started a war, Park Seonghwa.”

Dahee was still standing in the entryway, lips swollen, dress slightly wrinkled, blinking like she hadn’t expected you to be that calm. “Well,” she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “That could’ve gone better.” Seonghwa turned to her. And something snapped. His hand slammed into the wall beside her, rattling the paintings. “What the fuck do you think this is?” he growled. Dahee flinched just slightly but tried to keep her smile. “Relax, It’s not like she didn’t expect it. This whole marriage thing is—” “Shut your fucking mouth.” His voice was low, Quiet. But shaking with fury. “You think I didn’t know what you were doing? You wanted her to see that. You waited until she was watching.” “You were drunk.”

“I know what I was. But I’m not drunk now. And I’m looking at the biggest mistake I ever let breathe.” Her face darkened. “You don’t mean that—” “You ruined me once, Dahee Costed me people Lives. I destroyed half my empire for you and you vanished like a coward.” He stepped closer “And now? You come back, worm your way into a club you weren’t even invited to, follow me home, and pull that shit?” She tried to stay composed, but her smirk was cracking. “You kissed me.” “Don’t flatter yourself. You were just a shadow in her shape.” “That girl upstairs? She’s—” “She’s mine,” he snarled. “And you made sure she saw the worst part of me. Again.” “So what now? You’ll throw me out like garbage?” He leaned in, so close she could barely breathe. “No, Dahee. Garbage has a use at least it gets taken out. You? You’re a stain.”

He turned, barking toward the guards. “Get her the fuck out of my house.” The guards were already at her sides, holding the door. “And if I ever see her again—” he stopped. Eyes glowing with venom. “Break her fucking legs.” Dahee’s smirk was gone. So was her confidence. And within seconds, she was shoved out into the cold night, heels echoing down the stone steps as the doors slammed behind her. Seonghwa stood still. Fists clenched, breath ragged, eyes burning. Not because of her. But because he already knew. You weren’t going to forgive him, not easily, maybe not ever.

The morning after what happened You didn’t even see half the people who worked here, but the place was always spotless. Dinners appeared and disappeared without noise. Laundry folded itself. You once left a glass of water in the hallway just to see what would happen.

It was gone five minutes later. Perfectly polished. Efficient. Like everything else Seonghwa controlled. But today, the air felt different. Quieter, Slower, Tense. Because he was here. Bruises and Silence. Seonghwa was still recovering.

You caught glimpses walking past the dining room, passing him in the halls, hearing his voice clipped and distant while talking to one of his men. The bandage on his ribs peeked through his shirt when he moved too fast.

You didn’t talk to him. You didn’t have to. His presence filled every corner of the house even when he was silent. You noticed the staff watching you now. Not with judgment. With… caution. Like they didn’t know what to make of you.

One older woman, maybe a housekeeper, smiled gently when you passed her on the stairs. “Would you like anything sent to your room, madam?” You blinked. “No. I’m fine.” “Just ring if you need anything.” She says voice laced with gentleness. There was a button in your room you’d never pressed before. You wondered how many people would come if you did.

He ate in the dining room. You didn’t. You stayed upstairs, pacing, Trying to read, Trying to breathe. A tray of food appeared on the small table near the balcony. Still warm. “He said you wouldn’t come down,” a quiet voice said behind you. You turned. One of the younger guards. Not intimidating. Not threatening. Just… delivering a message. “He said to tell you that you’re not a prisoner.” You didn’t respond.

When darkness had hit the sky you tried to sleep in your room. But the silence pressed too hard against your chest. The sheets felt cold, like no one belonged in them. Your mind wouldn’t stop repeating the last few days: the attack, the knife, the blood.

And for some reason, you couldn’t stop thinking of him hunched at the edge of the bed, fingers digging into his bandaged ribs, refusing to flinch. You got up. Went down the hall to the room of a person you never thought you’d go to. You didn’t knock just walked in unannounced.

Seonghwa was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed in a plain black T-shirt, staring out the window like he could see something beyond the garden. He turned slightly when he heard the door. But he didn’t speak. You stood there awkwardly, unsure what to say. Why you were even here.

And then finally“I can’t sleep,” you said quietly. He didn’t tease you, Didn’t smirk. He just pulled the blanket back without a word. You slipped into the bed. No Words. He didn’t touch you, You didn’t reach for him.

You just lay there, on the edge, eyes staring at the ceiling, trying to steady your breathing. After a while, his voice broke the silence. “You don’t have to be afraid when I’m near.” “That’s the problem,” you whispered.

Still, when he turned over slow, careful of his injury and pulled the blanket over both of you… You didn’t pull away. When his hand settled near yours, not touching just there you didn’t move. You stayed like that. Not lovers, Not enemies. Just two people bound by something neither of you fully understood. And for once, it was enough.

The moonlight painted the room in silver still not asleep. You lay in bed beside Seonghwa, facing the ceiling, every breath measured. He was asleep now or pretending well enough.

The warmth of him next to you was undeniable. So was the fact that you weren’t shaking anymore. But comfort didn’t mean safety. And safety didn’t mean freedom.

You lifted your hand slightly, letting the moonlight catch on the silver band around your finger. It was thin. Elegant. The kind of thing that would look like love to someone else. But you knew better. You didn’t know how it worked. What it triggered, what it meant in full but you knew Seonghwa had given it to you not out of affection.

It was a symbol and Not of marriage Of ownership. You never asked what would happen if you took it off. Part of you didn’t want to know. The other part wanted to tear it off and throw it across the room. You didn’t move.

As you tried closing your eyes you remembered how You used to wake up late. How You used to make coffee half asleep and complain about your brother hogging the bathroom. How You used to sit on cracked apartment floors with Minjae, sharing ramen and watching trash TV, arguing about who should do laundry.

You used to work. Used to take the bus. Used to go grocery shopping. And Used to laugh at stupid memes on your phone with no one watching your every breath. You used to be angry at your brother for being irresponsible. Now you were angry at him for selling you. And somehow, despite all that you missed him. Even if you hated him.

This house was so quiet. The sheets here were silk. The hallways too wide. The staff too silent. Every comfort in this place reminded you didn’t earn it. You didn’t want it. You weren’t meant to be here.

But you also knew something terrifying. If you left now if Seonghwa let you walk out You wouldn’t know how to survive anymore. You hated that realization more than the ring.

You turned your head slightly. He slept on his side, back half to you, dark hair falling across his cheek. Calm, Normal. The same man who crushed a man’s throat days ago without blinking.

Who looked you in the eyes the day you were dragged here and said, “This is how debt works.” But also the man who took a knife for you. Who held you too tightly when you flinched in your sleep. Who never touched you without permission even though he easily could. You didn’t know what he was. You weren’t sure what you were becoming either.

Morning Would Come And when it did, you’d get up. Pretend again. Eat food brought by strangers. Listen for his voice echoing down the hall. And keep wearing the ring For now.

It was little light when you woke. That kind of dead morning stillness where not even the staff moved. The hallway lights were dim. Somewhere in the distance, the heater hummed. You slipped out of bed quietly. Seonghwa didn’t stir.

As you headed into the kitchen you didn’t turn on the lights. The air in the kitchen was colder than you expected. Sharp. Like it knew what you were planning.

You moved without thinking no shoes, barely breathing fingers skimming the counter until you found it. The knife Small, Clean, Sharp enough. Your hands didn’t shake.

You turned and walked back through the silent house like a ghost in silk. He was still sleeping. One arm under the pillow. One leg kicked lazily off the side of the bed. You stood there with the knife clenched in your hand. You could do it.

A quick stab. Maybe the throat. Maybe the ribs. You weren’t trained but rage didn’t need precision. He stole your freedom. He took your future. He made you sleep beside him like this life was normal. So why couldn’t you move? Why did your arm go numb instead?

Why were your eyes burning with tears you refused to let fall? You didn’t have anyone to run to, No family, No brother worth trusting. No friend who wouldn’t die just for opening their door. If you escaped now, they’d chase you. Track you. Kill whoever tried to help you. Even if you lived… it wouldn’t be freedom. Just fear on a longer leash.

The knife dropped from your hand with a small clink against the marble floor. Your knees hit the rug beside his side of the bed, your breath catching like your lungs refused to keep pretending. You just knelt there Defeated. “Took you long enough,” he said, voice low and casual, eyes still shut. “Typical amateur.” Your whole body tensed. But he didn’t move with violence. He didn’t shout. Didn’t strike.

He sat up, barefoot and slow, pushing the covers off like this was routine. Then he reached down not to grab you, not to hurt you but to take your arm gently and lift you to your feet. You looked at him, blank “Why—” “Because I’m not afraid of you,” he muttered.

He laid you back down on the bed like you weighed nothing tucking the blanket around you, like you hadn’t just tried to kill him. Then he bent down, picked up the knife, and walked toward the door. You watched his silhouette in the faint light as he stepped into the hall.

“…Sorry,” you whispered he didn’t answer. But he came back Without the knife. Without a word. And laid back down next to you like nothing had happened. No chains, No threats. Just warmth And silence.

You woke up tangled in silk sheets and disgust. The remembering of what happened early Morning clung to your chest like a bruise. You didn’t cry. You didn’t apologize again. But the moment you opened your eyes and saw him buttoning his cuffs in front of the mirror, it all came rushing back.

“Where are you going?” you asked. Seonghwa didn’t even glance at you. “Back to the business.”he says “Great. Have fun.”you say He turned slightly. “You’re coming with me.” You sat up. “Like hell I am.”

He was already reaching for the call bell mounted into the wall. Pressed the button. Spoke into the receiver calmly.“Get her dressed. Something appropriate for board-level engagement.” “Seonghwa—” “Now.” He interrupts

You tried to slam the bathroom door but one of the maids blocked it with her foot like she was used to it.

They dressed you in silence. Buttoned you into a formal fitted blazer and slacks, styled your hair with such cold efficiency you almost felt sorry for them. You glared at yourself in the mirror. “Business wife chic,” you muttered“Love that for me.”

The silence in the car was thick. Seonghwa sat beside you, flipping through his phone. Two guards were in the front. The driver looked straight ahead like he was praying for the earth to swallow the vehicle whole.

You stared out the window, your fingers drumming against the leather armrest. Until you weren’t drumming You were… flipping him off unintentionally.

Your middle finger just kind of… rested there. Calm. Subtle. And undeniably disrespectful. He didn’t miss it. “Ya,” he said suddenly, voice sharp. “Why are you shooting a bird at your husband?” You blinked “What?” He gestured to your hand. “The finger. That one. You think I’m stupid?” He says “Maybe.” He turned toward you, jaw clenching. “Do you think this is a game?”

“No. But if it was, I’d be losing. Trapped, gaslit, and accessorized like your pet project—” “Watch your mouth.” He says warning you “Or what?” you snapped. “You’ll do something worse than marrying me after kidnapping me over my brother’s debt?” The car got quieter. The driver looked like he wanted to crawl out the window.

Seonghwa leaned in “You tried to stab me. At four in the morning. And you’re mad at me?” “Yes, because this whole thing is your fault.” You thinking nothing was wrong about what you did “It’s your brother’s fault.”seonghwa says coldly “And yours for following through like a damn psycho—” you say “Say that again.” he dared you “Psycho.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t explode, but his nostrils flared, and the air shifted hard. You didn’t back down. The car pulled up to the corporate building, sleek and massive, glass windows reflecting your bitterness. The moment you stepped out, the energy changed. Employees on the front steps bowed deeply. They glanced at you. Then away Fast. No one asked questions. No one dared.

You and Seonghwa walked side by side not touching, not speaking, radiating unspoken fury like twin storms in designer clothing. The receptionist opened the executive elevator without a word. You saw them all watching. They know something’s wrong, you thought Good.

The meeting started icy. Something about logistics. Supply chain breaches. A gap in contract language that could cost millions. Executives mumbled nervously. A manager fumbled a file. A team leader stuttered. You sat beside Seonghwa, arms crossed, resisting the urge to throw your shoe.

Until “That’s a clause mistake,” you said flatly. “The second contract overrides the first because it was signed in Seoul jurisdiction, not Busan.” Everyone went silent. One of the directors blinked. “That’s… actually true.”

Seonghwa turned to you slowly not surprised. Just… watching. You kept going. “You need to adjust the phrasing in your next vendor draft. And probably get a legal double-check on the new shipment schedules.” Murmurs. Agreement. Someone scribbled notes. Seonghwa’s hand rested on the table slow, deliberate. He didn’t say thank you he didn’t need to. You’d proven you weren’t just a ring on his finger. You were useful. And that… was worse.

It started fine. You sat quietly on the couch in Seonghwa’s office, watching the clock, checking your nails, trying not to die of boredom. Ten minutes passed. Then thirty. By the one-hour mark, you slumped backward with a dramatic sigh. “I’m so bored I could scream,” you said, voice full of boredom “Don’t,” Seonghwa replied without even looking up from his laptop. So you stood and started wandering. You paced across the room, fingers trailing over bookshelves and gold framed degrees. Opened a cabinet. Closed it. Reopened it. Tapped the glass.

“What’s this button do?” you asked with a grin. “Don’t touch that,” he said, not even glancing up. “What about this drawer?” you continued, already pulling it open. “Put that down, YN,” he muttered, clearly starting to regret his life choices. You moved toward his desk like a cat circling prey. He still didn’t stop you. So you pulled open the pen drawer and started rearranging his perfectly lined up pens just to watch his eye twitch. “Why do you even have four pens the same exact color?” you asked. “Because they’re expensive,” he replied flatly. “You’re expensive,” you shot back. He exhaled through his teeth but didn’t respond. You flopped into the seat across from him, legs tucked underneath you like it was your office now. “I’m hungry,” you said, pouting like it was the most urgent problem on Earth.

“You’re always hungry,” he replied, monotone and annoyed. You blinked, staring at him in disbelief “You can’t say that,” you said, offended. “It’s true,” he said, finally looking at you with the laziest smirk. “Still rude,” you huffed.“There’s a vending machine near the end of the hall,” he said, already pulling out his wallet like this was routine. “Take a guard. Don’t disappear. Get something light we’re having dinner with the board tonight.” He handed you exactly enough for 2 snacks.

You stared at the 8 dollars in your hand like they were a personal insult. “This is child allowance money,” you deadpanned. “And you’re acting like a child,” he said, already turning back to his laptop. “You’re acting like a dictator with no fashion sense,” you muttered. “You’re wearing my money,” he shot back, not missing a beat. You gasped dramatically “I hope you choke on your overpriced tie,” you snapped. He waved you off, eyes still on the screen. “Go. Before I find something for you to do that involves spreadsheets,” he said lazily. You didn’t go to the vending machine. Why would you, when the building had a full food court on the mezzanine floor and your favorite bakery had a branch there?

You ordered two things. Then three. Then added two more just because they smelled too good to ignore. Your assigned bodyguard followed you with the patience of a monk, until a cluster of voices nearby made you freeze. Three girls and two guys. Young, Corporate, Loud, Cruel. “Is that her? The girl who tried to stab him?” “She doesn’t look dangerous. Just bratty.” “I heard he bought her. Like, literal auction-style.” “Would explain why she’s dressed like someone’s doll.” Your hands clenched the paper bag tightly. Your jaw set. The guard stepped beside you. “Don’t. They’re not important,” he said softly. “And they wouldn’t say a word if he were standing next to you.” You didn’t answer. You just turned and walked away head high, heels sharp.

You kicked the door open with your foot because your hands were full, and Seonghwa looked up from his desk, surprised. “I didn’t expect you to bring back a whole shop,” he said, raising an eyebrow. You dumped the bags on his desk with dramatic flair. “A vending machine doesn’t sell taste,” you said, already digging into your first pastry. “You weren’t given permission to buy from the food court,” he said with that infuriating calmness. “I gave myself permission,” you shot back. You pulled out a cheese roll and shoved one toward him.“Eat this,” you said, tossing it to his desk. “No thank you,” he replied, brushing it aside. “I said eat it,” you repeated, more forcefully. “I said no,” he snapped. “Seonghwa.” You lowered your voice. Calm, Firm, Lethal. He finally met your eyes “Take. The. Snack,” you said slowly. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered. “You’re starving,” you said, tilting your head like it was obvious. He rolled his eyes, snatched the pastry, and bit into it like it insulted his ancestors. A beat passed he kept chewing. “Good, right?” you said with a smug little smile. “It’s fine,” he grumbled “Liar,” you said, smiling wider. He didn’t reply but he didn’t stop eating either.

The car ride to the board meeting dinner was thankfully quiet this time probably because you were both emotionally exhausted from round two of whatever this relationship was. The corporate event was sleek and high-profile glass walls, black ties, champagne trays, and music humming like tension. Employees smiled and bowed as the two of you entered. No one said anything about the look on your face. Or his they all knew better. Seonghwa led you toward the private lounge where drinks were already being passed out. You accepted a glass of champagne, sipping slowly as your eyes scanned the crowd.

“This is so fake,” you murmured to him without looking. “That’s business,” he replied. “So everyone here is lying to your face?” “No,” he said with a faint smirk. “Some of them lie behind my back.” You raised your glass to him sarcastically “Cheers to power.” “Cheers to you behaving,” he said. “No promises,” you replied, sipping again. His eyes narrowed just slightly, but you turned away before he could speak again the taste of champagne and control sharp on your tongue.

The dinner was winding down. Most of the executives had left, but you stayed seated beside Seonghwa as he made small talk with a few trusted board members. You were nibbling on dessert, not paying much attention… until he arrived. Wooyoung loud, smiling, and already halfway tipsy. “There he is!” Wooyoung shouted across the room as he approached, arms wide. “My favorite cold-blooded bastard.” Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “You’re late.” “I was bleeding out money in Tokyo, sue me,” Wooyoung said, throwing himself into the seat across from you two. “But I heard you got stabbed. Stabbed, bro. You didn’t even wait for me to say congratulations on not dying.” “You can say it now,” Seonghwa replied dryly. “With alcohol,” Wooyoung grinned. “Come on, one shot.”“No.” “Two.” “Still no.” “Three.” “Wooyoung.” “Ten.” Seonghwa sighed. “You’re exhausting.” “You’re sober. That’s the problem.”

Eventually, Seonghwa gave in. You watched in silent amusement as they poured each other soju like it was water. First glass. Second. Fifth. Voices getting louder. Faces turning a bright, flushed red. Seonghwa’s blazer was off. His tie loosened. His hair a mess. You sat there casually eating tteokbokki, watching them slowly unravel like grown children at a sleepover. “What’s your type again?” Wooyoung asked, already slurring slightly. “I always forget.” “We’ve had this talk,” Seonghwa muttered. “You always dodge the question, you tight lipped pretty fuck,” Wooyoung said. “C’mon. Humor me.” “You first,” Seonghwa said, waving a finger. Wooyoung leaned back dramatically. “Tight skirts. Sharp tongues. Anyone who can kill me with their heels,” he grinned. “I want a woman who’d slap me for blinking too loud. You know? Keeps me humble.”

You choked on your food trying not to laugh. Seonghwa shook his head. “That sounds exhausting.” “You’re one to talk,” Wooyoung shot back. “You’re literally married to a woman who bit a guard and tried to stab you from what the hell you’re telling me.” “It wasn’t a real stab,” Seonghwa muttered. “Bro.” Wooyoung blinked at him. Then leaned in. “You’re so love-whipped. Like actually whipped. I get it now. That’s why you didn’t kill her.” “That’s not why,” Seonghwa said quickly, ears turning red. “I bet you didn’t even get mad when she flipped you off earlier. You LIKE it.” “Shut up,” Seonghwa mumbled. “You’re in love with her, dude,” Wooyoung said loudly. “You’re straight up obsessed. You look at her like she hung the stars.” “I don’t,” Seonghwa whined, face fully flushed now. “Stop.”

“You do,” Wooyoung laughed. “You just haven’t realized it. You’re a simp in denial.” “Shut UP,” Seonghwa said again, now laughing despite himself. “You’re gonna get punched.” “I’ll take it,” Wooyoung said, raising his glass. “To men who pretend they’re cold hearted, but melt for women who treat them right.” Somehow, Wooyoung stood Kind of. He stumbled. Wobbled. Then shouted, “Time for me to go before I start confessing my sins to the wine rack!” His guards rushed to support him, one grabbing his jacket, the other his arm. “Bye Seonghwaaaaa! Bye stabby wife!” he shouted across the room as they dragged him out. You buried your face in your hand “He’s crazy” you muttered.

Seonghwa barely made it out of the lounge. He staggered, leaning on you half the way like his limbs forgot how to work. “You walk like a cartoon giraffe,” you said. “Don’t bully me,” he slurred. “I’ll bully my husband if I want to,” you snapped. “You shouldn’t say that to your lovely, respectable, extremely handsome husband.” he said with a hiccup. “It’s disrespectful.” “You’re literally drooling.”you say disgusted “You’re not a nice wife.” “You’re not a sober man.” He pouted. “Mean.” You tried to push him toward the car, but he flopped against you, laying his head on your shoulder with a deep sigh. “I like it here,” he mumbled, already half-asleep. “Oh my god,” you groaned. “Can someone help me?!” Two guards rushed over, and it still took all three of you to get him into the car.

By the time you reached the estate, Seonghwa was still out cold barely able to lift his own head. But somehow, he walked kinda into the big house without falling face first. He started undressing by the time you reached the stairs. Shoes gone. Blazer dropped on the third step. Shirt slung over the bannister. He staggered into his bedroom, muttering nonsense, and collapsed onto the bed face first. Almost Free of this night. You turned to walk out but a hand shot out, grabbed your wrist, and yanked you straight down into the bed. “Seonghwa—” you hissed. “Let go.” He didn’t respond.

Just held you in a firm, drunken bear hug, your face squished against his chest. “You bastard—” “Let—go—of—me—” He didn’t move, Didn’t flinch, Didn’t even snore. He was dead weight but comfortably warm. And trapped you like a weighted blanket you never asked for. You sighed, body giving up as the tension bled out. Then you froze. Because something was… poking you. And what it was a boner. You slowly tilted your head “…No,” you whispered. “Absolutely not.” But Seonghwa didn’t answer. He just held you tighter.

©𝙺𝙿𝙾𝙿𝙲𝙰𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙴

YUNHO POV

As Yunho wakes up, he stretches, feeling the slight stiffness in his muscles from the previous day. The early morning light filters through the blinds, casting soft patterns on the walls of his bedroom. He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing for another day of work. After a quick shower, he dresses in his usual attire—comfortable but professional—then heads to the kitchen for a light breakfast. While sipping his coffee, his thoughts wander back to you and Ye Joon. He can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more he needs to uncover, something that’s just out of reach. He tries to focus on the tasks ahead, but memories of the past keep slipping through the cracks. As he grabs his keys and heads out the door, he wonders if today will bring him any closer to understanding the missing pieces of the puzzle that is his old life and the new connections forming in the present. Yunho locks the door behind him and steps outside, the cool morning air waking him up fully. As he walks to his car, he can’t help but glance at his phone, half-expecting a message or call that will somehow bring clarity to his tangled thoughts. But the screen stays dark and silent. On the drive to work, his mind keeps replaying the moments from yesterday—Ye Joon’s proud smile, your distant gaze, and Wooyoung’s endless theories. He grips the steering wheel tighter, trying to shake off the unease that’s settled in his chest. There’s a nagging question in his mind, one that he hasn’t had the courage to voice out loud: What if the truth changes everything? Arriving at the practice field, he forces himself to focus on the present. The kids need him sharp, and he won’t let them down. But as he steps out of the car, the thought lingers—today might not be the day he finds answers, but he’s getting closer, and that both excites and terrifies him. For now, Yunho pushes those worries aside, greeting the team with a smile. But deep down, he knows that the question of who Ye Joon’s father is will eventually have to be answered.

Date: 6 Years Ago

It was one of those lazy Sunday mornings, the kind where time seemed to stretch and the world outside their bedroom didn’t matter. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. The bed was a tangle of blankets and pillows, evidence of a night spent in each other’s arms. Yunho lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling with a satisfied grin on his face, while you were nestled beside him, your head resting on his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns on your arm, the rhythm soothing and familiar. The sound of your soft laughter filled the room as you playfully teased him about his terrible attempt at cooking dinner the night before. “I swear, if I ever let you near a kitchen again, we might just have to live off takeout forever,” you joked, poking him lightly in the side. He chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. “Hey, I thought burnt pasta was a delicacy in some countries!” “Oh, sure,” you replied with mock seriousness, lifting your head to look at him. “I’ll be sure to book us a trip to wherever that is.” Yunho laughed, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll leave the cooking to you, then. But you have to admit, I’m not so bad at making you laugh.” You smiled, your heart swelling with affection as you looked into his eyes. “Yeah, you’re pretty good at that.” For a moment, neither of you said anything, just enjoying the quiet intimacy of the morning. You felt safe and happy, like nothing in the world could touch the little bubble of joy you had created together. Then, out of nowhere, Yunho started tickling you, causing you to burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Yunho! Stop! I can’t breathe!” you gasped between fits of giggles, trying and failing to squirm away from him. He finally relented, laughing as he wrapped his arms around you again. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. But only because I love that smile of yours too much.”Catching your breath, you looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with happiness. “You’re impossible, you know that?” “And yet, you’re still here,” he teased, his smile softening as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice filled with all the love you felt for him. “I’m still here.”

As Yunho sat at his desk, lost in thought and memories of the past, the sound of footsteps approaching broke through his reverie. Before he could fully snap out of his thoughts, a familiar voice called out. “Earth to Yunho!” Wooyoung grinned, waving a cup of coffee in front of his face. “You look like you could use this.” Yunho blinked, pulling himself back to the present. He hadn’t even noticed the time passing. “Thanks, Wooyoung,” he said, taking the coffee gratefully. “You were really zoned out there,” Wooyoung observed, leaning against the desk. “Thinking about someone special?” Yunho sighed, taking a sip of the coffee. The warmth of the drink helped ground him, but the thoughts of you still lingered in the back of his mind. “Yeah…something like that.” Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, clearly interested but sensing that Yunho didn’t want to go into too much detail. Instead, he opted for his usual lighthearted approach. “Well, whoever she is, you better snap out of it and focus, buddy. We’ve got a busy day ahead, and I can’t carry all the charm and good looks around here by myself.” Yunho chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. “You’ve got a point. Let’s get to it.” As they both settled into the day’s tasks, Yunho couldn’t help but feel grateful for Wooyoung’s timing. His friend’s antics might be a little over the top at times, but he always knew how to bring a bit of lightness to even the heaviest of days. And for now, that was exactly what Yunho needed.

At practice, Ye Joon was full of energy. He loved baseball—every throw, every swing, every cheer from his teammates. Today felt different, though. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he felt even more motivated than usual. As Coach Yunho and Coach Wooyoung gave them tips and instructions, Ye Joon soaked it all in. He wanted to make his mom proud, but there was something about Coach Yunho that made him want to give it his all even more. Maybe it was the way he talked to him, or how he seemed to understand what Ye Joon was thinking without him having to say a word. After a particularly good throw, Coach Wooyoung came over, clapping him on the back. “Nice one, Ye Joon!” he said with a grin. “Hey, by the way, I heard a rumor—you got any secrets you want to share with your old coach?” Ye Joon looked up at him, his face lighting up with a mischievous smile. He put his index finger to his lips and whispered, “It’s a secret, Coach! Only me and Mom know!” Then, with a playful wink, he ran off to join the other kids, leaving Wooyoung laughing behind him. As practice went on, Ye Joon felt the weight of his secret, but in a good way. He knew something special that no one else did—something that made him feel important. And as he looked over at his mom, sitting in the bleachers with a proud smile on her face, he knew that whatever secrets they had, they were safe with her. Ye Joon’s eyes darted to the stands once more, and he spotted his aunt waving excitedly beside his mom. She had come to every practice lately, cheering just as loudly as his mom. He felt even more energized knowing that both of them were there, supporting him. Auntie always brought him snacks after practice, and he could already imagine the treat she’d have waiting today. As he waited for his next turn at bat, he could hear her voice over the crowd. “You got this, Ye Joon!” she called out, her smile as bright as his mom’s. It made him feel like a superstar. When he finally hit another solid shot, sending the ball soaring across the field, he could hear both his mom and aunt celebrating together. They jumped up, high-fiving each other, and Ye Joon couldn’t help but laugh as he rounded the bases. After practice, as he ran toward them, he saw his aunt holding out a bag of his favorite snacks. “Great job, superstar!” she said, ruffling his hair as he took the bag. “Thanks, Auntie!” Ye Joon beamed, feeling on top of the world with both his mom and aunt there to cheer him on. As practice wrapped up, all the parents and children gathered near the field. The air buzzed with excitement as Wooyoung and the other coaches stepped forward, calling everyone’s attention.

“Alright, everyone!” Wooyoung began, clapping his hands to quiet the chatter. “Listen up, because we’ve got some exciting news. Next week, we have a big game coming up. And if we win, guess what?” He paused, grinning as the kids leaned in closer, their eyes wide with anticipation. “We get to go on a trip!” The kids erupted in cheers, their faces lighting up with excitement. Ye Joon’s eyes grew wide as he looked up at his mom and aunt, who smiled back at him, just as thrilled. The idea of a team trip added an extra layer of motivation for everyone.“We don’t know where we’re going yet,” one of the other coaches added with a wink, “but I promise it’ll be something special. So, make sure you’re all practicing hard this week!” The parents exchanged amused glances, some already discussing the logistics of the possible trip. The kids, meanwhile, were buzzing with energy, talking about how they were going to train even harder to ensure the win. Ye Joon looked up at his mom, tugging at her sleeve. “Mom, do you think we’ll win?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement and determination. She smiled down at him, ruffling his hair. “I know you’ll do your best, Joonie. And no matter what, we’ll be there cheering you on.” As Yunho observed the interaction between Ye Joon and you, he couldn’t help but smile. The way Ye Joon’s face lit up with excitement, and the warmth in your eyes as you encouraged him, stirred something deep inside Yunho. It was a scene that felt both familiar and distant—like a glimpse into a life he once imagined but never fully had. Seeing you with Ye Joon, your bond so natural and strong, brought back memories of when things were simpler between the two of you. For a moment, all the worries, questions, and uncertainties faded away, replaced by the quiet contentment of watching this small, precious moment unfold. Yunho’s smile lingered as he turned his attention back to the kids, his heart feeling a little lighter yet still weighed down with what could have been.

As the field cleared out and the other parents and children began to leave, Yunho lingered, organizing the last of the equipment. He overheard two moms standing near the bleachers, their conversation shifting to you. “Did you hear about Y/N?” one of them said, her tone laden with gossip. “I heard she might be messing around, and some say she might not even know who Ye Joon’s real father is. There’s even a rumor that Ye Joon could be her sister’s child.” The other mom nodded in agreement. “It’s just strange how private she is. Maybe she’s hiding something. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s pretended to be something they’re not.” The remarks stung, but Yunho’s concern for you and Ye Joon overpowered his initial shock. He walked up to them, his expression serious. “Excuse me,” he said firmly, “but it’s not okay to talk about someone like that. Ye Joon deserves to have his family’s privacy respected, and you have no right to spread such rumors. For all you know, Ye Joon’s father could be someone who works hard to support him and Y/N.”

The two women glanced at each other, taken aback. One of them asked, “Are you the father, then?” Yunho was momentarily speechless, caught off guard by the direct question. He quickly shook his head. “No, I’m not.” The woman smirked. “That’s what I thought,” she said, her tone dripping with skepticism. Yunho felt a mix of frustration and sadness. “I don’t want to hear any more of this. It’s not acceptable to gossip about someone’s private life. You should treat others with the same respect you’d want for yourself. Please don’t let this happen again.” Seeing the gravity in Yunho’s demeanor, the women reluctantly agreed. They nodded, mumbling apologies, and quickly walked away. Yunho watched them go, feeling a mix of relief and lingering frustration. He hoped that by standing up for you, he had done something positive—something that might start to mend the distance between him and the life he had left behind.

As the weekend rolled around, you, Ye Joon, and your sister decided to tackle the grocery shopping together. The aisles were bustling with shoppers, and the three of you navigated the crowded space, chatting and picking out items for the week. In the midst of your shopping, Yunho happened to walk into the same grocery store. As he made his way through the aisles, he spotted you and your sister a few rows over. Just as he was about to approach and say hello, a tall man with a warm smile and an easy demeanor came up to you.

“Hey, Ye Joon! Hi, Y/N! Hi, Jihyun!” the man greeted, his voice cheerful. Ye Joon ran up to him with excitement. “Mingi!” he exclaimed, hugging the man tightly. Yunho stopped in his tracks, his curiosity piqued. He watched as Mingi interacted with you and your sister, noting the friendly and familiar nature of their conversation. The way Ye Joon clung to Mingi and the ease with which Mingi spoke to you gave Yunho pause. As Yunho observed from a distance, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He noticed how Mingi seemed to be an important figure in Ye Joon’s life, though Yunho couldn’t quite piece together the exact relationship. The affectionate interaction between Mingi and Ye Joon affection towards each other was very questionable like their were a son and father duo. Yunho’s thoughts swirled with questions and unspoken regrets. As he continued to watch from afar, he felt an increasing sense of longing and a subtle pang of envy. The sight of Mingi’s easy rapport with you and Ye Joon only deepened Yunho’s feelings of what could have been, leaving him to reflect on his choices and the path his life had taken.

Yunho’s heart ached with a blend of envy and regret as he watched the interaction between you, Ye Joon, and Mingi. From his hidden spot, he observed Mingi’s effortless ease with your family, the way Ye Joon beamed at him, and how comfortable and natural everything seemed. Mingi’s presence brought a warmth to the moment that Yunho felt he had missed out on.He saw how Mingi gently guided Ye Joon through the grocery store aisles, making him laugh with playful banter. The sight of you and your sister chatting with Mingi, clearly at ease and familiar with him, only deepened Yunho’s sense of exclusion. He envied the way Mingi seemed to fit into your lives so seamlessly, providing a comfort and stability that Yunho felt he had failed to offer. The affectionate way Ye Joon interacted with Mingi, calling him by name and hugging him with genuine affection, tugged at Yunho’s heart. It made him question his own choices and the opportunities he had lost. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had been too late, if there was still a place for him in your lives. As Mingi said his goodbyes and left, Yunho remained behind, lost in thought. The sight of you and Ye Joon walking away together, content and happy, left him grappling with a deep sense of regret. He envied the relationship between Mingi and you, feeling the sting of missed moments and wondering if he could ever bridge the gap that had grown between him and the family he had once hoped to have. With game day 1 day away, the atmosphere becomes electric. Yunho can’t shake the feeling that this game could change everything—for the team, for Ye Joon, and perhaps for his own life as well. He notices how Mingi seems more integrated into your life, and the envy he feels gnaws at him, a constant reminder of what he lost. Every time he sees Ye Joon practicing, he can’t help but wonder about the connection between you, your son, and Mingi.

Your sister, always the supportive one, keeps things light-hearted, but even she can sense the unspoken tension. You find yourself caught between the excitement of the upcoming game and the unresolved emotions that seem to bubble up whenever Yunho is around. Every interaction, every glance exchanged, seems to carry a weight that wasn’t there before. As the days tick by, Yunho wrestles with whether to finally address the questions that have been eating away at him. He knows he needs to focus on the team, but the lines between his personal and professional life blur more and more with each practice. The closer the game gets, the more Yunho realizes that he’s not just fighting for a win on the field—he’s fighting for clarity, closure, and perhaps a second chance. After practice, Ye Joon is full of energy, despite the long session. His little legs move quickly as he runs toward you with a wide grin on his face. “Mama, did you see me? I hit the ball really far today!” he exclaims, his excitement contagious. You smile warmly, crouching down to his level. “I saw, baby! You did amazing. You’re getting better every day.” His aunt ruffles his hair playfully, adding, “You’re going to be a star, Ye Joon. Just like your favorite player!” Ye Joon beams, his confidence soaring. As you all gather his things and prepare to head home, you notice how he can’t stop talking about the upcoming game. “If we win, we get to go on a trip! Coach Wooyoung said so!” he says excitedly, bouncing on his toes. As you buckle him into his seat, you can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “We’ll be cheering for you the loudest,” you promise, giving him a kiss on the forehead. On the way home, Ye Joon chatters non-stop about practice, the game, and even Mingi, who has been helping him with some extra practice sessions. His excitement is infectious, and by the time you reach home, you can’t wait to see him shine on game day. At dinner, the atmosphere is cozy and filled with warmth as you, Ye Joon, and your sister sit around the table. The scent of the meal fills the air, and the clinking of utensils is accompanied by light-hearted conversation. Ye Joon excitedly recounts his practice, his voice animated as he talks about his friends and the upcoming game.

Your sister smiles as she listens, occasionally chiming in with a joke or question, making Ye Joon laugh. You can’t help but feel a sense of contentment, watching your little family interact so naturally. After dinner, you and your sister clear the table, while Ye Joon goes to grab his favorite bedtime story. Once the kitchen is clean, you move into the evening routine—preparing Ye Joon for bed. He eagerly brushes his teeth, and you help him into his pajamas, all while your sister tidies up his room. As you tuck him in, Ye Joon pulls out the storybook, holding it up with a sleepy smile. “Can you read it to me, Mama?” he asks softly, his eyes already drooping. You sit beside him, smoothing his hair as you read aloud. Your sister sits nearby, adding funny voices to the characters, making Ye Joon giggle. Soon, his laughter fades, replaced by the steady rhythm of his breathing as he drifts off to sleep. Once he’s settled, you and your sister quietly step out of the room, closing the door softly behind you. The day has been long, but the moments spent with your family bring a sense of peace as you both prepare for the night ahead.

As you prepare yourself for bed, your thoughts drift back to the old times with Yunho. Memories flood your mind—his laughter, the way he used to look at you, the moments you shared. Those days felt so distant now, yet still so close in your heart. You sigh as you slip into your pajamas, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The thought of telling Yunho the truth about Ye Joon crosses your mind, lingering there for longer than usual. Maybe he deserves to know. Maybe it’s time to stop hiding and give him the chance to be a part of your son’s life. But as you focus on that idea, doubt creeps in. What if he’s angry? What if he can’t forgive you for keeping such a huge secret from him all these years? The thought of Yunho’s possible reaction—his hurt, his anger—makes your chest tighten. You pause, letting out a shaky breath. The risk feels too great. The fear of losing what little peace you’ve found outweighs the hope of a happy reunion. No, you can’t tell him—not now. Maybe not ever. With a heavy heart, you crawl into bed, pulling the blankets over yourself. As you close your eyes, you try to push the thoughts away, but Yunho’s face lingers in your mind. Sleep doesn’t come easily, and when it does, it’s filled with dreams of what could have been and what may never be.

The morning of game day arrives with a mix of excitement and nerves in the air. Ye Joon wakes up early, buzzing with energy. As soon as he opens his eyes, he’s already thinking about the game, imagining himself on the field, ready to make his big plays. You wake up to the sound of him rustling around in his room. When you enter, you find him already half-dressed in his uniform, struggling with his socks, a determined look on his face. You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Ready for the big game, champ?” you ask, leaning against the doorframe. Ye Joon looks up, his eyes shining with excitement. “I’m gonna hit the ball so hard today, Mom! Just like Coach Yunho taught me!” You laugh softly and help him with his socks, making sure his uniform is all set. After a quick breakfast, you pack his practice bag with water, snacks, and his glove, double-checking that everything is in place. As the two of you head out the door, your sister joins you, carrying a small cooler with snacks for later. The morning sun is bright, and the crisp air feels refreshing. Ye Joon’s excitement is contagious, and you find yourself feeling optimistic about the day ahead. In the car, Ye Joon talks nonstop about the game, his strategy, and how he plans to impress everyone. You listen, smiling at his determination, and give him a few encouraging words. When you arrive at the field, it’s already bustling with parents, coaches, and kids. Ye Joon hops out of the car, practically bouncing with excitement. You watch as he runs ahead, ready to join his teammates, your heart swelling with pride. As you make your way to the bleachers, you spot Yunho talking with Wooyoung, both of them looking focused and ready for the day. When Yunho catches sight of Ye Joon, a smile spreads across his face, and he waves at your son, who eagerly waves back before joining his friends. The game day has officially begun, and you can’t help but feel a mix of pride and nerves as you take your seat, ready to watch Ye Joon give it his all.

As the game progresses, the scores remain tied, and the tension on the field is palpable. Ye Joon steps up to the plate, determination in his eyes. But just as the pitcher winds up, something feels off. The ball comes hurtling toward Ye Joon, not at the bat, but at his thigh. The painful thud echoes through the field, and Ye Joon stumbles back, clutching his leg. A collective gasp rises from the crowd as you shoot up from your seat, making your way down to the field. Ye Joon, furious, prepares to retaliate, but before he can, the other coach intervenes, pushing him back. "Stop right there, kid. You need to calm down," the coach orders, his voice stern. Before you can even reach them, Yunho steps in between Ye Joon and the opposing coach. "Keep your hands off him," Yunho says, his voice firm. "Your player hit him on purpose—and mocked ye joon by sticking his tongue out at him"

The other coach glares at Yunho, his voice rising. "Are you the father of this kid? Because if you're not, maybe you should step back and let the parents handle it." Yunho opens his mouth to reply, but just as he's about to speak, you arrive, stepping in front of both men. "I’m Ye Joon's mother," you say, your voice steady but full of controlled anger. "And I don’t appreciate anyone putting their hands on my son. That pitch was deliberate, and your player owes him an apology." The other coach sneers, refusing to back down. "Maybe if you taught him to handle the game without causing a scene, we wouldn’t be here."

You cross your arms, unwavering. "My son wasn’t the one who threw that ball out of spite. Your player needs to learn that sportsmanship matters." Yunho nods in agreement, stepping beside you. "There’s a difference between a mistake and intent. This wasn’t an accident—it was intentional." The coach narrows his eyes at Yunho, still defiant. "A coach, huh? Maybe teach your team to take some heat instead of running to his mom every time." You take another step forward, your voice firm. "This isn’t about taking the heat. It’s about respect. Your player crossed the line, and you're making excuses for him." After a few more moments of tense back-and-forth, the opposing coach realizes he's outmatched. With a huff, he raises his hands. "Fine. Let’s just get back to the game." You give Ye Joon one last reassuring look before heading back to your seat, knowing that, despite everything, your son is ready to finish the game. Meanwhile, Yunho stays on the field a moment longer, his eyes lingering on you and Ye Joon.

Even after the argument and Ye Joon’s minor injury, his team won the game and the trip to wherever they wanted to go. The celebration was lively, and you were joyfully cheering with Ye Joon. As the excitement continued, your sister pulled you aside, her tone serious. “You need to tell Yunho the truth,” she urged. “He needs to know that Ye Joon is his son. It’s the right thing to do.”You were about to reply when a sudden crash interrupted you. Two cups of water had fallen, their contents splashing onto the floor. Looking up, you saw Yunho standing a few feet away, his face a mix of shock, disappointment, and heartbreak.

He took a step forward, his voice trembling slightly. “Is it true? Am I… am I Ye Joon’s father?”

A/N: WHAT A SHOCKER 🫢

PLEASE DO NOT COPYRIGHT, OR PLAGIARISE!

➭taglist for part 5:

MADE BY KPOPCAFEEE ©

As the last of the other parents and kids leave the field, you take a moment to soak in the evening air, feeling the warmth of the day’s events settle in your heart. Ye Joon had done so well, and seeing him so happy was everything you could have hoped for. But the unexpected encounter with Yunho still lingers in your mind, stirring up emotions you thought you had tucked away. After making sure Ye Joon has his gear packed, you call out to him. “Ready to go, sunshine?” you ask, smiling as he runs up to you with a big grin on his face. “Yeah, Mom! Did you see my home run?” Ye Joon asks excitedly, his eyes shining with pride. “I did, and you were amazing!” you reply, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I’m so proud of you.” As you walk with Ye Joon toward the car, your sister, Jihyun, falls in step beside you. She gives you a knowing look, sensing the turmoil beneath your composed exterior. “Are you okay?” she asks softly, glancing back at the field where Yunho and Wooyoung are still gathering equipment. You take a deep breath, nodding. “I’m okay. It’s just… seeing him again is awkward,” you admit. “And he’s really good with Ye Joon. ”Jihyun nods in understanding. “It’s a lot to take in. But you’re handling it well,” she reassures you. As you buckle Ye Joon into his seat, you feel a mix of relief and apprehension. You’ve built a life you’re proud of, and though Yunho’s presence has stirred up old feelings, you know your priority is your son. Driving home, the setting sun paints the sky with vibrant colors, and you focus on the road ahead, determined to face whatever comes next with the same strength and grace that has guided you this far. As Ye Joon chatters excitedly about the game from the back seat, you listen and smile, grateful for the small moments that make up your life.

As you finally settle into bed, the quiet of the night does little to calm your restless thoughts. A strange, almost foreign feeling tugs at your heart—a sensation like a missing piece of you is trying to find its way back. You try to push it aside, to let sleep take over, but no matter how much you toss and turn, you can’t seem to shake it. Your mind keeps drifting back to him—Yunho, your first love and, in many ways, your last. You can’t help but wonder what his life is like now. Does he have someone special? A girlfriend? A wife? The thought stirs a pang of jealousy deep within you, one you weren’t expecting. As you finally begin to drift off, your mind conjures an image of him, standing at the altar, but the woman by his side is faceless, just a shadow of a person. The vision leaves you with an uneasy feeling, a mixture of longing and sadness that lingers even as you sleep.

As you wake up nearly at 7, you roll out of bed and head straight to the kitchen, ready to start the day. You begin making breakfast, the smell of eggs and toast filling the air, and start packing lunch for both you and Ye Joon. As you carefully cut up some fruit, you hear the soft thud of little feet on the stairs. “Morning, Mama!” Ye Joon says with a sleepy smile as he walks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “Morning, sunshine,” you reply, smiling back. “Breakfast is almost ready. Go wash up, and we can eat.” As Ye Joon heads off to the bathroom, your sister Jihyun walks in, still in her pajamas, yawning as she pours herself a cup of coffee. “Early start, huh?” she says, stretching. “Yeah, the usual routine,” you say with a small grin. “Can you help pack his practice clothes? I’m finishing up breakfast.” “On it,” she says, setting her mug down and heading to the living room to grab Ye Joon’s practice clothes. She folds them neatly and packs them into his bag, making sure everything he needs is in place. When Ye Joon comes back into the kitchen looking more awake, the three of you sit down for a quick breakfast. The conversation is light and filled with Jihyun’s playful teasing, which makes Ye Joon giggle. Once breakfast is done, you grab your bags, and Jihyun helps Ye Joon into his jacket. She hands him his lunch and practice bag. “Ready for another big day, champ?” Jihyun asks, ruffling his hair. “Yep! Thanks, Auntie!” he says with a grin. After a few more last-minute checks, you all head out the door. You buckle Ye Joon into his car seat, and Jihyun gives him a quick kiss on the forehead. “Drive safe,” she says as she waves you off. With a smile, you start the car, Ye Joon happily chatting in the backseat as you head off to drop him at school.

As you pull up to Ye Joon’s school, the morning sun casts a soft glow over the playground. You park the car and help Ye Joon out of his seat, smoothing down his hair as he grabs his backpack. “Alright, sunshine,” you say with a smile, kneeling down to his level. “Be good today, listen to your teachers, and have fun at practice later, okay?”“Okay, Mama!” Ye Joon says with a big grin. He gives you a quick hug, and you kiss the top of his head before standing up. Just as you’re about to turn back to the car, you feel a familiar presence nearby. Your eyes catch a glimpse of someone in the distance—Yunho, standing by his car, watching you and Ye Joon with a thoughtful expression on his face. For a brief moment, your eyes meet, and you feel a wave of emotions rush over you. You quickly turn your attention back to Ye Joon, making sure he’s all set for the day. “Alright, off you go! I’ll see you later.” “Bye, Mama!” Ye Joon waves enthusiastically before running towards the school entrance, joining his friends. As you watch him go, you can’t help but feel Yunho’s gaze still on you. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and head back to your car. Before you get in, you glance in Yunho’s direction one last time. He’s still standing there, his expression unreadable, but there’s a hint of something in his eyes—something you can’t quite place. With a final sigh, you get into the car and drive away, the encounter lingering in your mind as you make your way to work.

YUNHO POV

Yunho leaned against his car, watching as you and Ye Joon shared your morning goodbyes. The sight of you both together brought a strange, unfamiliar feeling to the surface—a mixture of nostalgia and longing that he hadn’t anticipated. He hadn’t meant to arrive this early, but seeing you and Ye Joon from a distance made him pause. He watched the way you knelt down to Ye Joon’s level, the way you smoothed his hair and smiled so gently. It was clear how much you cared for your son—your son. That realization still hit him in waves. As you looked up, your eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. There was something in your gaze—surprise, maybe, but also something deeper, something that mirrored the uncertainty he felt. Yunho couldn’t help but wonder about the life you had built since you last saw each other. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind of memories and emotions for him, being so close to you again. And now, seeing you with your son—your son, but a son who had his eyes, his expressions—it made everything feel even more complicated. As Ye Joon ran off to join his friends, Yunho found himself lingering, his eyes tracing every detail of the moment. When you turned back to your car, he almost expected you to walk over to him, to say something, but you didn’t. You just glanced his way again—briefly, almost hesitantly—before driving off. He stood there for a few more moments, trying to sort through his tangled thoughts. There were too many questions, too many things left unsaid. He wanted to ask you everything, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear the answers. With a sigh, Yunho finally turned away and headed inside, but the image of you and Ye Joon stayed with him, a constant reminder that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as simple as he had thought.

Yunho and Wooyoung met early at a café near the practice field. Yunho had hoped for a quiet start to the day, but Wooyoung, as always, was full of energy and ideas. “Okay, hear me out,” Wooyoung started, barely giving Yunho time to sip his coffee. “What if she’s dating a super-secret agent? You know, like in those spy movies where the dad doesn’t even know his own son?” Yunho rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You really can’t let this go, can you?” “Hey, I’m just saying! It’s a possibility!” Wooyoung grinned. “Maybe that’s why we never see her with anyone—he’s undercover!” Yunho shook his head, trying to hide his amusement. “I think you’ve been watching too many movies, Woo.” “But think about it! You never know what people are hiding,” Wooyoung insisted, leaning across the table, eyes wide with excitement. “And she’s so calm and collected—she has to be hiding something big!”

Yunho raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe she’s just focused on being a good mom. Not everything is a conspiracy. Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Fine, fine. But I still think there’s something more to her story.” By the time they arrived at the field for practice, Wooyoung was still talking. Yunho had long since stopped trying to reason with him, letting his friend ramble on about all the wild theories he could come up with. “Or what if she’s actually a famous singer who went into hiding after a scandal?” Wooyoung suggested as they unloaded the equipment from the car. Yunho laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.” “What? It could happen!” Wooyoung shot back, grinning. “I’m just trying to make sense of it all. Yunho paused, the smile fading slightly as he thought about what Wooyoung had said. “Or maybe… she’s just trying to protect her son. Maybe the real story isn’t so dramatic.” Wooyoung glanced at him, his expression softening. “Yeah… Maybe. But still, it’s fun to think about, right?” Yunho nodded, though his thoughts were elsewhere. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed this—the normal, everyday moments, the camaraderie, even the silly conversations. But there was also a weight in his chest, a growing curiosity about the life you had built without him. Practice went by smoothly, with Yunho and Wooyoung working together to guide the team. Yunho was in his element, offering tips and encouragement to the young players, but every now and then, his gaze would drift toward the bleachers, half-expecting to see you there, watching over Ye Joon. Wooyoung noticed. Of course, he did. “Still thinking about her?” he teased during a break. Yunho sighed. “It’s hard not to.” “You know, if you want to know the truth, you could just ask her,” Wooyoung said, surprisingly serious for once. Yunho looked at him, considering it. “Yeah… Maybe I should.” But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the kids and the game. As much as he wanted answers, he knew that some things couldn’t be rushed. By the time practice wrapped up, Wooyoung was back to his old self, throwing out another wild theory as they packed up the equipment. Yunho just smiled, shaking his head. Even if Wooyoung was relentless, he had to admit that his friend’s antics helped keep his mind off the more complicated emotions swirling inside him. As they walked off the field, Yunho glanced back one last time, wondering what tomorrow would bring—and whether he’d finally have the courage to ask you the questions that had been weighing on his mind. Wooyoung wasn’t done yet. After most of the kids had been picked up, Wooyoung noticed Ye Joon lingering by the dugout, waiting for you to arrive. He took the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity. He crouched down next to Ye Joon, putting on his friendliest smile. “Hey, Ye Joon. Can I ask you something?” Wooyoung began, glancing around as if to make sure no one else was listening. “Where’s your dad? Does he ever come to watch you play?” Ye Joon paused, considering the question. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he put his index finger to his lips and whispered, “He’s a secret!” Before Wooyoung could press further, Ye Joon giggled and ran off to join his friends, leaving Wooyoung scratching his head. “Well, that didn’t help at all,” Wooyoung muttered, standing up just as your car pulled into the lot. Ye Joon spotted you and waved enthusiastically before running over to you. You greeted him with a warm smile, helping him into the car and handing him his favorite snack. Yunho and Wooyoung watched from a distance as you exchanged a few words with Ye Joon before turning toward the coaches. You nodded politely at them, your eyes meeting Yunho’s for a brief moment. There was something in his gaze—questions, maybe? Or perhaps memories of a time long past. You quickly looked away, focusing on helping Ye Joon with his seatbelt. As you drove off, Yunho couldn’t shake the feeling that there was so much more he needed to know, not just about Ye Joon but about you too.

Yunho headed home after practice, the evening’s activities lingering in his mind. After a long day of coaching, he felt the exhaustion settle in, but there was also a restlessness that he couldn’t quite shake. He stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the day’s grime. Yet, no matter how hard he tried to focus on the simple act of cleaning up, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. The memories of the past, the curiosity about your present life, and the undeniable connection that seemed to still linger between you—it all swirled together, refusing to be ignored. As he dried off and got dressed, the quiet of his apartment only amplified the thoughts in his head. He sat down to eat a simple dinner, but the food didn’t hold his attention. His mind was elsewhere, wondering about the life you had built and how you seemed to be managing everything on your own. Finishing his meal, Yunho moved to his bedroom. The bed felt too big, too empty. As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, the questions he had pushed aside earlier came rushing back. Why had you left? What had kept you away all these years? And who was Ye Joon’s father? But more than anything, he found himself missing you. The way you used to laugh, the way you’d brighten up a room just by being in it. He missed the simple moments you shared, the conversations that flowed easily, and the way you made him feel whole. The weight of the unanswered questions, coupled with the lingering emotions, made it hard to fall asleep. But eventually, the exhaustion won out, and Yunho drifted off, your face the last thing on his mind before he succumbed to the pull of sleep.

Y/N POV

As you drifted off to sleep, the weight of the day and your swirling thoughts began to blend into a restless slumber. Despite the confusion and emotional turmoil, there was a small sense of comfort in knowing that you were not alone in your thoughts—that Yunho, too, was grappling with his own questions and emotions. In the quiet of the night, as you finally succumbed to sleep, you hoped for clarity and resolution. The uncertainty about the future and the unresolved feelings from the past were there, but you knew that life had a way of unfolding in unexpected ways. With one last thought of Yunho, you fell into a deep sleep, hoping that whatever tomorrow might bring, it would offer some answers or, at the very least, a sense of peace amidst the chaos of your heart. As you drifted off to sleep, the weight of the day and your swirling thoughts began to blend into a restless slumber. Despite the confusion and emotional turmoil, there was a small sense of comfort in knowing that you were not alone in your thoughts—that Yunho, too, was grappling with his own questions and emotions. In the quiet of the night, the sound of your steady breathing was a soothing reminder that some things, like the love you once shared, still held a place in your heart. You clung to the hope that the future might bring answers or at least some clarity to the tangled web of your past. The uncertainty about what would happen next loomed large, but you resolved to face it with the strength you had cultivated over the years. As you sank deeper into your pillow, you imagined a future where the pieces of your life might fall into place, and where old wounds could begin to heal. With one last thought of Yunho, you fell into a deep sleep, hoping that whatever tomorrow might bring, it would offer some resolution or, at the very least, a sense of peace amidst the chaos of your heart. The night wrapped you in its quiet embrace, offering a brief respite from the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts that had consumed you.

Date: July 12, 2016 before the break up

You and Yunho strolled hand-in-hand along a quiet beach, the sun setting in a fiery orange sky. The cool breeze from the ocean was a gentle caress against your skin as you laughed together, sharing secrets and dreams. Yunho had surprised you with a picnic dinner under the stars, the simple but perfect evening filled with light-hearted chatter and stolen glances. He had looked at you then with such earnestness, his eyes full of love and promise. You had felt invincible, as if nothing could ever come between you. As you sat close on a blanket, the world felt impossibly right, and you believed that your future together was secure and bright.

A/N: the tea is brewing and getting hotter and hotter what will happen next will yunho confess his love for y/n and sees the father of his ex son and be sad or is y/n gonna confess that he’s the father of their child to find out early join my taglist!

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➯taglist for part 𝟒:

MADE BY KPOPCAFEEE ©

As you leave the field with Ye Joon by your side, you can feel Yunho’s gaze following you, filled with confusion and unspoken questions. Your heart races, a mix of anxiety and unresolved feelings bubbling to the surface. You try to focus on Ye Joon, who’s chatting happily about practice , oblivious to the tension. Your sister walks beside you, her expression unreadable but supportive. Once you’re far enough from the field, she whispers, “Are you okay?” You nod, though you’re not entirely sure. “I knew this day would come eventually, but I didn’t think it would be like this.” Back at home, you help Ye Joon settle down with his homework, but your mind keeps drifting back to Yunho’s shocked expression. Questions swirl in your mind. Did he recognize Ye Joon? What will happen if he tries to reach out?. Later that evening, after Ye Joon is asleep, you and your sister sit down to talk. “What are you going to do?” she asks gently. “I don’t know,” you admit, rubbing your temples. “I want what’s best for Ye Joon, but I don’t know if Yunho being in his life is the right thing. He didn’t want kids back then, and I don’t know if he’s changed.” Your sister places a reassuring hand on yours. “Whatever you decide, we’ll figure it out together.”

A few weeks later, you find yourself at the baseball field, surrounded by cheering parents and the smell of freshly cut grass. The sun is shining, and the excitement in the air is palpable as Ye Joon’s team prepares for their big game. You watch from the bleachers, your eyes following Ye Joon as he warms up with his teammates. He’s been practicing hard, and you can see the determination on his face. Your sister sits beside you, offering support, and the two of you chat about the week’s events while keeping a close eye on the field. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions and decisions, but today you’re focused on being there for Ye Joon. On the sidelines, Yunho and Coach Wooyoung are actively talking to the players, offering tips and encouragement. Yunho kneels down to Ye Joon’s level, demonstrating how to grip the ball properly for a curveball, his voice calm and instructive. “Remember to keep your wrist loose and follow through with your arm,” Yunho advises, ruffling Ye Joon’s hair with a reassuring smile. Coach Wooyoung, meanwhile, is discussing batting techniques with another group of kids, emphasizing the importance of footwork and timing. “Keep your eye on the ball and stay balanced,” he says, mimicking a perfect swing. You can see the respect and admiration in the children’s eyes as they absorb every word. As the game begins, you spot Yunho offering words of encouragement to Ye Joon. Your heart skips a beat, but you remind yourself that today is about Ye Joon, and you’re determined to support him as he takes to the mound, ready to pitch his heart out. As the round starts, your son’s team is up to bat first. One of Ye Joon’s friends, Pil-gu, steps up to the plate. His first swing is a miss, and the home plate umpire calls out, “Strike one!” Pil-gu’s shoulders slump slightly, doubt creeping in. But then Ye Joon calls out from the dugout, “Don’t give up now, Pil-gu!” Pil-gu turns to look at Ye Joon, the light in his eyes rekindled by his friend’s encouragement. With renewed focus, he remembers Coach Yunho’s advice about keeping his eye on the ball and staying confident. As the pitcher winds up and releases the next pitch, Pil-gu is ready. He swings, and the crack of the bat echoes across the field. The ball soars into the outfield, landing in the grass with a satisfying thud. Pil-gu takes off running, his heart pounding with excitement as cheers erupt from his teammates and the crowd. He rounds first base and heads for second, glancing briefly at the center fielder who scrambles to retrieve the ball. Just as the center fielder throws the ball back to the pitcher, Pil-gu slides safely into second base. His teammates erupt in cheers, and he stands up, brushing the dirt from his uniform with a triumphant grin. From the stands, you and the other parents cheer loudly, proud of Pil-gu’s determination and the team’s growing camaraderie.

The game has been intense, with both teams scoring a few points, but Ye Joon’s team is edging ahead. As the game nears its end, Ye Joon is next up to bat. You cheer loudly for him, unable to contain your excitement, and Yunho glances at you, a smile playing on his lips. Ye Joon steps onto the field, waving to you with a confident smile as he makes his way to the plate. Holding the bat firmly, he recalls all the tips Coach Yunho has given him. The pitcher winds up and throws the ball, and Ye Joon swings with all his might. The bat connects with a satisfying crack, and the ball sails high into the air, soaring over the outfield and just beyond the fence. It’s a home run! Without hesitation, Ye Joon takes off running, his face lit up with joy. “Run, Ye Joon!” you shout, your voice mingling with the cheers of the crowd. As Ye Joon rounds the bases, Pil-gu makes his way to third and then heads home, both of them scoring. The crowd erupts in applause as Ye Joon sprints towards home plate. His teammates rush to greet him, hugging each other and jumping around in celebration as the coaches join in. Amidst the excitement, you spot Ye Joon and Yunho together. Ye Joon runs to Yunho, who picks him up and swings him around in a moment of shared joy. As Yunho sets him down, he looks at Ye Joon with pride. “Nice one, kiddo. You made your first home run! I’m proud of you,” Yunho says, grinning. “Thank you, Coach Yunho! I wanna be a star baseball player just like you,” Ye Joon replies, giving a thumbs-up with a bright smile. Yunho’s smile falters for a moment as he realizes the connection, recognizing the resemblance Ye Joon and him have. But in that moment, he pushes the thought aside, savoring the shared triumph and joy. After the celebration, as the last of the parents pick up their kids, the field slowly empties out. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the field, and the only people left are Yunho and Wooyoung, gathering up the remaining equipment and putting it away. As they work, Yunho can’t help but think about you. Questions swirl in his mind—how you’ve been, when you had a son, and most importantly, who Ye Joon’s father might be. Finally, curiosity gets the better of him. “Do you think Y/N has a husband or something?” Yunho asks, trying to sound casual as he hands Wooyoung a bat. Wooyoung turns to look at him, curiosity piqued. “Uh, I don’t think so,” Wooyoung replies, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?” Yunho shrugs, trying to play it cool, but his heart feels a little lighter at the thought. “Just curious. I didn’t see anyone with her at the game.” Wooyoung nods thoughtfully. “I think she doesn’t have a husband because if she did, he’d be here, cheering Ye Joon on right beside her,” he says, stacking some helmets. “But maybe she has a boyfriend who’s the father, and he just doesn’t know about Ye Joon.” Yunho considers this, feeling a strange mix of relief and confusion. “She wouldn’t be that secretive and hide a father from their son,” he says, more to himself than Wooyoung. But oh boy was he wrong, sensing there might be more to the story than he knows. As they finish packing up, Yunho can’t shake the feeling that there are pieces of the puzzle missing, and he resolves to find out more about the life you’ve built since he last saw you. As Wooyoung continues to speculate, he grins and says, “But wait, maybe she’s dating a mafia boss, or she could be with an officer, or maybe even a coach.” He chuckles at the last suggestion, glancing at Yunho for his reaction. At the mention of a coach, Yunho feels a foreign flutter in his chest. It’s a feeling he can’t quite place, but it’s enough to make him pause. Wooyoung is about to launch into another wild theory when Yunho interrupts him. “I think that’s enough,” Yunho says, trying to sound firm as he stows the last of the equipment. Wooyoung opens his mouth to add another theory, but Yunho shoots him a look—a mix of amusement and seriousness—that tells him to drop it. “But what if—” Wooyoung starts, but Yunho cuts him off with a raised eyebrow, signaling him to stop.

Wooyoung smirks, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. But you have to admit, it’s fun to think about. Yunho rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. As they finish packing up and head out, Yunho can’t help but wonder about the life you’ve built and what role, if any, he might play in it.

➯ A/N: the tea is getting hot you guys and is almost almost ready just a little more sugar and heat 😏

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