#thediamondlifenetwork

Four weeks after the ultrasound

It had started as a practical arrangement.

Alexys needed someone to carry things. Hansol had offered. It was purely logical.

That's what he told himself, anyway, as he pushed the cart through the supermarket behind her while she studied the back of a prenatal vitamin bottle with the intensity of someone defusing a bomb.

"This one has more DHA," she said, not looking up.

"Is that good?"

"For brain development, yes. But this other one has more folate." She held both up side by side. "Why can't they just make one that has everything?"

"Because then you'd only have to buy one bottle and they'd make less money."

She looked at him. "That's genuinely cynical."

"That's genuinely true."

She put both bottles in the cart anyway. "I'll ask the doctor which one to prioritize at the next appointment."

"Or," Hansol said, "you take one in the morning and one at night and cover all your bases."

A pause. She looked at him again, differently this time. "That's actually smart."

"I have my moments."

She smiled — small, almost surprised, like she hadn't quite expected to enjoy his company today — and turned back to the shelves.

Hansol pushed the cart forward and said nothing. He was getting used to these small victories. The moments when she'd lower her guard just slightly, and he'd catch a glimpse of something warmer underneath all the careful, controlled practicality she'd built around herself since finding out she was pregnant.

They moved through the aisles slowly. She paused at the crackers — for the nausea, still — and at the ginger tea, and at a display of baby food that technically they didn't need for another six months, but which she stood in front of for a long moment anyway.

"We don't need that yet," Hansol pointed out.

"I know."

She didn't move.

He stood beside her, looking at the tiny jars. Pureed peas. Mashed sweet potato. Apple and pear.

"She'll have opinions," Alexys said quietly. "About what she likes and doesn't like. And we won't know any of them yet. We'll have to learn them."

"That's the fun part."

"What if we get it wrong?"

"We'll try something else. She'll tell us." He paused. "Loudly, probably. At 2 AM."

Alexys laughed — a real one, unexpected, startled out of her — and the sound hit Hansol somewhere in the chest.

Oh, he thought, with a calm clarity that was almost alarming. I'm in trouble.

He had been for a while, if he was being honest. He just hadn't let himself look at it directly until now, standing in the baby food aisle of a supermarket on a Tuesday evening with a woman he'd known for less than three months.

She was already moving on toward the checkout.

Hansol followed, pushing the cart, and didn't say anything at all.

A day after, Hansol invited Alexys to dinner at Mingyu and Ela’s.

“They want to meet you properly,” he explained. “Not drunk at a wedding. Actually meet you.”

“As the woman having your baby?”

“As the woman I’m co-parenting with. And…” He hesitated. “As someone important to me.”

Alexys looked surprised. “Important?”

“We’re having a baby together. That makes you important. Obviously.”

“Right. Obviously.”

But something in his expression suggested he meant more than that.

At Mingyu and Ela’s apartment, Wonwoo and Anna were already there, along with Seungcheol and Keannah.

“Alexys!” Ela hugged her immediately. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. The nausea’s finally easing up.”

“Second trimester perks,” Anna said, smiling. “I’m Anna, by the way, we met at the wedding briefly. I’m Wonwoo’s girlfriend.”

“And I’m Keannah. Seungcheol’s wife. We met briefly at the wedding as well.”

“Right, you’re a nurse too.”

“Pediatrics. If you have any questions about baby stuff, I’m happy to help.”

Mingyu appeared with drinks—wine for everyone else, sparkling water for Alexys.

“So,” he said, grinning. “Hansol. A dad. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shut up,” Hansol muttered, his arm going protectively around Alexys’s shoulders.

“I think it’s sweet,” Ela said. “You two are handling this really maturely. I was planning to murder Hansol if he ever hurt Alexys.” Hansol grinned.

“We’re trying,” Alexys said. “It’s still surreal.”

“When are you due?” Keannah asked.

“March ninth. I’m fourteen weeks now.”

“Are you finding out the gender?”

“We haven’t decided yet.” Alexys glanced at Hansol. “What do you think?”

“I kind of want to be surprised,” he admitted. “But if you want to know, we can find out.”

“Let’s be surprised. It’ll be more exciting.”

Their friends exchanged knowing looks.

“What?” Hansol demanded.

“Nothing,” Mingyu said innocently. “Just… you two seem very in sync for people who barely know each other.”

“We’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“Clearly.”

After dinner, Ela pulled Alexys aside while the guys were in the living room.

“How are you really doing?” she asked. “Not just physically. Emotionally.”

“Honestly? Better than I expected. Hansol’s been amazing. Supportive, present, genuinely trying.”

“And how do you feel about him?”

“I don’t know. We’re not dating. We’re just… co-parenting.”

“Alexys. The man looks at you like you hung the moon.”

“He looks at me like I’m carrying his baby. It’s different.”

“Is it? Because from where I’m standing, there’s something there. Something more than just parenting partnership.”

Alexys bit her lip. “Even if there is, it’s complicated. We’re having a baby together. What if we try dating and it doesn’t work out? Then we’re stuck co-parenting while heartbroken.”

“Or,” Ela said gently, “you try dating and it does work out. And you build something real. For you, for him, and for your baby.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“The best things usually are.”

In the living room, Mingyu was giving Hansol a similar talk.

“So when are you going to actually ask her out?” he said.

“Ask who out?”

“Alexys. Don’t play dumb.”

“We’re not—it’s complicated.”

“It’s only complicated if you make it complicated.”

“We’re having a baby together, Mingyu. That’s literally the definition of complicated.”

“You like her. She clearly likes you. You’re already building a life together. Why not make it official?”

“Because what if it doesn’t work out? Then we’re co-parenting while broken up. That’s worse for the baby.”

“Or,” Wonwoo interjected, “you’re building resentment by not being honest about your feelings. That’s worse for everyone.”

Hansol looked at Alexys across the room, laughing at something Keannah said, her hand unconsciously resting on her small bump.

Beautiful. She was so beautiful.

And terrifying.

And carrying his child.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted.

“None of us do,” Seungcheol said. “But you figure it out as you go. Trust me, I almost let Keannah slip away because I was scared. Don’t make my mistake.”

“So what do I do?”

“Tell her how you feel,” Mingyu said. “Take the risk. The worst she can say is no.”

“The worst she can say is no and then we have to co-parent awkwardly for the rest of our lives.” Mingyu, Wonwoo, and Seungcheol stared at Hansol for awhile before deciding not say anything. Just as dessert was being served, the doorbell rang.

“That’s probably Jia and Joshua,” Ela said, standing up. “They texted that they were running late.”

She opened the door to reveal Jia, very visibly seven months pregnant, with Joshua hovering protectively behind her.

“Sorry we’re late!” Jia said, waddling in. “Someone—” she glared at Joshua, “—insisted we couldn’t leave until he’d packed twenty five different snacks for a dinner at someone else’s house.”

“You’re eating for two,” Joshua defended. “What if Ela didn’t have the right cravings food?”

“Ela has an entire refrigerator of food.”

“But what if—”

“Guys,” Mingyu interrupted, laughing. “Come in. Sit down before Jia’s feet explode.”

Jia gratefully sank into a chair, and that’s when she noticed Alexys.

“Oh my god, ALEXYS!” She looked at the small bump, then at Hansol, then back at Alexys. “You’re PREGNANT?!”

“Surprise?” Alexys said weakly.

“When? How? Wait—” Jia’s eyes widened. “The wedding. Oh my GOD, the wedding!”

“Jia,” Ela warned.

“You two disappeared at the same time and I thought—but then I figured I was imagining—but you actually—” She started laughing. “This is amazing. We’re pregnancy buddies!”

Alexys couldn’t help but smile. “I’m only fourteen weeks. You’re way ahead of me.”

“Seven months,” Jia confirmed, rubbing her belly. “This little girl is going to be a soccer player. She kicks constantly.”

“Girl?” Keannah asked. “You found out?”

“Yeah. Joshua couldn’t handle the suspense.” Jia looked at Alexys and Hansol. “What about you two?”

“We’re waiting,” Hansol said, his hand finding Alexys’s under the table. “Want to be surprised.”

Joshua noticed the gesture and grinned. “So you two are together then?”

“We’re—” Hansol started.

“Co-parenting,” Alexys finished.

“Right. Co-parenting.” Joshua exchanged looks with Mingyu. “Very convincing.” The following week after the dinner

He was there the first time Hansol came to pick Alexys up for her fifteen-week appointment.

Hansol had knocked, was waiting in the hallway, and the door across from Alexys's opened. The man who stepped out was — objectively, irritatingly — very good-looking. Tall, with long dark hair pushed back from his face, wearing a loose grey sweater and carrying a paper bag that smelled like fresh bread.

"Oh," the man said, noticing Hansol. Then he smiled. Easy, unhurried, warm. "You must be Hansol."

Hansol blinked. "Yeah. How did you—"

"Alexys mentioned you." He shifted the bread bag to his other arm and extended a hand. "Jeonghan. I live across the hall."

"Right." Hansol shook it. "Hey."

The door opened and Alexys appeared, already reaching for her jacket. "Sorry, I couldn't find my—" She saw Jeonghan and relaxed. "Oh, you're back! How was Busan?"

"Wet. My mother fed me enough to last until March." He held up the foodie bag. "She sent you this. The Dongnae Pajeon you liked."

"She did not—" Alexys pressed a hand to her heart. "Tell her I love her."

"She already loves you more than she loves me, which is honestly a little hurtful." He passed her the bag with a grin. "How are you feeling? Better than last week?"

"Much better. The ginger tea is helping."

Hansol stood very still.

Last week. Ginger tea. He hadn't known she'd had a bad week. She hadn't told him. But she'd told her neighbor, apparently. The very good-looking neighbor who brought her Dongnae Pajeon from his mother in Busan and asked how she was feeling like it was a habit.

"Good," Jeonghan said, and his eyes briefly moved to Hansol with something that might have been mild amusement. "Appointment today?"

"Fifteen weeks," Alexys confirmed, pulling on her jacket. "Routine checkup."

"Good luck. Text me if you need anything." He lifted a hand at Hansol — a perfectly friendly, uncomplicated wave — and disappeared back into his apartment.

The door clicked shut.

Alexys turned to Hansol. "Ready?"

"Who is that?"

"Jeonghan? I just said, he lives across the hall." She frowned at his expression. "What?"

"Nothing." He picked up her bag from inside the door where she'd left it. "How long has he lived there?"

"About a year before me. He helped me move in. Why?"

"No reason."

She studied him for a moment. He kept his expression neutral.

"Okay," she said slowly, and let it go.

Hansol let it go too.

He was fine. He was totally fine.

He noticed more after that. He didn't mean to. It just happened.

The way Jeonghan's door would sometimes open when Hansol was arriving or leaving, just to check in. Need anything from the store, Alexys? I'm heading out. The way she'd smile at him with zero of the careful guardedness she still sometimes aimed at Hansol. The easy comfort of two people who'd built something quietly over time — familiarity, trust, the small vocabulary of neighbors who actually liked each other.

He was never anything but friendly to Hansol. Perfectly, genuinely, annoyingly friendly.

Which somehow made it worse.

It was easier to be irritated with someone who was trying to shut you out. Jeonghan wasn't doing that. He'd ask Hansol questions and actually listen to the answers. He'd hold the elevator. Once, when Hansol was struggling to carry a flatpack shelf up to Alexys's apartment — a shelf for the baby's room, something he'd offered to build — Jeonghan had appeared from nowhere and taken the other end without being asked.

"Where's it going?" he'd asked.

"Second bedroom. Nursery."

"I know where the nursery is." He said it without any particular edge, just fact. I've been here, too. "I helped her paint it."

Hansol had no response to that.

He built the shelf. Jeonghan had somewhere to be and said his goodbyes. And Hansol sat on the floor of the half-finished nursery afterward with a screwdriver and stared at the wall and tried to locate exactly what it was that was eating at him.

It wasn't distrust. Alexys was not a person who'd let something blurry sit undefined — he understood that about her already. If there were something between her and Jeonghan, it wouldn't be a secret and it would have already been addressed.

It was something else. Something smaller and more embarrassing.

He's been here. For the painting, for the bad weeks, for the bread from Busan. For the slow accumulation of daily life that Hansol had shown up to in the middle, heart-first, trying to catch up.

He was jealous of the time.

He didn't say any of this out loud.

Two weeks later - Hansol’s apartment

Hansol had invited Alexys over to discuss nursery plans. They’d been looking at cribs online, debating colors (Alexys wanted soft yellow, Hansol thought mint green was more versatile), when suddenly Alexys went quiet.

“You okay?” he asked.

She was staring at him. Really staring. Her eyes had gone dark, pupils dilated, and she was biting her lower lip.

“Alexys?”

“I need—” She shifted closer on the couch. “I need you.”

“Need me to what? Get you something? Water? A snack?”

“No. I need you.” Her hand slid up his thigh. “Now.”

Hansol’s brain immediately short-circuited. Words. What were words? His mouth opened but nothing came out. His entire nervous system was currently occupied with the feeling of her hand on his thigh and the way she was looking at him like—like—

“What?” he finally managed, eloquent as ever.

“The baby books said this might happen. Second trimester hormones. Increased libido.” She moved to straddle him. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. About that night on the villa. About your hands, your mouth, the way you—”

“Alexys, wait—” He grabbed her hips, trying to maintain control even as his body responded enthusiastically. Every single thought in his head scattered like dropped marbles. Wait. Focus. What was I—oh god she’s warm—no, focus—say something coherent— “We can’t just—we should talk about this—”

“I don’t want to talk.” She kissed his neck. “I want you inside me.”

Hansol made a sound that was definitely not dignified. His grip tightened on her hips involuntarily. Okay. Words. Form words. Be responsible. You can do this. Except she just—oh my god—no no no, focus—

“This is the hormones talking,” he said, though it came out strangled.

“I don’t care. Please, Hansol. I’m going crazy. I can’t stop thinking about you touching me.”

Don’t think about touching her. Too late. Already thinking about it. Abort. ABORT.

Every ounce of his self-control was being tested. She was warm and soft in his lap, her bump pressing against him, her lips on his neck, and he wanted—

God, he wanted.

His brain was currently playing a highlight reel of that night on the beach on loop while simultaneously trying to remember how to form sentences and also screaming at him to do something, anything, but his hands seemed to have forgotten how to function beyond just gripping her hips like a lifeline.

But this wasn’t right. They weren’t together. This was pregnancy hormones, not actual desire for him.

“Alexys.” He somehow found the willpower to gently move her off his lap, immediately missing the contact. His hands were shaking. His entire body was shaking. Stupid noble decision. Why am I like this. “I can’t. Not like this.”

She looked at him with wounded eyes. “You don’t want me?”

“I—what? No! I mean yes! I mean—” Breathe. String words together like a functional human. “I want you so much I can barely think straight.” Understatement of the century. “But not because hormones are making you need physical contact. When we do this again—if we do this again—I want it to be because you actually want me. Not because your body is flooded with pregnancy hormones.”

Alexys’s eyes filled with tears—another hormone symptom. “I do want you.”

“You want relief. That’s different.” Keep talking. Sound reasonable. Don’t look at her lips. Too late.

“You’re rejecting me.”

“I’m not—Alexys, please don’t cry—” Panic mode activated. Why is she crying. What do I do. Say something better.

“I’m huge and hormonal and you don’t want me—”

“You’re beautiful and I want you desperately and this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done—” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, needed something to do with them that wasn’t touching her. “I’m trying to be respectful here.”

She wiped her eyes. “What if I said I’ve been thinking about you even before the hormones? What if I said that night on the beach wasn’t just drunken sex for me? That I’ve been replaying it for months?”

Hansol’s breath caught. His brain stuttered to a complete halt. “Have you?”

“Yes. And now I’m pregnant with your baby and you’re being so perfect and supportive and all I can think about is getting you naked.”

Oh god oh god oh god— “Alexys…”

She stood up, swaying slightly. “I should go. I’m sorry. This is embarrassing.”

“Don’t go.” He stood too, catching her hand before his brain could catch up with his mouth. “Stay. We can watch a movie or something. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“That’s not what I want.”

Me neither, his brain supplied helpfully. “I know. But it’s what you need. Trust me.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. “Fine. But if I spontaneously combust from sexual frustration, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll take that risk.” While also spontaneously combusting. Together.

The next day

Alexys: I’m sorry about yesterday. The hormones are making me crazy.

Hansol: Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.

Alexys: Still. I basically threw myself at you.

Hansol: And I wanted to catch you. But I want to do this right.

Alexys: Do what right?

Hansol: Us. If there’s going to be an us.

Alexys: Is there going to be an us?

Hansol: I’d like there to be. When you’re ready. When it’s not just hormones.

Alexys: What if it’s not just hormones? What if I genuinely want you?

Hansol: Then we’ll talk about it. After the hormone surge passes.

Alexys: You have incredible self-control.

Hansol: You have no idea how much this is killing me.

Alexys: Good. Suffer with me.

Hansol: 😂😂😂

Alexys: But seriously. Thank you. For being respectful.

Hansol: Always.

One week later - Alexys’s apartment

The cravings hadn’t stopped.

If anything, they’d gotten worse.

Alexys found herself staring at Hansol constantly. During their childbirth class (which was mortifying—she’d spent the entire session imagining him naked instead of listening to breathing techniques), at lunch, during their evening walks.

The man was walking temptation.

And he knew it.

She caught him watching her too. The way his eyes darkened when she licked her lips. How his hands clenched when she stretched and her shirt rode up. The tension was suffocating.

They were having dinner at her place—something that had become routine—when Alexys decided enough was enough.

She was eighteen weeks pregnant, hormonal beyond reason, and sitting across from the most attractive man she’d ever met who also happened to be the father of her child.

And he wanted her too. She could see it in every look, every careful touch, every time he stopped himself from kissing her.

“Hansol,” she said, setting down her fork.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not going to spontaneously stop wanting you. The hormones last the entire pregnancy.”

“I know.”

“And you’re not going to suddenly become less attractive to me.”

“Okay?”

“So this self-control thing you’re doing? It’s admirable. Really. But it’s also driving me insane.”

He swallowed hard. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I want you. Not because of hormones—though they’re definitely not helping. But because I like you. I like spending time with you. I like how you make me laugh, how you rub my feet when they hurt, how you’ve been to every appointment and read all the baby books.” She stood up, walking around the table to him. “I like you, Hansol Chwe. A lot. And I want you.”

“Alexys—” His voice cracked slightly.

She straddled him in the chair, and this time she didn’t stop. She kissed him, deep and demanding, pouring weeks of frustration into it.

For a moment he froze. Then his control snapped.

His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer, kissing her back with equal desperation. “Are you sure?” he managed between kisses, his voice rough. “Really sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

“Thank god.”

He stood, lifting her with him, and carried her to the bedroom.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he admitted, laying her on the bed. His hands were trembling again. “Every night. Imagining touching you, tasting you, making you fall apart.”

“Then stop imagining and do it.”

He did.

Slowly, reverently, he undressed her, his hands shaking slightly as he revealed her changing body. Every button took twice as long because his fingers kept fumbling and his brain was currently offline, replaced entirely by want and need and oh my god this is actually happening.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his hand on her small bump. “Both of you.”

“Hansol—”

“I mean it. You’re gorgeous. Pregnancy makes you glow.”

“That’s sweat. I’m always hot now.”

He laughed and kissed her stomach. “Still gorgeous.”

Then his mouth moved lower, and Alexys stopped thinking altogether.

He took his time, learning her body all over again—different now, more sensitive, responsive in new ways. Every touch was deliberate, every kiss purposeful, even though his hands kept shaking and his brain kept short-circuiting every time she made a sound.

“Please,” she finally begged. “I need you inside me.”

His brain completely blanked. Just static. Pure static. “Patience,” he somehow managed to say.

“I’ve been patient for weeks!”

“And I’m making it worth the wait.” If I can remember how anything works. Focus. You’ve got this. Except she just—oh god—

He wasn’t lying.

By the time he finally entered her—careful, gentle, watching her face for any discomfort—Alexys was already trembling.

“Okay?” he asked, staying still, which took every ounce of concentration he possessed.

“More than okay. Move. Please move.”

He did, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had both of them gasping.

“I’ve thought about this,” he admitted, his forehead pressed to hers. Words were happening. He was proud of that. “Since that night on the beach. The way you felt, the sounds you made. I wanted to do it again sober. Wanted to remember every detail.”

“Are you remembering now?”

“Every second.” His hand slid between them. Multitasking. Who knew I could multitask. “Let me make you come. Want to feel you.”

“Hansol—oh god—”

“That’s it. Let go for me.”

She did, crying out his name, and he followed moments later with a groan, his entire nervous system lighting up like fireworks.

Afterward, they lay together, catching their breath. Hansol’s brain was slowly coming back online, thoughts returning one by one.

“So,” Hansol said eventually. “Does this mean we’re together? Like, actually together?”

Alexys laughed. “I think having sex while I’m pregnant with your baby implies we’re together, yes.”

“I wanted to make sure. Didn’t want to assume.”

She turned to face him. “I like you, Hansol. This isn’t just about the baby or hormones. I genuinely want to be with you.”

“I like you too. Have for a while now. Was just waiting for the right moment to say it.”

“After weeks of sexual tension?”

“I have excellent timing.”

“You really don’t.”

He kissed her, smiling. “But you love it anyway.”

“I might.”

“Might?”

“Okay, I do. But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

Two weeks later - Twenty-week anatomy scan

They arrived at the clinic hand in hand, officially together for two weeks now and still in the honeymoon phase of constantly touching each other.

At the check-in desk, the receptionist smiled at them. “Name?”

“Alexys Park,” Alexys said. “I have a twenty-week anatomy scan.”

“Perfect. And you are?” She looked at Hansol.

“Oh, I’m the boyfriend. Hansol Chwe.”

The word tumbled out before he could stop it.

Boyfriend.

He’d said boyfriend.

Alexys turned to stare at him, eyes wide.

The receptionist didn’t notice the tension. “Great! Just have a seat and we’ll call you in a few minutes.”

They sat down, and Alexys immediately whispered, “Boyfriend?”

“I—that just came out. I wasn’t thinking. We haven’t talked about labels and I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“Hansol.”

“I’m sorry if that was too much too fast—”

“Hansol.”

“What?”

“I like it. Boyfriend. It sounds good.”

His eyes widened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Though it’s a little weird calling you my boyfriend when I’m pregnant with your baby.”

“What would you prefer? Baby daddy? Father of my child? The guy I’m sleeping with?”

She laughed. “Boyfriend works. Even if we’re doing this whole thing backward.”

“We’re good at backward.” He took her hand. “So… girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend,” she confirmed, smiling.

Then the reality of the appointment hit her. “God, what if something’s wrong? What if the scan shows—”

“It won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“You’re right. But I’m choosing optimism. And whatever happens, we face it together. As boyfriend and girlfriend. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The scan was perfect.

The baby was healthy, growing right on track, all organs developing properly.

“Do you want to know the sex?” the technician asked.

Alexys and Hansol looked at each other.

“We said we wanted to be surprised,” Alexys said.

“But that was before…” Hansol trailed off.

“Before what?”

“Before this felt real. Before we were together.” He squeezed her hand. “I kind of want to know now. So we can plan. Decorate. Use the right pronouns.”

Alexys thought about it. “Okay. Let’s find out.”

The technician smiled. “Congratulations. You’re having a girl.”

A girl.

They were having a daughter.

Alexys burst into tears—hormones and emotion overwhelming her all at once.

“A girl,” she sobbed. “We’re having a girl and what if I’m a terrible mother? What if I don’t know what to do? What if she hates me?”

“Hey, hey.” Hansol pulled her into his arms, not caring that the technician was still in the room. “You’re going to be an amazing mother. And she’s going to love you.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do. Because you’re already an amazing person. Caring, strong, brave. Our daughter is so lucky to have you.”

“What if I mess her up?”

“Then we’ll mess her up together. And love her through it.” He wiped her tears. “We’re a team, remember? You and me. Partners. In parenting and in life.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She cried harder, and the technician quietly left them alone.

“I’m sorry,” Alexys hiccupped. “The hormones make me so emotional. Everything feels so big and overwhelming.”

“That’s okay. Cry as much as you need. I’m here.”

“You’re too perfect. It’s annoying.”

He laughed. “I’m really not. I’m terrified too. But we’ll figure it out.”

“A daughter.”

“A daughter,” he repeated, smiling. “Our little girl.”

Three weeks later - Twenty-three weeks pregnant

“Are you sure about this?” Alexys asked as they drove to Hansol’s parents’ house. “It’s so soon.”

“My mom’s been bugging me for weeks to bring you. And we can’t hide the pregnancy forever.”

“What if they hate me?”

“They won’t hate you.”

“What if they think I’m trapping you with a baby?”

“Alexys, we’re adults who made a choice together. They’ll understand that.” He reached over, squeezing her hand. “And even if they don’t, it doesn’t matter. You and our daughter are my priority now.”

“Still. Meeting the parents is scary.”

“You’ve got this. And I’ve got you.”

Hansol’s mother opened the door before they could knock, her face lighting up.

“Hansol! And you must be Alexys!” She pulled Alexys into a hug before she could respond. “I’m so happy to finally meet you! Come in, come in!”

Inside, Hansol’s father stood up from the couch, smiling warmly. “Welcome.”

They settled in the living room, and Hansol’s mother immediately zeroed in on Alexys’s bump.

“You’re pregnant!” she exclaimed. “Hansol didn’t mention—how far along?”

“Mom—” Hansol started.

“Twenty-three weeks,” Alexys said, her hand automatically going to her stomach. “We’re having a girl.”

His mother’s eyes filled with tears. “A granddaughter. Oh, this is wonderful!”

Hansol’s father looked at them seriously. “You two are together? In a relationship?”

“Yes,” Hansol said firmly, taking Alexys’s hand. “We are.”

“And you’re happy?”

“Very happy.”

His father’s stern expression broke into a smile. “Then congratulations. Both of you.”

“You’re not upset?” Alexys asked tentatively. “That we’re not married? That we barely know each other?”

“Are you planning to get married?” his mother asked.

Hansol and Alexys looked at each other. They hadn’t discussed that.

“Eventually,” Hansol said. “When it’s right. We want to build a solid foundation first.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” his father said. “You’re being responsible. Taking care of each other and the baby. That’s what’s important.”

Alexys felt tears prick her eyes—hormones again. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Of course, dear! Now, let me show you pictures of Hansol as a baby so you can see what your daughter might look like…”

Later, upstairs

His mother had insisted on showing Alexys his childhood bedroom, which was embarrassing but Alexys seemed charmed by the old posters and books.

“This is cute,” she said, looking at a photo of teenage Hansol. “You were adorable.”

“Was?”

“Still are.” She sat on his old bed. “Your parents are amazing. I was so worried they’d judge me.”

“They’re not judgmental people. They just want me to be happy.” He sat beside her. “And you make me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Very much yeah.”

She kissed him, soft and sweet, and Hansol responded, his hand cupping her face.

The kiss deepened, and suddenly Alexys was pulling him closer, her hands working on his belt.

“Alexys,” he managed between kisses, his brain immediately going fuzzy. Wait. Parents. Downstairs. Think. Use your brain. Oh god her hands— “My parents are downstairs—”

“I don’t care. I want you. Now.”

Malfunction. Complete system malfunction. “The hormones again?”

“Hormones and the fact that you look really hot in your parents’ house and I have a weird fantasy about this.”

His brain tripped over itself trying to process that. “About what?”

“Sex in your childhood bedroom. Don’t ask me why. Pregnancy brain.”

He groaned. Don’t think about it. Too late. Already thinking about it. Why is thinking so hard right now? “You’re going to kill me.”

“Please?” She was already working his pants down. “Quick and quiet. They’ll never know.”

Quick and quiet. I can do quick and quiet. Probably. Maybe. Oh god— “This is such a bad idea.”

“The best bad idea.”

He gave in, because apparently his self-control only extended so far, and his brain had completely abandoned ship the moment she touched his belt.

They tried to be quiet—really tried. But Alexys was responsive and vocal and it was incredibly hot, and Hansol forgot to care about discretion, forgot about everything except her and the feeling of her around him and the little sounds she was making and—

Until footsteps sounded in the hallway.

They froze, half-dressed, eyes wide. Hansol’s brain came slamming back online in a panic.

A knock. “Hansol? I brought snacks—”

“Just a minute!” Hansol called, scrambling to pull his pants up, his hands shaking, his brain screaming ABORT ABORT ABORT while trying to remember how zippers worked.

Alexys was trying not to laugh, shoving her underwear under a pillow.

They made themselves presentable in record time, and Hansol opened the door to find his mother holding a plate of cut fruit, her expression carefully neutral.

“Snacks,” she said pleasantly. “In case you two were… hungry.”

“Thank you, Mom,” Hansol said, his face burning, his brain still not fully functional.

“Of course. Take your time.” She set the plate down and left, and Hansol could swear he saw her hiding a smile.

He closed the door and turned to find Alexys dying of silent laughter.

“Your mom definitely knows,” she wheezed.

“Oh my god.”

“She brought fruit! Cut fruit! That’s such a mom move!”

“I’m never going to live this down.”

“At least she likes me?”

“She gave you fruit after catching us having sex. I think she more than likes you.”

Chapter 12: Car Trouble

On the drive home

They’d made it exactly twenty minutes before Alexys’s hand started wandering.

“We are not doing this again,” Hansol said, trying to focus on the road. Eyes forward. Watch the road. Ignore her hand. Impossible.

“Why not? The car is private.”

“It’s moving. I’m driving.”

“Pull over.”

Don’t pull over. Be responsible. You can do this. Except— “Alexys—”

“Please? I can’t help it. The hormones are insane today and you look really good and I keep thinking about earlier—”

His brain completely stuttered. The car swerved slightly. Focus. Road. Driving. You’re operating a vehicle. This is important. But also she’s—no. Road. ROAD. “Oh god.” He pulled into a rest stop, parking in a dark corner. “Five minutes.”

“That’s all I need.”

She climbed into his lap, and he adjusted the seat back to accommodate her bump, his hands moving on autopilot while his brain tried to remember what day it was.

“This is insane,” he muttered even as his hands found her hips.

“Blame biology.”

They kissed desperately, hands everywhere, and Hansol was just starting to forget why this was a bad idea when Alexys gasped.

Not in a good way.

“Ow—”

His brain snapped back to attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Cramp. Stomach cramp.” She shifted off his lap, her hand on her belly.

Panic flooded through him, every thought crystallizing into sharp focus. “Is it the baby? Are you okay? Should we go to the hospital?”

“I don’t know—it just—ow—”

“Okay, okay. Deep breaths. We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

He drove faster than strictly legal, one hand on the wheel, the other holding Alexys’s as she breathed through the cramping, his brain now hyper-focused and terrified.

“It’s probably nothing,” she said, though she sounded scared. “Just round ligament pain or something.”

“We’re checking anyway. I’m not taking chances.”

Emergency Room - 11 PM

The doctor examined Alexys thoroughly, did an ultrasound, monitored the baby’s heartbeat.

“Everything looks fine,” she said finally. “Baby’s heartbeat is strong, no signs of preterm labor. You likely just pulled a muscle or experienced round ligament pain. Very common in second trimester, especially with… physical activity.”

She looked pointedly at their disheveled appearance.

Hansol wanted to die of embarrassment.

“So the baby’s okay?” Alexys asked.

“Perfectly fine. But I’d recommend taking it easy for the next few days. Gentle activity only.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

In the car - heading home for real this time

“No more car sex,” Hansol said.

“Agreed.”

“Or childhood bedroom sex.”

“That one’s debatable.”

“Alexys.”

“Fine, fine. Home sex only. Boring, responsible, pregnancy-safe home sex.”

“I can work with that.” He squeezed her hand. “You scared me tonight.”

“I scared myself. When the cramp hit, all I could think was—what if something’s wrong? What if I hurt the baby?”

“But you didn’t. She’s fine. You’re both fine.”

“This time. But Hansol, I’m so reckless. What kind of mother risks her baby for sex in a car?”

“Hey.” He pulled into her apartment complex and turned to face her. “You’re going to be an amazing mother. One scare doesn’t define you. And I’m the one who agreed to the car thing, remember? We’re learning together.”

“Together?”

“Always together.”

She leaned across the console to kiss him. “I love you.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Hansol’s eyes widened. His brain completely blanked again.

“I mean—I didn’t mean to just blurt that out—the hormones make me say things—”

“I love you too.” Did I just say that? I just said that. Oh god I said that out loud.

She stopped mid-ramble. “What?”

“I love you, Alexys Park. Have for a while now. Was just waiting for the right moment.”

“After a pregnancy scare in the ER?”

“Apparently that’s my right moment.”

She laughed through sudden tears. “We’re so backward.”

“The best kind of backward.” He kissed her again. “I love you. You, our daughter, all of it. This crazy, unexpected, perfect life we’re building.”

Ela and Mingyu’s apartment - Seoul

Alexys sat across from Ela at their kitchen table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea she hadn’t touched, the positive pregnancy test between them.

“Six weeks,” Ela said quietly. “From the wedding.”

“From the wedding,” Alexys confirmed, her voice shaking. “I don’t know what to do, Ela. I don’t even have his number. I don’t know anything about him except his name and that he went to college with Mingyu.”

“Okay. First, breathe.” Ela reached across the table, taking Alexys’s hand. “Second, we’ll figure this out. Together.”

“How? I had a drunken one-night stand with a stranger at your wedding and now I’m pregnant. There’s no figuring this out—I’m screwed.”

“You’re not screwed. You’re scared. There’s a difference.” Ela pulled out her phone. “Hansol is Mingyu’s friend. I can get his number.”

“And say what? ‘Hi, remember me? We had sex on the beach and now I’m carrying your baby’?”

“Maybe not quite that blunt, but… essentially yes. He deserves to know.”

Alexys’s eyes filled with tears. “What if he doesn’t want anything to do with this? With me?”

“Then we deal with that. But Alexys, I know Hansol. Not well, but enough to know he’s a good person. He’ll step up.”

“You can’t know that.”

“You’re right. I can’t. But hiding this won’t help. And you can’t go through a pregnancy alone.”

Alexys wiped her eyes. “I’m terrified.”

“I know. But you’re also strong. And you’re not alone. I’m here. Mingyu’s here. We’ll support you no matter what.”

“Even if Hansol wants nothing to do with this?”

“Especially then.” Ela squeezed her hand. “But let’s find out first, okay? Let me call Mingyu, get Hansol’s number.”

Alexys nodded shakily. “Okay. But Ela? Can you… can you not tell Mingyu why yet? I want to tell Hansol first.”

“Of course. I’ll just say you need to get in touch with him. Old friend stuff.”

“Thank you.”

Ela stepped into the other room to make the call.

Ela: Hey, husband, random question. Can I have Hansol’s number?

Mingyu: Hansol? Yeah. Why?

Ela: Alexys wanted to get in touch with him. They met at the wedding.

Mingyu: Oh. OH. Did something happen between them?

Ela: I can’t say. Just… can you send me his number?

Mingyu: This is suspicious, my wife

Mingyu: But fine. Sending now.

Mingyu: Tell Alexys good luck with whatever this is and I love you so much. Ela: I love you too!

Ela returned to the kitchen with the number written on a piece of paper.

“Here. Do you want me to stay while you call?”

Alexys stared at the number. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can. And you will. Because you’re brave and this baby deserves to have both parents know about them.”

“What if he hangs up?”

“Then fuck that man, I will beat him into a pulp and I'm pretty sure my husband will mentally torture him,” Ela stood. “I’ll give you privacy. But I’m right in the next room if you need me.”

After Ela left, Alexys sat staring at the number for ten more minutes.

Then, hands shaking, she dialed.

Hansol was in a meeting when his phone buzzed with an unknown number.

He normally didn’t answer unknown calls, but something made him excuse himself and step into the hallway.

“Hello?”

“Hansol? Hansol Chwe?”

The voice was vaguely familiar. Female. Nervous.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“It’s Alexys. Alexys Park. We met at Mingyu and Ela’s wedding.”

Hansol’s heart stopped.

He’d thought about that night more times than he wanted to admit. The beautiful woman in the burgundy dress. Her. The beach. The way she’d felt in his arms.

He’d woken up the next morning with a hangover and her gone, and he’d told himself it was for the best. One night. No complications.

Except now she was calling him.

“Alexys,” he said, his voice coming out rougher than intended. “Hi. I… how did you get my number?”

“Mingyu. I'm friends with his wife, I work with her, remember?”

“Right. Of course.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Is everything okay?”

A long pause.

“Can we meet?” she asked. “In person? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Is this about the wedding? Because I want you to know, I don’t normally—I mean, that night was—”

“Please. Can we just meet? There’s something I need to tell you and I can’t do it over the phone.”

The seriousness in her voice made his stomach drop. “Okay. When?”

“Today? I know it’s short notice but this is important.”

“Today’s fine. Where?”

“There’s a coffee shop near Gangnam station. Cafe Momento. Do you know it?”

“I’ll find it. What time?”

“Six? After work?”

“Six works. I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Thank you, Hansol.”

“Alexys? Are you okay? You sound—”

“I’ll explain everything when I see you. Six o’clock.”

She hung up.

Hansol stood in the hallway, his mind racing.

What could she possibly need to tell him that required meeting in person?

A sinking feeling settled in his stomach.

Cafe Momento - 5:55 PM

Alexys arrived early, ordering tea she couldn’t drink, sitting at a corner table where they’d have privacy.

She’d rehearsed this conversation a hundred times. A thousand times. Ela offered to come but she declined, she needs to do this alone.

None of the rehearsals made her less terrified.

At exactly six o’clock, Hansol walked in.

He looked the same as he had at the wedding—tall, handsome, well-dressed in business casual. But his expression was guarded, uncertain.

Their eyes met across the cafe, and Alexys saw the moment recognition hit. His eyes widened slightly, color rising in his cheeks.

He remembered.

Of course he remembered.

He crossed to her table. “Alexys.”

“Hansol. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” He sat down across from her, and for a moment they just looked at each other.

“You look good,” he said finally.

“So do you.”

Awkward silence.

“So,” Hansol said. “What did you need to tell me?”

Alexys took a shaky breath. There was no good way to say this. No easy way.

“I’m pregnant.”

Hansol froze. His face went completely blank.

“You’re… what?”

“Pregnant. Six weeks. From the wedding.” She pulled out the test, still in her purse, and set it on the table between them. “It’s yours.”

He stared at the test like it might bite him. “That’s not possible. We used—” He stopped, his face going pale. “We didn’t use protection.”

“No. We didn’t. We were drunk and careless and now—” Her voice broke. “Now I’m pregnant.”

Hansol sat back, running both hands through his hair. “I don’t—this is—are you sure?”

“I’ve taken four tests. All positive. I have a doctor’s appointment next week to confirm, but yes. I’m sure.”

“And it’s definitely mine?”

Alexys’s eyes flashed with anger. “You’re the only person I’ve slept with in over a year, so yes. It’s definitely yours.”

“I didn’t mean—I’m sorry. I’m just trying to process this.”

“You think you’re trying to process it? I found out three days ago and I’ve barely slept since.”

They sat in tense silence.

“What are you going to do?” Hansol asked finally.

“I don’t know. I’m twenty-eight, I have a stable job, I can support a child financially. But I never planned to be a single mother.”

“Single mother? Who said anything about single?”

Alexys looked at him, surprised. “You want to be involved?”

“I—” He stopped, clearly struggling. “I don’t know. This is a lot. But I’m not going to abandon my child. If you’re keeping it—are you keeping it?”

“I think so. Yes. I am.”

“Then we need to figure this out. Together.”

“Together? Hansol, we don’t even know each other. We had one drunken night at a wedding.”

“A night that created a baby. Our baby.” He leaned forward. “Look, I’m not saying I have all the answers. I’m terrified. Completely terrified. But running away isn’t an option.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

“I don’t know. Co-parenting? We get to know each other. Figure out how to raise a child together even if we’re not… together.”

Alexys felt tears prick her eyes. “You’re serious. You actually want to be involved.”

“Of course I’m serious. This is my responsibility too.”

“Most guys would run.”

“I’m not most guys.” He reached across the table, hesitating, then took her hand. “I know this isn’t ideal. I know we barely know each other. But we have seven and a half months to change that. To figure out how to be parents. Together.”

Alexys looked down at their joined hands, and for the first time in three days, felt a tiny spark of hope.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Together.”

“Together.” -

Over the next two weeks, Hansol and Alexys met regularly—coffee shops, restaurants, walks in the park. Getting to know each other under the strangest circumstances imaginable.

“Favorite color?” Hansol asked one afternoon over lunch.

“This feels like a job interview.”

“We’re having a baby together. I should probably know basic things about you.”

“Fair point. Blue. Yours?”

“Green. Favorite food?”

“Korean BBQ. But lately everything makes me nauseous.”

“Morning sickness?”

“All day sickness.” She picked at her rice. “The doctor said it should get better in the second trimester.”

“When’s your next appointment?”

“Friday. They’re doing an ultrasound.” She hesitated. “Do you want to come?”

Hansol’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“It’s your baby too. You should be there if you want.”

“I want. Definitely want.”

Alexys smiled—the first real smile he’d seen from her since the cafe. “Okay. I’ll text you the details.”

The Ultrasound - Friday

Hansol met Alexys at the clinic, his palms sweating.

“Nervous?” she asked.

“Terrified. You?”

“Same.”

In the examination room, the technician had Alexys lie back and squirted gel on her still-flat stomach.

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” the technician said cheerfully, pressing the wand against Alexys’s skin.

The screen flickered, and then—

A tiny blob appeared. With a flickering heartbeat.

“There’s your baby,” the technician said. “About eight weeks along. Heartbeat looks strong.”

Hansol stared at the screen, his throat tight.

That was his baby. His child.

Real. Actually real.

He looked at Alexys and found her crying silently, her eyes locked on the screen.

Without thinking, he took her hand.

She squeezed back.

“Would you like pictures?” the technician asked.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

Outside the clinic, Hansol walked Alexys to her car, both of them clutching ultrasound photos.

“That was…” Alexys started.

“Intense,” Hansol finished. “Seeing it. The heartbeat. It makes it real.”

“More real than the positive tests?”

“Much more real.” He looked at the photo again. “We’re having a baby.”

“We’re having a baby,” she echoed.

They stood in awkward silence.

“Do you want to get dinner?” Hansol asked impulsively. “Like, actual dinner. Not an interview-style getting-to-know-you session. Just… dinner. As two people who are in this together.”

Alexys considered. “Okay. But nowhere with strong smells. My stomach is still iffy.”

“Italian? There’s a place nearby that’s pretty mild.”

“Italian works.”

Dinner was easier than either of them expected.

Maybe it was seeing the ultrasound. Maybe it was finally accepting this was happening. But the conversation flowed naturally—no more awkward interview questions, just talking.

“I’m a graphic designer,” Hansol explained. “Freelance mostly. I work from home a lot.”

“That’s actually perfect for parenting,” Alexys said. “Flexible schedule.”

“I didn’t even think about that.” He paused. “What about you? Ela mentioned you work together?”

“Marketing coordinator. I like it, but the hours can be long. I’ve been trying to figure out how maternity leave will work.”

“Have you told them yet?”

“Not yet. I’m waiting until the second trimester. Just in case—” She stopped.

“In case something goes wrong,” Hansol finished gently.

“Yeah.”

He reached across the table, covering her hand with his. “It won’t. The heartbeat was strong. Everything looked good.”

“You can’t know that.”

“You’re right. But I’m choosing optimism. We’re in this together, remember?”

Alexys looked at their hands, then up at him. “Why are you being so nice about this? Most guys would have run screaming.”

“Maybe I’m not most guys.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.” He squeezed her hand. “Look, I’m terrified. I have no idea how to be a father. But that baby—our baby—deserves parents who try. Who show up. I want to be that person.”

“What if we screw this up?”

“Then we screw up together. And we figure it out.” He paused. “My parents split when I was young. My dad wasn’t around much. I don’t want that for our kid.”

“So you’ll stick around? Even though we barely know each other?”

“We have seven months to change that. And a lifetime after.”

Alexys felt something shift in her chest—something warm and unfamiliar.

Ela and Mingyu's wedding The night continued with dinner, toasts, and dancing. Jia’s maid of honor speech had everyone crying with laughter. Wonwoo’s best man toast was surprisingly heartfelt.

“To the most stubborn couple I know,” he said, raising his glass. “Who fought their way to happiness and made it look easy. May your marriage be filled with love, laughter, and only occasional arguments about design aesthetics.”

“Cheers!”

As the night wore on, the party got looser. The bar was flowing freely, the music got louder, and inhibitions lowered.

At the bar, Hansol ordered another whiskey. He’d already had three, but the wedding was beautiful and emotional and he was feeling things.

“Make it a double,” he told the bartender.

“Rough night?” a woman’s voice asked beside him.

He turned to find a stunning woman in a burgundy dress—not one of the bridesmaids, probably a friend of Ela’s from work. She had long dark hair, sharp intelligent eyes, and a smile that made his pulse quicken.

“Not rough. Just… emotional. Weddings do that.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve cried three times already.” She extended her hand. “Alexys. I work with Ela and Mingyu.”

“Hansol. I’m one of Mingyu’s groomsmen.” Her hand was soft, warm, and she held his a beat longer than necessary.

“Nice to meet you.” She ordered a drink of her own—tequila, neat. “So how do you know the groom?”

“College. We were roommates sophomore year. You?”

“Ela and I started at the company around the same time. She’s been a great friend.”

They fell into easy conversation, and by the time they’d each had two more drinks, they were laughing like old friends. Hansol found himself leaning closer, noticing the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, how her eyes crinkled when she laughed, the subtle scent of her perfume.

“Want to dance?” Hansol asked when a slow song started.

“Sure.”

On the dance floor, Alexys felt warm and loose from the alcohol. Hansol was attractive—really attractive—with an easy smile and kind eyes. And the way he moved, the way his hand settled on her lower back, made her skin tingle.

“You’re a good dancer,” she said, her voice slightly breathless.

“You sound surprised.”

“Most guys can’t dance.”

“I’m not most guys.”

“Clearly.”

His hand tightened on her waist, pulling her incrementally closer. They swayed together, and Alexys became hyperaware of everywhere they touched—his chest against hers, his thigh occasionally brushing between her legs as they moved, the warmth of his palm through the thin fabric of her dress.

The song ended, but neither of them moved apart.

“Want to get some air?” Hansol asked, his voice lower, rougher.

Alexys nodded, her heart racing.

They walked to the beach, away from the party, the music fading into background noise. The moon was full, casting silver light across the sand and water.

“This is beautiful,” Alexys said, looking at the ocean, the stars, the moon reflecting on the water.

“It really is.” But Hansol was looking at her.

She turned, caught his gaze, and something electric passed between them. The air felt charged, heavy with possibility.

“We barely know each other,” she said, though she didn’t step away.

“I know.”

“This is crazy.”

“Completely crazy.”

“We should go back to the party.”

“We should.”

Neither of them moved.

Then Hansol stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. “Tell me to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

He kissed her, and it was fire—hot and desperate and fueled by alcohol and wedding romance and something neither of them wanted to name. His other hand found her waist, pulling her flush against him, and Alexys made a sound that went straight through him.

She kissed him back with equal hunger, her hands sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. He tasted like whiskey and something uniquely him, and she wanted more.

“My villa,” Hansol managed between kisses. “It’s close. Private.”

“Yes.”

They stumbled down the beach, hands everywhere, stopping every few steps to kiss again. By the time they reached his villa—a beautiful bungalow set apart from the others—they were both breathing hard.

Hansol fumbled with the key, finally getting the door open. They fell inside, and he kicked it shut behind them, immediately pressing Alexys against it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, kissing down her neck. “I haven’t been able to stop looking at you all night.”

“Then don’t stop.”

His hands found the zipper of her dress, pulling it down slowly. “Tell me if you want me to slow down.”

“Don’t you dare slow down.”

He smiled against her skin and helped her step out of the dress, revealing black lace underneath that made him groan.

“You’re killing me,” he said, his hands sliding up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts through the lace.

“Good. Your turn.”

She worked on his shirt buttons with shaking hands, finally pushing it off his shoulders. Her hands explored his chest, his abs, and he shivered under her touch.

“Bedroom,” he said, picking her up.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, and the friction made them both gasp. He carried her through the villa to the bedroom, laying her on the bed with surprising gentleness given the desperation between them.

“You’re sure?” he asked, hovering over her, even though his body was screaming for her. “We don’t have to—”

“I want to. God, I want to.” She pulled him down for another kiss, deep and consuming.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, his body settling between her thighs. She could feel him hard against her, and she rocked her hips instinctively.

“Alexys—” His voice was strained. “If you keep doing that—”

“What?” She did it again, enjoying the way his eyes darkened. “This?”

“You’re dangerous.”

“Prove it.”

Something snapped in him. He kissed his way down her body, removing her bra with practiced ease, taking his time with her breasts until she was arching off the bed, gasping his name.

“So responsive,” he murmured, his mouth closing over her nipple while his hand palmed the other breast. “I want to learn every sound you make.”

“Hansol, please—”

He kissed lower, over her stomach, her hip bones, hooking his fingers in her underwear. “Please what?”

“Touch me. Taste me. I need—”

He pulled her underwear down and off, spreading her thighs. The sight of her, flushed and wanting, made him groan. “You’re so wet already.”

“For you. All for you.”

He didn’t make her wait. His tongue found her, and Alexys cried out, her hands fisting in his hair. He explored her thoroughly, learning what made her gasp, what made her hips buck, what made her beg.

“Don’t stop,” she panted, her thighs trembling. “Right there—oh god—”

He added his fingers, curling them just right, his tongue working her clit with focused intensity until she came apart with a cry, her back arching off the bed.

When he kissed his way back up her body, she was still trembling, eyes glazed with pleasure.

“That was—” she started.

“Not done yet.” He kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips. “I want to feel you. All of you. Nothing between us.”

Through the haze of alcohol and desire, neither of them thought about consequences. About protection. About anything beyond this moment, this need.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I want that too. Want to feel you.”

He stood, stripping off the rest of his clothes, and Alexys watched, her mouth going dry at the sight of him—all lean muscle and obvious arousal.

“Come here,” she said, reaching for him.

He climbed back over her, settling between her thighs, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice rough.

“So ready.”

He entered her slowly, carefully, watching her face. When he was fully seated inside her—bare, nothing between them—they both groaned at the intensity of it.

“You feel incredible,” he breathed, struggling to maintain control. “So perfect. So tight.”

“Move. Please move.”

He did, starting with slow, deep strokes that had them both gasping. Alexys wrapped her legs around him, changing the angle, and they found a rhythm together—primal and desperate and absolutely right.

“Harder,” she demanded, her nails digging into his back.

“Yeah?”

“God, yes. Don’t hold back.”

He didn’t. He gave her everything—deep, powerful thrusts that had the headboard hitting the wall, had her crying out with each one, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.

“Touch yourself,” he commanded, his voice rough. “I want to feel you come around me.”

Her hand slid between them, fingers finding her clit, and within moments she was tightening around him, her inner walls clenching rhythmically as she came with a cry of his name.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his rhythm faltering as her orgasm triggered his. “So good—you’re so—Alexys—”

He came hard, spilling inside her, her name on his lips as pleasure overwhelmed him.

They collapsed together, sweaty and breathing hard, still connected.

After a moment, Hansol shifted to the side, pulling her against his chest, both of them too sated to think about what they’d just done without protection.

“That was—” he started.

“Incredible,” she finished, her voice sleepy.

“Yeah.”

They lay in comfortable silence, the sound of the ocean drifting through the open windows, bodies cooling in the tropical breeze.

“We should probably talk about this,” Alexys murmured, already half-asleep.

“Probably.”

“Figure out what it means.”

“In the morning,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She smiled against his chest. “In the morning.”

But morning didn’t bring clarity.

Morning brought tangled limbs and lazy kisses that turned heated. Hansol’s hands mapping her body in the daylight, finding new places that made her gasp. Alexys exploring him with equal enthusiasm, learning what made him moan, what made his control snap.

They made love again—slower this time in the shower, then once more in bed, taking their time to savor every touch, every kiss, every breathless moment. Each time skin to skin, too lost in each other to think about consequences.

“I should probably go,” Alexys said in the early afternoon, though she made no move to leave the bed. “People will notice I didn’t come back to my villa.”

“Stay.” His arms tightened around her. “Just a little longer.”

“Hansol—”

“Please? I’m not ready for this to end yet.”

She looked at him, this man she barely knew but had just spent the night—and morning—with, and felt something shift in her chest.

“Okay. A little longer.”

They spent more time in bed, talking and touching and learning each other. By the time Alexys finally left—wearing Hansol’s shirt because her dress was wrinkled beyond recognition—it was late afternoon and the wedding party was already gathering for a sunset dinner.

Alexys walked back to her villa, her body pleasantly sore, her mind replaying every moment of the past eighteen hours.

It was just one night, she told herself. Well, one night and one morning. A beautiful, amazing, unforgettable encounter.

They’d probably never see each other again.

She had no idea how wrong she was.

Six Weeks Later

When Alexys stared at the positive pregnancy test, her hands shaking, her first thought was: Oh god, what have we done?

They hadn’t used protection. Not once. Too drunk, too desperate, too caught up in the moment to think about consequences.

And now she was pregnant.

With a stranger’s baby.

With Hansol Chwe’s baby.

She needed to tell Ela.

And she needed to find Hansol.

Because they’d created more than just memories that night on the island.

By month three, the tension had become unbearable.

Every morning: coffee on Mingyu’s desk. Every morning: that scent that drove him insane.

“You don’t have to keep bringing me coffee,” he said one day, though his tone suggested otherwise.

“I know. I want to.” Ela smiled. “Besides, I think you’re secretly addicted to vanilla lattes now.”

I’m addicted to you, he thought. The coffee is just an excuse to have you close.

“They’re growing on me.”

“See? I’m corrupting you. Soon you’ll be smiling at people and everything.”

“Don’t push your luck, Park.”

But there was warmth in his voice. And when their fingers brushed as she set down the cup, he didn’t pull away immediately.

Neither did she.

They stood there, fingers touching, that vanilla and lavender scent wrapping around him like a physical thing.

“Mingyu—” she started.

“I should get back to work.”

He pulled away first, but not before she saw something flash in his eyes.

Want. Raw and barely controlled.

Ela walked back to her desk, her hand tingling where they’d touched.

The Gym Incident

It happened on a Wednesday.

Ela had joined the company gym to save money on her membership. She usually went early morning, before work.

Apparently, so did Mingyu.

She walked into the weight room and froze.

Mingyu was at the bench press. No shirt. Just gym shorts and sweat and muscles she’d only imagined under his work clothes.

Oh god.

He was beautiful. All lean muscle and sharp lines and—

He sat up, grabbing his water bottle, and saw her.

They stared at each other.

Ela in her workout gear—leggings and a sports bra that suddenly felt very revealing.

Mingyu shirtless and sweaty and looking at her like a starving man looks at food.

“I didn’t know you worked out here,” Ela said, her voice higher than normal.

“Early mornings. Before work.” His eyes traveled down her body, then snapped back up. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I usually use the cardio room.”

“Right.”

Awkward silence.

“I should—” Ela gestured vaguely toward the treadmills.

“Yeah. I’ll just—” Mingyu gestured at the weights.

Ela fled to the cardio room, her heart racing.

He’s built like a Greek statue. How is that fair?

She tried to focus on her workout. Failed miserably. All she could think about was Mingyu’s body. The way his muscles had flexed. The sweat on his skin. The size of his hands gripping the bar.

The rumors about what else might be proportional to those hands.

Stop. Inappropriate. This is your colleague.

But when she snuck a glance through the window, he was looking back.

Their eyes met.

Neither looked away.

The air felt charged even through glass and distance.

Finally, Ela broke contact and focused on her treadmill.

Tried not to think about Mingyu’s body.

Failed completely.

Mingyu had to take a cold shower immediately after seeing Ela in the gym.

Because she’d been wearing tight leggings that showed every curve. A sports bra that revealed toned abs and perfect breasts. Her hair in a ponytail that made him want to wrap it around his fist.

And she’d smelled like vanilla and lavender even sweaty from working out.

Which meant that scent was her. Not just perfume. Actually her.

He’d gotten so hard so fast he’d had to sit back down and pretend to rest between sets.

Had watched her through the window running on the treadmill, everything bouncing in ways that made his brain short-circuit.

Had imagined walking in there, pushing her against the wall, finding out if she’d smell even better after an orgasm.

The cold shower helped. Barely.

He still ended up jerking off afterward, his hand wrapped around his thick length, imagining it was her hand. Her mouth. Her pussy.

Imagining those tight leggings around her ankles, that sports bra on the floor, her bent over the weight bench begging for him.

Imagining the sounds she’d make when he pushed inside her. Whether she’d take all of him easily or need time to adjust to his size.

He came hard, leaning against the shower wall, her name on his lips.

This obsession was getting out of control.

“Did you see them at the gym?” Sarah whispered to another coworker.

“Who?”

“Mingyu and Ela. Apparently they both work out there early morning.”

“Together?”

“I don’t know if together, but at the same time. Can you imagine? All that tension in workout clothes?”

“The sexual tension between those two is insane. How have they not fucked yet?”

“Maybe they have. In secret.”

“No way. If they’d fucked, we’d know. The energy would be different.”

“True. This is definitely pre-fuck energy. All that wanting and not having.”

Alexys, overhearing this, texted Ela immediately.

Alexys: People are talking about you and Mingyu at the gym

Ela: oh god what are they saying

Alexys: That the sexual tension is insane and they’re surprised you haven’t fucked yet

Ela: WHAT

Alexys: I mean… they’re not wrong

Ela: We’re just colleagues!

Alexys: Colleagues who eye-fuck each other constantly

Alexys: Colleagues who basically share morning coffee rituals

Alexys: Colleagues who work late together alone multiple times a week

Ela: That’s all professional

Alexys: Babe. Nothing about the way he looks at you is professional.

Ela: How does he look at me?

Alexys: Like he wants to bend you over his desk and ruin you

Alexys: In the best way

Ela stared at her phone, flushed and flustered.

Does he really look at me like that?

She thought about the gym. The way his eyes had traveled down her body. The heat in his gaze.

Maybe Alexys was right.

Maybe this wasn’t just one-sided.

Month Four - The Breaking Point Approaches

Month four brought more torture.

They’d been assigned to a major project together. The Morrison campaign. Which meant hours of close collaboration.

Which meant Mingyu spent hours breathing in her scent and trying not to lose his mind.

“What do you think of this color scheme?” Ela asked one day, leaning over his shoulder to look at his screen.

Her breast brushed his arm. That scent surrounded him. He could feel her warmth.

His pants got uncomfortably tight.

“It’s good,” he managed.

“Just good? You always have stronger opinions than that.”

My strong opinion is that I want to spin this chair around, pull you into my lap, and find out if you taste as good as you smell.

“It works for the demographic.”

“Mingyu, are you okay? You seem… tense.”

Tense is one word for it.

“I’m fine. Just concentrating.”

She studied him for a moment, close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes.

“Okay. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Coffee break in an hour?”

“Sure.”

She walked away, and Mingyu immediately excused himself to the bathroom.

Splashed cold water on his face. Adjusted himself. Tried to think about anything except Ela.

Failed.

His phone buzzed.

Wonwoo: How’s the project going?

Mingyu: Torture. Pure torture.

Wonwoo: Still the smell thing?

Mingyu: She leaned over my shoulder today and I got so hard I had to leave the room.

Wonwoo: This is getting ridiculous. Just ask her out.

Mingyu: I can’t.

Wonwoo: Why not?

Mingyu: Because what if she says no? What if I’m reading this all wrong and she’s just being nice?

Wonwoo: Nobody is that nice to someone they’re not interested in.

Mingyu: She brings coffee to other people too.

Wonwoo: Does she bring VANILLA LATTES to other people? Your specific order?

Mingyu: …no

Wonwoo: Does she work late with other people multiple times a week?

Mingyu: That’s just the project—

Wonwoo: Does she lean over other people’s shoulders in ways that definitely invade personal space?

Mingyu thought about it.

No. She didn’t.

With others, Ela was friendly but maintained distance.

With him, she was… closer. Warmer. More tactile.

Is she doing it on purpose?

Mingyu: What if she is interested but doesn’t realize I’m interested? What if she thinks I’m not attracted to her?

Wonwoo: Then SHOW HER YOU’RE ATTRACTED.

Wonwoo: Ask her to coffee. Not work coffee. Actual date coffee.

Mingyu: That’s terrifying.

Wonwoo: More terrifying than months more of this torture?

Mingyu: …point taken.

Ela’s Perspective - Month Four

Ela was starting to think Alexys was right.

The way Mingyu looked at her had changed.

Before, it was analytical. Assessing. The way a designer looks at a project.

Now, it was hungry. Dark. The way a man looks at a woman he wants.

And she definitely wanted him back.

The gym incident had made that clear. Seeing his body—all that lean muscle and golden skin—had awakened something in her.

Now she noticed everything about him.

The way his shirts stretched across his shoulders. The way his pants fit (very well, she’d noticed with a flush). The size of his hands. The veins in his forearms when he was drawing.

Whether those hands would be gentle or rough. Whether that controlled demeanor would crack in bed. Whether he’d be as intense in pleasure as he was in work.

Whether he was as big as the rumors suggested.

“You’re staring,” Jia said over video call.

“What?”

“You just spent five minutes staring into space with this glazed expression. Thinking about Mingyu?”

“Maybe.”

“Dirty thoughts?”

“Jia!”

“It’s a valid question! You’ve been obsessing over this man for four months. At some point it gets sexual.”

“Fine. Yes. I’ve been having… thoughts.”

“What kind of thoughts?”

Ela flushed. “The kind where I wonder what he’s like in bed. Whether he’d be gentle or rough. Whether he’s… proportional.”

“Proportional to what? Oh. OH.” Jia laughed. “You’re wondering about his dick size.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me. And honestly, fair question. He’s what, six-two? Big hands? Confidence?”

“There are rumors. Office gossip. Women who’ve seen him at the gym.”

“And?”

“Apparently he’s… well-endowed.”

“How well?”

“I don’t know! It’s just rumors! But allegedly… significant.”

“And you want to find out if it’s true.”

“I want to find out if any of this is real. If he’s actually interested or if I’m projecting.”

“Babe. He’s interested. Trust me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because men who aren’t interested don’t look at women the way Mingyu looks at you. They don’t remember coffee orders. They don’t stay late to work on projects they could easily delegate.”

“But he hasn’t made a move.”

“Maybe he’s scared. Maybe he thinks you’re not interested.”

“How could he think that? I bring him coffee every day!”

“And maybe he thinks you’re just being nice. Men are dumb sometimes. Even hot, brilliant ones.”

Ela sighed. “So what do I do?”

“Make it clear you’re interested. Be more obvious.”

“How?”

“Touch him more. Compliment him. Ask him to do something outside of work.”

“Like a date?”

“Exactly like a date.”

“What if he says no?”

“What if he says yes?”

Month five brought the rain incident.

Ela had forgotten her umbrella. Was standing under the building overhang at the end of the day, watching the downpour.

“Waiting for it to stop?”

She turned. Mingyu stood beside her, umbrella in hand.

“Forgot mine like an idiot.”

“Come on.” He opened the umbrella. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

They walked together under the small umbrella, pressed close by necessity.

Every step, their shoulders brushed. Their arms touched. His cologne mixed with her perfume—something dark and woody meeting vanilla and lavender.

“Thanks for this,” Ela said.

“It’s just rain.”

“Still. It’s nice of you.”

“I can be nice.”

“I know. You’re nicer than you pretend to be.”

He glanced at her. “You think so?”

“I know so. I see you, Mingyu. The way you stay late to fix other people’s work. The way you help the interns even though you pretend you’re annoyed. You’re not as cold as you act.”

“Maybe I’m only warm with you.”

The words hung in the air between them.

Ela’s breath caught. “What?”

They’d reached her car. Stood under the umbrella, rain falling around them.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“Mingyu—”

He was close. So close she could see water droplets on his eyelashes. Could smell his cologne stronger than usual. Could feel heat radiating from his body.

“Your perfume,” he said suddenly. “What is it?”

“What?”

“Your perfume. And the lotion. The lavender oil. What brand?”

“I… why?”

“Because it’s driving me insane. Because I smell it when you’re not there. Because I can’t stop thinking about—” He stopped himself.

“Thinking about what?”

His eyes were so dark. So intense.

“About whether you smell that good everywhere.”

Ela’s heart pounded. “Mingyu—”

“I should go. The rain—”

“I don’t care about the rain.”

They stood frozen, staring at each other.

Kiss me, Ela thought. Please just kiss me.

Mingyu’s hand came up, like he was going to cup her face.

Then his phone rang. Emergency work notification.

The spell broke.

“I have to—”

“Go. It’s fine.”

He walked away, leaving her standing in the rain, flushed and frustrated and wanting.

Ela sat in her car, still parked, replaying the conversation.

About whether you smell that good everywhere.

That was definitely flirting. That was definitely sexual.

He’d basically admitted to thinking about her. About her body. About her scent.

Ela: He basically admitted he’s attracted to me

Jia: FINALLY. What did he say?

Ela: Asked what perfume I wear. Said it drives him insane. Asked if I smell that good everywhere.

Jia: OKAY THAT’S HOT

Ela: Right?? But then his phone rang and he left

Jia: Of course he did. Men have the worst timing.

Ela: What do I do?

Jia: Next time he’s close, make it clear you want him. Touch him. Compliment him. Make the first move if you have to.

Ela: What if he rejects me?

Jia: Babe. That man is not going to reject you. He’s going to bend you over the nearest surface.

Ela flushed at the mental image.

Would he?

She thought about his size. His intensity. The hunger in his eyes.

Yes. He would.

The thought made heat pool low in her belly.

Mingyu sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel, half-hard and furious with himself.

He’d almost kissed her.

Almost closed that distance and finally—FINALLY—found out if she tasted as good as she smelled.

But his fucking phone had ruined everything.

And now Ela probably thought he was playing games. Leading her on. Being cruel.

Mingyu: I almost kissed her.

Wonwoo: WHAT

Mingyu: In the rain. After walking her to her car. We were talking about her perfume and I basically admitted I think about her constantly and then I almost kissed her.

Wonwoo: Why ALMOST?

Mingyu: My phone rang. Work emergency.

Wonwoo: You have the worst luck.

Mingyu: Tell me about it.

Wonwoo: What are you going to do?

Mingyu: I don’t know. Apologize? Pretend it didn’t happen? Actually ask her out properly?

Wonwoo: Option three. Definitely option three.

Mingyu: What if she doesn’t want that? What if I misread—

Wonwoo: Mingyu. She stood in the rain with you talking about whether she smells good everywhere. She wants you.

Mingyu: You think so?

Wonwoo: I KNOW so. Now stop being a coward and ask her out.

Mingyu: Tomorrow. I’ll ask her tomorrow.

But tomorrow came and went. And the day after. And the day after that.

Because every time he tried to work up courage, fear stopped him.

Fear of rejection. Fear of ruining what they had. Fear of not being enough.

Finally, week one of month six, Mingyu couldn’t take it anymore.

He’d spent five months watching Ela dive into him. Five months of coffee and conversation and collaboration. Five months of wanting her so badly it physically hurt.

And after the rain incident, he knew she felt something too.

So Thursday morning, before she could bring him coffee, he walked to her desk.

“Ela.”

She looked up, surprised. “Mingyu? What’s up?”

“Are you free Saturday?”

Her eyes widened. “Saturday?”

“Yes. Around two?”

“I… yes? Why?”

“Let’s get coffee.” The lie tasted bitter. “Talk about… Morrison strategy.”

He watched her face carefully. Saw hope flash in her eyes, then disappointment, then careful neutrality.

She wanted it to be a date.

“Morrison strategy. Right. Sure.”

“I’ll text you the place.”

He walked away, hating himself.

Coward. Just say it’s a date. Just be honest.

But fear kept him silent.

Mingyu arrived seventeen minutes early.

Changed his shirt three times (Wonwoo: “It’s coffee, not a wedding.” Mingyu: “Shut up.”).

Ordered her coffee before she arrived. Vanilla latte, extra foam, cinnamon.

Sat at a corner table, leg bouncing with nerves.

Tried to calm down.

It’s just coffee. You can do this. Just… be normal.

Except nothing about his feelings for Ela was normal.

Ela arrived exactly on time.

Wearing a blue dress that made Mingyu’s mouth go dry.

She’d dressed up. For coffee. For “Morrison strategy.”

That has to mean something.

“Hi,” she said, sliding into the seat across from him.

And that scent hit him. Vanilla and lavender and uniquely her.

His body reacted immediately. Thank god for tables.

“Hi. You look beautiful.”

Shit. Too much. Too obvious.

But Ela smiled, pleased. “Thank you. You look good too.”

Keep it together. Don’t fuck this up.

He pushed the coffee toward her. “Vanilla latte. Extra foam, cinnamon.”

Her eyes softened. “You remember.”

I’ve memorized everything about you. Your coffee order, your perfume, the way you smell different when you’re excited versus nervous, the exact shade of your eyes.

“It’s your usual.”

They sat in loaded silence for a moment.

“So,” Ela started. “Morrison—”

“Actually,” Mingyu interrupted. “Can we not talk about work?”

Surprise and pleasure crossed her face. “Oh. Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

You. Everything about you. What you dream about. What makes you happy. If you’ve thought about me the way I think about you.

“Tell me about yourself. Outside of work.”

They talked for three hours.

About art and books and dreams. About her friendship with Jia (the restaurant heiress) and his roommate situation with Wonwoo. About what they wanted from life.

And the whole time, Mingyu was hyperaware of everything about her.

The way she gestured when excited. The way she leaned forward when interested. The way her dress shifted when she moved.

The way she smelled even better up close.

At one point, she touched his hand across the table while laughing at something he’d said, and electricity shot through him.

Her scent got stronger when she was happy. More vanilla, less lavender. Like her emotions affected her chemistry.

I wonder what she smells like when she’s aroused.

The thought made him shift in his seat.

“What scares you?” Ela asked at one point.

Losing you. Not being good enough. The size of my feelings for you.

“Failure. Not being enough.”

“At work?”

“At everything.”

“You’re always more than enough, Mingyu. You’re brilliant.”

The conviction in her voice made his chest tight.

“You’re too generous.”

“I’m honest.” She leaned forward. “You’re the best designer I’ve ever worked with. And…” She hesitated. “You’re also kind. And funny. And warmer than you let people see.”

“Only with you.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Ela’s breath caught. “Only with me?”

Fuck it. Be honest.

“Yes. You bring out something in me no one else does. You make me want to be… softer. Better.”

“Mingyu—”

His phone buzzed. Work emergency.

No. Not now. Not again.

“I’m sorry. I have to—”

“It’s okay. Go.”

They stood. Mingyu paid (despite her protests). Walked her to her car.

Stood too close in the parking lot.

“I had a really good time,” Ela said softly.

Her scent was everywhere. Vanilla and lavender and something new. Something warmer. Richer.

Is that arousal? Does she smell different when she wants—

“Me too,” he managed.

“We should do this again.”

“Yeah. We should.”

Neither moved.

Ela was looking at him with those bright eyes. Lips slightly parted. Close enough to kiss.

Do it. Just kiss her. She wants you to.

But fear made him stupid.

“For work,” he blurted out. “We should do this again. For work. Brainstorming.”

He watched her face fall. Just for a second. Before she recovered with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Right. For work. Good idea.”

She got in her car and drove away.

Mingyu stood there, hating himself, half-hard and miserable.

Coward. You fucking coward.

Three blocks away, Ela pulled over, hands shaking.

For work.

Ela: that was a date right?? it felt like a date

Jia: did he pay?

Ela: yes! wouldn’t let me split it

Jia: OKAY THAT’S A DATE

Ela: but then he said “for work” at the end

Jia: HE WHAT

Ela: said we should do it again for work. for brainstorming.

Jia: THAT IDIOT

Ela: so not a date?

Jia: oh it was absolutely a date. he’s just terrified.

Jia: he PAID. he remembered your exact coffee order. you talked for THREE HOURS.

Jia: and babe, I’m guessing he looked at you like he wanted to devour you?

Ela thought about the way Mingyu’s eyes had darkened when she’d leaned close. The way he’d inhaled when she’d touched his hand. The hunger barely concealed in his expression.

Ela: yes. definitely looked at me like that.

Jia: then next time, YOU kiss HIM. don’t let his fear stop you.

Ela: what if he doesn’t want that?

Jia: trust me. he wants it. probably been wanting it for months.

Ela: how do you know?

Jia: because men who aren’t interested don’t remember your coffee order down to the cinnamon. they don’t pay for “work coffee.” and they definitely don’t look at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

Ela: he did look at me like that

Jia: EXACTLY. so stop doubting yourself. that man wants you. he’s just scared to take what he wants.

Ela: so I should make the first move?

Jia: YES. definitely yes.

Mingyu sat in his apartment, head in his hands, his phone in front of him.

Wonwoo had already given him the “you’re an idiot” speech. He didn’t need a repeat.

What he needed was courage.

Mingyu: Thank you for today. I had a really good time.

Safe. Neutral.

Her response came quickly.

Ela: Me too. Even if it was just for work strategy 😊

That emoji. That pointed comment.

She was calling him out.

She knew it wasn’t just work.

Be brave. Just fucking be brave.

Mingyu: About that

He stared at those two words for five full minutes.

Then typed.

Mingyu: It wasn’t just for work.

Ela: …

Ela: It wasn’t?

Mingyu: No. I wanted to spend time with you. Outside of the office. Get to know you better.

Ela: That sounds like a date.

Mingyu: Would that be okay? If it was a date?

Ela: Yes. That would be very okay.

His heart pounded so hard he could hear it.

Mingyu: Saturday? Dinner this time?

Ela: I’d like that.

Mingyu: It’s a date then. A real one.

Ela: Can’t wait 😊

Mingyu stared at his phone.

“I have a date with Ela Park.”

“FINALLY,” Wonwoo yelled from the other room. “TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH!”

“Shut up!”

But he was smiling.

A real, genuine smile.

He had a date with Ela.

A real date.

Now he just had to not fuck it up.

Mingyu arrived at work to find vanilla latte already on his desk.

But this time, there was a note.

Looking forward to Saturday. - E

His heart did something stupid in his chest.

She was looking forward to it. To their date. Their actual, official, not-for-work date.

He picked up the coffee, breathed in that familiar scent, and smiled despite himself.

Across the office, Ela watched from her desk.

Watched him read the note. Watched him smile—a real smile that transformed his entire face.

He’s smiling. Because of me.

“You’re staring,” Alexys said, appearing beside her desk.

“I’m not staring.”

“You’re absolutely staring. With this dopey look on your face.”

“I don’t have a dopey look.”

“You do. What happened?”

Ela glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned closer. “We have a date. Saturday. A real date. He confirmed it’s not for work.”

Alexys squealed. “FINALLY! Oh my god, do you know how long the entire office has been waiting for this?”

“The entire office?”

“Please. The sexual tension between you two is legendary. We have a betting pool on when you’d finally get together.”

“You WHAT?”

“Sarah has next month. David had last week and lost. I had this week so if you kiss him before Saturday I win two hundred dollars.”

“Alexys!”

“What? You two are entertainment. Own it.” She grinned. “So are you nervous?”

“Terrified. What if it’s awkward? What if we have nothing to talk about outside of work?”

“You already had three hours of non-work conversation at coffee. You’ll be fine.”

“What if he kisses me?”

“Then you kiss him back.”

“What if I’m a bad kisser?”

“You’re overthinking this.”

“What if he’s huge and I can’t—” Ela stopped, flushing red.

Alexys’s eyes widened. “Okay, one, you’ve been thinking about his dick. Two, the rumors are probably true given the confidence. Three, if he is huge, you’ll figure it out. Women’s bodies are amazing.”

“This conversation is inappropriate.”

“This conversation is necessary. You’re going on a date with a man you’ve been obsessing over for six months. Of course you’re thinking about sex.”

“I’m not—”

“Ela. Babe. You literally just brought up his size unprompted.”

Ela buried her face in her hands. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re into him. There’s a difference.” Alexys squeezed her shoulder. “It’s going to be great. Trust me.”

“You’re smiling at your phone,” Wonwoo observed via text. “That’s new.”

They’d started texting during work hours when Mingyu needed to vent or process.

Mingyu: Ela left a note with the coffee. Said she’s looking forward to Saturday.

Wonwoo: that’s sweet

Mingyu: I’m terrified.

Wonwoo: of what?

Mingyu: Everything. What if I’m boring? What if she realizes I’m not worth the effort?

Wonwoo: you talked for 3 hours at coffee. you’re not boring.

Mingyu: That was different. This is a DATE. There are expectations.

Wonwoo: like what?

Mingyu: Like kissing. What if she expects me to kiss her? What if I’m bad at it? What if she doesn’t want me to kiss her and I misread the signals?

Wonwoo: you’re spiraling.

Mingyu: I’m being realistic.

Wonwoo: you’re being anxious. breathe. you like her. she likes you. the rest will figure itself out.

Mingyu: What if we have sex?

Wonwoo: …that escalated quickly.

Mingyu: Not ON the first date. But eventually. What if my size is a problem? It’s been an issue before.

Wonwoo: you’re REALLY spiraling now. okay first, you’re assuming you’ll get to that point. second, you’re catastrophizing. third, if you do get there, you’ll be careful and communicate.

Mingyu: You’re right. I’m overthinking.

Wonwoo: yes. now go work and stop panicking about your dick.

Mingyu: Thanks. Very helpful.

But he spent the rest of the morning distracted, thinking about Saturday.

About seeing Ela outside of work. In a dress. Sitting across from him at dinner.

About maybe, possibly, kissing her at the end of the night.

About what she’d taste like. Whether she’d make soft sounds or loud ones. Whether she’d want gentle or demanding.

Whether she’d smell even better when aroused.

He adjusted himself under his desk and tried to focus on work.

Failed miserably.

They were assigned to work late together. The Morrison presentation needed final revisions before the Friday meeting.

Just the two of them in the office after 8 PM.

The air felt different. Charged.

Because now they both knew. This wasn’t just colleagues working late. This was two people counting down to a date. Two people who’d admitted mutual interest.

“What do you think of this layout?” Ela asked, leaning over his shoulder to look at his screen.

Her breast brushed his arm. That scent—vanilla and lavender—surrounded him completely.

But this time, he didn’t pull away.

This time, he leaned into it slightly.

“It’s good,” he said, his voice lower than normal. “The color balance is perfect.”

“Yeah?” She stayed close. Closer than necessary.

Testing. Seeing if he’d move away.

He didn’t.

“Yeah. You have a good eye.”

“I learned from the best.” She glanced at him. “You’ve made my work so much better these past six months.”

“You did that yourself. I just pushed you.”

“You pushed me to be better. There’s a difference.”

They were so close. Her breath on his neck. His cologne mixing with her perfume.

“Ela—”

“Yeah?”

I can smell you. You smell incredible. I’ve been thinking about this all day. About having you close. About what it would be like to turn my head and kiss you.

“Nothing. Just… thank you. For the coffee. And the note.”

“I meant it. I am looking forward to Saturday.”

“Me too.”

She pulled back slightly, and he immediately missed her warmth.

They worked for another hour in loaded silence. Every movement felt deliberate. Every glance held meaning.

Around 10 PM, Ela stretched, her shirt riding up to show a strip of skin.

Mingyu’s eyes tracked the movement. He couldn’t help it.

When he looked up, she was watching him. A small smile on her lips.

She’d caught him looking.

“See something you like?” she asked, bolder than usual.

His eyes darkened. “Yes.”

The word hung between them.

Ela’s breath caught. “Mingyu—”

“We should probably finish this,” he said, though his tone suggested he wanted to finish something else entirely.

“Right. Work.”

But the tension didn’t break. It built.

Ela couldn’t sleep.

She kept replaying the moment. The way Mingyu had looked at her. The heat in his eyes when he’d said yes.

He was looking at me. At my body. And he liked what he saw.

The knowledge made her flush.

Made her wonder what else he’d looked at. What he’d thought about.

Made her touch herself in the dark, imagining his eyes on her. His hands replacing hers.

She came thinking about Saturday. About whether he’d kiss her. Whether one kiss would be enough or if they’d end up somewhere private, desperate for more.

Whether she’d finally find out if the rumors about his size were true.

Get it together, she told herself after. It’s just a first date.

But it didn’t feel like just a first date.

It felt like the culmination of six months of building tension.

And she had no idea how she’d survive three more days.

The gym incident happened again.

Ela walked into the weight room and found Mingyu there. Shirtless. Sweaty. Gorgeous.

But this time, he didn’t look away when she caught him staring.

This time, their eyes held.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning.” She set down her water bottle. “Good workout?”

“Getting there.”

She moved to the weights, very aware of his eyes on her.

Bent to pick up dumbbells, knowing her leggings showed every curve.

Is he looking? Please let him be looking.

He was looking.

Mingyu watched her every movement, not even pretending to hide it anymore.

Watched her stretch. Watched her lift. Watched sweat begin to gleam on her skin.

Imagined licking that sweat off her neck. Her collarbones. Lower.

Two more days, he reminded himself. Just two more days and you can actually pursue this properly.

But his body didn’t care about propriety. He was half-hard in his gym shorts just from watching her work out.

Their eyes met in the mirror.

Neither looked away.

The air felt electric even across the room.

Finally, Ela broke contact and headed for the cardio room.

But as she passed him, she “accidentally” brushed against him.

Full body contact. For just a second.

Mingyu inhaled sharply.

She smelled like vanilla and lavender and sweat and something uniquely her.

Saturday, he thought desperately. Just make it to Saturday.

The Morrison presentation went perfectly.

The client loved it. Praised both Mingyu and Ela’s work. Signed on for a extended campaign.

“We did it!” Ela said afterward, beaming.

Without thinking, Mingyu hugged her.

Just pulled her into his arms in celebration.

She fit perfectly against him. Soft and warm and smelling like everything he’d been craving for six months.

For a moment, they both froze.

Then Ela’s arms came around him, hugging back.

They stood like that for several seconds too long.

Mingyu’s hands on her waist. Ela’s face pressed against his chest.

Both acutely aware of every point of contact.

When they pulled apart, the entire office was staring.

“Uh, sorry,” Mingyu said, flustered. “Got caught up in the moment.”

“It’s fine,” Ela said, equally flustered. “We earned it.”

But the damage was done. The office had seen. And the whispers started immediately.

“Did Mingyu just hug someone?”

“Did ELA just hug MINGYU?”

“Are they together?”

“I think they might be together.”

Alexys caught Ela’s eye across the room and mouthed: TOMORROW. KISS HIM.

Ela:

Ela: I hugged him at work today. In front of everyone.

Jia: AND???

Ela: And it was perfect. He smells amazing. And he’s so solid and warm and I didn’t want to let go.

Jia: This is torture. When’s your date again?

Ela: Tomorrow. 7 PM.

Jia: Are you going to sleep with him?

Ela: ON THE FIRST DATE?

Jia: You’ve known each other for 6 months. Technically it’s not a first date. It’s a first official date.

Ela: Still. I don’t want him to think I’m easy.

Jia: Babe. That man has been dying for you for months. He’s not going to think you’re easy. He’s going to think he’s the luckiest man alive.

Ela: What if he doesn’t want to? What if he’s traditional and wants to wait?

Jia: Then you wait. But if he initiates, don’t overthink it. Let yourself have what you want.

Ela: I’m nervous.

Jia: About sex?

Ela: About all of it. The date. The kissing. The possible sex. What if I’m not good at it? What if he’s disappointed?

Jia: You won’t be and he won’t. Trust me.

Mingyu:

Mingyu: I hugged her today.

Wonwoo: and?

Mingyu: And she felt perfect. Fit against me like she was made for it. And she smelled so good I almost lost my mind in front of the entire office.

Wonwoo: you’ve got it BAD.

Mingyu: I know. Tomorrow’s the date and I’m already thinking about kissing her. About more than kissing her.

Wonwoo: are you going to sleep with her?

Mingyu: On the first date? No. Absolutely not.

Wonwoo: why not?

Mingyu: Because I don’t want her to think that’s all I want. I want to do this right.

Wonwoo: okay but what if SHE wants to?

Mingyu: …

Mingyu: I haven’t thought about that.

Wonwoo: think about it. she might want to. you’ve both been dancing around this for months.

Mingyu: What if I hurt her? I’m not exactly small.

Wonwoo: then you go slow. communicate. make sure she’s ready.

Wonwoo: but Mingyu? stop catastrophizing. tomorrow is about spending time with someone you care about. the rest will happen or it won’t. just be present.

Mingyu: You’re right. Thanks.

Wonwoo: anytime. now get some sleep. you have a big day tomorrow.

But Mingyu didn’t sleep.

He lay awake thinking about Ela. About tomorrow. About what he wanted to say. How he wanted to finally, properly, tell her how he felt.

About whether he’d get to kiss her.

About what would happen after.

Saturday - 6 PM

Mingyu changed his outfit four times.

“It’s dinner,” Wonwoo said from the doorway. “Not a wedding.”

“It’s important. First impressions matter.”

“You’ve known each other for six months. The first impression ship has sailed.”

“First DATE impression then.”

He settled on dark jeans and a black button-down. Simple. Classic. Showed off his shoulders without trying too hard.

Added cologne. Not too much. Just enough.

Checked his hair seventeen times.

“You look fine,” Wonwoo said. “More than fine. Now GO before you’re late.”

Mingyu grabbed his keys, his wallet, and headed out.

His heart pounded the entire drive to the restaurant.

Ela - 6 PM

“Which dress?” Ela held up two options for Jia on video call.

“The black one. Shows off your legs.”

“Is it too much?”

“It’s perfect. Sexy but not trying too hard.”

Ela put it on. Added heels. Did her makeup—more than usual but still natural.

Her expensive perfume. The vanilla lotion. The lavender oil.

Everything Mingyu had admitted drove him crazy.

If he likes the way I smell, I’m going to make sure he can’t think straight.

“You look gorgeous,” Jia said. “Now go get your man.”

“What if—”

“No what-ifs. You’re beautiful. He’s into you. This is going to be amazing. Now GO.”

The Restaurant - 7 PM

Mingyu arrived first. Got them a table. Ordered water.

Tried to calm his racing heart.

Then Ela walked in.

And every thought left his head.

She wore a black dress that hugged every curve. Her hair was down in waves. Her makeup made her eyes look enormous.

And when she got close enough, that scent hit him.

Vanilla and lavender and pure temptation.

He stood, nearly knocking over his chair. “Ela. You look… incredible.”

She flushed, pleased. “Thank you. You look really good too.”

Good doesn’t cover it, Ela thought. He looks like sin in expensive jeans.

They sat. The waiter brought menus.

Awkward silence.

“So,” they both said at the same time.

Laughed.

The tension broke slightly.

“You first,” Mingyu said.

“I was just going to say I’m glad we’re doing this. Officially.”

“Me too. I’ve wanted to for a while.”

“How long?”

He met her eyes. “Since the first meeting. Since you argued with me and didn’t back down.”

“Really? That long?”

“Really. But I was scared. Didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

“We barely knew each other then.”

“I know. But even then, you were different. Special.”

Ela’s heart stuttered. “Mingyu—”

“I’m not good at this. At feelings. At being vulnerable. But I want to try. With you.”

“I want that too.”

The waiter came to take their order. They ordered without really looking at the menus, too focused on each other.

When the waiter left, Mingyu reached across the table.

“Can I hold your hand?”

Such a simple question. But the way he asked—tentative, hopeful—made Ela’s chest ache.

“Yes.”

Their fingers intertwined. That electric spark at contact.

“Your hands are warm,” Ela said.

“Yours are soft.”

They sat like that through the entire meal. Holding hands. Talking. Learning each other outside of work.

Mingyu learned that Ela stress-baked at 2 AM. That she was terrified of spiders. That she wanted to travel to Italy someday.

Ela learned that Mingyu collected vintage watches. That he was afraid of heights. That he’d wanted to be a fine artist but chose design for stability.

“Do you still paint?” she asked.

“Sometimes. Late at night when I can’t sleep.”

“What do you paint?”

He hesitated. “Lately? You.”

Her breath caught. “Me?”

“From memory. Your smile. Your eyes. The way you look when you’re concentrating on work.”

“Can I see them sometime?”

“They’re not very good.”

“I bet they’re beautiful.”

“Maybe. Someday.”

Dinner ended. Neither wanted the night to be over.

“Want to walk?” Mingyu suggested. “There’s a park nearby.”

“I’d like that.”

They walked hand in hand through the park. The night was warm. The stars were out.

Perfect.

At a secluded bench, they sat close.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Ela said softly.

“Me too. Best date I’ve ever had.”

“Ever?”

“Ever. Because it’s with you.”

She turned to face him. “Mingyu, I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

“I haven’t just been trying to make you warm to everyone. I know I said that at first, but… that was a lie. Or not a lie, but not the whole truth.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I was trying to get close to you specifically. Because I liked you. Have liked you. For months now.”

His heart raced. “You have?”

“Yes. And I know I said it was a project, but really I was just diving into you. Trying to find your warmth. But not to share it with everyone. To keep it for myself.”

“Ela—”

“And I know this is a first date and maybe I shouldn’t be this honest, but I’m tired of pretending. I want you, Mingyu. Not just as a friend or colleague. I want… more.”

She’d barely finished speaking when he kissed her.

Finally.

After six months of wanting, he closed the distance and kissed her.

His hand cupped her face. His lips pressed against hers. Gentle at first, testing.

Ela made a soft sound and kissed him back.

That gentle kiss turned desperate.

His other hand slid into her hair. Her hands gripped his shirt.

They kissed like they were starving for it. Like six months of denial was breaking all at once.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Mingyu pressed his forehead to hers.

“I want more too,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ve wanted more since the moment I met you. You have no idea how crazy you’ve made me.”

“Tell me.”

“Every morning when you bring coffee, I want to pull you into my lap and kiss you until you can’t remember your own name. Every time you lean close, I want to find out if you taste as good as you smell. Every late night we work together, I want to lock the door and—” He stopped.

“And what?”

His eyes were so dark. So intense.

“And make you mine. Completely. In every way.”

Heat pooled low in Ela’s belly.

“Mingyu—”

“Tell me to stop. Tell me I’m moving too fast.”

“What if I don’t want you to stop?”

He groaned. “Ela, you’re killing me.”

“Good. You’ve been killing me for months.”

She kissed him again. Deeper this time. Her tongue sliding against his.

Mingyu’s control snapped.

He pulled her closer, kissing her like he was drowning and she was air. His hands roamed her back, her sides, careful not to go too far but wanting to touch everywhere.

She tasted like wine and something sweet. Felt perfect against him. Smelled like heaven.

When she shifted to straddle his lap right there on the park bench, he nearly lost his mind.

“Ela, wait—”

“Don’t want to wait.” She kissed down his neck. “Wanted this for so long.”

“We’re in public.”

“Don’t care.”

“Someone could see.”

“Let them.”

But she pulled back slightly, breathing hard, her lips swollen from kissing.

“Sorry. Got carried away.”

“Don’t apologize.” He brushed hair from her face. “But maybe we should continue this somewhere more private?”

“Your place or mine?”

The question hung in the air.

Is this happening? Are we really doing this?

“Are you sure?” Mingyu asked. “We don’t have to—”

“I’m sure. I’ve been sure for months. I want you, Mingyu. Tonight. If you want me too.”

“Want you? Ela, I’ve been desperate for you since the day we met.”

“Then take me home.”

The problem with Kim Mingyu, Ela decided within thirty seconds of meeting him, was that he was absolutely right.

And he knew it.

"This target demographic analysis is superficial," he said, not even looking at her. His eyes stayed fixed on the screen displaying her presentation, his expression somewhere between bored and disgusted.

Around the conference table, everyone shifted uncomfortably. Ela was the new marketing coordinator at Sterling & Co., and this was her first major campaign presentation. The Nexus luxury watch campaign. Three weeks of work distilled into fifteen slides.

She'd made it through exactly four of them.

"I'm sorry?" Ela said, her voice carefully neutral despite the anger starting to simmer in her chest.

"You've identified millennials with disposable income." Mingyu finally looked at her, his dark eyes sharp and cutting. "That's marketing Mad Libs. Who are they? What do they value? What keeps them up at night?"

"If you'd let me get to slide five—"

"I don't need to see slide five to know this entire approach is flawed." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. The motion made his shirt stretch across his shoulders in a way that Ela absolutely did not notice. "You're selling a luxury product like it's a commodity. Where's the aspiration? The lifestyle integration? The emotional hook?"

Ela felt every eye in the room on her. This was the moment. The moment where she either backed down like everyone else who'd faced Kim Mingyu's critiques, or she stood her ground.

Her former colleague had warned her: He made me cry in my second week. Just quit before he destroys your confidence.

But Ela had spent three weeks on this presentation. And more importantly, she knew she was right.

She smiled.

Not a friendly smile. A smile that said game on.

"Are you done? Because I have rebuttals for every single one of your points."

The room went dead silent.

Mingyu's eyebrows rose slightly. For the first time since the meeting started, he looked genuinely surprised.

"Excuse me?"

"You assumed I was finished. I'm not." Ela stood to advance to slide five, and as she moved past Mingyu's chair, the scent hit him like a physical force.

Vanilla and lavender. Expensive. Intoxicating.

He'd heard people talking about it. The new girl who smells incredible. Like she bathes in luxury perfume.

"Have you been near Ela Park? She smells like a five-star hotel spa."

"I don't know what perfume she wears but I'd buy stock in the company."

"It's not even just perfume. She just... smells expensive. Like vanilla and lavender and something else I can't place."

Mingyu had dismissed it as office gossip.

Until now.

Now, with her standing three feet away, he understood completely.

She smelled like heaven. Like something he wanted to bury his face in. Like he wanted to find every place that scent was strongest and—

Focus. Jesus Christ, focus.

Ela was talking, advancing slides, but Mingyu's brain had short-circuited somewhere between vanilla and the way that scent seemed to wrap around him.

"Here's the psychographic breakdown you claim I'm missing," she was saying. "Age range, income bracket, lifestyle markers, pain points, and aspirational identity targets."

She didn't wait for him to respond. Slide six appeared.

"Aspirational lifestyle positioning. We're not selling a watch. We're selling the identity of someone who values craftsmanship, heritage, and intentional luxury over conspicuous consumption. Someone who appreciates the difference between expensive and valuable."

Slide seven.

"Emotional engagement through narrative marketing. We're tapping into the desire for legacy, for objects that outlast trends, for the kind of timeless quality that can be passed down. The campaign isn't about what the watch does. It's about who you become when you wear it."

She paused, meeting his eyes directly. Standing close enough that he could smell her again.

Vanilla. Lavender. Something floral underneath. Christ.

"And slide eight outlines three different campaign approaches because unlike some people, I don't assume my first idea is automatically correct. I like to give clients options."

Someone—it sounded like James from sales—coughed to cover a laugh.

Mingyu stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then something shifted in his eyes. Something that might have been respect. Or interest. Or raw want poorly disguised.

"Slide seven's visual hierarchy is off," he said finally, his voice slightly rougher than intended. "The testimonial should be larger."

"I disagree. We want it to feel discovered, not advertised. People trust found stories more than presented ones."

"That's idealistic. People need to be told what to feel."

"That's cynical. Good marketing guides, it doesn't manipulate."

"Guiding is just subtle manipulation."

"Or manipulation is just failed guidance."

They argued for twenty minutes straight. The meeting ran an hour over schedule. And when it finally, mercifully ended, Mingyu gathered his things and said, without looking at her:

"Not terrible, Park. Fix the hierarchy and we'll use it."

Then he walked out, needing distance before he did something stupid like ask what perfume she wore.

Or if she smelled that good everywhere.

The room exhaled collectively.

"Holy shit," Alexys whispered, sliding into the seat beside Ela. Alexys was one of the few people who'd been friendly to Ela since she started—a fellow marketing coordinator who'd been at the company for two years. "You just argued with Kim Mingyu for twenty minutes and lived."

"Was that unusual?" Ela was still staring at the door he'd left through, adrenaline making her hands shake.

"Unusual? Ela, people cry when he critiques their work. They don't argue back. They definitely don't tell him he's cynical."

"He is cynical."

"He's also the best designer in the company. And he just said he'd use your campaign."

"After I fix the hierarchy."

"Which you're not going to do, are you?"

"Hell no. The hierarchy is perfect."

Alexys laughed. "I like you. Want to grab lunch?"

"God, yes. I need to process what just happened."

Ela called Jia the moment she got home.

Jia Hong was her best friend since college—a restaurant chain heiress who'd never worked a day in her life but somehow had better business instincts than anyone Ela knew. She'd married her college sweetheart Joshua one year ago, and they were disgustingly happy together.

"Tell me about your day," Jia said by way of greeting.

"I just had the most intense argument with the hottest man I've ever met and I don't know if I want to kill him or kiss him."

"Oh, this is good. Details. Now."

Ela told her everything. The presentation, Mingyu's critiques, the argument, the way his eyes had looked when he finally seemed to see her as an equal instead of an annoyance.

"He's an asshole," Ela finished. "A brilliant, infuriating, stupidly attractive asshole."

"Stupidly attractive?" Jia's voice was gleeful. "Tell me more about that."

"No. We're not doing this."

"Dark hair? Tall? Good arms?"

"Jia—"

"I'm just saying, if you're going to have a nemesis, might as well be a hot one."

"He's not my nemesis. He's just... intense."

"Intensely hot?"

"I'm hanging up."

"Wait! But seriously, what did he look like when you argued back?"

Ela thought about it. About the surprise in his eyes, the way his mouth had almost—almost—curved into a smile.

"Surprised. Like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out."

"Good. Men like that need to be kept on their toes. Don't let him figure you out too easily."

"I'm not trying to be mysterious. I'm trying to do my job."

"You can do both. Trust me, this is going to be fun."

After they hung up, Ela lay on her couch staring at the ceiling.

Kim Mingyu.

She should be thinking about how annoying he was. How condescending. How he'd tried to tear apart three weeks of her hard work in front of everyone.

Instead, she kept replaying the moment when he'd looked at her with something like respect. When his eyes had locked on hers and the rest of the room had faded away.

"This is going to be a problem," she said to her empty apartment.

Mingyu sat in the parking garage for fifteen minutes after the meeting, staring at nothing.

His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white.

And he was hard. Uncomfortably, embarrassingly hard from a goddamn meeting.

Oh no, he thought. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

She'd argued back.

For twenty minutes straight, she'd stood her ground against him. Had rebuttals prepared. Had looked him in the eye and called his critique cynical without a trace of fear.

And she'd been right. About most of it.

The psychographic breakdown was solid. The emotional hook was actually brilliant—legacy, timelessness, value over expense. He'd been so focused on tearing apart the surface that he'd almost missed how good the foundation was.

And then she'd smiled at him. That sharp, challenging smile that said try me.

And smelled like every fantasy he'd never let himself have.

Vanilla and lavender and something uniquely her that made him want to press his face against her neck and just breathe.

Made him want to find out if she smelled that good everywhere. If her inner thighs smelled like vanilla. If her breasts smelled like lavender. If he could make her smell like him instead.

"Fuck," he muttered, adjusting himself.

This was a problem.

His dick is big enough that past partners had needed time to adjust, and right now all of that was straining against his pants because a woman had argued with him and smelled good doing it.

He was so fucked.

Mingyu pulled out his phone.

Mingyu: I think I just met someone

Wonwoo: someone good or someone bad?

Mingyu: I don't know yet. She argued with me for 20 minutes straight.

Wonwoo: and you liked it?

Mingyu: I LOVED it. I'm screwed, aren't I?

Wonwoo: Completely screwed. Congratulations.

Mingyu: This is a disaster. She probably hates me.

Wonwoo: Do you want her to hate you?

Mingyu: No. I want... I don't know what I want. Yes I do. I want to argue with her again. I want to see that smile when she thinks she's won. I want to figure out how her mind works.

Mingyu: Also she smells incredible and I got hard in a meeting like a teenager.

Wonwoo: ...

Wonwoo: Come on man, this is not you.

Mingyu: Tell me about it.

He sat there for another ten minutes, waiting for his body to calm down, replaying every moment of the meeting.

The way she'd stood when presenting—confident but not arrogant. The way her eyes had flashed when he'd criticized her work. The way her voice had stayed level even when he could see the anger simmering beneath.

The way she'd smelled when she walked past him.

"Are you done? Because I have rebuttals for every single one of your points."

God.

He was absolutely, completely, devastatingly in love.

And painfully, physically aroused.

And he had no idea what to do about either.

Ela walked into the office Monday morning with a plan.

Over the weekend, she'd done research. Asked around (discreetly) about Kim Mingyu. Talked to Alexys, who'd been at the company for two years.

The picture that emerged was complicated.

Yes, he was an asshole. Everyone agreed on that. He made interns cry, decimated presentations, and had the emotional warmth of a glacier.

But.

He also stayed late to fix other people's mistakes so they wouldn't get in trouble. His harsh critiques, while brutal, actually made the work better. He was the first one called for impossible deadlines because he always delivered.

And he'd been at the company for five years without a single friend.

That's just sad, Ela thought.

So she'd made a decision. Kim Mingyu needed a friend. Someone to crack through that ice. Help him be warmer to people.

It would be her project. Her mission.

Make Kim Mingyu smile.

She started small.

Monday morning, she stopped by the coffee shop near the office and got two vanilla lattes—one for her, one for him.

She found him at his desk, already working even though it was only 7:45 AM.

"Morning," she said brightly, setting the coffee beside his keyboard.

The scent hit him first. Before he even looked up, he knew it was her.

Vanilla and lavender and something that made his body react immediately.

He looked up, surprised. "What's this?"

"Coffee. I was getting one anyway, figured I'd grab you one too."

She was close enough that he could smell her properly. Could confirm that yes, she smelled that incredible every day. Could imagine what it would be like to have that scent on his sheets, his skin, his tongue—

Stop. Jesus Christ, stop.

"I don't drink vanilla lattes," he managed.

"What do you drink?"

"Black coffee. No sugar."

"That's psychotic."

"It's efficient."

"It's joyless." She picked up the vanilla latte. "Fine. More for me."

She turned to walk away, and Mingyu caught another wave of her scent.

"Wait."

She looked back. Mingyu was staring at the coffee like it might bite him.

Or like he was trying very hard not to stare at her.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know. I wanted to."

"Why?"

"Because we're colleagues. Maybe even friends, if you'd stop being so prickly."

"I'm not prickly. I'm professional."

"You can be both professional and friendly. Watch." She stuck out her hand. "Hi. I'm Ela Park. I'm the marketing coordinator whose presentation you eviscerated last week. Nice to officially meet you."

He stared at her hand for a long moment.

If he touched her, he'd smell it on his skin for hours.

That thought should not be as appealing as it was.

Slowly, he shook her hand.

Her skin was soft. Warm. And yes—she smelled even better up close.

The contact sent a bolt of heat straight through him.

"Kim Mingyu. Senior designer. Sorry about the evisceration."

"No you're not."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "No. I'm not. Your hierarchy was wrong."

"It was perfect and you know it."

"It was adequate."

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

"You shouldn't."

But he was almost smiling. She could see it, just at the edges.

Progress, she thought.

"Anyway. Enjoy the coffee or don't. See you around, Kim Mingyu."

She walked away before he could respond, leaving a trail of vanilla and lavender in her wake.

Mingyu sat frozen for a full minute.

Then he picked up the coffee and took a sip.

Sweet. Too sweet.

But it tasted like her scent smelled. And that made him drink the entire thing while trying not to think about how badly he wanted to taste her instead.

"You okay?" Wonwoo asked that night when Mingyu came home looking frustrated.

"She brought me coffee."

"The woman from the meeting?"

"Ela. Yes."

"And that's... bad?"

"She smells incredible, Wonwoo. Like... I can't even describe it. Vanilla and lavender and something else that makes me want to—" He stopped.

"Want to what?"

"Things I shouldn't want to do to a colleague."

"Like?"

"Like find out if she smells that good everywhere. Like bury my face between her thighs and see if she tastes as good as she smells. Like fuck her until she smells like me instead."

Wonwoo's eyebrows rose. "That's... specific and tmi."

"I know. It's a problem. Do you know how embarrassing that is? I'm thirty years old and I can't control myself around a woman who brought me coffee."

"Have you considered that maybe you're attracted to her?"

"Of course I'm attracted to her. She's brilliant and beautiful and she argued with me for twenty minutes and she smells like everything I've ever wanted but didn't know to ask for."

"So ask her out."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because what if she's just being nice? What if I make it weird?"

"Or what if she's interested and you're wasting time?"

Mingyu didn't answer.

But that night, lying in bed, he gave in to temptation.

His hand wrapped around himself, already hard from thinking about her—and he imagined.

Imagined that scent getting stronger as she got aroused. Imagined her underneath him, that vanilla and lavender mixing with sweat and sex. Imagined making her smell like him, marking her, claiming her.

Imagined her tight around him, struggling to take his size, asking for more anyway.

He came hard, her name on his lips, and felt pathetic afterward.

This was going to be a long six months.

By month two, the entire office had noticed.

Not just that Kim Mingyu had gotten slightly warmer.

But that Ela Park smelled incredible.

"What perfume do you wear?" Jenie from accounting asked one day.

"Oh, it's a mix," Ela said. "Vanilla body lotion, lavender oil, and then this perfume my friend Jia got me from Paris. I think it's the combination."

"Well it's amazing. You smell like a spa."

"Thanks?"

What Ela didn't notice was Mingyu, three desks away, cataloging this information like his life depended on it.

Vanilla body lotion. Lavender oil. French perfume.

He could buy those. Could smell them separately. Could torture himself properly.

Don't be a creep, he told himself.

But the obsession was getting worse.

Every morning when she brought coffee, he'd breathe in her scent and have to excuse himself to the bathroom to calm down.

Every meeting where they sat close, he'd catch whiffs of vanilla and lavender and have to cross his legs to hide his reaction.

Every late-night work session, he'd come home and jerk off thinking about burying his face in her neck, her breasts, between her legs.

"This is getting worse," he told Wonwoo one night.

"The smell thing?"

"I can't function around her. Yesterday we were reviewing designs and she leaned over my shoulder and I got so hard I had to pretend to get water just to adjust myself."

"That's... a lot."

"I know. And the worst part? I don't even think she realizes what she's doing to me."

"Maybe you should tell her."

"Tell her what? 'Hey, the way you smell makes me want to fuck you on every surface in the office'?"

"...Maybe phrase it differently."

"There's no good way to phrase 'you smell so good it's ruining my life.'"

Wonwoo considered. "You could start with asking her on a date."

"And risk her saying no? Risk ruining whatever this is?"

"What is this?"

"I don't know. But it's the only good thing in my life and I can't lose it."

Ela started noticing things in month two.

The way Mingyu would inhale sharply when she walked past.

The way his eyes would darken when she leaned close to look at designs.

The way he'd excuse himself frequently during their meetings, coming back looking flustered.

"I think he likes you," Alexys said one day.

"Who?"

"Mingyu. I think he's attracted to you."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it? Have you seen the way he looks at you?"

"He barely looks at me."

"When you're not looking, he stares. And Ela, I swear yesterday when you walked past him, he literally closed his eyes and breathed in."

"He was probably tired."

"Or he was smelling you. You do smell really good."

"That's... that's creepy if he's smelling me."

"Not if he's into you. Then it's hot."

Ela thought about it. About the way sometimes she'd catch Mingyu looking at her with dark, intense eyes. About how he always seemed aware of where she was in a room. About how his voice would get slightly rougher when they worked late together.

"Even if he is attracted to me, it doesn't mean anything. Physical attraction isn't the same as actually liking someone."

"True. But it's a start."

That night, Ela looked at herself in the mirror.

Applied her vanilla body lotion. Her lavender oil. Her expensive perfume.

And wondered if Mingyu noticed.

Wondered if he liked it.

The thought made her flush.

Made her imagine his face in her neck, breathing her in. His hands on her skin, learning if she smelled good everywhere.

"Stop," she told her reflection. "This is inappropriate."

But lying in bed that night, she let herself fantasize.

About Mingyu's hands on her body. His mouth on her skin. Whether he'd be gentle or rough or both.

Whether all of him was as big as his hands and shoulders suggested.

She'd heard office rumors. Women who'd seen him at the gym. Speculation about whether the confidence in his walk meant he had reason to be confident.

"He's got to be packing. Men who walk like that always are."

"I bet he's huge. And knows exactly what to do with it."

Ela had dismissed it as gossip.

But now, touching herself in the dark, she wondered.

Came with his name on her lips, imagining his size stretching her, filling her, ruining her for anyone else.

The morning sun filtered through Joshua's bedroom curtains, painting golden stripes across the tangled sheets. Jia stirred, immediately aware of two things: she was deliciously sore in all the right places, and Joshua's arm was wrapped possessively around her waist.

"Morning," he murmured against her neck, his voice rough with sleep.

"What time is it?"

"Early. Maybe seven?" He pulled her closer, lips brushing her shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got thoroughly ravished."

She could feel his smile against her skin. "Mission accomplished then."

"Joshua, we have to actually leave this apartment eventually."

"Do we though?" His hand slid up her ribcage lazily. "I'm pretty sure we could survive in here indefinitely. I'll order groceries, we'll stay in bed..."

"Tempting, but I have work tomorrow. And you have your mentoring thing this afternoon."

He groaned. "Right. Responsibility. Being a productive member of society." His hand stilled on her waist. "Rain check on the staying-in-bed-forever plan?"

"Rain check," she agreed, turning in his arms to face him.

His hair was adorably mussed, his eyes still sleepy, and there was something so soft about him in these quiet morning moments. This was yet another side of Joshua—not the public gentleman or the private lover, but something in between. Comfortable. Real.

"Hi," he said softly, brushing hair from her face.

"Hi yourself."

"Thank you for yesterday. For letting me be... well, both versions of me."

"Both versions?" She traced his jawline with her finger. "Joshua, you're not two different people. You're just... you. Sweet and thoughtful and also passionate and intense. It's all you."

"Yeah?" He looked oddly vulnerable.

"Yeah. And I love all of it. All of you."

His smile was brilliant. "I love you too. So much." He kissed her softly, gently, nothing demanding about it. Just affection and tenderness and quiet happiness.

When they finally made it to the kitchen—both dressed in comfortable clothes, Jia wearing one of his oversized hoodies—Joshua immediately went into caretaker mode.

"Sit. I'll make breakfast. What do you want? Eggs? Pancakes? I've got fruit—"

"Joshua, I can help—"

"Nope. You just relax." He was already pulling ingredients from the fridge. "After yesterday, least I can do is feed you properly."

She watched him move around the kitchen with easy familiarity, and her heart squeezed. He was humming softly, cracking eggs into a bowl, and she realized this was what their future could look like. Lazy Sunday mornings, comfortable domesticity, the easy intimacy of knowing someone completely.

Her phone buzzed on the counter. A text from her best friend Ela.

Ela: EMERGENCY BRUNCH NEEDED. I'm going to kill my coworker. Can you meet me in an hour? Please??? I need to vent before I commit workplace homicide.

Jia glanced at Joshua, who was now whisking eggs with focused concentration.

"Ela wants to do brunch. She's having some kind of work crisis. Would you want to come? Or I can meet her alone if you have stuff to do—"

"I'd love to come," he said immediately. "I like Ela. Plus maybe I can help calm her down before she actually murders someone."

"You're the best."

"I know." His grin was wicked for just a second before he turned back to the stove.

Two hours later, they walked into Café Lumière, one of Ela's favorite brunch spots. She was already there, slumped in a corner booth with a massive coffee in front of her, looking absolutely murderous.

"Finally!" Ela jumped up to hug them both, though her embrace was more frantic than usual. "I've been sitting here for twenty minutes composing my resignation letter in my head."

"That bad?" Jia asked as they settled into the booth.

"Worse." Ela took a long sip of her coffee. "Kim Mingyu is going to be the death of me. I swear to God, that man exists solely to make my life miserable."

Joshua raised an eyebrow, his expression carefully neutral. "Coworker trouble?"

"Coworker from hell," Ela corrected. "We're supposed to be working on this huge campaign together—you know, collaboration, teamwork, all that corporate nonsense—but he keeps shooting down every single one of my ideas. Every. Single. One."

"That's frustrating," Jia said sympathetically, though she noticed Ela's cheeks were flushed in a way that didn't quite match pure anger.

"Frustrating doesn't even begin to cover it! On Friday, I spent three hours putting together this presentation, right? Beautiful layouts, comprehensive market analysis, the works. And you know what he said?" Ela's voice went up an octave, clearly mimicking someone. "'This is too safe. We need something bold. This won't work.'" She threw up her hands. "No constructive feedback, no suggestions, just 'this won't work!'"

"He sounds like a piece of work," Joshua said diplomatically, though Jia caught the slight quirk of his lips.

"Oh, he is. He's arrogant, blunt, completely impossible to work with—" Ela paused to gulp more coffee. "And the worst part? Everyone thinks he's so brilliant. 'Mingyu's a genius, Mingyu's work is cutting-edge, Mingyu this, Mingyu that.' Meanwhile, I'm over here actually doing the research and planning while he just swoops in to tear it all apart!"

Their waiter came by—a young guy, probably college-aged—and immediately did a double-take when he saw Joshua.

"Josh! Hey man, how are you?"

"David! I'm great, how are classes going? Did you get into that biochem seminar you wanted?"

"I did! Thanks for writing that recommendation letter, seriously. Professor said it really helped."

"Of course, you earned it. You're going to do amazing things."

After David left to put in their orders, Ela leaned back with a tired smile. "Do you know everyone in this city, Joshua?"

He shrugged modestly. "David volunteers at the hospital sometimes. Good kid, really dedicated."

"Joshua's like this with everyone," Jia explained. "It's actually kind of ridiculous. We can't go anywhere without him running into someone he's helped."

"Must be nice," Ela muttered. "Meanwhile, I'm stuck working with someone who probably doesn't know the meaning of the word 'nice.'"

"Tell us more about this Mingyu," Joshua suggested, and Jia shot him a look. He was definitely fishing for something.

"What's there to tell? He's tall, annoyingly good-looking—which just makes it worse because you'd think someone who looks like that would have developed some people skills, but no—and he walks around the office like he owns the place." Ela was on a roll now. "And he's always there! I come in early? He's already there. I stay late? He's still there. It's like he doesn't have a life outside of work."

"Maybe he's dedicated?" Jia offered carefully.

"Or maybe he's a robot. An infuriating, insufferable robot who somehow makes the best design work I've ever seen, which makes me even MORE angry because I can't even hate his work, just his attitude!"

Joshua and Jia exchanged a glance. This was starting to sound very familiar.

"So you work together a lot?" Joshua asked innocently.

"Unfortunately. Our boss thinks we 'complement each other'—her words, not mine. Apparently my strategic thinking and his creative vision make a 'dream team.'" Ela made air quotes viciously. "More like a nightmare team. Do you know what he did yesterday?"

"What?" Jia asked, leaning forward.

"We were in a meeting, and I suggested we target the 25-35 demographic for this new product launch. Very reasonable, backed up by data. And he—" Ela paused dramatically, "—he just looks at me and goes, 'That's the obvious choice, which is exactly why we shouldn't do it.' Then proceeds to pitch targeting college students instead, which is completely—"

"Let me guess," Joshua interjected gently. "It actually worked?"

Ela deflated slightly. "The client loved it. Which makes it WORSE! Because now he's going to think he's always right and never listen to me again!"

"Sounds like he challenges you," Joshua observed.

"Challenges me? He actively tries to make my blood pressure skyrocket!" But there was something in Ela's eyes when she talked about this Mingyu—a spark, an energy that Jia recognized all too well.

"What does he look like?" Jia asked, trying to sound casual.

"I told you—tall, annoyingly attractive. Sharp features, great hair that he's probably way too proud of, and he dresses like he stepped out of a magazine. It's honestly offensive how put-together he always is." Ela paused. "Why?"

"Just curious. You've mentioned him a lot."

"Because he's ruining my life!"

"Mmhmm." Jia wasn't buying it.

Under the table, Joshua's hand found Jia's thigh, squeezing gently. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

"You know what the absolute worst part is?" Ela continued, apparently not done venting. "We have to work late together on Monday. Just the two of us, finishing this pitch. An entire evening alone with Kim Mingyu and his stupid opinions and his stupid face—"

"His stupid face?" Joshua repeated, clearly amused.

"Yes! It's stupidly symmetrical and he knows it! I caught him checking himself out in the reflection of the conference room window last week—" Ela stopped abruptly, her cheeks going pink. "Not that I was watching him or anything. I just happened to notice."

"Of course," Jia said, fighting a smile.

"Anyway, enough about that insufferable man. What did you two do this weekend? Jia's been radio silent since Friday, which usually means—" Ela's eyes narrowed as she took in Jia's appearance properly. "Wait. Are you wearing Joshua's hoodie?"

Jia felt her cheeks heat. "Maybe?"

"You disappeared all weekend, you're wearing his clothes, and you have that freshly-ravished glow..." Ela's murderous expression transformed into a delighted grin. "Oh my God, you guys finally had a proper weekend together!"

"We spent some quality time together," Joshua said diplomatically, though his smile was wicked.

"Quality time," Ela snorted. "Is that what we're calling it? Jia, you're glowing. He wore you out, didn't he?"

"Ela!" Jia protested, but she was laughing.

"Good for you both. At least someone's having a good time." Ela sighed dramatically. "Meanwhile, I'm stuck in hell with Lucifer's graphic designer."

"You talk about him a lot for someone you hate," Jia pointed out gently.

"Because he's constantly in my space! We share a floor, we're on the same projects, we have the same coffee schedule—which, by the way, I'm convinced he memorized just to annoy me because he always shows up at the coffee machine the exact same time I do."

"Maybe he's trying to spend time with you?" Joshua suggested.

"Trust me, Mingyu doesn't want to spend time with anyone. He made an intern cry last month just by looking at her work." But then Ela paused, her expression shifting to something more thoughtful. "Although... he did bring me coffee on Friday morning. My exact order. Said it was from the batch he made for the team, but I was the only one who got any, so..."

Jia and Joshua exchanged another significant look.

"That was nice of him," Jia said carefully.

"It was probably poisoned," Ela muttered, but she was biting back a smile. "Or a strategic move to lower my defenses before destroying my presentation."

"Or maybe he was being thoughtful?" Joshua offered.

"Joshua, you don't understand. This is a man who once told our boss that her favorite design concept was 'corporate mediocrity at its finest.' He doesn't do thoughtful."

"People can surprise you," Joshua said softly, and Jia felt her heart melt a little.

"Not Mingyu. He's been the same insufferable perfectionist since day one." Ela paused. "Although he did help me carry supplies to my car last week when I had to take home a bunch of presentation boards. Didn't say anything, just... showed up and carried half of them."

"That's sweet," Jia said.

"It was probably because he didn't trust me not to damage them," Ela countered, but her voice had lost some of its edge. "Everything is about the work with him. The perfect design, the perfect pitch, the perfect execution. It's exhausting trying to keep up."

"Sounds like he has high standards," Joshua observed.

"Impossibly high. Which would be fine except he applies them to everyone, including himself. I've never seen anyone stay as late or work as hard as he does." Something shifted in Ela's expression—went softer. "Last month during the Jenkins campaign, he practically lived at the office for a week. I found him asleep at his desk one morning, and he had these dark circles under his eyes, and for just a second he looked... vulnerable, you know? Human."

Jia leaned forward. "What did you do?"

"I woke him up and told him he looked like death. He told me I was one to talk and that my hair looked like a bird's nest." Ela's smile was reluctant. "Then he went and got us both coffee and we finished the campaign together. We actually... worked well together that day. No arguing, just collaborating. It was weird."

"Weird good or weird bad?" Joshua asked.

"Just weird. Like seeing a different side of him." Ela shook her head as if clearing it. "But then Monday came and he was back to his normal impossible self, so clearly it was a fluke."

"Maybe that's the real him," Jia suggested gently. "And the impossible part is just armor."

"Trust me, there's nothing soft about Kim Mingyu. The man is made of sharp edges and sarcasm." But Ela was smiling now, almost fondly. "Although his dog is cute. Bobby. He has pictures on his desk."

"You've looked at his desk pictures?" Jia pounced.

"I— It's a cute dog! And his desk is near mine, I can't help but see—" Ela stopped, realizing she'd been caught. "Oh God, you're doing that thing."

"What thing?" Jia asked innocently.

"That thing where you think you know something. That knowing look you get." Ela pointed an accusing finger. "Don't even start. Mingyu and I are colleagues. Barely that. More like professional adversaries forced to work together."

"Who bring each other coffee," Joshua added helpfully.

"Who have the same schedule," Jia continued.

"Who work well together when you let your guards down," Joshua finished.

"Whose dog pictures you notice," Jia concluded triumphantly.

Ela groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "You two are the worst. I came here to complain, not to be psychoanalyzed!"

"We're just saying," Jia said gently, "maybe this Mingyu isn't as terrible as you think."

"He's definitely as terrible as I think. Possibly worse." But Ela was peeking at them through her fingers now, and there was something in her expression—uncertainty mixed with something that looked suspiciously like hope. "Even if he wasn't terrible, which he is, he doesn't see me that way. I'm just the annoying marketing girl who always argues with him."

"The annoying marketing girl he brings coffee to and helps carry things and works late with," Jia pointed out.

"That's just... professional courtesy. Or something."

"Professional courtesy," Joshua repeated, clearly skeptical. "Does he bring everyone coffee?"

"I... I don't know. Maybe?" But Ela's voice had gone quiet, thoughtful.

"Does he help everyone carry things?" Jia pressed.

"Look, it doesn't matter because we're completely incompatible. We argue about everything. He thinks I'm too cautious, I think he's too reckless. He wants bold and experimental, I want tested and reliable. We're opposites."

"Opposites attract," Joshua said softly, reaching over to take Jia's hand. "Sometimes the person who challenges you the most is the person you need."

Ela watched their intertwined hands with something wistful in her expression. "You two make it look so easy."

"It's not always easy," Jia admitted. "But it's worth it. And sometimes the people who frustrate us the most are the ones who understand us best."

"Mingyu doesn't understand me. He just... infuriates me and challenges me and makes me want to work harder and be better and—" Ela stopped abruptly, her eyes widening. "Oh no."

"Oh no what?" Jia asked, though she knew exactly what.

"I think I might not actually hate him." Ela looked genuinely distressed. "I think I might actually—no. No, that's insane. He's impossible and arrogant and—"

"And you can't stop talking about him," Joshua observed gently.

"And you notice things about him," Jia added. "His schedule, his coffee order, his dog, when he's tired..."

"And you work well together when you stop fighting it," Joshua finished.

Ela buried her face in her hands again. "This is a disaster. I can't like Mingyu. He probably sees me as nothing more than an obstacle to his perfect vision."

"Or," Jia said carefully, "he brings you coffee and helps you and works late with you because he likes you too and doesn't know how to say it."

"That's... that's a very generous interpretation."

"It's happened before," Joshua said, squeezing Jia's hand. "Sometimes the people who seem the hardest to reach are just scared of how much they feel."

Ela looked between them, something shifting in her expression. "How do I... I mean, what if you're wrong? What if I'm reading everything wrong and I make it weird?"

"What if we're right?" Jia countered. "What if this whole time you've been dancing around each other, both too stubborn to make the first move?"

"I can't make the first move! He's— We're— It would be professional suicide!"

"Or," Joshua suggested with a small smile, "it could be the beginning of something good. Sometimes the best relationships start with the people who challenge us most."

Ela was quiet for a long moment, stirring her coffee absently. "He did ask me to get coffee on Monday. After we finish the pitch. Just the two of us. Said we should 'debrief' about the project."

Jia's face lit up. "That's a date!"

"It's a debrief!"

"Ela, he asked you to get coffee. Alone. After work. That's absolutely a date."

"But what if—"

"No what ifs," Joshua said firmly. "Just go. Talk to him. See what happens."

"And if it goes badly?"

"Then you're back where you started," Jia said. "Professional adversaries who argue a lot. But if it goes well..."

Ela bit her lip, looking more vulnerable than Jia had seen her in a long time. "I don't know if I'm ready for this."

"No one's ever ready," Joshua said softly. "But sometimes you have to take the leap anyway."

The conversation shifted after that, moving to lighter topics, but Jia could see the wheels turning in Ela's head. Her best friend was scared, hopeful, uncertain—all the things Jia had felt before taking her own leap with Joshua.

As they were leaving the café, Ela pulled Jia aside.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For listening. For not judging. For... making me realize some things."

"What are friends for?" Jia hugged her. "Text me after the coffee thing on Monday. I want all the details."

"If I survive until Monday," Ela muttered. "I have to spend an entire evening alone with him first."

"You'll be fine. Just be yourself."

"Myself argues with him constantly."

"Then argue. But maybe pay attention to why you're arguing. And how he looks at you when you do."

Ela's cheeks went pink. "He doesn't look at me any particular way."

"Mmhmm. Keep telling yourself that."

Once they were in Joshua's car, he immediately turned to Jia with a knowing grin.

"So that Mingyu guy..."

"Is absolutely into her," Jia finished. "And she's completely into him but too stubborn to admit it."

"The coffee thing is definitely a date."

"One hundred percent a date." Jia settled back in her seat, then paused. "Thank you for coming with me. For being so sweet with Ela. For giving good advice."

Joshua glanced at her, his expression softening. "Of course. She's important to you, which makes her important to me."

"You know what I love about you?" Jia said suddenly.

"My devastating good looks? My incredible skills in—"

"Joshua!" She laughed, swatting his arm. "I'm being serious."

"Okay, okay." He grinned. "What do you love about me?"

"How you care about people. Not just me, but everyone. The kids at the community center, the waiter at brunch, even Ela when she's spiraling about her maybe-crush." Jia reached over to take his hand. "You genuinely want to help people be happy. It's one of the things I fell in love with."

His smile went soft, genuine. "You're going to make me blush."

"Good. You make me blush all the time with your filthy mouth."

"My filthy mouth that you love," he teased.

"Among other things." She squeezed his hand. "So what's the plan for the rest of the day? You mentioned the community center?"

"Yeah, but..." He glanced at the time on the dashboard. "We have a few hours before I need to be there. Want to just drive around for a bit? Maybe hit that bookstore you love?"

"The one with the café inside?"

"The very same. We could browse, get coffee, just... exist together for a while."

Jia's heart melted. "That sounds perfect."

They drove to the bookstore, a cozy independent shop in a quiet neighborhood. The kind of place with creaky wooden floors, floor-to-ceiling shelves, and the smell of old paper and fresh coffee mixing in the air.

Joshua held the door open for her—of course he did—and they wandered inside. Jia immediately gravitated toward the fiction section while Joshua headed for the history shelves.

"Meet back at the café in twenty?" he suggested.

"Deal."

Jia lost herself in browsing, pulling out books that caught her eye, reading back covers and first pages. She was engrossed in a novel about two strangers who keep missing each other when she felt arms wrap around her waist from behind.

"Find anything good?" Joshua murmured against her ear.

"Maybe. This one looks interesting." She showed him the book.

"The one about missed connections? Fitting." He kissed her temple. "Though I'm glad we didn't miss ours."

"Me too." She turned in his arms. "Find anything?"

"A book about the history of coffee cultivation that I absolutely don't need but probably want." He grinned sheepishly. "And I may have grabbed that cookbook you mentioned last week."

"You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to. Thought we could try making some of the recipes together." His hands settled on her hips. "You know, continue our domestic bliss theme."

"Domestic bliss, huh?"

"Yeah. I like doing normal, everyday things with you. Grocery shopping, cooking, reading in the same room..." He pulled her a little closer. "All of it."

"Even when I steal all your blankets at night?"

"Especially then." He kissed her softly. "Come on, let's get coffee and you can tell me about your book."

They settled into a corner of the bookstore café, cappuccinos in hand, sitting close enough that their knees touched under the small table.

"So," Joshua said, wrapping his hands around his cup. "What do you think is going to happen with Ela and Mingyu?"

"Honestly? I think they're going to drive each other crazy for a while before one of them cracks and admits how they feel."

"My money's on Mingyu cracking first."

"Really? I think it'll be Ela. She's already halfway there—she just doesn't realize it yet."

"Want to bet on it?" Joshua's eyes gleamed with mischief.

"What are the stakes?"

"Loser has to cook dinner for a week?"

"Deal." Jia shook his hand solemnly, then grinned. "Though honestly, I kind of hope they both crack at the same time. Like a mutual emotional breakthrough."

"That would be very rom-com of them."

"Says the man who does the whole 'gentleman in public, absolutely filthy in private' thing," Jia teased.

Joshua leaned closer, his voice dropping. "You complaining about that?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Good. Because I have plans for you later." His hand found her thigh under the table. "After the community center, after dinner... I'm going to take my time reminding you exactly why you fell for me."

"Joshua, we're in public—"

"I know. Which is why I'm being very good right now. Very restrained." His thumb traced small circles on her leg. "But tonight? Tonight I'm going to make you forget your own name."

Jia's breath caught. "You can't just say things like that and expect me to function for the rest of the day."

"Sure I can." He pulled back with an innocent smile, taking a sip of his coffee like he hadn't just made her heart race. "So, about that book you found..."

They spent the next hour just talking—about books, about work, about the kids Joshua mentored, about Jia's upcoming project at work. Easy conversation, comfortable silences, the kind of companionship that felt like home.

When it was time to head to the community center, Joshua paid for their books and coffees despite Jia's protests.

"You paid for brunch," she argued.

"And I'll pay for this too. Let me take care of you."

"You always take care of me."

"That's the plan." He kissed her forehead. "For the rest of our lives, if you'll let me."

Her heart stuttered. "Joshua..."

"Too much?" He looked suddenly uncertain.

"No." She cupped his face. "Not too much. Just... perfect."

His smile was radiant. "Come on. Let's go see some kids who need us."

At the community center, Jia watched Joshua in his element once again. The way he remembered every kid's name, their interests, their struggles. The way he made time for each one, never rushing, always present.

Little Leila attached herself to Jia immediately.

"You came back!" she said excitedly.

"Of course. Josh told me you were working on that art project?"

"Want to see?" Without waiting for an answer, Leila dragged Jia over to a table covered in paint and paper.

For the next two hours, Jia helped kids with homework, admired artwork, and watched Joshua be the best version of himself—patient, kind, endlessly encouraging.

At one point, she caught him looking at her across the room. He was surrounded by kids, in the middle of explaining something about basketball, but his eyes found hers and the smile he gave her was so full of love it made her chest ache.

This was her future, she realized. Not just the passion and the romance, but this—building a life together, supporting each other, being part of something bigger than themselves.

When the session ended, they walked to the car hand in hand.

"You were amazing in there," Joshua said.

"Me? You're the one who has those kids wrapped around your finger."

"We're a team." He squeezed her hand. "In everything."

Back at his apartment, Joshua made good on his promise from earlier. Dinner was simple—pasta and salad—but cooking together felt intimate, domestic. The kind of thing that would be part of their everyday life someday.

"You know," Jia said as they cleaned up together, "I could get used to this."

"Washing dishes?"

"This. Us. The whole domestic routine." She dried a plate, then turned to face him. "I love the passionate, intense side of us. But I think I love this just as much. Just... being together."

Joshua set down the dish he was washing and pulled her close, soap bubbles and all.

"I love it too," he said softly. "Every part of us. The public and the private, the exciting and the mundane." He kissed her gently. "It's all perfect because it's with you."

"Smooth talker."

"Just honest." He kissed her again, deeper this time. "Now, I believe I made some promises about tonight..."

"You did," she breathed.

"Then let me keep them."

He led her to the bedroom, and the transition from sweet domesticity to heated passion was seamless. This was what they did best—being everything for each other, in every way.

Later, wrapped in his arms, both of them sated and sleepy, Jia's phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Ela: Okay so I've been thinking about Monday all day. What if you're right? What if he actually... OH GOD what do I wear? What do I say? HELP.

Jia smiled, typing back with one hand while Joshua played with her hair.

Jia: Wear the blue dress. Be yourself. And just see what happens. Sometimes the best things are the ones we don't overthink.

Ela: Easy for you to say. You and Joshua are disgustingly perfect together.

Jia: We're not perfect. We just fit. And I think you and Mingyu might fit too. You just have to give it a chance.

Ela: I hate that you're probably right.

Jia: You love me.

Ela: Unfortunately. ❤️ Okay, I'm going to try. But if this blows up in my face, I'm blaming you.

Jia: Deal. Now get some sleep. You've got a big week ahead.

"Everything okay?" Joshua murmured, half asleep.

"Yeah. Ela's just freaking out about Monday still."

"She'll be fine. They both will." He pulled her closer. "Just like we are."

"Just like we are," Jia agreed, setting her phone aside and snuggling into his warmth.

As she drifted off to sleep, she thought about how lucky she was. To have found someone who was everything—gentle and passionate, public and private, sweet and filthy, supportive and challenging.

Joshua was her person. In every way that mattered.

And somewhere out there, Mingyu and Ela were about to figure out they were each other's people too.

But that was their story.

This one—hers and Joshua's—was already being written, one perfect day at a time.

The Next Morning

Jia woke to the smell of coffee and pancakes. She stretched, feeling deliciously content, and padded into the kitchen to find Joshua at the stove again.

"You're going to spoil me," she said, wrapping her arms around him from behind.

"That's the plan." He turned to kiss her. "Good morning, beautiful."

"Good morning." She accepted the coffee he handed her. "You know, I was thinking..."

"Dangerous," he teased.

"Shut up." She swatted him playfully. "I was thinking about what you said yesterday. About the future. About... all of it."

His expression grew serious, attentive. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I just want you to know that I want all of it too. The life, the domesticity, the family... everything."

Joshua set down his spatula and pulled her into his arms. "You mean that?"

"I mean it. I want to build a life with you, Joshua. Want to wake up to you making me breakfast every morning, want to argue about blanket-stealing, want to support each other's dreams..." She looked up at him. "Want all of it."

He kissed her deeply, pouring everything he felt into it. When they broke apart, his eyes were suspiciously bright.

"You're going to make me cry into these pancakes," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"Can't have that. You worked too hard on them."

"I love you," he said simply. "So much it scares me sometimes."

"I love you too. And there's nothing to be scared of. We've got this."

"Yeah," he agreed, kissing her forehead. "We do."

They ate breakfast together, talking about their weeks ahead, making plans for another weekend together. Simple, normal, perfect.

This was love, Jia thought. Not just the grand gestures or the passionate moments, but this—coffee and pancakes and planning mundane things together. Being each other's safe place, their home.

Joshua’s apartment door had barely clicked shut before his mouth was on hers again, all that carefully maintained control from the day completely gone. He kissed her like he was starving, walking her backward through the living room without breaking contact.

“Couch or bedroom?” he muttered against her lips.

“Whichever’s closer—”

“Couch it is.”

He guided her down onto the soft cushions, following her down, settling between her legs with a satisfied groan. “Finally.” His hands slid up her thighs, pushing her dress higher. “Do you know what you do to me? Walking around looking like this all day?”

“It’s just a dress,” Jia breathed, though her hands were already working at the buttons of his shirt.

“It’s not just anything.” He caught her wrists, pinning them gently above her head with one hand. “This dress, the way you smile at me in public when you know exactly what I’m thinking, how you blush when I text you dirty things…” His free hand traced down her side. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m a menace? You’re the one who—” She gasped as his hand found bare skin.

“Who what?” His smile was wicked. “Who couldn’t keep his hands off you in the parking lot? Who stopped the elevator just to kiss you?” His fingers hooked into the fabric. “Who’s been thinking about getting you out of this dress since you put it on this morning?”

“All of the above,” she managed.

“Can’t help it.” He released her wrists to pull her dress over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Jia.”

The way he looked at her—like she was everything—made her heart race even faster. This was the Joshua no one else got to see. Not the polite volunteer, not the helpful neighbor, not the guy who held doors and remembered everyone’s coffee order.

This Joshua was intense, focused, devoted entirely to her pleasure with the same dedication he brought to everything else. Except here, in private, that dedication took a very different form.

“Come here,” she murmured, pulling him down into another deep kiss.

He groaned against her mouth, hands roaming freely now, mapping every curve like he was memorizing her all over again. “Love touching you,” he muttered between kisses. “Love how you respond to me.”

His mouth moved to her neck, then lower, trailing kisses across her collarbone, down to the swell of her chest. When he looked up at her, his eyes were dark with want.

“You’re so perfect,” he breathed. “So soft, so responsive…” His hands worked at the clasp of her bra. “So mine.”

“Possessive today, are we?”

“Always.” The bra joined her dress on the floor. “Just better at hiding it in public.” His mouth closed over her breast and she arched into him with a gasp. “But here? I don’t have to hide anything.”

He took his time, lavishing attention on her with lips and tongue and the occasional graze of teeth that made her whimper. His free hand slid down her stomach, fingers dancing along the waistband of her underwear.

“These are in my way,” he murmured.

“Then do something about it.”

He grinned—that devastating smile that was all heat and promise—and slowly, torturously slowly, slid them down her legs. “Patience, baby. We’ve got all afternoon.”

“Joshua—”

“I love when you say my name like that.” He kissed his way down her stomach, hands spreading her thighs. “All breathy and desperate. Do it again.”

“Joshua, please—”

“Much better.”

He settled between her legs, throwing them over his shoulders, and the first touch of his mouth made her cry out. He hummed in satisfaction, the vibration making her squirm.

“Stay still for me,” he murmured, holding her hips down. “Let me take care of you.”

And he did. With the same focused attention he brought to everything, Joshua set about driving her absolutely insane. He knew exactly what she liked, exactly how to build her up slowly until she was trembling, begging.

“So responsive,” he praised, his voice muffled. “So good for me.”

Jia’s hands tangled in his hair, her head thrown back against the cushions. “Don’t stop—”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He redoubled his efforts and she nearly sobbed. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you. No one to be quiet for now.”

He worked her higher and higher, building the tension until she was right on the edge, and then—

He pulled back.

“Joshua!” Her protest came out as almost a whine.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” He kissed the inside of her thigh, that wicked smile back. “Just want to make it last. Want to savor every second.”

“You’re evil—”

“So you keep saying.” He dove back in with renewed purpose, and this time he didn’t stop, didn’t tease, just focused entirely on her until she came apart with his name on her lips.

He worked her through it, gentle now, until she was boneless and panting. Then he kissed his way back up her body, settling beside her on the couch and pulling her against his chest.

“You okay?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. The gentleman was back, at least temporarily—caring, attentive, making sure she was alright.

“More than okay,” Jia managed, still catching her breath. “That was…”

“Good?” He sounded pleased with himself.

“Unfair. You’re still fully dressed.”

“Easily remedied.” He started to sit up but she pushed him back down.

“My turn.”

His eyes darkened again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She straddled him, enjoying the way his hands immediately went to her hips. “You’ve been teasing me all day. Think it’s only fair I return the favor.”

“I wasn’t teasing,” he protested, even as his thumbs traced circles on her bare skin. “I was just… expressing my appreciation.”

“Mmhmm.” She worked at his shirt buttons, pushing the fabric off his shoulders. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Among other things.” He helped her pull his shirt off, then groaned when her hands moved to his belt. “Jia—”

“What? I thought you liked hearing me say your name.”

“I do, but if you keep touching me like that—” He sucked in a breath as she palmed him through his jeans. “Fuck.”

“Not so chatty now, are you?” She worked his belt open, then the button of his jeans.

His hands tightened on her hips. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Payback.” She kissed him deeply, swallowing his groan as she slid her hand inside his boxers, wrapping her fingers around him. “For every text message, every loaded look, every time you touched me in public and I had to act normal…”

“Point taken,” he gasped. His hips lifted slightly, seeking more contact. “God, your hand—”

“What about it?” She stroked him slowly, firmly, watching his face, the way his eyes fell closed and his jaw clenched.

“Perfect. You’re perfect. This is—” His words cut off in a moan as she twisted her wrist just right.

She worked him until he was panting, his careful control fraying at the edges, and then she released him. His eyes flew open.

“Seriously?”

“Told you. Payback.” She grinned at his frustrated expression.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he warned, but he was smiling too.

“Promise?”

In one smooth motion, he flipped them, pinning her beneath him on the couch. “Absolutely.” He kicked off his jeans and boxers, and she couldn’t help but appreciate the view.

He braced himself above her, one hand cupping her face. “You’re still on the pill, right?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, heart racing at the implication.

His eyes darkened further. “Good. Because I’ve been dying to feel you. Just you. Nothing between us.”

“Joshua—”

He cut off her words with a kiss, and then slowly, finally, pushed inside. They both groaned at the sensation—so much more intense without any barrier.

“Fuck,” he breathed against her lips, his whole body trembling with restraint. “You feel incredible. So warm, so tight, so perfect.”

He started moving, slow and deep, and Jia could feel every ridge, every inch of him in a way that made her head spin.

“God, Jia,” he groaned. “This is… you’re… fuck, I can feel everything.”

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Never.” His pace picked up gradually. “Could stay inside you forever. You feel so good wrapped around me like this.”

His restraint was clearly hanging by a thread, and she loved it—loved that she could reduce this controlled, polite man to desperate need.

“Harder,” she demanded.

“You sure?”

“Yes—please—”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hips snapped against hers with more force, the angle perfect, and she was seeing stars.

“That’s it,” he groaned. “God, you’re incredible. So wet for me, taking me so perfectly—” His words dissolved into curses as she clenched around him deliberately.

“Joshua—” She was close again, impossibly fast.

“I know, baby, I can feel it. Feel you getting tighter around me.” One hand slid between them, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves. “Come for me. Want to feel you fall apart on my cock.”

The combination of his movements, his fingers, the overwhelming intimacy of feeling him bare inside her—it was too much. She came hard, crying out his name, and the sensation of her clenching around him sent him over the edge too.

“Jia—fuck—” He thrust deep, spilling inside her with a groan that sounded almost pained.

They stayed like that for a long moment, both trembling, hearts racing. When he finally pulled back to look at her, his expression was dazed.

“That was…” He couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.

“Yeah,” she agreed breathlessly.

He carefully pulled out and she felt the warm evidence of their connection start to leak out. Joshua’s eyes tracked the movement, something possessive and primal flashing across his face.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he muttered, almost to himself. His fingers traced her inner thigh. “Seeing my cum dripping out of you…”

“Joshua,” she said, half-scandalized, half-aroused.

“Sorry, sorry.” He grabbed some tissues from the side table, gently cleaning them both up. “That was just… really intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Amazing intense.” He gathered her into his arms, pulling her close. “Though I might have trouble ever going back to condoms after that.”

“Good thing I’m responsible about my pill then.”

“Very good thing.” He nuzzled into her neck. “Give me like ten minutes and we can move this to the bedroom.”

“Only ten minutes?”

“Maybe fifteen.” He kissed her shoulder. “You’re very inspiring.”

They lay tangled together on the couch, comfortable silence settling over them. Joshua traced lazy patterns on her skin, his touch gentle and soothing now.

“Ready?” he finally asked, and she nodded.

He stood, pulling her up with him, but instead of letting her walk, he scooped her into his arms.

“I can walk, you know.”

“I know. But where’s the fun in that?” He carried her toward the bedroom, kicking the door open. “Besides, gotta practice my husband material skills.”

“Husband material, huh?”

“Future husband material,” he corrected, setting her down on the bed. “If you’ll have me, that is.”

The sincerity in his voice made her chest tight. “Ask me again when you’re not naked and we haven’t just had sex.”

“Deal.” He crawled over her, that playful smile back. “But for now…”

“For now what?”

“For now, I’m going to take my time with you.” His hand slid up her thigh. “No rushing. No interruptions. Just you and me and this bed.”

He kissed her deeply, and she could feel him already getting hard again against her hip.

“Someone’s eager,” she teased.

“Told you. Inspiring.” His mouth moved to her neck. “Plus now that I know how good you feel without anything between us… I’m kind of obsessed.”

His hands roamed her body, relearning every curve. When his fingers slid between her thighs, she was already getting wet again—a mixture of her arousal and his release from before.

“Fuck, Jia,” he groaned, fingers exploring. “Still so messy from me. So perfect.”

“Your fault,” she managed as his fingers circled slowly.

“I’ll take full responsibility.” He slid two fingers inside and she arched into his touch. “Love that I can feel myself inside you still. Love marking you like this.”

He worked her with his fingers, slow and deliberate, building her up gradually while his mouth stayed busy at her breasts. When she was writhing beneath him, close to the edge, he pulled back.

“Want to be inside you again,” he murmured, positioning himself at her entrance. “Want to fill you up over and over until you’re overflowing with me.”

He pushed inside slowly and they both moaned—her still sensitive from before, him already on edge from the intensity of skin-to-skin contact.

“So good,” he breathed, starting a deep, steady rhythm. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

This time he took his time, angling his hips to hit that spot inside her that made her see stars with every thrust.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, watching her face. “So perfect. Could stay inside you forever.”

“Joshua—please—”

“Please what? Tell me what you need.”

“Faster—”

He obliged, picking up the pace, and the sound of their bodies coming together filled the room. Jia wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Take what you need from me.” His hand slid between them, finding her clit. “Want to feel you come on my cock again. Want to feel you squeeze me—”

His words, his touch, the relentless rhythm—it all combined to send her over the edge. She came with a cry, clenching around him, and the sensation was too much for him.

“Jia—fuck—” He thrust deep, his whole body shuddering as he came inside her again.

They collapsed together, sweaty and satisfied, breathing hard.

“Fuck,” Jia managed after a moment.

“Too much?” He sounded concerned despite still being inside her.

“Perfect. You’re perfect.” She kissed him softly. “Though if you keep going at this rate, I might not be able to walk tomorrow.”

“I’ll carry you everywhere.” He carefully pulled out, both of them watching as more evidence of their activities leaked out. His fingers traced through it almost reverently. “You have no idea how much this turns me on.”

“I’m getting an idea,” she said dryly.

He grinned, grabbing tissues to clean her up gently. “Sorry. I’ll try to keep the caveman possessiveness under control.”

“Don’t.” She pulled him close. “I kind of like it.”

His smile turned wicked. “Good. Because I’ve got more where that came from.”

He settled beside her, tucking her against his side. “You know what I was thinking about earlier?”

“You were thinking about a lot of things earlier.”

“True. But specifically…” His hand splayed across her stomach, warm and possessive. “The future. About us.”

Jia’s heart skipped. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like… you’d make a really amazing mom someday. You’re so good with kids.”

“That’s sweet, but—”

“And you’re so pretty, Jia. So fucking beautiful.” His fingers traced idle circles on her skin. “Can you imagine? A baby with your eyes? Your smile?” His voice dropped lower. “You, all round and glowing, carrying my child…”

“Joshua—”

“I know, I know. Future talk. But I can’t help it.” He rolled over so he was hovering above her again. “The thought of you pregnant, knowing I put that baby in you…” His eyes were dark with renewed desire. “Knowing my cum is inside you right now, even though you’re on the pill… fuck, it does things to me.”

“I can tell,” she said, feeling him hardening against her thigh already.

“Can’t help it.” He kissed her deeply. “One kid wouldn’t hurt, right? When we’re ready, I mean.”

“You’re insane.”

“About you? Absolutely.” His hand slid down between her legs, fingers finding her still sensitive and wet. “And right now, I’m thinking we should practice.”

“Practice?”

“Mmhmm. For when you go off the pill and we’re actually trying.” His fingers worked her expertly. “Want to make sure I know exactly how to get you pregnant. How many times I need to fill you up, how deep I need to go…”

“That’s not—ah—how biology works—”

“Shh, let me have my fantasy.” He kissed down her body. “Besides, practice makes perfect, right?”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.” He settled between her thighs. “Now, let me clean up the mess I made…”

And he did, his mouth working her until she was trembling and begging. When he finally positioned himself at her entrance again, she was more than ready.

“Last time for a while,” he murmured, pushing inside slowly. “Then we’ll eat, rest, recover.”

“Last time?” She raised an eyebrow even as she moaned at the sensation.

“For the next hour or two, anyway.” He set a slow, deep rhythm. “Gotta pace ourselves. Got all night.”

This time he made it last, building her up slowly, thoroughly, until they both came together with breathless cries.

Afterward, wrapped in his arms, Jia felt utterly spent and completely satisfied.

“Food?” Joshua suggested drowsily.

“Food,” she agreed.

“And then?”

“And then we’ll see if you can actually manage a round four.”

His laugh rumbled through his chest. “Challenge accepted.”

The morning sun filtered through the windows of Mercy General Hospital’s volunteer wing, where Joshua was already on his third hour of reading to elderly patients. Mrs. Chen, a tiny woman with silver hair and sharp eyes, patted his hand affectionately.

“You’re such a good boy, Joshua. Your parents raised you right.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kang,” he said with that warm smile that made every grandmother in the building want to adopt him. “Same time next week?”

“I’ll be counting on it, dear.”

Jia watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face. He spotted her and his expression brightened—though something flickered in his eyes that made her pulse quicken.

“Hey, baby!” He walked over, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek that was perfectly appropriate for the hospital hallway. “Just finishing up.”

“I can see that. Charming all the ladies as usual?”

“Just being friendly.” His hand found the small of her back as they walked toward the exit, his touch warm and innocent to any observer. But his thumb traced a slow, deliberate pattern against her spine that sent shivers down her whole body.

In the elevator, alone for thirty seconds, he leaned close. “Missed you,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “Been thinking about you all morning.”

The doors opened to the lobby and he stepped back smoothly, that gentleman’s smile returning as he held the door for a nurse pushing a patient in a wheelchair.

“Have a great day!” he called cheerfully.

Jia shook her head, amused and slightly dazed. The whiplash.

They grabbed lunch at their usual spot—a cozy café called Alexandra’s that made the best sandwiches in the neighborhood. Joshua was immediately recognized by half the staff.

“Josh! My man!” The owner, Minghao, came around the counter for a fist bump. “How’s the mentoring program going?”

“Really well! Got three new kids signed up this week. Reminds me—I wanted to ask if you’d be interested in hosting a field trip? Let them see how a small business runs?”

“For you? Absolutely. Just let me know when.”

As Hansol headed back to the kitchen, Jia settled into their booth by the window. “Do you know everyone in this city?”

“Just friendly.” He slid in across from her, that innocent smile still in place. Then his foot found hers under the table, his shoe sliding deliberately against her ankle, up her calf.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

His expression didn’t change as he picked up the menu, but his phone appeared in his other hand. A moment later, hers buzzed.

Joshua: You wore that dress on purpose, didn’t you?

She glanced down at her sundress—a simple floral print, nothing scandalous—then back at him. He was still studying the menu like he was contemplating world peace.

Jia: It’s just a dress.

Joshua: It’s driving me crazy. Keep thinking about sliding my hands under it.

Her cheeks flushed and she took a long sip of water. Across from her, Joshua flagged down their waiter.

“Hey Dino! How’s your mom doing after the surgery?”

“Oh man, Josh, thanks for asking! She’s doing great, actually. Your care package really lifted her spirits.”

“I’m so glad. Tell her I’m thinking of her.”

The moment Dino left, another text: The way you’re blushing right now… fuck, Jia.

“Joshua,” she hissed under her breath.

“Hmm?” Those innocent doe eyes again. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

An elderly man at the next table dropped his newspaper, and Joshua immediately bent to retrieve it, helping the man gather the scattered sections with patient good humor.

“Thank you, young man. Very kind of you.”

“No problem at all, sir. Enjoy your lunch.”

Joshua: Can’t stop thinking about the sounds you make when I—

Jia’s hand shot across the table and snatched his phone. “Stop it,” she whispered, though she was fighting a smile.

He leaned back, the picture of relaxed contentment. “Stop what? I’m just sitting here, being a perfect gentleman.”

“You’re being a menace.”

“Can’t I be both?” His grin was absolutely wicked for just a second before Daniel returned with their food.

After lunch, they wandered through the farmer’s market. Joshua stopped to help a vendor whose canopy had collapsed, spending twenty minutes helping him set it up properly while declining the free vegetables offered as thanks.

“Really, I’m just happy to help!”

He bought flowers from a shy teenage girl running her mom’s stand, complimenting her sales technique and encouraging her. He gave directions to three different lost tourists. He even stopped to tie a little boy’s shoelace when the kid’s parents had their hands full with a baby.

“You’re like a walking Good Samaritan PSA,” Jia teased as they finally headed toward the parking lot.

“Just trying to make the world a little better.” His hand slipped into hers, fingers intertwining. To anyone watching, it was sweet and innocent.

But then his thumb pressed into her palm in that specific spot that made her breath hitch, and he leaned in like he was telling her something casual: “You know what would make my world better right now? Getting you home and out of that dress.”

“Joshua!” She glanced around, but he was already straightening up, waving at someone across the street.

“Hey, Mr. Kim! Looking good!”

The elderly man waved back enthusiastically. “That Joshua,” he called to his wife. “Such a nice young man!”

If only they knew.

At the car, Joshua opened her door for her, waiting until she was seated before leaning down, one hand on the roof, the other on the doorframe, caging her in. Anyone watching would just see an attentive boyfriend making sure his girlfriend was settled.

But his voice was low and rough: “I’ve been good all day. So patient. So polite.” His eyes locked on hers, dark with promise. “But I’m running out of patience, baby.”

Her mouth went dry. “We’re in a parking lot.”

“I know.” He glanced around—the lot was mostly empty, their car parked in a far corner under a tree. His hand moved to her thigh, sliding up slowly. “We’ve got a few minutes before anyone comes by.”

“Joshua—”

“Tell me to stop and I will.” His fingers traced patterns on her inner thigh, his eyes never leaving hers. “Do you want me to stop?”

She should say yes. They were in public, even if it was relatively secluded. But the way he was looking at her, the heat in his voice, the deliberate pressure of his fingers…

“No,” she breathed.

His smile was pure sin. “Good girl.” He leaned in, kissing her deeply as his hand slid higher, thumb brushing against her in a way that made her gasp into his mouth. “Been thinking about touching you all day. Driving me crazy, being so close and having to keep my hands to myself.”

“Someone could see—” Her protest was weak, especially when his fingers found exactly where she needed them.

“Then you better be quiet, baby.” His lips moved to her neck as his hand worked between her thighs, slow and deliberate and absolutely maddening. “Think you can do that for me?”

Jia bit her lip hard, her hands gripping his shoulders. This was insane. They were in a parking lot in broad daylight and Joshua was—

“That’s it,” he murmured against her skin, feeling her respond to his touch. “God, you’re so—”

A car pulled into the lot three rows over and Joshua immediately pulled back, his hand retreating as he straightened up with that easy smile. An older woman got out, wrestling with shopping bags, and Joshua called out cheerfully.

“Need any help, ma’am?”

“Oh! No, thank you dear, I’ve got it!”

He waved, then closed Jia’s door gently and walked around to the driver’s side like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just had his hand up her dress thirty seconds ago.

Jia was still trying to remember how to breathe.

He slid into the driver’s seat, started the car, and pulled out of the parking spot with perfect care. At the first red light, his hand returned to her thigh.

“You okay, baby?” His voice was innocent, concerned even, but his fingers were drawing those same maddening patterns.

“You’re evil.”

“I prefer ‘dedicated.’” The light turned green and he drove with perfect attention to the road, one hand on the wheel. The other hand, though… “I like making you feel good. Is that so wrong?”

“We’re in public.”

“I’m being very discreet.” His fingers slid higher again and she couldn’t quite suppress a small sound. “See? No one knows what’s happening except us.”

They hit traffic and he sighed. “Well, since we’re stuck here anyway…” His hand moved with more purpose now, and Jia’s head fell back against the headrest.

“Joshua, if you don’t—” She cut off with a gasp.

“Don’t what? Want me to stop?” His voice was low, teasing. “Or don’t stop?”

“Don’t stop,” she managed, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“That’s what I thought.”

A motorcycle cop pulled up beside them and Joshua’s hand immediately retreated to rest innocently on her knee. He offered the officer a friendly nod and that wholesome smile.

The cop nodded back approvingly before the light changed and he drove off.

The moment the cop was gone, Joshua’s hand slid back up. “Now where were we?”

“You’re going to kill me,” Jia breathed.

“What a way to go though, right?” He was watching the road, perfectly calm and collected while reducing her to a trembling mess. “You’re so beautiful like this. Wish I could see your face properly.”

“Eyes on the road,” she managed.

“Always, baby. Safety first.” But his fingers were doing absolutely sinful things. “You getting close?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Use your words, Jia.”

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Good. Let go for me.”

And she did, biting down hard on her knuckle to keep from making too much noise as pleasure rolled through her. Joshua kept driving smoothly, his movements never faltering, working her through it with practiced ease.

When she finally came down, panting and flushed, he pulled his hand back and brought his fingers to his lips for just a second before returning both hands to the wheel.

“Absolutely delicious,” he murmured, then brightened as they approached his building. “Oh good, we’re almost home! I should probably start dinner soon. Were you thinking pasta or should we order in?”

The casual shift was going to give her whiplash. “Joshua—”

“Hmm?”

“You’re insane.”

“And you love it.” He pulled into the garage, parked, and turned to face her with that devastating smile. “Come on, let’s get inside. We’re just getting started.”

They made it across the garage without incident. Joshua held the elevator door for a woman with grocery bags, helped her press her floor button, made pleasant small talk about the weather.

The woman got off on the third floor.

They were going to the seventh.

The doors had barely closed when Joshua’s finger jabbed the emergency stop button. The elevator lurched to a halt between floors.

“Joshua! What are you—”

He was on her in an instant, backing her against the wall, his mouth crashing into hers with none of the restraint he’d shown all day. This kiss was hungry, demanding, his hands everywhere at once—tangling in her hair, gripping her waist, sliding up her thighs.

“Do you have any idea,” he growled against her lips, “how hard it’s been keeping my hands off you all day?” His teeth grazed her bottom lip. “Being polite and nice when all I wanted was this.”

Jia’s hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. “Someone will notice the elevator stopped—”

“Don’t care.” His mouth moved to her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “Need you too badly.”

His hands slid under her dress, gripping her thighs and lifting her. She wrapped her legs around his waist automatically, and the new angle had her gasping.

“Joshua—”

“Say it again.” His hips pressed against hers, pinning her to the wall. “Love hearing you say my name.”

“Joshua,” she moaned, and he groaned in response.

“Fuck, baby.” His mouth found hers again, kissing her deeply as he ground against her. One hand supported her while the other slid between them, fingers finding her still sensitive from the car. “Still so ready for me.”

The elevator phone started ringing—building security probably wondering why they’d stopped between floors.

“Ignore it,” Joshua muttered against her neck, his fingers working her into a frenzy.

“We have to—ah—” Her head fell back against the wall as he found that perfect spot.

“We have to what? Answer it?” He nipped at her collarbone. “Tell them we’re busy?”

The ringing stopped, but they both knew security would send someone to check soon.

“Joshua, we have to move—”

“One more minute.” His thumb circled deliberately and she nearly sobbed. “Want to feel you come apart again. Right here, right now, where anyone could catch us.”

The danger of it, the absoluteness of his focus on her, the skilled movement of his fingers—it was too much. She came with a muffled cry against his shoulder, her whole body shaking.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, holding her through it. “So perfect for me.”

He set her down gently just as they heard footsteps in the elevator shaft above them—maintenance coming to check. Joshua released the emergency stop and the elevator lurched back into motion. By the time it dinged for the seventh floor, he’d straightened his clothes, fixed his hair, and had that innocent gentleman smile back in place.

The doors opened to reveal the building supervisor looking concerned.

“Everything okay? The elevator stopped—”

“Oh! Sorry about that,” Joshua said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I accidentally leaned against the emergency stop button. My fault entirely. Is everything working properly now?”

“Seems to be. Just be more careful next time, alright?”

“Absolutely. Sorry for the trouble!” Joshua took Jia’s hand and led her down the hallway, all politeness and contrition.

The moment they were around the corner and out of sight, he pulled her close. “Your apartment or mine?”

“Yours is closer.”

“Good answer.” He practically dragged her to his door, fumbling with his keys in his haste.

He unlocked his door, pulled her inside, and slammed it shut behind them. The lock clicked.

And just like that, everything changed.

His eyes went dark, his expression shifting into something predatory and hungry as he advanced on her. “Now then,” he said, his voice rough and low. “No more interruptions. No more having to stop. Just you and me.”

Jia backed up until she hit the wall, her pulse racing.

“Joshua—”

“Keep saying my name, baby.” His hands bracketed her head, caging her in. “Because I’m going to make sure you’re screaming it by the time I’m done with you.”