Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fall, 2024

Hyun-wo smiled into his coffee cup when he felt her arms snake around his waist. 

He took in one last look of the distant sunrise that began to wake Frankfurt, coloring the city beneath them with a warm, golden daylight before turning around to face her—because of his job as Queens’ legal director, he’s been sent to a number of places that boasted an impressive sunrise and he could say with glowing confidence that the sunrise in Frankfurt was one of the most beautiful he’s ever seen… but he could spend an eternity watching that golden sunrise slowly light up the city he loved most and it would still pale in comparison to the view he had now.

Hae-in—his wife—in his arms. 

An asteroid could wipe all life from this earth in an instant and it still wouldn’t be enough to make him look away. 

“Good morning.”

Hae-in, on the other hand, scowled at him before she buried her face in his chest sleepily. “Yah, don’t you ‘good morning’ me. Just because it’s a honeymoon for our second wedding doesn’t mean you get to make me wake up alone in bed.”

“Mianhe,” he whispered, voice still a touch too husky from sleep and it earned a reluctant smile from his wife. “I just wanted to think.” 

Hae-in looked up, her brow now arched. Her lips were pursed and though he could still see her fighting off the lingering remnants of exhaustion from just having woken up, she was tamping down her smile. She was clearly amused with his answer but feigned displeasure. “I don’t think that explanation sounds as good as you think.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Ani. It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it, then?” 

Hyun-woo tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and allowed himself a second to just look at her—almost a year ago, he brought her to the look-out point near Yongdu-ri. 

He sobered up just remembering that moment that seemed so long ago.  

She looked exactly the way she did at the look-out point. 

There were some changes, of course—it was sunrise now but it was sunset then; they're in Germany now, and they were in Korea then; they were married now, and they were divorced then. 

But the little things that often get lost in the detail? They were mostly the same. The sky now was the softest hue of orange and it cast a warm and golden light everywhere for those few short moments, just as it had been at the look-out point. And what he felt remained largely the same. 

He told her then that it was a popular spot for couples to confess their feelings and it was partly because it looked like a scene straight out of a fairytale and the morning sun was nothing short of a heavenly... angelic, even. 

Almost a year ago, he bought a ring and asked her to withdraw their divorce (and almost a year ago, she took one look before closing the ring box.)

Almost a year ago, she didn’t have a year to live (and almost a year ago, he nearly lost her forever.)

And then he woke up in bed with his wife in his arms. She was still asleep in his arms and his phone kept buzzing on the nightstand because there was a notification from a research center in London about an opening in a drug clinical trial for an experimental cloud cytoma treatment that he asked to be put on waitlist for Hae-in from before surgery was even an option. 

And now she was still in his arms, their rings glinting in the sunlight, the memories of their second wedding still fresh in his mind because they literally caught the earliest flight to Germany, and he had come so close to losing this. Hyun-woo looked at her—really looked at her—and he thanked his lucky stars, he thanked God, he thanked any god that ever was, is, or will be. 

Because he's eternally grateful for this, for them—that the universe had conspired to make them meet in all those instances in their past, that all of his soul and being was so intertwined with her. He's thankful beyond measure that this was his reality. 

Hyun-woo gave one last lingering look at the sun, wondering silently if this was what forever felt like. 

"What were you thinking about?" 

Hae-in asked, all pretense of her feigned bad mood earlier had evaporated with the darkness that the light chased away. He leaned down for a kiss—

“You," he whispered reverently against her lips, eyes closed, and not a moment was lost between them. "I’m just thinking how lucky I am to have you.”

Chapter Text

Spring, 2025

There was just something about vacations that made the idea of sleeping in sound so… heavenly . 

Maybe it was because of the hotel room—the fluffy mattress, the cool sheets, the light breeze, and the picturesque sight of Frankfurt from the balcony only made it too easy to stay cocooned in its five thousand thread count comforter.

She once had a classmate, when she was still taking her master’s in management at Yale, who was the son of an international hospitality company’s chairman and CEO. He told her that hotel rooms used psychology as a part of their marketing, that it was called sleep tourism, that a calm and clutter free environment made sleeping in so irresistible. 

Or maybe it was because of the fact that she’s already been to Germany—after all, she already knew the sights so there wasn’t a rush to make the most of their time there, there were no clamoring family members who waited for her to get straight back to work. Now, it was just her and Hyun-woo in their own little world, a bubble only for them to share.

And Germany was a part of that little bubble, too—it didn't matter if this was their third time back in Frankfurt in the span of a year, it felt just as magical as the first. After all, she made a promise to him (and herself) that she would focus more on collecting happy memories for her candy jar, that they would take more trips. Germany's been a part of their memories, both the good and the bad, so it was only fitting that it's a part of this new chapter of their lives.

She would have been content to stay right where she was, but there was a portion of the floor-to-ceiling windows that the curtains didn't quite cover and while normally she'd stomp over to close it, she had something planned for the day and staying in bed felt like tempting fate... she'd hate for them to be late to their appointment. 

Hae-in blinked herself awake, vision still blurry from sleep, and looked at the wall-mounted clock. It was quarter to eight. She woke up just in time. 

She glanced up and saw her husband, still sound asleep. 

For a moment, she just looked at him. After all, mornings spent in bed were rare so when the opportunity presented itself, she wasn't going to let it pass by—she studied him, took the moment to memorize the terrain of his face, from the slope of his nose, the curves of his lips, the adorable furrow in his brows, and everything in between. She loved early mornings, Hae-in decided, and she loved them even more with Baek Hyun-woo. 

She raised her left arm and, with her index finger, she tapped the underside of his chin and waited for him to wake up. 

A second passed, and then two and three and—

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

She shifted her position so that she propped herself up, half on her elbow, half on his chest. 

"Yeobo," she said softly, trying to rouse him awake. 

But there was still no response, just the steady rise and fall of his chest and her husband was decidedly still so very sound asleep. 

"Yeobo," she repeated, this time a bit louder, but he was still asleep. She looked at the clock again—it had just turned eight. 

They were going to be late. 

"Yah, Baek Hyun-woo," she nudged his shoulders and all of a sudden, the world shifted around her when his arms had wrapped themselves around her waist and pulled her down, her back now flushed against him, his face buried in the crook behind her neck, his warm breath lingering on her skin sending goosebumps all over while she was locked in his embrace. 

"Just five more minutes," he negotiated, words murmured softly and sleepily, steadily dozing off again.

And maybe, if she was a weaker woman, she’d snuggle back into her husband’s arms, happily sleep with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, until it was deep in the afternoon. But she wasn’t a weaker woman—she’s Hong Hae-in and she’s nothing if not a woman with a plan. 

And what a plan she had. 

Hae-in slowly shifted her position so that she faced Hyun-woo. She pulled herself closer to him, gravitating nearer and nearer until their breaths mingled in a way that sent shivers down her spine. She inched closer until their lips met—

It was like static, an electric pulse that hummed to life. Each kiss was both too little and too much at the same time. 

She knew he was awake when he relaxed under her touch and his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer even though there wasn't any distance between them anymore save for their clothes that his hand was deftly trying to remove and—

"We're going to be late."

She pulled away from him with a smirk and he blinked at her, his pupils were wide and blown, and his breathing was way too hard. It took him a few moments to recover before he could even ask, "What?" 

"We," she gestured between the two of them once she was out of the bed and finally standing, "have an appointment to go to and if we don't get ready now, we're going to be late." 

When she was a few steps away from the bed, she added: "I'm going to take a shower."

She could see the gears turning in his head, and she took that moment to walk towards the en-suite bathroom when she heard the sheets ruffling and in record speed, he was standing in front of her. 

"Jamkkanman. I'll join you." 

Hae-in laughed. "I thought you were sleepy?" she made a show of feigning nonchalantly. "If you want, you could still sleep for five more minutes while I shower."

"Ani. I'm good. We should get ready together," he refused quickly as he tugged on her arm, pulling her into the massive shower stall and, Hae-in thought to herself, incredibly pleased with her observation, he'd make an incredible businessman if the way he negotiated was any indication: "It'll save time this way... we don't want to be late, right?"

Chapter Text

Spring, 2025

“It’ll save time this way… we don’t want to be late, right?”

Hae-in didn’t know when or who turned the shower on—her state of mind was a bit like the bathroom they were in: all rushed and blurry, her clear train of thought obstructed by the tendrils of steam that curled up like columns around them, everything saturated with heat, and so utterly consumed with the presence of the man in front of her. 

Her man. Her Baek Hyun-woo. 

He guided her into a corner, her back pressed into the cold marble tiles, the stream of water directly positioned above them, one hand already pressed on the small of her back and the other was anchored over her hip, his body flushed against hers. 

“You’re wearing far too much clothes,” he murmured under his breath, his voice low that sent shivers down her spine, his thumb already hooked under the fabric of the wet shirt that clung to her skin. She really wasn’t wearing a lot of clothes, and on any other occasion, she would have taken great care to remove it before the water turned on. 

But now, she could only smirk, feeling a tad bit smug. “Really? And here I thought you liked me wearing this sweatshirt,” it was his favorite shirt of hers… because it was her favorite shirt of his to wear. 

And when he bundled the fabric of the sweatshirt in his fist, smiling that same boyish smile that she fell for, she had no other choice but to hold on to him tighter. 

The old gray SNU sweatshirt was something he bought during his freshman year of college and it showed because the fabric was worn and the color was a bit faded and no matter how many times it was washed, it still smelled like him and it didn’t matter that it was too big for her to the point that she had to roll the sleeves three times just to free her hands or that it looked more like a dress on her than a shirt. He must have offered a hundred times now to buy her a SNU sweatshirt like his but she always refused—why should she buy another shirt when she had one that worked perfectly fine? 

“Well, ah, that’s true,” he responded, his face a look of sheepishness that was just so Hyun-woo before he whispered low, “but I think it’d look better on the ground.” 

And just this once, Hae-in agreed that it was better on the ground.

His face dipped into the corner of her neck and she couldn’t help but sigh at the sensation because even though the water was set to the highest available temperature (she liked taking hot showers), she had no trouble identifying his warm breath that lingered on her pulse point, her clavicle. And then his hand at her waist started to travel north, outlining the curve of her body, ghosting over the swell of her breast while her fingers worked to pull down the band of his sweat pants and boxers, and he must have gotten the memo because he shimmied them off in record time as if he was still in the military. 

When she dragged him closer to her, fingers combing through his hair, her legs between his, any coherent thought must have flew out of her mind when he finally kissed her, deep and slow that that turned into a biological need, an intense fire of teeth clashing against teeth, of lips running against swollen lips as they were bare under the spray of water. And when his hand slipped between her legs, a bundle of nerves in aching heat just for him, there was little to no warning, so the only natural response was to throw her head back and scream. 

She rocked against him, swaying to a rhythm that they set that was quickly tearing her apart. 

And then his palm swiped down, a finger and then two in quick succession, through her folds and then thrusting in and out like his life depended on it, and Hae-in felt like her body was on fire, her body quivering in a way only he could bring about, and that the only relief was him. 

He was her salvation—Hyun-woo who was bathed in tiny rivulets of water; Hyun-woo who, against any reason or logic, managed to make rivulets of water look unfairly sexy—and she was desperate to have him... all of him. 

"I want you—" she gasped as he shifted his position, and her head was growing dizzy with anticipation  because it wasn't just a want at this point, "—I need you." 

And the world could just melt away because he's got her in his arms and (finally) he's pushed inside her, stretching her in a way that would leave her sore with every step she took but it would be so worth it, her back leaving imprints on the marble tiles with each thrust, his name ripped from her lips like it was a prayer that kept pulling her out of the water, his hand reaching for hers, suspended in weightless gravity—she wasn't sure where he ended and where she began, where the lines of him and her stopped blurring, but she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. 

Not when it felt this good, not when the sounds of them echoed, flesh slapping against flesh, bouncing off the walls of the bathroom, when it was his hands that held her in place and her nails that etched red lines across the surface of his back. 

"God, I love you," he hissed through gritted teeth, half moaning and touching her where he could like a teenager, and blew a breath against the valley of her breast just where she was growing more and more sensitive. Hae-in could feel the wave build up when he sped up the tempo. "Saranghae, Hae-in-ah."

And as much as she wanted to say it back because every fiber of her being was screaming the same thing, every cell in her body belonged to him, she was reaching the point where there were no words because words felt foreign on her tongue, because how could there be any words when it was him and her?

So, she just held onto him, moving to his thrusts, and she carded her fingers through his muscles that held her up. She held on to him as her fingers ghosted over the scar on his shoulder, held on to him while he shuddered. That scar was a reminder of what she had nearly lost, a grounding reminder that they were alive.

Hae-in wasn't a saint, but she didn't like profanity. It felt cheap when she could deliver the same effect without breaking a sweat or opening her mouth. But right now, her thumb swiping against the scar, feeling his blood pumping under her skin, and him pulsing inside her as they chased both of their peaks, it felt fucking fantastic.

Because they both nearly lost each other, him to a bullet that was meant for her, and her to a disease that nearly stole her from herself. But here they were, in a bathroom of their hotel suite in Germany, minutes away (or probably a few minutes running late) to an appointment that would start a change for them. 

This felt like kicking death in the ass while singing. 

He shifted her and now he rubbed against her in a new angle and she had to tighten her legs around him because her rhythm was breaking. 

Her rhythm was breaking because she could imagine it now. They talked about it as a hypothetical—when she remembered enough, when the memory stopped feeling like a mess of a thousand-piece puzzle and more like a vivid memory she could almost touch, feel, and hold, they talked about it because bottling it all in was what broke them in the first place. So, they talked and they listened, they remembered and they grieved, they apologized and they forgave. 

They didn't actively work towards it. If her fate was to have him, and just him, then she'd hold on to him for as long as he'll have her and she'd never let go. 

But they didn't actively avoid it, either. If it happened, then it happened. 

And now that she could imagine it (well, she could also imagine herself a bit more covered up because she can't show up with bruises all over her neck... or maybe she could, there was no question how it got there), it began to push her over the edge. 

"Fuck," and like a tidal wave in a dam, there was no way to contain it because he was hitting a spot that made the sun glow a brighter golden hue through the window, "r-right there... don't stop."

He picked up the pace, the waves of her orgasm churning in her stomach, rolling in loops as she closed her eyes shut when he gave a practiced roll of his hips just rubbed against her swollen clit and they broke. 

Hyun-woo's thrusts slowed down, prolonging their high just for a little while longer, the ringing in her ears slowly being replaced back with the sound of the shower still running, water hitting against their bodies with the gush of liquids and when he let her down, she clung to him, his arms supporting her like she weighed nothing, not at all willing to trust her legs to keep her upright.

Right now, his forehead rested on her and part of her briefly debated telling him.

But... baby steps. 

Instead, she raised her hand, and tapped her two fingers lightly against the underside of his chin. 

"Yeobo," she said, a bit breathless, "we're going to be late." 

He laughed—that same laugh that she found ridiculous because how could a laugh be so sexy?—and smiled at her before capturing her lips and said: "Just five more minutes." 

Hae-in supposed, just this once, they could have five more minutes. 

Chapter Text

Fall, 2025

“You’re staring.”

Hyun-woo smiled—he really did try to be more discreet about it, like hiding his glances behind the case file he was supposed to be studying for an upcoming trial or only looking when she was somewhat distracted, but of course nothing got past his wife. Even if it was her husband. Especially if it was her company’s legal director slacking off on research just before an important trial. 

“Sorry,” he said, putting the case file aside, not even the tiniest bit apologetic. “Can you blame me, though?” 

She shot him a faux-annoyed look, her brow arched as if to challenge him. “I can, actually.”

He couldn’t help but laugh—she’s got a point because she can certainly blame him. 

But, in his defense, how could he not stare? 

Because there Hae-in was, standing in front of the mirror, her body angled sideways as she fixed her clothes to get ready to leave for the office. She was wearing this cerulean blue outfit set that she loved to mix and match with her other designer clothes and even though he’s pretty sure he’s seen this on her a handful of times, even though he’s watched her get ready for office every day, this hits different in a way that left him completely breathless. 

And like gravity, he couldn’t help but be pulled to her—case file long forgotten, he made a beeline straight for his wife, coming up from behind her so that her back was against his chest as he held her in an embrace, his arms wrapped around her and anchored to her waist. 

“Mianhe. You look beautiful.” 

“Charmer,” she said, eyes narrowing but with no particular heat. In fact, her eyes lit up with a teasing glow. 

He stared right back at her through the mirror. “Only because it’s true.” 

“Aish… says the man who’s been obsessed with me since high school,” she fought a smile and shot him a faux-annoyed look, her tone dripping with nonchalant sarcasm. “Ani. You’d say that even if I were as big as a whale.”

“Fine, then, I won’t say that.”

“Yah, Baek Hyun-woo,” Hae-in stared at him, her voice sharp and her eyebrow was now arched at him.

He shifted his hold so that he could tip his lips to the side of her face, and he looked at her like she was his whole world because she was. 

“Because I’d say you’re perfect. Then and now, now and forever, forever and always—” his palm found its way to the small protrusion that was barely noticeable, “—see? Perfect.”

What he didn’t say was that he thought she looked perfect the second she told him she was pregnant in an “appointment” with Dr. Braun when Hae-in and byeol were officially cleared, and he thought she looked even more perfect the next day, and the day after that, and every single day that’ll follow until the rest of their lives. 

And everyday, he’ll be sure to tell that she looked perfect because she was. 

Hae-in resisted a smile, but she eventually settled into his embrace that turned and swayed to a rhythm that played only in their ears. “You still better say that when I’m making you go out to a convenience store for pickles and cheese.”

“I’ll empty out the shelves if that’s what you want.”

She rolled her eyes and her gaze eventually landed where he had kept glancing at: their little byeol. 

“Byeol-ah, your appa is being silly.”

Hyun-woo stayed silent for a moment—there was a time he thought that he’d lost this. 

He thought he’d lost Hae-in.

But now, she was here, in his arms and they have their little byeol, growing stronger each day and he can’t help but feel so thankful for this brighter future with the both of them. 

Thankful that he got a second chance, thankful that he’s by her side. Just… thankful. 

“I am being silly,” he said, voice a bit thick, a bit wet, and far too serious from the playful teasing banter they had earlier.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Because I realized I haven’t said I loved you yet.” 

He took that phrase for granted when he should have recognized how privileged he was that he was able to say it to her—he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. 

After all, he vowed to her, on their wedding day, that he’ll never let a day go by without reminding her that he loved her, that he’ll never let a day without making her feel loved. 

“Saranghae, Hae-in-ah,” he pressed a kiss on the exposed skin of her shoulder, “and saranghae, byeol.”

Chapter Text

Summer, 2024

Hae-in woke up in the middle of the night, shaking and in cold sweat. 

Her heart pounded in her chest just as the blood was deafening in her ears. She would have sat upright, reeling in the sudden shift from dream to reality, if it weren't for the arm that kept her steady in place, the presence that kept her grounded and safe—so, instead, she shifted in bed until she faced him. 

Her man, her husband. Her Hyun-woo. 

She's still shaking when she held out her hand, her skin just barely catching the dim silver light that bled from the windows into the bed, and she held back a sob when the pad of her finger pressed lightly against the crook of his neck and she just stared at him, the sight of him before her. 

She traced the back of her finger lightly against the slope of his nose, the terrain of his cheek, and the bow of his lips—

The arm slung over her waist had tightened and pulled her closer and the sudden movement made her forget just how she barely got a handle on her breathing. His eyelids sleepily broke open, closed in a quick instant, and leaned into her touch. 

"I'm here." He said simply, pulling her as close as she wanted, as close as she needed. "Whatever you need, I'm here." 

A busted lip, cuts on his face and bruises all over his body. 

Her palm rested on his cheek, her thumb ghosting over a fresh cut that marred over the bridge of his nose and the edge of his eyebrow. Hyun-woo had just won a case for Queens, recovering some of the Queens Group assets that Yoon Eun-sung gutted and sold for parts to his shady business contacts. But Eun-sung's old contact had mob connections, and they were waiting for Hyun-woo. 

It was an ambush. There were five men, all of them armed with bats and battons. One even had a knife. 

She was worried out of her mind when she got the news and raced to the hospital, worried out of her mind even when he told her he didn't get beat up, worried out of her mind even when the doctors told her that he only suffered minor injuries and discharged him that same night. 

She tried not to draw the parallels, but it looked familiar. 

Hyun-woo reached for her free hand. "What happened?" He whispered, running his hand through her hair, tucking the stray strands of hair behind her ear. 

"I forgot." She whispered, a little broken, a little shaken. 

A busted lip, cuts on his face, and bruises all over his body. It looked familiar—they were in the ambulance, on the way to the hospital, and his shirt was more red than it was white. He was only ever hurt because she called him, he was shot because he saved her. 

The paramedics were working on him and she was struggling to remember. The man who saved her, and she was struggling to remember why he weighed so heavily in her heart. 

"You were hurt, bleeding because you took a bullet for me and I... I forgot." 

Hyun-woo sucked in a sharp breath. The doctors told him to move carefully—he had a broken rib, after all—but he still wrapped his arm around her frame and pulled her closer until she was flush against his chest. She pressed her ear against his chest and listened to his heart beat. 

"I forgot who you were, I mistreated you." 

In her nightmare, she never remembered. He was bleeding out in front of her, and she couldn't remember him. He was a stranger to her, and then his hand went limp in hers. He died without her ever remembering him. 

Her illness was long gone. Trips to Germany and various tests all pointed to that conclusion. There was no danger of a relapse, no indication of any remnants. She was cured, she was safe, and she was going to live. 

But her mind remembered what it was like to forget. And for a moment, she saw what it was like again, watching that scene fold out in a way it didn't. It was like watching variations upon variations. In one scenario, she saw him suspended in the air before crashing into the ground after the car had hit him. In one variation, she watched the bullet hit his heart before he fell to the ground. In a variation, Eun-sung killed him in the house and she was alone.

She saw him die, and she didn't remember. The love of her life, the reason why she wanted to live in the first place, the only person she would want to remember, and she forgot him. He died in front of her and she couldn't remember the depth of what he meant to her. 

It wasn't real, but the loss felt as real and visceral to Hae-in as if it did. 

Because it almost happened. She almost didn't remember. She almost forgot him entirely. It took her journal to remember and even then, she almost lost him. 

"You died, and I couldn't remember who you were." 

His hand gently moved to rub soothing circular patterns across her back as she willed the image away, forced herself to remove the sense memory of forgetting, "I always knew you'd remember me," he said, pulling away for the briefest moment to tip her chin up, a soft, tired smile pulling on his lips, "after all, you told me that I was your ideal type and that never changed. I knew you'd remember. I had faith." 

She nodded into his chest, laughing slightly. She didn't know what she's done in her past life to deserve someone like him, but all she knew was that she'll endeavor to do exactly just that if it means having Baek Hyun-woo again in the next life.

Even if she forgets, this life or the next, she'll remember. It's an oath she'll set on stone, etch unto this earth so that in any lives, she'll go back to this exact moment and remember. 

She looked into his eyes, and sighed, now calm and content in his embrace. 

"I never want to forget." She coaxed him into facing her, clinging to his shoulder, her fingers in his hair, and the top button of his pajamas was now undone. "Baek Hyun-woo?" her voice was low and a little bit shaky. 

"Hm?"

"Make me remember." 

He tipped his head forward, kissing her lightly before adjusting so that her limbs and his were tangled up, tucked under the covers, safe and warm in their own little bubble of their own making, "Gladly." 

Chapter Text

Spring, 2028

"Baek Hyun-woo, do you want to have sex?"

Hyun-woo was barely awake when a flash of hair had slapped him right in mouth before his wife claimed his lips, morning breath and all. And he would have gladly let the world melt away in the background as he responded to the way her lips moved against his and the way she smelled of the unique mix of their bed's softener, the lingering scent of her perfume, and him by virtue of his SNU sweatshirt that she's claimed in the name of fulfilling their wedding vows... only his mind played back the question. 

It took all of his strength and willpower, but he managed to pull away from her lips and stared at her. He must have heard her wrong. Surely he heard her wrong because there's no way she said—

"Let's have sex." 

"What?" He asked, because he was still reeling from the near stroke his wife's proposition gave him. Hae-in was pretty forward with this kind of thing, but she didn't normally say it plainly and out loud. "Why?" He sputtered uneloquently, totally unbecoming of a SNU law school graduate, reddening like a teenager until he resembled a tomato more than a human being.  

She scooted over so that her body rested on his and that she propped herself up with her arms. "We both have free time," he chuckled because she said it so nonchalantly she might as well be talking about the weather. He snaked his arms through her sides so that his hands were now anchored at her waist. "It's unusually calm in the legal department, your only appointment today is an afternoon ex-parte hearing with the clerk of court, I finished most of my meetings yesterday and I had Na-biseo clear my schedule for the morning." She laid out the facts with a logical tone, her hand tapping his chest for emphasis for each point. "It makes sense for us to have sex right now." 

"Makes sense for us to have sex right now." He echoed with a soft chuckle and shook his head. She responded by nodding firmly as if she was negotiating and closing a multi-billion won deal that he can't possibly refuse. "You're unbelievable." 

"What? I already spoke with Dr. Ahn, and I checked the calendar—I'm ovulating."

And instead of waiting for a reply (to which he had a witty retort), Hae-in had shifted her leg so that she straddled his waist and all the blood he had in his body pooled downwards. In losing grip of his self control, he could now feel her breath trickle down to his face. "You checked the calendar? How romantic," Hyun-woo said in a strained and strangled whisper in his attempt to act cool as he met her gaze, moving in synch with her. 

They had been wanting to try for another child. They had always planned for another child but it was always difficult because of the tumor and the risk of a relapse. He loved being a father, and he loved Tae-hee with all his being, but when it came down to a choice between any future children and his wife's well-being, he'll choose Hae-in in a heartbeat. 

A man like him could hardly complain—with Hae-in and their daughter, his life was already perfect. All that mattered to him was to make sure his family was safe, protected, and that he'd do everything in his power to make them happy. 

That was his mission in life: to put his family first. 

So, when Hae-in told him that she wanted to try for another child, he had hesitated. But they took every available precaution and with regular check-ups, consultations, and maintenances with her doctors both in Seoul and Germany assured him that she was fine, that trying was fine. And more than that, he trusted Hae-in more than anyone in the world. 

"Please," she hissed and her finger deftly made their way downwards towards his pajama pants. "Romance is out the window ever since I gave birth to our little rascal."

"Rascal. How endearing." He smiled chasing her lips as he shimmied down his pants. "Are you sure you want another, as you put it, little rascal?" 

"Yes," Hae-in said imperiously the way only a Hong chaebol could manage. "Your vice-chairwoman demands it, Baek-eesanim, so please cooperate."

"Who am I to deny the vice-chairman?" He nodded. "You have my full cooperation."

Hae-in burst out laughing, for a moment, tears springing to her eyes and he couldn't help but join in, too. It was mornings like this that he craved the most—not just the physical intimacy, but the moments where it's just pure bliss, the unadulerated happiness that emanates from them being them. 

Eventually, their laughter subsided, but the tenderness of the moment remained. "Saranghae, Hae-in-ah." 

Her palm rested on his cheek. "I love you, too." It was all serious for a moment before she rolled her hips against his. He chased the friction by mirroring her actions, his hands now working to undress her. "Now hurry before—"

"Eomma! Appa!" 

There were loud footsteps outside their room and he could picture it now, tiny and pudgy fists making lightning-quick hits against the door, demanding to be let in. He dropped against the mattress and Hae-in let out a huff of amused disbelief. It was morning, after all, and no matter how busy their schedules are, they always made time to spent the morning hours with Tae-hee. 

Hae-in pushed herself off and he quickly got dressed and presentable for their three year-old daughter. "Ugh, duty calls," she said, but there was a twinkle in her eye and a warmth in her tone—mornings with Tae-hee was the highlight of her day, just as it was for him. 

"You sure you want another one?" He asked as he settled on the bed, taking her into an embrace. 

"Definitely." She wrapped a discarded robe around her body and gave him a soft peck on the lips. She pushed him unto his feet as fixed the bed. He was just about half way across the room to unlock the door when she called out his name. 

"Hyun-woo-ah."

"Yeah?" 

A folder was tossed in his direction, which he caught. It was his case—an advertisement infringment case—for the afternoon. "Wrap things up in court quickly." 

Chapter Text

Summer, 2031

“Hae-in-ah, can we just please talk it out—” 

Hae-in walked away from her husband and in the reflection of the glass divider that separated the kitchen from the living room, she saw him pout and she felt a smug sense of satisfaction when, not a second later, he trailed behind her. 

She had her back turned against him. He was by the counters, stumbling tipsily and apologetically while she rummaged through the refrigerator. 

“Yeobo, mianhe.” 

She fought the smile that threatened to shape her lips. She liked it when she called her that—

Focus, Hae-in thought to herself as she saw a bottle of an electrolyte drink and mentally braced herself. His voice was being pitiful and if she were a betting woman, she'd wager a fortune that he's going to look like a wounded puppy with wide, bright eyes. If she were a weaker woman, she might give in the second he hits her with those eyes of his. Aish, handsome men were dangerous. But she steeled her resolve. She had to stand her ground. 

She took the drink and tossed it in his direction, making a point to barely look at him, and it pleased her to know that, even slightly drunk, her husband was athletic and caught the bottle with ease. “Drink that,” she said a bit coldly as she opened her own bottle of collagen water. 

In hindsight, she wasn’t really upset with him. If anything, she should be upset with Soo-cheol because it was her brother’s antics and his open-bar cocktail truck gift to gomo’s wedding reception that started this entire mess. 

Hae-in felt a little hot, but mostly incredulous. Who even plays a never-have-I-ever drinking game during a wedding reception? What was he, thirteen? 

But she was pregnant—just a little over seven weeks—and they weren’t looking to tell anyone just yet. It wasn’t like she could drink, so Baek Hyun-woo took the proverbial alcoholic bullet for her whenever the bottle stopped in her direction, coming in with a witty excuse or a clever distraction to keep the others from noticing she never drank a drop of alcohol. It was fine, it really was, except Bang-sil was there and even though she wasn’t jealous or insecure (she really wasn’t), her husband was acting cute and she was pregnant and hormonal. 

Because he was too adorable when he was drunk. Even then, her traitorous heart had fluttered the same way it skipped a beat when she first saw him in the legal department from when they were new hires. But Bang-sil clapped way too enthusiastically (and a bit tipsily, too—Hae-in made sure to ask her driver to take her home safely even if her house was a mere twenty-minute walk from the orchard). 

But she was his wife. The diamond engagement ring and the matching wedding band that adorned her finger was her license to act a tiny bit possessive. His special move was reserved for her and only her. In fact, she considered it her spousal prerogative, a privileged act that was only availble to the other married party. 

Adorable and drunk Baek Hyun-woo was the exclusive property of Hong Hae-in. She should have put it in fine print in their wedding contract—she'll contact Atty. Cassano to remedy that.

But before she could decide to tell him that she was done, before she could even close the refrigerator door even, two arms wrapped around her waist. His lips and breath were hot against the skin of her neck where he mumbled his apologies. 

She stood up straight and pretended, for just a few more seconds, to still be upset. “You used your special move.” 

“I know. I didn’t mean to.” 

She still looked away even when he turned her in his arms to see her. “You said you won’t do it in front of others. You already gave your word. That’s an oral agreement, you’re legally liable, you know. I could sue for damages."

"On what grounds?"

"Emotional damage. Offending beliefs. Betrayal of vows. Unjust vexation." She said with a harrumph in her voice, knowing full well she had no such case. "I could go on." 

“There were exigent circumstances,” he reasoned like a lawyer, and then both his hand and gaze dropped briefly to her stomach. “I’m sorry.”

It was getting harder to fight a smile. Damn her for marrying a smooth-talking lawyer who graduated from SNU. 

Her fingers tangled in his and he lifted their intertwined hands to his chest. “I owe you a dance.” He whispered, half-breathy and half-humming to some slow song the DJ from the reception played a while ago. 

She arched her eyebrow. “And whose fault is that?” 

She wore flats especially for the occasion because pregnancy made her soles ache, and she didn’t want to worry her overprotective husband. That, and she wanted to actually dance with Hyun-woo, except their daughter Tae-hee decided she was her husband's real date to gomo's wedding while Tae-yong, their two year-old son, clung to her leg the whole evening which made them miss a set of songs she wanted to dance to. 

A thought passed her mind—if they already couldn't dance while the child-to-parent ratio was still one to one, God help them when they're outnumbered. 

But now said children were in her parents’ house, having a sleepover with their cousins, Geon-u and Ho-yeol, and they were in the kitchen swaying to a song he hummed to her ear. 

“I’m taking responsibility, which is why I’m making up for it now.”

He spun her gently, and when she fell back to meet his chest, he dipped his head down to kiss her fully and deeply in a way that set her every part of her body aflame, in an electrifying way that'll never change. 

"Saranghae, Hae-in." He whispered, softly the way a devout Christian would pray, and passionately the way a lover exclaim his vows. 

She imagined dancing with him like this during the reception, under the light of a million stars in Yongdu-ri and thought it would have been magical. But in hindsight, this moment was better because it was rare and it was most definitely just theirs—dancing with him in the middle of the night, around the kitchen in the refrigerator light.

Chapter Text

Summer, 2024

For someone who liked to sleep in, Baek Hyun-woo was such a light sleeper. 

“What—”

Hyun-woo scrambled uncoordinatedly, groggily attempting to sit up, only relaxing when he realized who it was. “Scoot over,” she said, and even though she was sure he was half-asleep, even though it was about three in the morning, he did so without missing a beat even if he was about to fall off the twin-sized bed and readily gave her space. 

She got under the covers and immediately, she felt at ease. 

“Hae-in-ah, what’s wrong?”

Hae-in had spent the entire night trying to fall and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t—she was restless. 

A month has already passed since the trial where they won the case against Moh Seul-hee and their family finally got the justice for halabeoji and the justice that’s evaded them for a little more than twenty years since Soo-wan oppa died. She thought she’d feel more at peace, more settled now that she could put that chapter of her life to a close, but she wasn’t. 

She could never be truly at peace with what happened to her because it wasn’t really behind her. Not yet. 

So she made her way to his room and, immediately, she knew made the right decision. 

She hadn’t found her peace just yet, but right here, beside Baek Hyun-woo, she felt a calm rush over her. She didn’t remember everything about them, she knew that she loved him, that there would be no other man than him, but where her mind failed, her body remembered. 

Because she was lying all alone on top of a king-sized bed in the master bedroom and she never felt so restrained and suffocated, but in his twin-sized bed, she’s finally found the space to breathe—her body remembered where she felt safe even when her mind couldn’t remember or understand the reason why. 

“I don’t like being alone in the master bedroom.” She confessed and, not a moment later, he wove his fingers together with hers. "I don't like being there alone after the dark."

She looked down to gaze at where their intertwined hands were, in that small space he had painstakingly mustered between them by balancing himself on the edge of the bed and tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

“Was it us?” 

The sound of his head turning against the pillow filled the silence of the room. “What was us?” 

“In a small twin-sized bed. Yoon Eun-sung told me that my memories were with him and when I asked about sleeping on a twin-sized bed, he said it was him and now—”

She blinked away the tears, and her voice broke slightly—now she was afraid of even spending one second alone because her mind supplied the visuals, and it didn’t matter if it wasn’t true, the image of him and her on a bed made her sick. 

“Was what he said real or not real?” 

For a second, he said nothing. He did nothing and it made the knot in her throat grow tighter—

But then he let go of her hand and held in a tight embrace instead. “Not real. It wasn’t real. It was us. It wasn’t you and him. We were in Yongdu-ri and we were looking at stars and—” he took in one shuddering, shaky breath of air and she realized he was crying, too, “—we fell asleep on my childhood bed.” 

He held her close but not close enough—

“And it always felt too big.” The words cam tumbling out of her mouth. The twin-sized bed in Yongdu-ri, the one pressed against the wall, the one where their feet were already tangled up and nearly dangling off the edge but still they felt as if there was far too much space between them. 

“And it always felt too big.” Hyun-woo parroted. 

She laughed, a bit tearily. She couldn’t quite see the memory so clearly—the realization, after all, came in flashes like remembering what she studied for in an exam only to doubt it the very next second—but now, she could hardly picture Yoon Eun-sung in that twin-sized bed and even if it sounded small or trivial, it felt like a hard-won victory she had earned. 

She doesn't know when that day will come, when she’ll be free of the ghosts that haunt her. While she knew, deep in her soul, that the day will come when Yoon Eun-sung and Mol Seul-hee will no longer have control over her, it’ll also take a lot of work. 

She didn’t know what the healing of the soul felt like, but this felt like a step in the right direction. 

But until that day, she’ll fight and she’ll work, with Hyun-woo by her side, the love that she wants, so that she wouldn’t have to ask—

Real or not real? 

(Because then, when the night is over, come morning light, it’ll only ever be real and it’ll only ever be them.)