#scottg2

On the day of their graduation, excitement and tension existed side by side. They prepared carefully, checked everything twice and spoke little on the way there. During the ceremonies, the weight of the moment lingered, heavy but bearable because they were together. By the time the celebrations began afterward, that tension dissolved into laughter. The future no longer felt like something waiting to happen. It felt close, almost tangible.

That closeness followed them home later that evening. Standing at the edge of another major change, the transition into working life, Luca seized the moment without planning it any further. In the quiet of the living room, with the day still echoing in their bodies, he asked Siyeon to marry him. His voice wavered despite his certainty, his heart racing faster than he could control. Siyeon did not hesitate. Surprise gave way to joy instantly and she accepted through tears, wrapping her arms around him as if the answer had always existed between them.

A few weeks later, they married in the smallest circle possible. Only parents and siblings attended. The decision was deliberate. Luca’s family had long been viewed with skepticism in Dowon and his father wished to shield both of them from unnecessary scrutiny. He wanted their path into working life to remain uncomplicated and unburdened by associations that others might judge unfairly.

The ceremony itself was quiet, almost understated. There were no grand gestures, only certainty. When it ended, nothing about their lives felt radically different. They returned to the same apartment, the same routines, the same shared space. The difference lay elsewhere. What they had already been living now carried a name and the future they stepped toward did so with pure intention rather than shaky assumption.

"Cassian," Emily said simply. "This is Kyeongtae."

The man offered a polite smile and a small nod.

Kyeongtae Lee looked almost ordinary at first glance. His clothes were neat but unremarkable. His posture was relaxed. His voice was calm. Yet within minutes, Cassian noticed something unusual about him.

Kyeongtae rarely interrupted people. He preferred listening. When he did speak, however, everyone seemed to pay attention. The conversation drifted naturally between work, everyday life and various small events happening throughout Dowon. Only later did Cassian learn more about him.

Kyeongtae worked as a junior lawyer at a respected law firm. According to Emily, he had an exceptional talent for negotiation and occasionally assisted with legal matters connected to her father. The information settled somewhere in the back of Cassian's mind. Interesting, but not alarming. At least not yet.

More than anything else, Kyeongtae simply seemed kind. The sort of person who made others feel comfortable without ever demanding attention for himself. By the end of the afternoon, Cassian found himself genuinely liking him, which surprised him. A lot of things about Emily's life still surprised him.

Several days later, Emily introduced him to someone else. This time, it happened during a dinner at her house. A woman greeted him before he had even managed to remove his coat.

"Cassian!"

Her smile appeared instantly. Warm and bright, completely unlike Emily's carefully controlled expressions. The contrast was almost amusing.

"Dayoon," Emily said from somewhere behind him.

"Nice to finally meet you properly," Dayoon replied before Cassian could even answer.

The evening passed far more loudly than his previous meetings with Emily's social circle. Dayoon enjoyed talking, not in an overwhelming way, simply openly and naturally. She seemed capable of finding something interesting in almost any topic and possessed the rare ability to make conversations feel effortless. By the time dinner ended, Cassian felt as though he had known her far longer than a single evening.

---

A few days later, his phone vibrated unexpectedly. The sender's name surprised him: Dayoon.

Her message was short.

Hey. Emily is busy again and Kyeongtae is buried in work. Do you want to go somewhere together this weekend?

Cassian couldn't help but smile.

Emily's schedule had indeed become increasingly chaotic recently. Whenever she wasn't working, she seemed occupied with a dozen other responsibilities she never fully explained. And unlike most people, she genuinely preferred spending her free time indoors.

Dayoon, on the other hand, appeared incapable of staying inside for too long.

Sure, Cassian replied.

I'd like that.

The response arrived almost immediately.

Perfect 😊

As the days passed, Cassian slowly began understanding something he had overlooked before. Emily had never been trying to introduce him to a relationship. She had been introducing him to people. To connections. To an entire network of lives intertwined in ways he had never experienced himself.

Growing up, relationships had always appeared simple.

Two people. One bond. One future.

Now he found himself surrounded by friendships, partnerships and emotional connections that seemed to overlap without replacing one another. Strangely enough, it no longer felt confusing. It simply felt new.

One evening, while sitting alone on the upper balcony of his house, Cassian watched the lights of Dowon flicker against the darkening sky. The winter air had begun fading into spring. The city felt alive. For the first time in a long while, so did he. And somewhere between Emily's quiet certainty, Kyeongtae's steady presence and Dayoon's effortless warmth, Cassian realized something.

Emily had kept her promise. She was showing him her world. To his own surprise, he wanted to see more.

He stepped closer. His hand hovered above the note for a second before he picked it up and unfolded it. The words were short.

She was sorry. She said she could not do this anymore. She said she did not want to pull him into something he did not deserve. She told him he deserved something simpler. Something real.

That was all.

Cassian read the note again. And again.

The letters did not change.

For a moment, everything around him remained exactly the same. The light still fell through the windows, the house still held its shape and somewhere outside, the city continued as if nothing had changed.

But something inside him did.

The glass in his hand trembled slightly, though he did not realize it until water spilled over the edge and onto the floor. He did not react. He only stood there, the note still in his other hand, the image beneath it anchoring something that was already slipping away.

He tried to make sense of it. There was no argument. No sign. No moment he could return to and reframe.

Only absence. The house felt different now. Not empty. But wrong.

---

The days that followed blurred together. Cassian spent most of his time alone, moving through the house without direction. Rooms that had once felt shared now carried a heavy weight. He avoided certain places at first, then returned to them anyway, as if repetition might dull the edge of it.

It did not.

Sometimes he stayed in bed longer than he intended, staring at nothing in particular. Time passed without leaving much behind.

Siyeon came by. More than once.

She rang the doorbell until he answered, patient in a way that left him little room to refuse. When he finally let her in, she stayed for a while, sitting with him, talking when he responded, staying silent when he did not. She did not try to fix anything. She simply remained. It helped, though not in ways that could be measured. It would take time.

---

Nearly three months passed before Cassian reached out to Emily.

Octavia’s belongings were still there. Small things at first. Books, clothes, objects that had once blended into the space without drawing attention. Now each of them stood out. Each of them carried a memory he had not chosen to revisit. He could not leave them there any longer.

Emily responded quickly. She sounded different than he remembered. Softer, more attentive. In the days leading up to their meeting, she checked in more often than expected, asking how he was doing in a way that did not feel forced. Cassian did not always answer in detail. But he did answer.

Almost four months after Octavia had left, Emily arrived.

Cassian stood in the hallway for a moment before opening the door. He had put on one of the two suits hanging in his closet, both slightly neglected, the fabric no longer as sharp as it once had been. It was the only thing that felt appropriate, though he could not explain why.

Emily stood outside, dressed as she always was. Dark tones, precise, composed. It suited her. It always had. They greeted each other quietly before moving inside.

The process was simple. They carried boxes from room to room, gathering what remained of Octavia’s presence and placing it carefully into Emily’s car. The movement gave structure to something that had otherwise felt uncontained.

At some point, they began to talk. Emily told him that Octavia was alright. That she was safe, but that she did not want to speak with him.

Cassian nodded once.

He told her that the way Octavia had left had pulled him out of his life without warning. That there had been no moment to understand, no chance to respond. The words came slowly, but they came.

Emily listened. There was a pause before she answered.

She said that things did not always unfold the way people planned them. Or hoped they would. And that sometimes, even when both sides meant well, the outcome still hurt. Her tone remained calm, but there was something beneath it. Something she did not fully reveal.

“People don’t always see the reasons behind someone else’s choices,” she added quietly.

Cassian looked at her. For a moment, it felt like there was more in that sentence than the words themselves allowed. But he did not press further.

By the time the last box was placed into the car, the sun had already begun to lower. They stood there for a moment longer than necessary.

Cassian realized then that it had been months since he had spoken to someone outside of his family like this. The conversation had not solved anything. It had not changed what had happened. But something about it felt different. Not lighter, but less closed.

As Emily prepared to leave, Cassian stepped back, watching as she settled into the driver’s seat. The car started without hesitation.

He remained where he was until it disappeared from view. Then he turned back toward the house. For the first time in a long while, the silence did not feel as absolute as before.

Emily herself had reached out occasionally during those weeks, but always briefly. Simple messages, more like short check-ins. Questions asking if he was alright, whether he was sleeping enough, whether things were getting easier. Never much more. Never less. And somehow, that made the silence in between feel even louder.

Three weeks later, Cassian woke unusually early.

Morning light stretched across the room, painting familiar shapes against the walls while the city slowly stirred outside. He stared at the ceiling for several minutes.

Then finally sat up. Without allowing himself time to reconsider, he grabbed his phone. This time he typed quickly. Not because he suddenly knew what to say, but because stopping meant overthinking.

Hey Emily. I hope you're doing well. I miss our evenings together. Please come by sometime soon. I wanted to talk about our last conversation.

Cassian stared at the message. Then pressed send before courage could leave him.

Immediately afterward, regret arrived. Followed by panic. Followed by staring at the screen far longer than necessary.

Then his phone vibrated.

He blinked. The reply contained only four words: I'm coming over.

A second message followed immediately after: Today. 4 PM.

Cassian stared at the screen. Then smiled for the first time in days.

Emily arrived early. Of course she did. Her car pulled up outside his house nearly ten minutes ahead of time, stopping with the same precise confidence she seemed to apply to everything else in life.

Cassian looked through the window and immediately felt something shift inside him. Not relief. Not exactly. Something lighter.

When he stepped outside and saw her standing beside the car, he caught himself smiling again.

Emily looked exactly the same. Dark clothes, composed expression, perfect posture. No visible reaction whatsoever.

Cassian almost laughed, because he knew better now. Emily did not wear emotions in public. Not at the side of streets. Not beneath open skies. Not where people could see. And somehow, knowing that made him strangely happy, because it meant he knew something about her others did not.

He invited her inside. The moment the front door closed behind them, Cassian turned toward her. And immediately realized he did not want to lose his nerve. Not this time.

"I thought about it," he said.

Emily looked at him quietly. Cassian swallowed, then continued.

"I thought about everything."

About her, about what she said, about polyamory, about all of it.

Emily remained silent. Watching. Waiting. Then Cassian stepped closer.

"I want to be part of your life."

No reaction.

"I love you."

Still nothing.

"And don't try to hide it behind that poker face."

A pause.

Then: "I know you."

Emily blinked. Only once. Quickly and almost invisible, but he noticed. Cassian smiled slightly.

"There it is."

For the first time since arriving, Emily looked away, just briefly. Almost thoughtfully. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded strangely careful.

"I don't want a relationship with you."

Cassian frowned and Emily crossed her arms.

"You don't know what you're walking into."

The sentence carried weight. More than the words themselves explained, but Cassian barely hesitated.

"Then show me."

Emily looked up.

"Show me your life."

Silence, but Cassian stepped closer.

"If I hate it, I can still decide to leave later."

Emily stared at him. No mask or distance. Just uncertainty. For a moment, she looked younger somehow. Smaller. And when she spoke again, her voice sounded quieter than he had ever heard it before.

"...And what if it's too late then?"

Silence. No city noise, no movement. Nothing.

Cassian looked at her, then slowly reached for her hand. Pulled her closer and kissed her. Not like two people testing a possibility, rather like two people who had spent weeks standing on the edge of something and finally stopped pretending they could stay there forever.

For the first time in what felt like years, Emily Martin forgot to hide what she felt.

Siyeon woke to those sounds and totally loved it. The notes carried gently through the open space of the loft, filling the rooms before the day properly began. There was something steady about it, something that made waking feel less abrupt. She rarely moved at first, simply listening as the music unfolded and settled.

By the time Luca finished and joined her in the kitchen, the morning had already begun.

They met there briefly before he left for work, sharing a few quiet moments between routine and departure. That day, Siyeon invited him to join her in the evening. Her family planned to meet at Central Park, nothing formal, just time spent together. Luca agreed without hesitation. He had come to feel comfortable among the Scotts, in a way he never quite had within his own family. With them, things felt lighter and definitely less complicated.

Their workdays passed without interruption. Luca moved through his tasks with ease, solving minor issues and refining code without the pressure of urgent problems. Siyeon’s day followed a similar rhythm. The studio remained calm, allowing her to record vocals and practice new choreography without the usual sense of competition pressing in from all sides. It was the kind of day that went by almost unnoticed, defined more by consistency than by events.

In the early evening, they met at the subway exit near Central Park. The air carried the last warmth of the day and the park felt open and unhurried. They found a bench where the sunlight still reached and sat close together, their hands resting naturally in each other’s.

After a while, Luca stood up and offered to get drinks from a stand across the park. Siyeon nodded and watched him walk away before settling back into the comfortable silence.

She did not expect to see Octavia.

The familiar figure approached from the path, and for a moment, the encounter felt almost out of place. They greeted each other with a brief embrace before Octavia sat down beside her. Their conversation remained light, shaped by the kind of details that filled ordinary days. Nothing seemed unusual. Nothing demanded any attention.

Then both of them looked up at the same time. Across the grass, Luca stood with Henry. Beside them, another figure had joined - David Martin.

Within moments, more people gathered. What began as coincidence shifted into something larger, a convergence neither planned nor avoided. Members of both families stood together on the open field, forming a small circle. At first, the atmosphere remained easy. Conversations overlapped and laughter followed the occasional joke. Even Henry and David seemed to find common ground, exchanging remarks that drew smiles from those around them.

Siyeon stayed closer to Yujin, observing more than speaking. Nearby, Luca remained engaged in conversation with the others, adjusting naturally to the shifting dynamic.

David’s attention eventually turned toward Siyeon. He spoke about her music, mentioning that he had recently heard some of her songs on the radio and had been pleasantly surprised. His tone carried approval, measured but genuine. He also thanked Henry and Yujin for taking care of Octavia during a difficult time. As he spoke, his gaze lingered briefly on his daughter. The dark lenses of his sunglasses hid his expression, but something in the angle of his head made the moment feel heavier than his words suggested.

The conversation continued for a while longer, but its tone had shifted slightly, almost imperceptibly.

After about forty-five minutes, David excused himself. He mentioned a business appointment that could not be delayed and moved through the group with composed efficiency, shaking hands with each of them before stepping away. Octavia followed him without hesitation.

Siyeon watched them go.

There was nothing in the scene that stood out clearly. No raised voices. No visible tension. And yet, as she observed their figures disappear along the path, an odd unease settled somewhere she could not quite reach.

She could not explain it, but it stayed with her.

Months passed that way. Quietly.

One evening, they sat together at Cassian’s dining table after finishing the food Emily had brought over from a small restaurant somewhere deeper within Dowon’s nightlife district. Empty containers remained scattered across the table, neither of them motivated enough to clean up immediately.

The room glowed softly beneath the warm kitchen lights. Emily leaned back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, lazily turning a glass between her fingers while Cassian watched her without fully realizing he was doing it again. Or perhaps he did realize it.

This time, Emily noticed too clearly to ignore it.

“You keep doing that,” she said.

Cassian blinked. “Doing what?”

“Looking at me like you’re trying to solve something.”

A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe I am.”

Emily exhaled a quiet laugh, though it faded quickly into something more thoughtful.

“You should know something before this becomes confusing,” she said calmly.

Cassian straightened slightly, his attention sharpening immediately. Emily’s expression remained composed, almost practiced.

“I’m not interested in monogamy,” she explained. “Not really. I never have been.”

The words landed gently, but directly. Cassian stayed quiet for a moment. Emily continued before he could misunderstand her silence.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re attractive,” she added honestly. “You are. Very much, actually.”

That caught him slightly off guard.

“But I prefer polyamory.”

Cassian tilted his head faintly.

“Why?”

Emily’s gaze drifted briefly toward the city lights beyond the windows.

“Because life’s too short to share it with only one incredible person.”

The sentence settled heavily into the room. Not dramatic. Not provocative. Just sincere.

Cassian found himself unexpectedly curious instead of resistant. The idea itself felt unfamiliar, almost distant from everything he had known growing up. His parents. Siyeon and Luca. Every stable relationship around him had always followed the same shape. One person. One love. One future.

Emily seemed to exist outside of that entirely. Before he could ask more, she stood.

“I should go,” she said.

Cassian looked up. “Already?”

Emily smiled faintly.

“You need time to think about what I said,” she replied. “And I’d rather you actually think about it than just react to me sitting here.”

She grabbed her coat, then paused near the doorway.

“And don’t over-romanticize it in your head,” she added with a small grin. “It’s still complicated.”

Then she left and for once, Cassian did not immediately feel abandoned by a closing door. Only thoughtful.

The following days passed slowly. Cassian spent much of his time on the upper balcony, stretched out across one of the loungers while the cold evening air moved softly through the neighborhood around him.

Again and again, his thoughts returned to the same sentence: Life’s too short to share it with only one incredible person.

At first, the idea felt almost impossible to place inside himself. Everything he knew about love had been singular. Focused. Exclusive. But the more he thought about it, the less impossible it seemed. Maybe love did not lose value simply because it existed more than once. Maybe different forms of closeness could coexist without replacing each other. Maybe people simply loved differently. And maybe that was alright.

Eventually, curiosity overcame hesitation. One evening, while sitting alone beneath the dim balcony light, Cassian picked up his phone and sent Emily a message.

He told her he wanted to understand it better. That he wanted to learn more.

Her response came only a few minutes later.

Don’t start thinking this was an invitation.

A laughing emoji followed immediately after.

Cassian stared at the message for a second before quietly laughing to himself for the first time in what felt like months. Then he leaned back against the lounger again, the cold air brushing against his face while the city lights flickered endlessly in the distance. Somewhere along the way, without fully noticing it, the world had started moving forward again.

Cassian glanced down at himself briefly, then back up.

“Yeah?”

Luca nodded. “Yeah. But it works. You wear it well.”

A small pause settled between them, comfortable enough not to demand filling.

“How are things?” Cassian asked after a moment. “With you and Siyeon?”

Luca’s expression remained steady.

“We’re good,” he said. “Just… busy. Work’s been a lot for both of us.”

It wasn’t a lie. Just not complete.

Cassian accepted it with a quiet nod. He didn’t press further. Neither of them did. They stood there a little longer, exchanging small observations about the city, routines, things that stayed safely on the surface. Then, without needing to say much more, they parted ways again.

At the studio, the atmosphere felt entirely different. Voices overlapped, bright and eager, filling the short break between sessions. A few of the younger trainees had gathered around Siyeon, their attention fixed on her in a way she had grown used to, though it never fully settled.

“How do you stay so consistent?” one of them asked, eyes wide with genuine admiration. “And your stage presence… it feels so natural.”

Another chimed in before Siyeon could answer.

“I want to be like you someday.”

Siyeon smiled. She answered carefully, offering small pieces of advice that sounded right. Practice. Patience. Trust the process. The kind of words people expected to hear, the kind that fit neatly into business conversations like this.

They listened closely, nodding along, holding onto every sentence as if it carried something essential.

For a moment, Siyeon watched them instead of speaking. The way they looked at her. The certainty in their admiration. It was simple. Clean. Easy to understand.

She wondered, briefly, what they would see if they looked a little closer. Not at the performances. Not at the rehearsals. But at everything that stayed hidden behind it.

The thought passed as quickly as it had come. By the time the break ended, she had slipped back into place without hesitation.

When she returned home that evening, the loft was quiet. The kind of silence that did not feel empty, only waiting. She stepped through the rooms slowly before making her way up to the rooftop terrace. Luca was already there.

He sat on one of the loungers, his posture relaxed but distant, his gaze resting somewhere beyond the city skyline. The last light of the day stretched across the open space, softening the edges of everything it touched.

Siyeon didn’t say anything at first. She simply sat down beside him. For a while, they stayed like that. Side by side. Silent. Breathing in the same rhythm without needing to acknowledge it.

The city moved below them, distant and steady. Then, almost without planning it, Siyeon spoke.

“I keep thinking about it,” she said quietly.

Luca didn’t ask what she meant.

“I know,” he replied.

The words settled between them, heavier than anything they had said in weeks. She drew in a slow breath.

“It felt real,” she continued. “Even if it was only for a short time.”

Luca leaned forward slightly, his hands resting together, his eyes fixed on the ground for a moment before he spoke.

“I started thinking about things I didn’t even realize I wanted yet,” he admitted. “Like… it was already part of something bigger.”

Siyeon nodded.

“I was scared,” she said. “But not in a bad way. Just… aware.”

Another pause. This one different. Not empty. Not avoiding. Present.

“I didn’t know how to talk about it,” Luca said after a while. “I thought maybe you needed space.”

“I thought the same about you,” she replied softly.

A faint, almost incredulous smile crossed his face.

“Of course you did.”

She let out a quiet breath that almost resembled a laugh. For the first time since it had happened, the weight shifted. Not gone. But shared.

“I miss it,” she said.

Luca nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

No explanations followed. No attempts to make sense of it. Just the acknowledgment. Somehow, that was enough. The evening settled around them, softer now. The air felt different, lighter in a way neither of them had expected.

Later that night, the loft carried a familiar kind of calm again. Luca sat on the couch, the television running quietly in the background, more presence than focus. The light flickered gently across the room. Siyeon sat beside him, a book resting open in her hands. They didn’t speak much. They didn’t need to.

At some point, Luca shifted slightly closer, his arm brushing against hers. She didn’t react, but she didn’t move away either. The distance that had existed between them for weeks had finally given way to something else. Not a solution. Not an answer. Just closeness. Real, steady and genuine.

Siyeon turned a page. Luca let out a breath, his attention drifting somewhere between the screen and the moment itself. For the first time in a long while, the silence felt right again. Not heavy. Not fragile. Just shared.

Somewhere within that understanding, a thought settled gently into place: Maybe they really could carry everything that came their way. Together.

Across the city, Siyeon moved through a different kind of rhythm. The streets of Dowon carried their usual flow, guiding her toward the subway station. From there, the familiar route brought her to Adam Entertainment, where the building stood tall and composed, reflecting the structure of the world she had chosen to step into.

The day before, her mother had mentioned something unexpected.

Yujin planned to visit the company. Not for a formal application, but to explore possibilities. It had come through Henry’s connections, an extension of the network he had built over time. Siyeon wanted to be there, not out of necessity, but out of support.

She arrived a few minutes early and waited near the entrance. When Yujin approached, they greeted each other warmly, the familiarity between them cutting through the formal atmosphere of the building. Up close, Siyeon noticed something immediately.

Her mother did not seem nervous.

Siyeon asked her about it, expecting at least a hint of uncertainty, but Yujin simply smiled. She explained that there was nothing to worry about. This was not an interview, she said, just a conversation, a way to understand what might be possible. There was no pressure attached to it, no expectation that something had to come from it.

Before stepping away, Yujin paused. She asked Siyeon if it would truly be alright for them to work in the same place. Not just as colleagues, but as mother and daughter within the same structure. The question carried a weight, even if it was asked gently.

Siyeon answered without hesitation. It would not bother her. If anything, she said, she would be happy about it. Yujin nodded, reassured, and then continued on her way.

The moment passed. But something else remained, unseen.

In the background of their days, a different reality had already unfolded. One that neither Yujin nor anyone else in the family knew about.

Siyeon had been pregnant. For a brief time, the knowledge had existed only between her and Luca, held carefully, almost protectively. It had brought a quiet kind of happiness, something fragile but real. And then, just as quietly, it was gone.

The loss came only weeks after they had learned about it. Neither of them spoke about it outside of their home. Even there, the silence remained.

It was not distance, not in the way people might expect. It was something else. A shared understanding that the weight of it needed to be carried individually first, before it could become something they faced together. They moved carefully around each other, not out of avoidance, but out of respect for the space each of them needed.

Siyeon spent more time on the rooftop terrace.

The sunlight there felt constant, something she could rely on when everything else seemed less certain. Sometimes she lay on the sun loungers, letting the warmth settle into her skin. Other times, she moved through slow, deliberate yoga routines, focusing on breath and balance, grounding herself in something physical and present.

Luca found his own ways.

After long days of work, he often retreated into quieter rituals. A bath that lasted longer than necessary. A book held open but not always read. Moments where his thoughts could exist without needing to be solved or explained.

They did not speak about it. Not yet. But the absence was there, shaping the spaces between them in ways neither of them fully understood.