Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night air was cool, laced with the dampness of the stream. The river’s water rushed steadily below, its sound mingling with the hum of the city above. Neon lights flickered against the surface, fractured and blurred, but down by the river the world felt slower, softer.

Hyomin sat on the stone ledge, her hands resting loosely in her lap, fingers brushing one another as if chasing a rhythm only she could hear. The space between her and Seokhoon felt wide, almost deliberate, as if neither dared to close it. Her gaze lingered on the rippling water, steadying herself before she spoke again.

“Mr. Yoon…” Her voice broke the quiet, tentative but steady. She turned to him, eyes searching. “What is love for you?”

For a beat, silence stretched between them. Seokhoon shifted, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. When he finally looked at her, their eyes locked — steady, unflinching —as if testing whether the other could hold the weight of the question.

“Well,” he began, his tone low but certain, “to me, love is… being there for someone — not only when it’s easy, but when it’s difficult. It’s speaking the truth, even when it hurts. It’s having someone you don’t have to hide from. Someone you can always count on.”

Hyomin felt her breath hitch, her heart thudding against the quiet night. His words weren’t dressed in poetry, but they carried a raw honesty that sank deep. Her lips curved into a small, almost reluctant smile, the warmth in her chest defying the chill in the air.

And this time, when their silence returned, it wasn’t empty. It lingered between them, charged — not with absence, but with everything still unspoken.

The next morning, Yullim Law Firm was busy as always — papers stacked high, phones ringing, lawyers rushing in and out. But for Seokhoon, something felt different.

When Hyomin walked in with her usual cheerful, “Good morning,” he found himself sitting straighter without thinking. He masked it quickly, but all day, his eyes kept drifting toward her, though he couldn’t explain why.

By the afternoon, Hyomin was buried in case files, her shoulders heavy with exhaustion. She barely noticed when Seokhoon walked up until a warm cup of tea appeared on her desk.

She blinked up at him. “Oh… gamsahamnida. Thank you Mr. Yoon. Is this for me?”

“Just something to help you focus,” he answered evenly. His hand lingered on the desk a second longer before he pulled it back.

Hyomin’s smile came slow, almost shy. Her heart skipped in a way she didn’t expect, a little rush of warmth pushing through her tiredness.

Why would he do this? He’s not the type… she thought, glancing at the tea, then at him.

Does he actually care? Or am I just overthinking?

Still, she couldn’t stop the light flutter in her chest.

She hid it with a quiet smile, but the feeling lingered long after he turned away.

Chapter Text

Later that week, Seokhoon handed her a thick folder, his tone clipped as always.

“Attorney Kang. Revised the statement. Analysis by five.”

Hyomin glanced at the clock — 3:00 p.m. Two hours. Not impossible, but tight. Her brows arched slightly. “By five? That’s… a narrow window.”

“Deadlines are rarely generous,” he replied, calm but firm. “See what you can do.”

She nodded once. Not a protest, not a challenge — just acceptance. She knew he wasn’t questioning her skill anymore. He was testing her consistency.

At 4:30 sharp, she stepped into his office, placing the folder neatly on his desk.

“Analysis finished. Thirty minutes early.”

Seokhoon opened it without comment, flipping through the pages with quiet focus. Hyomin clasped her hands behind her back, standing tall, her expression steady. She’d learned not to fidget under his silence.

Finally, he looked up. "Concise. Strong. This section could use sharper phrasing.”

Hyomin inclined her head, her voice even. “I see. I’ll refine it further.”

His gaze held hers for a beat longer than usual.

"You did well" he said softly with a smile.

The words, simple as they were, felt heavier than any critique. Hyomin dipped her head respectfully, but a faint smile curved her lips.

“Thank you, Attorney Yoon. I’ll continue to deliver.”

There was no bravado in her tone, only quiet confidence — the kind that had earned his attention more than once.

As she left, her steps carried a lightness she couldn’t quite hide. He noticed. That’s enough for me.

Seokhoon leaned back in his chair, staring at the closed door. Warmth pressed against his chest, unsettling and undeniable.

The words almost slipped past his lips — You did more than well. You amaze me.

But he clenched his jaw, forcing the thought down. This is admiration… nothing more. It has to be.

Yet the faint smile she left behind refused to leave his mind. And for the first time in years, Yoon Seokhoon found himself distracted — not by work, but by her.

After a grueling court session the following day, most of the lawyers left in a rush. Seokhoon headed straight for the exit, coat over his arm.

“Are we going back now?” Hyomin asked, catching up beside him.

“Yes. But it’s noon. Eat before you return.”

“You’re not eating?”

“I’ll manage.”

But outside, the sky opened in a sudden downpour. Lawyers scattered into cabs, leaving only the two of them under the same awning.

“Looks like we’re stuck” Hyomin murmured, hugging her bag closer.

Seokhoon sighed, his eyes flicking to a small restaurant nearby. “Come on.”

Inside, the air was warm, soup bowls steaming, the rain pattering against the windows. They sat across from each other, silence sitting between them like a third guest.

“You didn’t have to eat with me” Hyomin said softly. “You were already forced to eat with me during our… date last week.”

Seokhoon’s brow lifted slightly. “That wasn’t a date”

Her lips curved as she stirred her soup. “Dinner for two, then a walk by the river? Sounds like one to me.”

“That was circumstance,” he corrected firmly. “The reservation. Their policy. It was easier not to argue.”

Hyomin lowered her gaze, hiding her smile. Maybe. But you stayed when you didn’t have to. “Well… whatever you call it… I didn’t mind.”

For a moment, the rain outside filled the silence. Seokhoon picked up his chopsticks, his movements precise, but his thoughts less so.

She was supposed to be just my junior colleague.  Nothing more. Then why does she make it sound… different?

The night was slick with rain, the sidewalks still shining from the earlier downpour. Seokhoon and Hyomin walked side by side, umbrellas brushing. The streets were quieter than usual, only the occasional cab speeding by.

Hyomin laughed lightly at something she had said, her voice carrying in the still air. Seokhoon, listening silently, caught himself smiling.

Then — a blinding set of headlights. A delivery motorcycle came flying around the corner, swerving too close to the sidewalk.

“Hyomin!”

Before she could react, the bike clipped her side. The impact wasn’t crushing, but enough to send her tumbling to the wet pavement. Papers scattered from her bag, her umbrella clattering away.

Seokhoon’s heart stopped.

He was at her side in an instant, kneeling, his hands trembling as they hovered over her arm scraped raw, her ankle twisted at an odd angle.

“Don’t move. Stay still,” he ordered, but his voice cracked, betraying the panic he never allowed anyone to see.

Hyomin winced, trying to push herself up. “I-I’m fine, just—”

“You’re not fine!” The sharpness in his tone startled even him. His chest tightened painfully as he pulled off his coat to cover her against the cold.

“You could’ve been—” His words broke, unfinished.

An onlooker had already called for help. Within minutes, paramedics arrived. Seokhoon stayed beside her as they lifted her carefully, his hand gripping hers tighter than necessary. She felt the tremor in his hold, the unspoken fear he couldn’t hide.

At the hospital, as doctors checked her injuries, Seokhoon paced the hallway like a man on trial. His rational mind tried to tell him it was a minor accident — just a fracture, bruises, nothing life-threatening. But his heart refused to calm. The image of her lying on the wet pavement replayed relentlessly, every second tightening the knot in his chest.

When the doctor finally assured him she would be fine. No surgery needed, only rest and a cast. Seokhoon let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Through the window, he saw her on the hospital bed, trying to smile despite her exhaustion, despite the IV drip at her side.

And it hit him with brutal clarity.

If anything had truly happened to her, he wouldn’t have survived it.

There was no law, no distance, no excuse that could erase what had just ripped through him. Kang Hyomin wasn’t just his junior lawyer. She had become so much more than that. 

The faint smell of antiseptic hung in the room as Hyomin’s eyes fluttered open. Her arm throbbed, her body sore, but the first thing she noticed wasn’t the discomfort — it was him.

Seokhoon was seated beside her bed, jacket folded neatly over the chair, his posture straight but tense. His eyes were fixed on her, calm yet alert, taking in every small movement she made. For someone who usually held himself perfectly composed, the concern in his gaze was almost startling.

“Hyomin… you’re awake,” he said quietly, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile calm.

She blinked at him, surprised that he had stayed. "You didn’t have to—”

“I was there when it happened,” he said, his voice low but unwavering. “I couldn’t leave you alone.”

She swallowed, a warmth creeping into her chest despite the aches in her body. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet punctuated only by the soft beep of the monitor and the faint murmur of the hallway beyond.

The door opened suddenly, sunlight spilling in.

“Hyomin-ah!” Her mother’s voice was sharp with worry as she hurried inside, carrying a bag of clothes.

But the moment she spotted the man sitting beside her daughter, she froze, eyes widening in surprise.

“Eomma,” Hyomin said quickly, straightening in the bed. “You didn’t have to rush—”

Her mother’s gaze shifted to Seok-hoon. “And… who might this be?”

Hyomin hesitated for a split second, then answered, “Ah… this is Attorney Yoon Seokhoon. He’s… my boss”

“Your boss?” her mother repeated, clearly puzzled. Her eyes darted between them. “Then why…?”

Seokhoon stood immediately, bowing politely.

“I was with Attorney Kang when the accident happened. I couldn’t leave her alone, so I stayed to make sure she was taken care of”

Her mother blinked, lips parting in surprise. “You… stayed? All this time?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, calm but sincere. “It was the least I could do”

Hyomin tugged at the blanket nervously, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Eomma, don’t make it sound strange. He just wanted to help.”

Her mother’s eyes lingered on him, curious, almost suspicious. After a long pause, she sighed softly, placing the bag on the bedside table.

“Most bosses don’t sit at the hospital with their employees, Hyomin-ah. Still…” Her gaze softened slightly as it returned to Seokhoon. “I appreciate that you did”

Hyomin pressed her lips together, cheeks warming, watching the subtle exchange. Seok-hoon gave a small nod, his usual calm exterior in place, though his fingers flexed slightly on the arm of the chair.

The room fell quiet again, but for Hyomin, the silence was filled with a new awareness. The way he had stayed, the way he had looked at her — it wasn’t just professional concern. Something had shifted, something unspoken yet undeniable.

And as her mother fussed over her, glancing occasionally at him with a mix of curiosity and relief, Hyomin couldn’t stop herself from thinking.

Maybe he feels it too.

The next day, Hyomin’s friends had taken charge of staying with her at the hospital. Han Seol A and Lee Ji Eun had stationed themselves on either side of her bed.

“Stay still, Hyomin,” Seol A scolded gently, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders. “You’re not allowed to get up without supervision.”

Ji Eun rolled her eyes dramatically. “We don’t need the drama, Seol A. Just let her rest… but yes, she can’t sneak off. We’ve got her.”

Hyomin laughed quietly, the sound soft in the sterile room.

“Thanks, you two. I guess I’m lucky to have my own personal security guards.”

The afternoon passed slowly, filled with laughter, teasing, and Hyomin’s quiet gratitude. By evening, the friends had settled into their respective chairs, reading or scrolling on their phones while Hyomin rested.

Just as the clock neared 10 p.m., the door opened.

Hyomin stirred, half-asleep. Her eyes blinked open. “Who—”

Before she could finish, a tall man stepped into the room, suit over his arm. He paused slightly, scanning the room before settling on her. His eyes flicked briefly to the two women, and he froze—slightly surprised by their presence.

“I… I’m Attorney Yoon Seok-hoon,” he said politely, bowing slightly.

“I was with Hyomin when the accident happened. I wanted to make sure she was taken care of.”

Seol A and Ji Eun sat up straight, exchanging excited glances.

Ji Eun whispered, nudging Seol A “Oh… so you are the Attorney Yoon!”

Seol A grinned, eyes sparkling. “The one she keeps talking about?”

Hyomin’s eyes widened, and she quickly held a hand up to her mouth, shouting sharply “Ya!!!!”

Her cheeks warmed instantly.

Seokhoon’s gaze flicked to her, and he stiffened slightly, a faint color rising to his cheeks. “Ah,” he said softly, momentarily caught off guard.

Hyomin stole a quick glance at him, noticing how he didn’t immediately step back or avoid the situation. He could have stayed distant, left with his team, but he hadn’t. He had chosen to come himself, at this hour, and just for her.

Her chest fluttered at the thought.

He didn’t have to… but he came anyway.

Ji Eun snickered quietly, whispering to Seol A “Wow… he looks… real.”

Hyomin’s lips pressed together to hide her small smile. She tried to focus on the ceiling, but her gaze drifted back to him. Every subtle movement — the careful way he pulled out a chair, the slight pause before speaking — made her pulse skip.

Why does it feel… different this time?

Seokhoon finally sat beside her bed, stiffly, hands resting on his knees. “I didn’t come earlier with my team. I wanted to come myself.”

Hyomin’s chest warmed faintly again, lips twitching into a small, quiet smile.

He chose to be here. Not because he had to. Not because someone told him to. But because he wanted to.

Seol A crossed her arms, still scrutinizing him. “You’re not just here for the files, are you?”

Seokhoon didn’t answer directly. “I came to make sure she’s alright.”

Ji Eun nudged Hyomin with a grin. “See? Told you he cares more than he admits.”

Hyomin’s eyes met his briefly. He didn’t look away, though his expression remained unreadable. She pressed her lips together, savoring the quiet warmth that radiated from him.

Even in silence, he’s different from anyone I’ve ever known… she thought. And I notice.

The room fell into a soft, comfortable silence. For Hyomin, the hospital lights no longer felt sterile — the space had shrunk in the best way, intimate and private. And it was clear: he had chosen to be here tonight, for her, on his own.

Her friends, sensing the quiet, exchanged a glance and smirked knowingly. “We’ll leave you two alone for a bit,” Ji Eun said softly, standing and stretching. Seol A nodded, adjusting her bag. “Don’t cause trouble,” she teased, and with that, they slipped out, the door clicking shut behind them.

The room fell into a comfortable silence. Hyomin shifted slightly under the blanket, the faint ache in her arm and ankle dwarfed by the warmth that lingered in her chest. Seokhoon’s presence was steady, protective, yet somehow personal — a feeling she wasn’t used to, but one she didn’t want to resist.

"You really didn’t have to come,” she murmured, her voice low enough for only him to hear.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply, his tone even, but the slight lift of his brow betrayed more than the words suggested.

Hyomin let out a quiet breath, her lips curving into a small, private smile. She didn’t need to say anything else. The choice he had made, the care he had shown, said it all.

Outside, the night deepened, rain having left the streets slick and glimmering.

Inside, the hospital room felt smaller, warmer — a world apart. Hyomin shifted slightly closer, careful not to invade his space, yet feeling the unspoken connection that had formed in the hours since the accident.

For Seok-hoon, sitting there, watching her settle back into the bed, one thought kept returning — I shouldn’t care this much… but I do. And I don’t know what to do about it yet.

Chapter Text

A few days after the accident, Seokhoon still carried the image with him — Hyomin crumpled on the rain-soaked pavement, her hand trembling in his as he waited for the ambulance. She was recovering well, the doctors had assured him, but the memory clung tighter than any wound of his own.

That night, he sat with Jinwoo beneath the orange glow of a pojangmacha tent. The air smelled of broth and grilled meat, but Seokhoon barely touched his food. Empty soju bottles already cluttered the table.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Jinwoo commented, leaning back with a skewer in hand. “Even for you.”

Seokhoon poured himself another glass, eyes fixed on the rippling liquid. "What do you think of age gaps in relationships?”

Jinwoo’s brow arched before a grin spread across his face. “Ah. This is about Atty. Kang.”

The bottle in Seokhoon’s hand halted mid-pour. His head snapped up, eyes sharp. “What? Why do you think it’s about her?”

Jinwoo chuckled, but his tone was steady. “Because Minjeong noticed. She told me the way you were at the hospital—hovering, worrying, staying long after there was nothing left for you to do—that wasn’t just concern from a boss. It was something else.”

Seokhoon froze, pulse hammering in his throat.

“At first, I didn’t see it,” Jinwoo admitted. “Honestly, I thought you were just being your usual responsible self. But then Minjeong said, ‘He cares for that junior more than he realizes.’ And she was right. I know because…” He let out a faint laugh. “I was the same with her.”

Seokhoon’s jaw tightened. “You’re reading too much into it.”

“You don’t look at Hyomin like a junior” Jinwoo pressed, his grin returning, sharper now. “You look at her the way I look at Minjeong.”

The name hit Seokhoon like a blow, Hyomin’s image flashing in his mind—her hand clutching his, her smile in the hospital despite the pain. He muttered quickly, defensive, “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t need to.” Jinwoo leaned forward, voice low. “Eleven years, right? And you’re divorced once. So what? That’s what’s stopping you?”

Seokhoon downed the shot in one breath. The burn did nothing against the heaviness inside. His voice came strained, almost cracked. “She deserves someone unburdened. Someone who hasn’t failed before.”

Jinwoo’s grin faded. He set his glass down and met Seokhoon’s eyes.

“Yoon Seokhoon. Divorce doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’ve lived, you’ve learned. Don’t insult her by deciding for her.”

The chopsticks in Seokhoon’s hand stilled.

“You know why I don’t care that Minjeong’s older, divorced, with a child?” Jinwoo continued, softer now. “Because when I’m with her, I don’t feel years. I don’t feel labels. I just feel her. That’s all that matters.”

The words cut deeper than Seokhoon wanted to admit. He stayed silent, but inside, the memory of Hyomin’s fragile voice in that hospital bed pressed against his chest. The fear of almost losing her was heavier than any excuse he could summon.

Jinwoo clapped his shoulder, grounding him.

“Stop hiding behind excuses. You already know what you want. The question is whether you’ll be brave enough to act on it.”

Later, as Seokhoon walked home through the damp streets, Jinwoo’s words clung to him like the lingering drizzle.

Don’t insult her by deciding for her.

And for the first time, Seokhoon wondered if the real cowardice wasn’t in the gap between them… but in his own refusal to reach across it.

That night, Seokhoon sat alone in his apartment. The city lights filtered faintly through the blinds, Hash curled at his feet. He stared at the untouched glass of water on the table, his mind louder than the silence.

You should stop this before it goes further. She’s eleven years younger. She’s your junior. She deserves someone with fewer scars.

His hand tightened around the glass, knuckles pale.

But… when she smiled through the pain in that hospital bed, when she held on to you… did age matter then? Did failure matter?

He set the glass down too hard, water sloshing over the rim.

You’ve already crossed the line. Haven’t you? The way you watch her, the way her laughter lingers in your ears. It’s not just care anymore. It hasn’t been for a while.

Hash stirred, nudging his leg with a quiet whine. Seokhoon bent down, brushing the dog’s head with a shaky hand.

“You trust her, don’t you?” he murmured. The thought lodged deep in his chest. Maybe he could too.

The next evening, the office was unusually quiet after hours, most desks already abandoned. Only Hyomin’s remained lit, scattered with case notes and highlighted passages. She stretched, rolling her shoulders, just as a shadow fell across her desk.

“Attorney Yoon?” she said, straightening.

Seokhoon stood there, posture straight as always, though there was the slightest hesitation in his voice. “Kang Hyomin”

“Yes?”

“Would you be available this weekend?”

Her brows lifted, curiosity in her gaze. “For… work?”

“No,” he said quickly — almost too quickly. He cleared his throat, eyes flicking briefly away before lowering his tone.

“I need someone to watch Hash. I have a client meeting, and I can’t leave him alone that long.”

Her face lit up instantly, the fatigue in her expression vanishing. “Hash? Of course! You know I love spending time with him. Why didn’t you ask sooner?”

Seokhoon shifted, as though unused to the vulnerability of the request. “Because I don’t usually ask for favors. From anyone”

The air stilled for a moment, something delicate hanging between them.

“But you asked me,” she said softly, her smile gentler now.

His gaze locked on hers, steady yet unspoken layers flickering beneath his composure. "Yes”

Hyomin laughed lightly, easing the tension.

“Then it’s settled. Hash and I will have the best weekend.” She gathered her notes into her bag, humming under her breath, when his voice stopped her.

“Hyomin.”

She turned, caught off guard by the rare use of her name without the formality.

“Thank you,” he said simply, the weight in his tone far heavier than the words.

Her chest tightened, warmth spreading through her. She gave a small, knowing smile.

“Anytime.”

When she finally left, the office fell silent again. Seokhoon lingered by her desk, fingers brushing the edge where her notes had been, as though the space still held a trace of her presence. He exhaled slowly, a rare softness breaking through.

Maybe this is what it feels like… to let someone in again.

Not a confession. Not yet. But in entrusting Hash — the one soul he had trusted without question since his divorce — to Kang Hyomin, Yoon Seokhoon had already said far more than words ever could.

Chapter Text

Hyomin sat cross-legged on her apartment floor, sunlight spilling through the window in soft golden stripes, warming the wooden planks beneath her. Hash was sprawled across her lap, his paws twitching slightly as he napped, tail thumping happily against her legs. She lifted her phone and snapped a quick photo — Hash half-asleep, tongue peeking out, one eye lazily open.

A grin tugged at her lips. On impulse, she sent it to Seok-hoon.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

“Don’t overfeed him.”

Hyomin laughed softly, shaking her head. 

“Relax, I didn’t. I know his limits. He just… misses you.”

A long pause followed, and she almost forgot she’d sent the message. Then another appeared:

“You think so? Are you sure your ankle’s fully healed? I feel guilty letting you take care of him while you’re still recovering.”

“Yes, the doctor said the swelling is completely gone. That’s why I came back to work a few days ago. Besides, my friends are helping me take care of him too.”

“Alright. Did Hash sleep already?”

She tilted Hash’s head gently, whispering, “Your dad kept checking on you. He must love you so much, huh?” 

Hash nudged her hand, tail thumping like a tiny drumbeat in agreement.

But the messages didn’t stop there. Within the next hour, her phone buzzed at least twenty times, each one a short note about Hash.

“Did he eat?” 

“Is he resting?”

“Water bowl full?”

“Walk done?”

“Don’t let him nap too long”

Hyomin blinked at the screen, half amused, half bewildered. 

He’s supposed to be in a business meeting. How is he sending me twenty messages? And he never even texts me about work…

She shook her head, smiling

“Okay, fine, I get it. You care way too much.”

Luckily, she wasn’t entirely alone. Her friends were living with her for the weekend and had volunteered to help care for Hash. Seol A fussed over his meals, checking the water bowl and adjusting his little blanket with meticulous care. Ji Eun made sure he had plenty of playtime, tossing toys and making him run in little circles, her laughter ringing out and filling the apartment. Their teasing remarks “You’re spoiling him!” and quiet giggles made the apartment feel warmer, less quiet, like a safe little bubble.

The afternoon slipped by in an easy routine: feeding Hash, watching him snooze in the sunlight that shifted across the floor, taking him on short walks around the quiet neighborhood streets. Each buzz from her phone — a short message, a small observation, a teasing reminder — made her heart lift unexpectedly, a quiet warmth spreading through her chest.

She caught herself smiling at the phone, wondering briefly how a few simple words could feel so comforting. Maybe it was the familiarity, the smallness of the exchange, or maybe it was… him.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the windows, dust motes dancing in the warm air. Hyomin opened the door and saw Seokhoon standing there earlier than expected. He wore a simple gray sweater over a white T-shirt and dark jeans — much more relaxed than the usual sharp suits she was used to seeing. Even more handsome.

She tugged at the hem of her oversized gray sweater, hair slightly tousled from sleep, jeans comfortably worn in all the right places. Hash bounded toward him, tail wagging furiously, bouncing between the two of them.

“Annyeong! Thank you for taking such good care of him,” Seokhoon said, his eyes sweeping over the apartment with a faintly approving nod.

“My friends helped too,” she replied, brushing dog hair from her sweater, careful to keep her tone casual. “He’s been in good hands.”

Their eyes met briefly — steady, unguarded — and for a heartbeat, the air felt heavier than it should. Hyomin felt a small flutter in her chest, a subtle warmth that she tried to dismiss as concern for Hash.

Seokhoon clipped the leash onto Hash’s collar, and their hands brushed. Neither moved away immediately, and for a moment the quiet between them was charged — light, but electric.

Then, unexpectedly, he added, “Do you want to grab lunch? Nearby. My treat.”

Hyomin froze, caught off guard.

He’s inviting me?

She thought, blinking. “You… you’re inviting me?”

He met her gaze calmly, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly, eyes softening. “Yes. As thanks for taking care of him.”

Her mind raced. 

This isn’t just a thank-you… is it? 

But she forced herself to stay composed, a small, teasing smile curving her lips. “I… sure. That sounds nice.”

Hash barked once, as if punctuating the moment, and she laughed quietly, shaking her head.

Okay, this is definitely going to feel like a second date. She thought, her pulse quickening just a little.

Seokhoon inclined his head slightly, the hint of a smile tugging at his otherwise controlled expression. “Good. Let’s go, then.”

And as they stepped out together, the sunlight caught on his shirt, and she couldn’t help but notice — the careful way he moved, the quiet attentiveness in his eyes.

For some reason, it felt like he was noticing her just as much as she was noticing him.

The café smelled of fresh bread and coffee, warm and inviting against the soft hum of quiet chatter. Hash sat loyally at their feet, glancing up at Seokhoon every now and then, as if to check that he hadn’t forgotten him. Hyomin watched, smiling to herself. He really is like a little child sometimes, she thought, so loyal and protective.

She stirred her soup, finally breaking the comfortable silence. “He really seems to like you.”

Seok-hoon tugged lightly on the leash, expression calm but unreadable. “He’s my son. That’s… expected.”

“Oh? Expected?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “He wagged his tail more for me yesterday than with you this morning! I think he might actually like me more than you.”

“You’re lying,” he said with a soft laugh. Then, more seriously, “Really though… thank you for saying yes. I didn’t know anyone else who could take care of him yesterday. Jin-woo’s tied up with wedding prep.”

Hyomin waved a hand casually. “Don’t worry about it. Hash was too entertained with my friends yesterday. We made sure he wouldn’t miss you too much.”

“I wasn’t worried about him missing anyone,” Seokhoon said flatly, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “I was worried about leaving him alone again. You know what happened at the facility.”

Her teasing faded, replaced by understanding. “Ah… right. We should have reported him! I can’t believe we totally forgot.”

“Don’t worry. It’s already taken care of. He won’t come near Hash—or you—again. I still remember how you looked in the elevator,” Seokhoon said, voice dropping slightly. The vulnerability in his tone made her pause.

He’s still shaken by it. She realized. Even now.

Hyomin reached down, ruffling Hash’s fur gently. “So… you left him in my care because you trusted me?”

Seokhoon’s gaze lifted, calm but intense. "Yes.”

She grinned, leaning back slightly. “That’s new. Well, he did enjoy his time. I even taught him a new trick.”

“I’m sure he did,” he said dryly, but the softening around his eyes betrayed him. “And that’s… appreciated.”

Hyomin’s lips curved mischievously. “Is that your version of thanking me?”

He paused, as if weighing his words carefully, then straightened in his seat. “Actually… as mentioned, this lunch serves as a formal thank you. And I wanted to see how he’s been… and how you handled him”

She laughed, a mix of amusement and disbelief. “You’re treating this like a performance review for dog-sitting”

“Maybe I am,” he said, raising a brow. “But Hash is… important. And so are those who take care of him.”

Hyomin pretended to pout. “Wow. That’s… very formal. Are you always like this?”

“I am always precise” he said, deadpan. “Even when it comes to gratitude.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” she teased. “Gratitude? Because I thought you were just scared I’d overfeed him or let him nap too much.”

“I was… partially concerned,” he admitted, voice low. “Mostly, I was worried about leaving him alone. And now…” His gaze lingered on her for a beat longer than necessary. “I know he was in good hands.”

Hyomin felt her chest tighten slightly at the sincerity in his eyes. He really cares about Hash. 

For a few minutes, they ate quietly, the café around them fading into the background. Every so often, Seokhoon would glance at her — subtle, fleeting, but unmistakable hints of curiosity and something deeper. Hyomin noticed, but let it pass, smiling quietly to herself.

Maybe I’m reading too much into it… or maybe not.

After they finished, Seokhoon stood and clipped Hash’s leash around his wrist. Their hands brushed when she handed over a treat, lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. Neither moved away.

“Good lunch” he said finally, voice low, almost rough with unspoken emotion.

“Good lunch” she echoed, heart fluttering.

As they stepped outside, the sunlight catching the soft strands of his hair, Seokhoon hesitated at the doorway, gaze fixed on her.

Why does it feel like he’s waiting for me to say something?

Hyomin wondered. She swallowed, feeling the tension in the space between them — not awkward, but charged.

“I… I’ll see you tomorrow at work. Thank you again, Hyomin-ah” he said finally, tone casual, but his eyes held a sharp intensity that made her pulse skip.

Her heart stuttered. 

Hyomin-ah? He… he actually called me that. For the first time in forever. I’d heard him say “Hyomin” before the accident, but never “Hyomin-ah.”

Her pulse raced, her chest tightening in a way that made her catch her breath. A heat spread through her cheeks, a flutter in her stomach that she hadn’t felt in years.

Why does this feel so different? Just a little suffix… but it’s like he’s opened a door I didn’t know was there. Like he’s not just looking at me — he’s seeing me. Really seeing me. And I… I don’t know if I can handle how much that matters.

Her hands fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, her mind racing.

Did he notice how it makes my heart skip? Does he even realize the weight of what he just said? Or is it just… casual to him?

The world around her seemed to blur. The café, the soft chatter, even Hash at her feet — nothing mattered except that voice, that name.

Hyomin-ah.

The sound lingered in her ears, like it had rewritten something inside her. She had to remind herself to breathe. Slowly. Carefully. But every beat of her heart was screaming.

This is… huge.

Hyomin nodded, a soft smile tugging at her lips as her chest fluttered with an almost dizzying warmth. Words caught in her throat, refusing to come out. Tomorrow at work… she thought, the thought lingering like a quiet promise, making her heart race in a way that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

Chapter Text

The office was quiet, except for the soft clatter of keyboards and the occasional rustle of papers. Hyomin was hunched over the case files, highlighting paragraphs, making notes, and muttering to herself. Seokhoon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her work with his usual inscrutable expression.

“Are you ready?” Seokhoon asked.

“Of course. But I'm still trying to look at all possible angles they will take,” Hyomin muttered, reading through the eyewitness statements.

Seokhoon raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. You seem more confident than last week.”

“I am confident,” she shot back, without looking up. “I just don’t have the luxury of wasting time doubting myself.”

He smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Good. Just make sure you don’t waste the court’s time either.”

Hyomin glanced at him, her lips quirking in amusement. “Yah!! I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

“Try?” he echoed dryly.

The banter was light, almost playful, but it kept the tension at bay. They reviewed their strategy together. The defense would probably focus on the inconsistencies in the eyewitness testimony, Park Dongwook’s delay in reporting the incident, and the lack of proof tying Kim Hyunwoo to any specific act. Seokhoon gave pointers sparingly, letting Hyomin do most of the planning, but his gaze was always on her, analyzing, observing, noting her poise and confidence.

By the time they reached the courthouse, Hyomin’s nerves were taut with anticipation, but she felt ready.

The courtroom buzzed with quiet anticipation as lawyers, clerks, and observers settled into their seats. Hyomin adjusted her papers on the table, feeling the weight of the case in front of her: People of South Korea vs. Kim Hyunwoo. It was a high-stakes appeal, the appellant previously convicted at the High Court, and now before the Supreme Court.

Her mentor and partner, Atty. Yoon Seokhoon sat beside her. He seems calm as ever. A rare smile flickering as he glanced at her. 

“Remember,” he said softly, “don’t underestimate them. Or yourself.”

Hyomin smirked, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Noted. But I think you might be the one I need to watch.”

Seokhoon’s eyebrows lifted slightly, almost imperceptibly, before he returned his attention to the bench.

The judge called the court to order.

“Today we hear the appeal of Kim Hyunwoo, previously convicted by the High Court for his alleged participation in the homicide of Jung Hwan, a landowner in Jongno-gu, on March 22, 2024. Appellant is represented by Yulim Law Firm, counsel Atty. Kang Hyomin and Atty. Yoon Seokhoon. Respondent, Choi Mira, is represented by Lee & Seo Law Firm, counsel Atty. Han Seongchan and Atty. Min Sora.

Hyomin inhaled, steadying herself. The case was complicated: the sole eyewitness, Park Dongwook, had waited eight months to come forward, and his account was inconsistent and vague. The defense would argue that Hyunwoo was asleep at home, a kilometer away, and that there was no concrete evidence tying him to the crime.

Atty. Min Sora rose first. “Your Honor, the eyewitness testimony of Park Dongwook clearly identifies the appellant. He observed the accused committing the acts of stabbing and hacking the victim under the moonlight. The delay in reporting is understandable due to fear for his life. Further, the credibility of the eyewitness is unquestionable, and the appellant’s presence at the scene cannot be denied.”

Hyomin listened intently, noting every word. She whispered to Seokhoon, “She’s good. But I think we got this”

Seokhoon’s subtle nod was all the encouragement she needed.

When the witness, Park Dongwook, was called to the stand, Hyomin took a deep breath and stood. “Mr. Park, good morning. I understand you are the tenant of the late Junghwan?”

“Yes” Park replied, voice wavering slightly.

“And you stated that you observed multiple individuals attacking Mr. Jung Hwan, correct?”

“That’s right” he said, eyes flicking nervously between the lawyers.

Hyomin’s tone softened, reassuring. “And can you tell the court with certainty which of the accused committed the stabbing or hacking?”

Park hesitated. “I… I couldn’t see exactly who did each act. They moved quickly.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at Hyomin’s lips. This was the opening she had been waiting for.

Seokhoon leaned slightly forward, whispering, “Keep calm. Let him speak, guide him gently.”

Hyomin nodded, continuing. “So, to clarify, you waited eight months before reporting this incident?”

Park swallowed hard. “Yes. I… I was scared for my life. I didn’t want trouble.”

“And during those eight months,” Hyomin pressed, “were you able to describe who used what weapon or how the attacks occurred?”

“I… I couldn’t tell. Everything happened too fast. I just saw shadows and movements.”

Hyomin’s voice was steady, even, but her mind raced. Yes… this is it.

“Thank you, Mr. Park. So your testimony is based on impressions of shadows and movement rather than a specific act by Mr. Kim Hyun-woo?”

Park nodded, fidgeting.

Hyomin’s eyes flicked to Seokhoon. He gave a barely perceptible nod, pride sparking briefly in his usually reserved gaze.

He notices my approach. That’s… enough for me to keep going.

“Your Honor,” she said, turning to the bench, “without a clear description of Mr. Kim Hyun-woo’s actions, without proof of a specific act that produced the effect of the victim’s death, can this court truly establish guilt beyond reasonable doubt?”

The judge considered her words carefully.

Atty. Min Sora rose immediately. “Objection! The witness identified the appellant at the scene. That identification is sufficient for criminal liability.”

Hyomin’s lips curved slightly. “Your Honor, identification alone is insufficient when the witness himself cannot specify the act of the accused. Without proof of participation in the lethal act, the appellant’s criminal liability cannot be presumed. We remind the court that an ‘act’ requires a bodily movement producing an effect in the external world. Mr. Park has admitted he cannot attribute any such movement to Mr. Kim Hyun-woo.”

Seokhoon added, for emphasis, “Moreover, the witness was a tenant of the victim. His testimony may be biased, intentionally or otherwise. Fear is understandable, but it also affects clarity. This court must rely on certainty, not conjecture.”

Hyomin watched as a flicker of surprise crossed Atty. Min Sora’s expression. Her pulse quickened—not from fear, but from the thrill of the argument and the rare approving glance Seokhoon gave her.

The trial continued with a careful, almost tense rhythm. Hyomin guided the witness, countered objections, and presented the gaps in the testimony, all while maintaining her composure. Seokhoon interjected only when necessary, precise and minimal, allowing Hyomin to shine. Their silent coordination was seamless, almost intimate in its subtlety.

Finally, after hours of examination and closing arguments, the judge banged the gavel.

“The Court finds that the appellant, Kim Hyunwoo, has not been proven guilty beyond reasonable doubt. The decision of the High Court is hereby reversed and set aside. The appellant is acquitted of all charges.”

Hyomin exhaled, a small smile playing on her lips. She looked at Seokhoon. He just gave her a nod and a smile.

The doors of the courtroom swung open, letting in the crisp Seoul air. Hyomin adjusted her bag, her face still composed but her shoulders finally loosening from the tension of the morning. Seokhoon walked beside her, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the street as if the city could offer a moment of clarity after the storm of the trial.

She was incredible, he thought, the words refusing to leave his mind.

Calm, precise, unwavering. Every question, every objection, every observation… flawless.

He caught her glance toward him and for a second, the world narrowed to just the two of them walking side by side.

“Hyomin-ah,” he said quietly, almost unconsciously, “you handled that… exceptionally.”

Her pulse skipped. 

Hyomin-ah?

She blinked quickly, trying to appear composed. He actually said it again. So that was not a mistake.

She smiled, letting the praise settle in, savoring it privately. 

“Thank you” she said simply, though inside her chest felt like it had just skipped a beat.

Seokhoon’s gaze flicked toward her, noticing the subtle blush on her cheeks.

Damn it, he thought. I’m supposed to be professional, and yet… 

His usual calm, unshakable demeanor wavered for the briefest instant. He wanted to say more, to tell her exactly how impressed he was, how he had caught himself holding his breath during her cross-examination, but he kept the words locked behind his restraint.

Hyomin shifted slightly, glancing at him. “You… didn’t give me much guidance today,” she said teasingly, trying to mask her curiosity.

“I observed” he replied smoothly, voice low and steady. “Sometimes the best way to prepare is to let you think for yourself.”

Her lips curved into a small grin.

He’s complimenting me without actually complimenting me.

She mused, inwardly delighted. 

And yet, it feels like more than just words.

They walked in silence for a few more steps, the hum of the city around them filling the quiet spaces. 

Seokhoon’s mind, however, remained focused, replaying every detail: her pointed questions, the way she exposed the inconsistencies in Park Dong-wook’s testimony, the poise she maintained when all eyes were on her. 

She didn’t just argue the case… she owned it.

When they reached the curb where their cars were parked, he finally spoke, almost reluctantly. 

“You did better than I expected,” he said quietly, his voice carrying more warmth than usual.

Hyomin’s heart fluttered. She smiled softly, letting the words linger. 

Better than he expected…

Even though it was only a few words, they felt like a bridge between them, a quiet acknowledgment of her skill—and perhaps, of their growing closeness.

Seokhoon glanced at her again before stepping into his car. Inside, he allowed himself a small, rare smile. 

Hyomin-ah. Today, you reminded me why I trust you… and why I can’t stop noticing you.

Chapter Text

Lee Jinwoo stood at the center of the living room, phone in hand, his gaze shifting nervously between the crowd of relatives around him and the large screen projecting the video call to those who couldn’t be there in person. The room buzzed with murmurs—some lounging casually on sofas, others perched rigidly on chairs, as if bracing for the unexpected.

“I have an announcement,” he said, drawing a deep breath that he hoped would steady the flutters in his chest. 

“I’m getting married.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Half the room blinked in stunned surprise, while the other half exchanged amused, incredulous glances. On the screen, the hundred faces of extended family—cousins, aunts, uncles—reacted in real time, some mouths falling open, some fists pumping in excitement.

“What? Who is she?” one cousin demanded loudly. 

“I didn’t even know you were dating anyone!”

Jinwoo’s sister, Lee Yeonhui, crossed her arms tightly, standing rigidly beside him. Her sharp, protective gaze swept the room as if daring anyone to answer for him. “Wait. Hold on. Who exactly is she?”

Jinwoo cleared his throat, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I… I didn’t bring her today. Her name is Heo Minjeong. She’s also a lawyer at our firm. She asked if she could meet you formally, but I told her I wanted to see how you all would feel before introducing her properly.”

I want to protect her. Jinwoo thought, a pang of worry tightening in his chest. 

She’s been through so much… a controlling mother-in-law, a difficult ex-husband. I can’t let anyone overwhelm her before she’s ready.

Yeonhui’s eyes narrowed, suspicion evident. “You didn’t bring her? And you expect us to just… accept this?” Her voice shook with disbelief, a mix of shock and skepticism.

“I think I remember that name,” she muttered, her brow furrowing as the realization dawned. “Do you even know what kind of woman she is?”

Another cousin chimed in. “Right! Didn’t we hear something about her before?”

Yeonhui’s expression froze for a moment, her previous indignation giving way to sudden recognition. “We… had lunch together recently,” she said slowly, her tone a mixture of surprise and hesitation.

Jin-woo swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. “She’s… smart. Independent. Strong. And… she’s perfect for me.”

“Perfect?” Yeonhui’s laugh was sharp, bitter.

“She’s ten years older than you. She has a teenage daughter. She’s divorced. And you… you expect everyone to support you?” Her voice was heavy with disbelief, the weight of her protectiveness unmistakable.

Before Jin-woo could respond, their grandmother leaned forward from her armchair, her hands clasped in her lap. Her eyes softened with warmth but her voice carried the quiet authority that hushed the room immediately. 

“Yeonhui” she said firmly, “You know him. He’s not impulsive. If he has chosen her, it is because he knows what he wants. He is already old enough to decide. And all I wish for him is to be happy.”

Several aunts and uncles nodded, murmuring in agreement. 

One cousin spoke up, recalling previous conversations: “We’ve seen her work… you told us how good she is. Everyone respects her.”

“I have a friend at the firm,” another relative added. “She said Atty. Heo Minjeong isn’t just capable—she’s respected and admired by everyone. If she makes him happy, isn’t that enough?”

Yeonhui’s arms slowly unfolded as her frown softened, though her voice remained cautious. “It’s true… she’s capable” she admitted, her tone hesitant. “She doesn’t even look her age. But… this, as his fiancée? And… how about having a kid? Can she still have one?”

Jinwoo took a careful step closer, his eyes steady and sincere, hoping his conviction would reach her.

I have to protect her. She’s been through so much already. She doesn’t need more judgment from anyone.

“She’s been through a lot, yes,” he said firmly, his voice gentle but unwavering. “She’s already an incredible mother to her daughter, and that’s more than enough. Our focus is on building our life together. Minjeong is amazing. She makes me happy. I make her happy. I trust her with everything. And most importantly, I trust her with me.”

The room began to relax. Smiles appeared, nods and murmurs of support rippled through the family. Yeonhui’s lips pressed into a thin line, still wary, but the hostility had ebbed just enough to allow thoughtfulness.

Jinwoo exhaled slowly, relief creeping in. “She’s waiting at home. I wanted to give you all a chance to hear this from me first, before introducing her properly. Soon, you’ll meet her, and I hope you’ll see why I love her.”

Yeonhui finally gave a small nod, her shoulders relaxing slightly, though the faint smirk on her lips betrayed her lingering wariness. 

“Fine,” she said. “But I’ll be watching her closely.”

The camera captured the reactions of a hundred relatives—some laughing, some gasping, some clapping. The grandmother shook her head with a chuckle. “He’s always been a good kid,” she said fondly, “and now… finally, look at him—settling down.”

As the video call ended, Jinwoo felt a quiet wave of relief wash over him. Yeonhui might not be fully convinced, but the initial barrier was down. One step closer… one step closer to her meeting him, he thought, smiling faintly at the thought of finally bringing Minjeong into the family’s fold.

Hyomin sat at her desk, papers neatly stacked, coffee steaming beside her. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting stripes across the office floor. She had just finished reviewing a brief when her phone buzzed.

Again? she thought, raising an eyebrow.  He’s supposed to be in meetings all morning. How does he have time to text me?

“Have you eaten lunch yet?”

Hyomin blinked at her phone, a small smirk forming. Why does he care?

“I did. Why do you keep asking? Don’t you have other friends to bother?”

“I do… but I can’t let my junior lawyers starve. That would make me a bad mentor.”

Hyomin chuckled softly. Ridiculous… but thoughtful in a weird way.

“You’re ridiculous. And persistent.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just want to make sure you’re not collapsing at your desk again.”

She shook her head, laughing quietly. 

“Yah! I never did. You sound like a parent more than a mentor right now.”

“Good. I like being helpful. Even if it annoys you.”

 “It does. But… I guess it’s kind of sweet too.”

A long pause. Then another buzz.

“I made Choi Hoyeon buy you guys lunch. Make sure you actually eat something.”

Hyomin paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. He really surprises me. I’ve never had someone check on me like this at work before.

“You know, I can feed myself, right?”

“Sure… but then I’d feel guilty. A bad mentor, remember?”

Hyomin laughed outright. Okay, now he’s officially teasing me. And I kind of… like it.

“You’re impossible. But fine, I’ll eat. Happy now?”

“Very much. I’ll go now. This meeting is getting intense.”

Hyomin felt her chest warm at his first words. Am I just overthinking this? She thought. I don’t think he messages the other juniors the way he does to me.

The office clock ticked on. Reports, contracts, and emails waited, but her mind kept drifting to Seokhoon’s words. Every short message, every little check-in, carried an odd intimacy that she wasn’t used to—and maybe wasn’t ready for, yet somehow found comforting.

The office was nearly empty, only a few junior lawyers lingering at their desks. Seokhoon walked in quietly, glancing around. His eyes immediately scanned the room for her. 

Did she already go home? 

He thought. His pulse was calm but focused. He had planned to check on her after his last meeting, but now, seeing the few remaining staff around, he had to be careful.

Hyomin, meanwhile, was at her desk, finishing some paperwork. She felt a sudden prickling at the back of her neck and instinctively looked up, spotting him moving quietly between desks. 

Is he… here already? 

She thought, heart picking up. She tried to keep working, not wanting to draw attention from the others. 

Don’t make it obvious. Just act normal.

Seokhoon crouched slightly, pretending to check a file on a lower shelf near the copier, giving her a small nod. 

Found you.

His eyes seemed to say. Hyomin stifled a laugh, shaking her head subtly. 

He’s ridiculous. Why sneak around like a spy?

Once the few juniors left, Seokhoon straightened and approached her desk carefully. 

“You really shouldn’t be here this late,” he said quietly, stepping closer but keeping his tone casual. He was mindful of the emptying office; no one should notice the subtle tension between them.

“I… I still have a few things to finish,” Hyomin replied, trying to sound composed while her pulse raced.

He sighed, gently but deliberately closing her laptop. “No. You’re done. Now.”

Hyomin blinked, caught off guard. “I… I can’t just leave. These files—”

He raised a hand, firm but gentle. “I’ll handle what’s left. You’re leaving. Now.”

Her chest fluttered at the rare edge in his voice. She had known him to be precise in court, but this quiet insistence felt… personal. 

He’s worried. For me.

She reluctantly gathered her things, trying not to make it obvious to anyone else still in the office. 

Act normal, act normal… she thought.

“Come on,” Seokhoon said softly, offering his arm, subtly shielding her from any stray glance. “I’ll drive you home. You’re not walking back alone at this hour.”

Hyomin hesitated, heart racing. 

Is he… really insisting?

But she knew it wasn’t just a casual gesture—he genuinely wanted to make sure she was safe. She gave a small nod. “Okay… thank you.”

They moved toward the parking garage in silence, careful not to draw attention. His presence beside her was commanding, protective, yet quiet.

He looks so calm, but I know he’s worried. And… it’s kind of making me nervous, she thought.

Seokhoon opened the passenger door for her with a subtle flourish, then climbed in. The ride was quiet at first, the soft hum of the engine filling the space. Hyomin stole glances at him, noticing the faint crease between his brows, the set of his jaw. 

He is so silent. I can't read his face. What is he thinking about?

After a few minutes, Seokhoon spoke, voice low but steady. “You should have left hours ago. I don’t want to see you like that again.”

Hyomin smiled softly, her nerves easing slightly. “I know… I just wanted to finish what I started.”

“You’re a bad junior if you let your mentor drive you home this late,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “And I’m a worse mentor if I let my juniors starve or overwork themselves to death.”

Her laugh was soft. “I guess I deserve that.”

They continued in silence until her apartment building came into view. Seokhoon parked smoothly, but his protective energy didn’t fade.

“Safe inside?” he asked, tone softer now.

“Yes” she said, feeling warmth spread in her chest.

He gave a small nod, opening the door. “Tomorrow… back to work. Don’t stay late again. Understood?”

She glanced at him, heart fluttering. “Understood.”

As she stepped inside, he paused briefly at the door, eyes meeting hers with a rare, unguarded look.

“Good night, Hyomin-ah.”

“Thank you for the ride, Atty. Yoon.”

“Atty. Yoon? After all this time, you’re still so formal with me?” His expression was mock-hurt, but there was something softer in his eyes, a trace of curiosity that made her stomach flutter.

“I—I mean… Seokhoon. I wasn’t sure what to call you anymore.” She laughed, a little nervously, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

“You were so brave when you called me that during our… ‘date’” he teased, smirking as though he remembered every little detail.

“Shut up!” she exclaimed, letting out a loud laugh and playfully swatting his arm. 

Why am I laughing like this?  She thought. Her heart was pounding loudly.  I am embarrassing myself in front of him.

“Oops, sorry. I’m going to go in now. Bye!”

Her chest tightened as she stepped fully inside. She leaned against the door, trying to steady herself. 

He really is caring… and I don’t know why it makes my heart race like this. Why does it feel like… something’s changing between us?

Her mind wandered to the drive home, the quiet way he had watched over her in the office, the subtle touches that had made her aware of him all day.

Does he like me? Or am I imagining things?

She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on something else. Yet the warmth in her chest refused to fade, and she couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. 

Tomorrow at work… I’ll see him again. Will it feel the same or… different?

Chapter Text

The morning sun spilled across the office floor, sharp and warm. Hyomin’s heels clicked with deliberate rhythm as she walked past desks and buzzing phones.

Okay, today I’m doing it.

She told herself, gripping her coffee cup like a talisman.

No overthinking. I’m asking him straight: what am I to you?

Her eyes landed on Seokhoon, already at his desk, head bent over papers as usual. Calm, composed, untouchable. But Hyomin noticed the way his brow furrowed just slightly as he read the documents, the faint crease that appeared when he was deep in thought.

He’s human too… I just need to say it before I hesitate.

“Seokhoon,” she started, stepping closer, her heart thundering.

Don’t sound nervous. Just be confident. You’ve got this.

He looked up at her, and for a moment, the world narrowed.

She’s here early.

He thought, catching the spark of determination in her eyes. Why does it feel like she’s here on firm business—like she’s about to drop something important on my desk?

“I… we need to talk—” Hyomin’s words hung in the air like smoke, her courage finally spilling into the open.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her momentum. A junior colleague poked their head in, hesitant. 

“Atty. Yoon… do you have a moment? I wanted to ask for some mentorship on the Han case.”

Hyomin froze for a heartbeat, frustration threatening to slip into her voice. 

Not now… I was about to finally ask him. 

She forced herself to step back gracefully, maintaining composure, but her gaze lingered on him.

Seokhoon forced a polite smile, hiding the tightness in his chest. 

“Of course. Let’s step into the conference room.” He led the junior colleague away, giving a polite nod in Hyomin’s direction. 

She came here intending to ask me something. I badly want to know what she was about to say. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about it. 

As the door closed behind him, Hyomin watched, chest tightening slightly. Soon, she promised herself. 

I’ll make sure we talk. I need to know. 

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of case files, emails, and client calls. Hyomin moved through her tasks with her usual focus, though her thoughts kept drifting back to Seokhoon—the words she hadn’t said, the look in his eyes as he left for the conference room. Every glance at her phone or the corner of his empty desk made her heart skip. 

Soon, she reminded herself. We’ll talk soon.

That morning, after his consultation with the junior lawyer, Seokhoon stepped out of the conference room, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. He was still running through notes in his head when a sound stopped him—Hyomin’s laughter, light and unguarded, carried from down the hall.

She was standing with Minjeong near the corner table, animatedly telling a story, her hands moving as she spoke. The usual calm professionalism she wore in the office was gone, replaced by something freer, brighter.

She looked… different. Prettier.

Seokhoon froze, watching for a fraction too long before forcing himself to move.

Why does it feel different when it’s her? Why do I notice this?

Before he could retreat to his office, one of the senior partners, Atty. Park, stepped up beside him, following his line of sight. A sly grin tugged at his lips.

“She’s impressive, isn’t she? Sharp, hardworking and single.” He clapped a hand on Seokhoon’s shoulder. “Maybe I should introduce her to my son. He’s around her age. Wouldn’t hurt to set them up on a date.”

The words hit harder than expected. A surge of something sharp and unwelcome twisted in Seokhoon’s chest—jealousy, raw and immediate. He managed a polite nod, forcing a neutral expression, but his jaw tightened.

Minjeong, catching the exchange from her desk, nearly laughed out loud. If their boss looked any more uncomfortable, it would’ve been a confession in itself.

Seokhoon finally retreated to his office, exhaling slowly, his chest tight, his thoughts restless.

Back at his desk, he pressed his palms against the surface, staring blankly at the neatly stacked case files.

This is ridiculous. She’s just a junior. My junior. I should stay professional. But why does the thought of her with someone else feel unbearable?

The decision settled heavily, almost startling him with its clarity. Tonight. No more postponing, no more excuses. He would stop hiding behind professionalism, stop pretending. He would ask her—finally and properly—for something that belonged to them alone.

By the afternoon, the office had settled into its usual rhythm. Seokhoon remained preoccupied with the other junior colleagues, mentoring with his characteristic precision, leaving Hyomin a brief moment to breathe. She leaned back in her chair, stretching her fingers over her notes, and tried to shake off the lingering tension. The questions she wanted to ask would have to wait—there were other matters to handle today, and patience, she reminded herself, was also a kind of strength.

Meanwhile, across town, a different kind of anticipation filled the air. The afternoon sun poured through the living room windows as Jinwoo led Minjeong into the heart of his family home. She kept her composure, graceful and poised, though her pulse raced with nerves. 

Okay, Minjeong, just breathe. First impressions matter, but don’t oversell yourself. Be warm, be confident… but not too eager.

This would be her first proper meeting with his family, and she wanted to make a good impression without revealing too much of herself too soon.

Jinwoo squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Relax. They’ll love you.”

The moment they stepped inside, murmurs of admiration followed. “Wow… she’s so pretty,” Jinwoo’s cousin whispered to another. “And she looks… so young!”

Minjeong smiled politely, her posture radiating quiet confidence. The soft drape of her blouse and the sharp cut of her tailored pants lent her an air of effortless elegance. Every step and gesture exuded calm assurance. 

Don’t let them see me nervous. Just smile, make eye contact, and speak clearly.

“Hello, everyone. I’m Heo Minjeong. I’ve heard so much about all of you” she said, her voice warm and clear. 

Smooth, Minjeong. You can do this.

His grandmother, sitting elegantly in her chair, leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “Ah… she carries herself well. Smart and confident—like someone I could trust my grandson with.”

Minjeong’s heart fluttered slightly. She actually likes me. That’s… comforting. I want to prove I deserve this trust.

Yeonhui, Jinwoo’s sister, still skeptical but unable to hide her surprise, murmured, “She… she really is impressive.”

Huh. Even Yeonhui isn’t completely dismissive. Okay, that’s a start… 

Minjeong thought, inwardly relaxing, though she reminded herself not to let her guard down just yet.

One step at a time. Let them see who I am, but not everything at once.

As lunch was prepared, conversations flowed naturally. Questions about Minjeong’s work, her daughter, and her hobbies were met with thoughtful, sincere answers.

Jinwoo’s parents nodded appreciatively, impressed not only by her appearance but by her eloquence and poise.

Then, a small tug at her sleeve made her pause. Minjeong glanced down to see Jinwoo’s niece—no more than six years old—peeking up at her shyly from behind her doll. She was known in the family for being quiet, often too timid to approach guests, yet here she was, standing in front of Minjeong with wide, curious eyes.

“You’re really pretty. Like a princess” the girl whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

A collective hush swept through the room before it broke into soft chuckles of surprise. One aunt leaned over and whispered, “She never talks to new people.”

Minjeong’s smile warmed, her posture easing as she knelt to the girl’s level. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said gently, brushing a stray hair from the child’s face. “And I love your doll. What’s her name?”

The little girl’s eyes lit up as she eagerly held the doll out for Minjeong to see. “Her name is Hana,” she replied, her shyness melting away.

The family exchanged astonished looks, their earlier doubts quietly softening.

From across the table, Jinwoo watched with quiet pride, his chest tightening at the sight of Minjeong navigating his family’s questions with grace and warmth. 

They’re beginning to see her heart… exactly the way I do.

When the evening finally drew to a close, the house was still echoing with laughter and lingering conversation, as if the walls themselves had absorbed the warmth. Jinwoo and Minjeong stepped out into the crisp night air, their fingers still interlaced, a quiet sense of relief and satisfaction settling between them.

The night didn’t end there. Later, in a quiet corner of a café, Seokhoon sat waiting, a steaming cup of coffee untouched in front of him. The low murmur of other patrons and the sweet scent of pastries filled the room, but his gaze was distant, his thoughts looping back to Hyomin—and the conversation he had yet to have with her.

The bell above the door chimed softly, drawing his attention. Jinwoo and Minjeong entered hand in hand, their ease together so natural it pulled a few approving glances from nearby tables. They slipped into the seats across from him, and Jinwoo let out a quiet sigh, the tension from earlier finally beginning to lift.

A few moments later, the door swung open and Hyomin stepped inside. Her eyes swept the café, scanning the tables for Jinwoo, Minjeong, and Seokhoon. When her gaze finally landed on them, her expression softened, and a small, confident smile tugged at her lips.

Seokhoon’s attention flickered briefly toward her, but he forced himself to remain focused on Jinwoo and Minjeong’s conversation. The tension between them hummed quietly, unspoken but undeniable, like a wire stretched tight across the room.

“They all… they really like her,” Jinwoo said, his voice low and filled with relief. “Even my sister’s walls are coming down. I think this time, it’s really happening. We can start the wedding preparations soon.”

Seokhoon nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, though part of his mind lingered on Hyomin’s presence in the café.

Soon, he reminded himself, echoing her own thoughts. We’ll have our conversation soon.

Seokhoon smiled warmly. “Congratulations, you two. I’m so happy for you.” He glanced at Minjeong. “You handled meeting the family so well.”

Minjeong gave a small, polite bow of her head. “Thank you, Atty Yoon. I wanted to make a good impression. They’ve been so welcoming.”

Hyomin, sipping his coffee, added, “Congratulations, Atty. Jinwoo, you’ve got a wise choice there… and Atty. Minjeong, you really impress everyone without even trying.” She paused, giving Minjeong a measured nod. “Not everyone could walk into a room like that and put a hundred opinions at ease.”

Minjeong’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. “Thank you Hyomin. I just wanted to be myself.”

Seokhoon leaned back, teasing gently, “Looks like your charm works in every setting whether in courtrooms, family dinners and apparently coffee shops too.”

Jinwoo chuckled. “It helps that she’s already perfect in my eyes. But yes, thank you both. I really wanted you both here to hear it from me, since you’re the ones who helped me propose.”

“By the way, Hyomin, you can call me unnie when we’re not in the office. You’re like a sister to me now. You’re always there to help us,” Minjeong said, her tone warm and sincere.

Hyomin’s eyes widened in surprise, a flush of happiness spreading through her chest. She couldn’t help but notice the faint, proud smile on Seokhoon’s face as he watched her reaction, his usually composed demeanor softened by genuine pride.

“Okay… unnie,” she replied, her voice bright, mirroring the small spark of joy in his eyes.

Seokhoon gave a slight nod, lips curving in quiet satisfaction. As he watched her smile, a rare, unguarded warmth stirred within him—pride, happiness, and perhaps… something more.

The conversation at the café had shifted to light laughter, shared stories, and updates about the wedding preparations. Hyomin noticed the ease between Jinwoo and Minjeong, the kind of comfort that made her heart swell with happiness for them. Yet beneath her smile, her thoughts kept drifting back to Seokhoon—the conversation she hadn’t had that morning, the words she hadn’t dared to say.

I really wanna ask him now… but my moment will come soon.

Eventually, the evening deepened, and Seokhoon leaned back slightly. “It’s getting late, and I’d rather not see you walking alone,” he said, tone casual but firm.

Hyomin gathered her things, careful not to draw attention from the other patrons. “You really don’t have to, Seokhoon. I can manage on my own. My house is not too far from here” she said, trying to sound nonchalant, though her pulse quickened.

“Please let me do this. I don’t want to worry. After all… I’d be a bad mentor if I let my junior lawyers wander the streets at night” he replied, a faint tension in his shoulders betraying his calm exterior.

She raised an eyebrow. “Jeez. It’s not even that late yet. And… why do you always drive me home? I haven’t seen you drive Choi Hoyeon, Ji Gukhyeon, or Oh Sangchul.”

“Well… that’s because they’re not here” he said, shifting slightly, avoiding her gaze for a moment. His jaw tightened, his usual composed mask slipping just enough for her to notice.

Hyomin laughed softly, shaking her head. He’s quick-witted… and annoyingly charming, too.

The ride settled into a comfortable silence, the hum of the engine and flickering city lights filling the space. Hyomin stared out the window, her mind a whirlwind of curiosity—and something more complicated, something she couldn’t quite name. 

Why is my heart racing? She stole glances at him. 

He seemed different tonight. Tense, but not in the usual professional way. What is he thinking about?

Seokhoon’s hands gripped the wheel tighter than usual. 

Okay, just breathe. Don’t mess this up. This… this matters more than anything else right now.

His mind replayed every interaction with her—the way she cared for Hash, the little smiles she gave when she thought he wasn’t looking, the way she cares for the twins, and the way her presence made the office feel lighter.

I can’t keep pretending. I need to tell her. If not now, I’ll regret it forever.

Hyomin shifted in her seat, nervously tapping her fingers against her bag. Why does he keep stealing glances? Is there something wrong with my face?

They spoke almost simultaneously.

“I—Hyomin, I…” he started.

“I—Seokhoon, I have something to—” she began, then paused. 

She let him speak first. 

Seokhoon cleared his throat, breaking the tension that had been coiling in the car since morning.

“Hyomin-ah… I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Not about work, not about anything else…” He swallowed hard, eyes flicking to her, then back to the road.

“I want a real date. Just the two of us. No distractions, no meetings. Would you go out with me?”

Hyomin blinked, heart skipping a beat.

Did I hear that right? I did not expect this. Not at all.

She noticed the tension in his jaw, the faint vulnerability in his eyes. And it’s just for me…

Her chest fluttered, and for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to feel that warmth, that excitement that was more than just friendship.

He’s serious… and he’s nervous… just like me.

“Wait—didn’t you say we weren’t a good match? I mean, I’m eleven years younger and totally inexperienced with marriage, remember?” She arched a brow, teasing but lighthearted.

“I know,” he said, leaning forward, his voice low and unguarded. “But I can’t help it. I’ve tried to stay away, tried to pretend it was nothing… but it never was.”

Hyomin blinked, her lips parting as his words sank in. For a heartbeat, all she could hear was the steady rhythm of her own heart, loud and insistent. She searched his face—serious and vulnerable in a way she had never seen before and realized he meant every word.

A quiet smile tugged at her mouth, half-disbelieving, half-relieved. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that?” she whispered, her voice softer than she intended.

The tension broke, warmth rushing in where doubt had lived. She exhaled slowly, her shoulders easing. “Okay… yes. Let’s go.”

Seokhoon exhaled, a weight lifting from his shoulders. His lips curved into a quiet, satisfied smile, but his mind was already imagining the upcoming date—the laughter, the quiet conversations, the small, unspoken moments that would belong only to them.

Then, after a brief pause, he spoke softly, curiosity lacing his words. “Hyomin… there’s something I’ve been wondering. Earlier this morning, you were about to say something before the junior lawyer interrupted. What was it?”

Hyomin’s chest tightened. Relief and excitement coursed through her

She drew in a steady breath, eyes following the blur of city lights streaking past the window. “Oh! I was… going to ask why you’re always so… considerate with me. Nicer than you treat the other juniors,” she said, her tone steady but threaded with quiet curiosity. “Were you always like this with them… or is it just me?”

Please, just answer honestly. I need to know if this is… personal or if I’m imagining it.

Seokhoon’s hands tightened around the wheel, his jaw shifting as though he were weighing the cost of every possible answer.

Do I tell her everything? Or just enough to keep myself safe?

He risked a glance at her, and her steady gaze caught him off guard. There was no shyness in it, only a spark of determination that disarmed him. Something in his chest softened, unraveling defenses he’d held for too long.

“I… I’ve always treated my juniors fairly, yes,” he said finally, his voice calm, deliberate. Then, quieter, with something unguarded beneath the restraint: “But maybe it’s different with you.”

Hyomin’s breath caught, her heart stumbling at the weight of his words. “So… it’s not just professional kindness?” she pressed, her voice barely above a whisper, equal parts fear and hope.

She sees too much… always too much, Seokhoon thought, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the road, even as the urge to close the space between them gnawed at him.

He met her gaze in the rearview mirror, his eyes betraying a flicker of vulnerability before he masked it with a faint, almost reluctant smile. “Let’s just say… you’ve made it impossible for me to act completely professional.”

The unspoken lingered in the air, warm and electric, as if the city itself had gone quiet to listen.

Hyomin’s lips curved into a knowing, amused smile. Honest, but not yet a confession… perfect. She let herself savor the honesty, feeling a flutter in her chest.

“Alright” she said softly. “I guess that answers my question… for now.”

So… he does treat me as more than just his junior. He truly cares, but he’s still holding something back. And that’s okay. I like it this way. For now.

The rest of the ride passed in a comfortable silence, filled with unspoken understanding and anticipation.

Then Hyomin leaned slightly closer, a teasing glint in her eyes. “So… impossible to act professional, huh? I guess that’s your polite way of saying you care for me more than you should.”

Seokhoon’s lips twitched, suppressing a small smile. “Careful, Hyomin. That’s a dangerous accusation.”

She smirked, crossing her arms. “Dangerous… or accurate? You tell me.”

He glanced at her, mock-serious, though the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement. “Maybe a little of both. But don’t push me. I could start answering honestly, and you might not like all of it.”

Hyomin’s heart skipped a beat, a delighted laugh escaping her lips. “Oh, I can handle honesty. I’ve been waiting for it, you know.”

Brave… and impossibly forward.

He thought, shaking his head, amused and exasperated at the same time. I like that about her.

Their laughter mingled with the hum of the car and the city lights outside, a playful tension threading through the quiet intimacy of the ride.

Both of them felt it—the thrill of honesty, the weight of unspoken feelings, and the gentle, exciting pull of something just beginning.

Chapter Text

Hyomin’s room looked like the aftermath of a fashion show. Dresses were draped across chairs, shoes lined up in hopeless pairs, and perfume already thick in the air. On the bed, her two best friends giggled and teased, throwing in their unfiltered opinions as if the fate of the night depended on their choices. The laughter made everything feel lighter, turning nerves into excitement.

Because tonight was special. Not because she had to prove anything, but because it was Seokhoon—and the thought of seeing him outside their usual rhythm made her heart beat just a little quicker.

Hyomin stood in front of her bedroom mirror, her phone buzzing nonstop on the bed. Two of her closest friends sprawled out across the mattress, squealing as she held up another dress.

“Too formal?” Hyomin asked, holding the sleek navy one-piece against her frame.

“Too lawyer” Seol A teased, throwing a pillow at her. “You’re going on a date, not a cross-examination.”

Hyomin laughed, her cheeks heating up. “But… it’s Seokhoon. He’s so composed all the time. What if I—”

“—look too casual?” Ji Eun interrupted, already pulling out a flowy ivory blouse and a fitted skirt from Hyomin’s closet.

“How about this? Simple but elegant. He’ll notice you, not just the outfit.”

They made her sit as they fussed over her hair, curling a few strands softly, brushing out the rest. Hyomin caught her reflection. She looks softer than usual. Looking like less “lawyer in a courtroom” and more “woman on a date.” Her heart fluttered, and she whispered under her breath.

Hyomin stood in front of the mirror, holding her breath as her friend zipped up the back of her dress. The fabric skimmed her frame perfectly—soft ivory that glowed under the warm light of her room. It was nothing flashy, but elegant enough to make her feel… different.

“Stop fidgeting” Seol A scolded, tugging gently at her shoulders to straighten her posture.

“I can’t help it,” Hyomin muttered, twisting slightly to check her reflection. “It’s just dinner. Why does this feel like the grand finals of a national mock trial competition?"

Her friends broke into laughter. “Because it’s Seokhoon” Ji Eun said, handing her a pair of earrings. “The man could make anyone nervous. But tonight? He’ll be the one nervous.”

Hyomin rolled her eyes, though her cheeks betrayed her with a faint blush. She slipped on the earrings and smoothed her hair.

Please let me survive this dinner without making a fool of myself.

She caught her reflection again—her smile softer, her eyes brighter. Something inside her stirred, both fear and anticipation curling together in her chest.

Across the city, Seokhoon was in his bedroom, fastening the buttons of his crisp white shirt. Hash padded over, nails clicking against the floor, tail swishing with curious energy.

Seokhoon sighed, reaching down to pat his head. “You’re impatient too, huh?”

Hash barked once, circling him before sitting expectantly by the bed.

Seokhoon picked up his blazer, slipping it on with practiced ease. His reflection in the mirror looked the same as it always did—collected, dignified, untouchable. Yet tonight, the steadiness in his expression wavered at the thought of her.

“What do you think?” he asked Hash, adjusting his tie. The dog tilted his head, barking softly as if approving.

“You’re biased,” Seokhoon murmured with a small smile. His fingers lingered on the knot of his tie, but his mind wasn’t on the fabric—it was on her. The way she laughed too easily, the way she pushed herself in court, the way she always managed to surprise him.

For a moment, his gaze lingered on his reflection. He didn’t just look like an attorney preparing for another case. He looked like a man about to gamble his composure for something far greater.

Back at Hyomin’s apartment, her friends were squealing over the final touches.

“You’re glowing,” Ji Eun said, clasping her hands dramatically. “He won’t know what hit him.”

“Glowing? Please, she looks like she’s about to win Miss Korea” Seol A added, tossing a hairbrush onto the bed.

Answer me this, Hyomin—what’s your advocacy?”

Hyomin burst into laughter, shaking her head. “To survive tonight without tripping over my own heels.”

Her friends shrieked even louder. “We’ll allow it!” Ji Eun declared, fanning her with a pillow like a stage assistant.

Hyomin grabbed her purse, cheeks warming despite her playful protest. “You two are the worst cheerleaders.”

“The best,” Seol A corrected, winking. “Now go, before you overthink this and change outfits again.”

Hyomin rolled her eyes, but deep inside, her heart thrummed with restless certainty. Tonight could change everything.

And across town, Seokhoon gave Hash one last scratch behind the ears, murmuring, “Wish me luck.”

Hash wagged his tail, pressing his head against Seokhoon’s hand as if reluctant to let go. A soft knock came at the door. Seokhoon opened it to find Mrs. Jeon, the elderly woman who often cared for Hash when he worked late.

“There’s my handsome boy,” she said warmly, crouching down despite her stiff knees. Hash bounded over, tail thumping happily as she scratched under his chin.

“Don’t you worry, Attorney. He’ll be spoiled rotten tonight.”

Seokhoon smiled faintly, slipping his keys into his pocket. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Mrs. Jeon looked up at him knowingly, a twinkle in her eyes. “You’re all dressed up… this isn’t another late-night meeting, is it?”

Seokhoon cleared his throat, straightening his jacket. “Something like that.”

“Mm-hmm.” She chuckled, patting Hash’s side. “Well, whoever she is, I hope she knows what a good man she’s getting.”

For the first time all evening, Seokhoon found himself at a loss for words. He only gave a polite nod before glancing back at Hash, his voice low but steady. “Be good.”

And with that, the man who never let himself slip stepped out the door, knowing full well his life might never be the same again.

The doorbell rang, and Hyomin froze for a second, palms pressing nervously against her dress as if to smooth the fabric again. Oh shoot. He’s here. I am not ready.

“I’ll get it” her Seol A sang, darting toward the door with a mischievous grin.

The moment it swung open, Seokhoon was there—poised in his dark blazer, his expression calm, though his eyes flickered with subtle curiosity. Tall and composed. The kind of presence that filled the doorway.

But Seol A ’s voice cut through, playful and sharp.

“Ohhh, it’s nice seeing you again Atty. Yoon,” she teased, crossing her arms dramatically. “Hyomin-ah, come out already. Didn’t you say you were so excited to see him.”

Hyomin gasped. “Yah! Don’t say things like that—”

Her friend ignored her, tilting her head with a grin. “Be careful with her, Atty. Yoon. She might look calm, but she’s been panicking for the past hour.”

Seokhoon’s mask slipped for the briefest moment, his throat tightening as words deserted him. Then Hyomin appeared behind her friend, framed by the soft glow of the entryway. Her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, her dress simple yet impossibly elegant.

And just like that, Seokhoon forgot the teasing, forgot the friend still smirking at him. His carefully practiced composure unraveled, leaving only one thought crashing through his mind.

She’s… breathtaking.

Hyomin cleared her throat softly, cheeks pink as she slipped past her friend. “Ignore her. She’s impossible.”

Her friend, still grinning, leaned against the doorframe. “I’ll leave you two alone. Have fun, you lovebirds.”

“Unbelievable,” Hyomin muttered under her breath, shooting her friend a look before glancing up at Seokhoon. 

“Sorry about that. She doesn’t know how to stop.”

But Seokhoon barely heard her. He was still lost, stunned, his gaze tracing the way the city lights behind her caught in her eyes. It took him a moment before he finally found his voice.

“You look…” His tone was lower than he intended, almost reverent. “Beautiful.”

Hyomin’s blush deepened, but she quickly covered it with a teasing smile. 

“Are you just going to stand there, or are we leaving?”

That jolted him out of his trance. He blinked, then, as if remembering, reached behind him and revealed a bouquet of red roses he had been holding just out of sight. He offered it to her, the faintest, almost boyish smile tugging at his lips.

“For you,” he said simply.

Her eyes softened as she accepted them, fingers brushing his for a fleeting second. “Smooth, Atty. Yoon,” she teased, though the warmth in her voice betrayed how much it touched her.

He gave a small nod, stepping aside with a quiet gesture toward the car. “Shall we?”

She nodded once, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she stepped out into the cool night.

Seokhoon followed, his hand hovering as if to guide her, resisting the urge to reach for her too soon. His heart, however, betrayed him—racing in a way no courtroom ever could.

When she slipped gracefully into the passenger seat, he circled to the driver’s side, his lips curving in a faint, almost disbelieving smile.

The drive passed in hushed anticipation, the city unfurling around them in streaks of light and shadow. Hyomin sat quietly, hands folded in her lap, while Seokhoon’s gaze flickered toward her every so often—soft, intent, as if committing each subtle tilt of her head and every flicker of her smile to memory.

When they arrived, the restaurant stood tall against the skyline, its sleek glass walls offering a sweeping panorama of Seoul glittering beneath the night sky. From the outside, it appeared almost suspended in air, perched high above the city, where the world below seemed distant and hushed.

Inside, warm golden light glowed from chandeliers shaped like glistening drops of glass. Polished wood and muted tones balanced the elegance, while gentle notes from a live piano drifted through the low hum of conversation. Each table was set with crisp white linen and crystal glasses that caught the light, candles flickering softly beside arrangements of fresh lilies.

Hyomin paused for a moment, taking it all in, her lips parting slightly in awe. She wasn’t easily impressed, but this—this was different. Seokhoon didn’t say anything, but the faint curve of his mouth betrayed his satisfaction. He wasn’t watching the chandeliers or the skyline. He was watching her.

“Wow… this is definitely not the kind of place you bring your juniors, is it?” she teased, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

Seokhoon arched a brow, a quiet smirk tugging at his lips. “Do you see any of my juniors here?”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “No. Just me.”

“Exactly,” he said simply, his voice low, steady, and far more telling than he intended.

Hyomin’s cheeks warmed, but she played it off with a small smile as they walked toward their table. Still, her heart refused to calm down.

He pulled out her chair smoothly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Here you go,” he said warmly.

Hyomin gave him a playful look as she settled into her seat. “What does that make you then? My chauffeur and my dinner escort?”

Seokhoon straightened, his gaze lingering on her a beat longer than necessary. The teasing lilt in his voice barely masked something steadier beneath. “Only if you promise to enjoy yourself.”

Just then, the waiter arrived, placing their plates before them with practiced grace. The aroma of seared meat and butter drifted up, rich and tempting.

Her lips curved, amusement flickering in her eyes as she picked up her knife and fork. “You have to admit,” she said, slicing into her steak with ease, the knife gliding through the tender meat like butter, “this might be the best one you’ve ever had.”

Seokhoon raised a brow, deliberately taking his time with his first bite. He chewed with exaggerated seriousness, as though he were weighing evidence in court. Then, setting down his fork with mock solemnity, he nodded. “Hmm… unexpectedly impressive,” he declared in a voice so formal it almost made her choke on her laughter.

Hyomin groaned, laughing. “Really? You’re giving me courtroom theatrics over dinner?”

He leaned back, smirk curling at his lips. “What can I say? Old habits die hard. Besides, you seem to like it.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “I like the steak. You, I’m still deciding on.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Good thing the night’s not over yet. I’ve still got time to win your verdict.”

Her laughter softened into a smile, and for a moment, the conversation faded, replaced by the quiet awareness between them—the easy comfort, the unspoken anticipation.

After the meal, they stepped onto the balcony. Below them, the city sprawled like a sea of shimmering lights, each flicker echoing the pulse of the night. The air was cool against Hyomin’s skin, carrying with it the low hum of traffic, distant yet intimate, as though the world had shrunk to just the two of them.

They walked side by side, teasing one another about small things.

“Okay, my turn. What’s your guilty pleasure, Counselor?”

Seokhoon smirked faintly, pretending to think hard. “Strawberry ice cream. Late at night, after everyone’s asleep. But if you tell anyone at the firm, I’ll deny it.”

Hyomin laughed, covering her mouth. “That’s… unexpectedly cute. I pictured you as the black coffee type, all the time.”

“I am” he said smoothly, then softened. “But even I need something sweet.”

Her gaze dropped briefly, his words carrying a weight she couldn’t ignore.

She quickly countered, “Favorite season?”

“Autumn,” he said without hesitation. “The air feels different then. Like everything’s sharper and clearer.”

He glanced at her. “Yours?”

“Winter,” she admitted, smiling shyly. “Maybe because it forces people closer together. Hot drinks, warm blankets, shared spaces.”

He nodded slowly, as if committing the detail to memory. “Winter suits you. Quiet on the outside, but warmer than people realize.”

Her breath caught—unexpected, uninvited. She fought to steady herself, masking it with another question. “Dream destination?”

“Switzerland,” he answered, eyes still on her. “Snow, mountains… and the kind of silence you don’t get in the city.”

She chuckled. “That sounds… strangely familiar. It’s been my dream too. A white Christmas, hot chocolate, the works. Shall we visit together?”

The way his lips curved at that, as if he’d uncovered another secret they shared, made her pulse quicken.

Their questions stretched on—ranging from favorite books to childhood dreams to hidden fears. What began as playful soon turned intimate, each answer drawing them closer, each revelation peeling back another layer.

By the time the laughter had softened into comfortable quiet, it wasn’t just the city that glittered beneath them. It was the awareness that something unspoken had grown, steady and undeniable.

As they walked along the balcony, their elbows brushed once, then again, and still neither pulled away. The closeness lingered, unspoken but undeniable.

Seokhoon leaned lightly on the railing, eyes tracing the patterns of lights far below, though his mind wasn’t on the view. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, a subtle tension that didn’t escape Hyomin.

“Do you… like the view?” she asked, breaking the silence, though her voice carried a teasing lilt.

He glanced at her, hesitated, then nodded. 

“Yeah. It’s… nice.” His voice was neutral, but Hyomin noticed the flicker of nerves behind his composure.

She smirked, nudging him lightly. “You sound like a bad liar. Something’s on your mind.”

He laughed softly, but it was short, almost strained. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just enjoying the quiet.”

Hyomin tilted her head, studying him. “You suddenly got quiet tonight. Not your usual… sharp-tongued self. Should I be worried?”

“I’m thinking,” he admitted after a pause, his eyes dropping to the floor before flicking back up to hers. “About… us.”

Hyomin’s heart skipped. “Us?” she repeated, her voice catching slightly.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but her face. “I’ve been holding back… for months,” he muttered. “Trying to act like it doesn’t matter, trying to be professional, but every time I’m around you… I can’t ignore it.”

Her lips parted, a rush of warmth hitting her chest. “Seokhoon…”

He looked at her then, eyes soft—vulnerable in a way she had never seen. “I don’t want to mess things up. I… I’ve thought about this a lot, whether I should say anything, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

Her chest tightened at his words, but then she saw it. There is something deeper, something darker flickering in his gaze. “You’re scared,” she said quietly, not as a question, but as a truth.

“I am” he admitted, his voice low. “I had a marriage once. And I thought… I thought I was building a family. But before I even knew, she—” His jaw clenched, the words catching. “She aborted our child. She didn’t tell me until after. And from there… everything changed.”

Hyomin’s breath caught, her hand instinctively curling on the railing.

“She’s married now. To someone who used to be my friend. They’re expecting a baby.” His voice was steady, but the crack underneath was unmistakable. “And I… I don’t think I’ve ever recovered from that kind of betrayal. That kind of… emptiness.”

Hyomin’s throat tightened. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to reach into the wound he’d just opened. But then, softly, she whispered, “You’re not alone in that, Seokhoon.”

He turned to her, searching for her expression.

“My ex,” she began, her voice trembling despite her effort to keep it steady, “he proposed once. And for a moment, I thought I’d found someone who loved me for me. But then he learned I have a twin that has a hereditary hearing disability” She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. “He took back his proposal. Said he couldn’t ‘risk the genes.’ That’s all I was to him—a connection, a status symbol. Not a person.”

His jaw tightened, his fists curling. “Hyomin…”

“And the worst part?” she added with a bitter laugh. “I found out he was already cheating. Going on blind dates behind my back.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was heavy, raw, filled with two broken pasts laid bare.

Seokhoon finally reached out, his hand brushing against hers on the railing. It was hesitant, almost trembling, but it was real.

“I like you, Hyomin-ah,” he said again, firmer this time, his voice carrying all the weight of what he had just revealed. “More than I should. More than I can ignore. And yes, I’m terrified. But somehow, you’re the only one I want to risk it for.”

Hyomin’s eyes stung, the warmth of his hand grounding her. Slowly, she turned her palm upward, letting their fingers thread together.

“I’m scared too,” she whispered, her voice soft but steady. “But maybe… we can stop being scared together.”

Her lips curved into a soft, relieved smile as she held onto him, their fingers intertwining with quiet certainty.

“I like you too, Seokhoon-ah,” she admitted, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. “I’ve liked you for a long time. I just didn’t know how to say it either.”

He exhaled, a quiet tension leaving him as a rare, genuine smile spread across his face. He squeezed her hand lightly, eyes never leaving hers. “So… we’re doing this? Together?”

“Yes,” she whispered, softly, clearly, her own heart soaring. “Together.”

They lingered on the balcony, fingers entwined, the city lights stretching below like a silent witness to their confession. The teasing laughter from dinner earlier faded into memory, leaving only the warmth and quiet electricity of two people finally acknowledging what had been quietly growing between them.

Seokhoon turned slightly, his eyes settling on her as if he were memorizing every detail—the way the moonlight traced the curve of her cheek, the faint smile she tried to suppress, the nervous rise and fall of her breath. The world around them seemed to dim, the hum of the city below fading into nothing but the sound of their shared silence.

For a long heartbeat, neither of them moved, suspended in the fragile hush of the night, where everything unsaid pressed heavy between them. Then Seokhoon exhaled, low and steady, as though surrendering to something he could no longer hold back. He leaned in, careful and unhurried, giving her every chance to pull away.

His lips brushed hers—soft, tentative, a question more than a claim.

Hyomin’s breath hitched, her heart stumbling before it surged forward, wild and certain. Her hand rose instinctively, resting against his chest. Beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, she felt the strong, steady rhythm of his heartbeat, grounding her even as her thoughts spun.

She kissed him back, answering his unspoken question with her own certainty, deepening it just enough to tell him she wanted this—wanted him—without a single word.

When they finally pulled apart, she let out a shaky laugh, her forehead resting against his. “That… felt overdue.”

Seokhoon’s lips curved in the faintest smile, his arms slipping around her as though he couldn’t let her go. He pulled her into a quiet embrace, holding her close against the night air, against every uncertainty.

“Hyomin-ah,” he murmured, his voice low and unguarded, “don’t run from me now.”

She tightened her hold on him, closing her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Seokhoon-ah.”

The city glowed below them, but the real light was in the quiet certainty of that embrace—the kind that said, without words, they had both finally come home.

Chapter Text

The office buzzed with its usual rhythm. Phones rang, papers shuffled, footsteps echoed down polished hallways. To everyone else, it was just another day. But for Hyomin, everything felt different. Her steps were lighter, though she carefully kept her expression calm.

At her desk, she froze. A steaming cup of coffee sat neatly beside her files. A post-it clung to the lid, written in his sharp, unmistakable handwriting.

Good luck today. You’ll do great.

Her gaze drifted upward. From the mezzanine, Seokhoon was bent over She looked up. On the mezzanine, Seokhoon was busy with papers, calm and focused. But when his eyes found hers, he gave her a small, secret smile.

Hyomin hid her smile behind the rim of her cup. Does he even realize how much this means?

Their eyes met for a heartbeat. No words, no gestures. Just a quiet acknowledgment before their professional masks slid back into place.

The days blurred into a steady rhythm of pleadings and meetings, but something between them had shifted. In a review session, Minjeong posed a tricky question. Before Seokhoon could speak, Hyomin replied with calm precision. Across the table, his lips curved again—pride flashing in his eyes before disappearing as quickly as it came.

Small moments stacked, one after the other. Another morning, he slid the exact file she needed across the table before she even asked. Their fingers brushed, lingering too long to be coincidence. Warmth rushed to her cheeks, but neither of them said a word.

In the pantry, she poured water, only to find him already there, sleeves rolled up, pouring coffee. He looked up and pushed her favorite mug toward her as if he had known she would appear. Their fingertips grazed lightly.

“Coincidence?” she murmured.

His mouth curved in a faint smirk. “Not really.”

He’s impossible… but I kind of like it, she thought.

Later that week, she approached his office after finishing her pleading. The door was slightly ajar; the quiet click of his pen filled the air.

“Hyomin-ah,” he said, surprise in his tone but no irritation.

“I… missed you,” she admitted softly, stepping inside. She set a folder on his desk and leaned against the edge, claiming a small corner of his space for herself.

At last, his gaze met hers. “We’re supposed to be professional.”

She tilted her head, teasing. “This room is soundproof, remember?”

For a moment, his composure slipped.

“Dinner tonight, jagiya.”

Her brows shot up. “Jagiya? So Atty. Jinwoo was right. The great Yoon Seokhoon is secretly romantic.”

“Yah. Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

“I do,” she confessed before she could stop herself. A warmth spread through her chest. She had never felt this with anyone—not even her ex. This was different.

From then, the hidden moments piled up, stitching themselves into something only they shared. In a strategy meeting, Hyomin caught herself unconsciously mirroring his posture. Their eyes met. His brow arched as if to say caught you. She nearly laughed.

In the elevator, their shoulders brushed, a fleeting contact that neither acknowledged. The silence between them thickened, filled only by the soft hum of machinery as the numbers climbed toward their floor. Just before the doors opened, his hand ghosted against the small of her back—light, almost absentminded—as if guiding her forward into the corridor. To others, it was simple courtesy. To her, it was care.

One late night, she left a cup of steaming tea on his desk. The faint scent of chamomile curled into the air.

“You’ll burn out if you don’t rest,” she said softly, masking her worry with firmness.

He looked up, pen still in hand, one brow raised. “Ordering your boss around now, Hyomin?”

“Someone has to,” she shot back with a teasing tilt of her head. “You’ve been working like a machine all night.”

He smirked, tapping his pen against the desk. “A machine that takes orders from first-year lawyers, apparently.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, someone has to make sure the machine doesn’t overheat.”

“Overheat, huh?” His lips twitched. “Careful, or I might think you’re trying to distract me on purpose.”

“Distract you? Me? Never.” She feigned innocence, though a smile tugged at her lips. “I’m just being considerate.”

“Considerate,” he repeated, voice low, and playful. “Right. Conveniently timed tea, gentle advice… I see your kind of consideration.”

She tilted her head, smirking. “You act like you don’t like it.”

“I do like it,” he admitted, eyes softening for just a fraction. “I like that you care. A lot.”

Her chest warmed. “I just want you to take care of yourself… that’s all.”

He leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes still on her. “I know. And I appreciate it. More than I can say.

Hyomin lingered, then straightened with a teasing glance. “I’ll let you get back to work. Don’t overdo it.”

“I’ll try” he said, eyes following her as she moved toward the door. “Though it won’t be the same without you here.”

She chuckled softly. “I’m sure you’ll survive. Just don’t spill coffee on your reports while I’m gone.

“Duly noted” he said, pen in hand, raising an eyebrow. “But if anything mysteriously disappears before tomorrow, I’ll know exactly who to blame.”

Hyomin laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t worry. I left the office in your capable hands. Just try not to bury yourself in papers while I’m gone.”

He smirked after her as she slipped out of the office. “Noted” he muttered, watching her shadow disappear down the hallway. The office felt quieter without her, but somehow lighter, too—her warmth still lingering in the small ways she’d left behind.

Even in the courtroom the next day, their rhythm was unshakable. Hyomin argued with steady confidence. Each word precise, each point deliberate, and her voice carrying a calm authority that demanded attention. Seokhoon sat nearby, his stern expression masking the quiet approval he sent her way with every argument she made. He didn’t have to say a word. She could feel it, a steady anchor beneath her focus, pushing her to do better, to trust herself.

During recess, as they stepped into the narrow courthouse hallway, their shoulders brushed again. A subtle, electric contact but neither moved away. The playful echo of their office banter lingered between them, invisible yet grounding, as if the last night’s small acts of care had followed them here.

But not everyone missed it. Han Seongchan lingered nearby, eyes narrowed, a calculating stare aimed at Hyomin. Her fingers tightened around the edges of her files.

“Don’t mind him” Seokhoon murmured, jaw taut, voice low enough only she could hear.

Later, as they exited the courthouse together, the city sounds washing over them, her hand brushed his—once, twice—before finally slipping into his. He stiffened slightly at the contact.

“Hyomin-ah—” he began, but she cut him off softly.

“We’re not at the firm,” she whispered, her voice steady but warm. “And the hearing’s over. You can hold my hand if you want.”

A long pause stretched between them, heavy with anticipation, before he finally laced his fingers with hers. The warmth from his hand spread through her chest, steadying her heartbeat and igniting a quiet, thrilling certainty.

She tilted her head, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “Seokhoon ... Why do you like me?”

He glanced at her, teasing yet sincere, his gaze steady. “Because you make chaos look easy, and… you make me forget I’m supposed to be serious all the time.”

“Even with all my stubbornness?” she nudged him lightly, a teasing glint in her smile.

“Especially with it” he replied, tightening his grip just enough to make her pulse quicken.

Hyomin laughed softly, a little breathless. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible,” he shot back, a smirk tugging at his lips.

The city buzzed with cars and voices, but for Hyomin the world had narrowed to this single moment, his hand in hers, the playful heat in his gaze, and the quiet thrill of knowing with unshakable certainty that he was hers.

That evening, during the strategy meeting held under the muted glow of the office lamps, Jinwoo leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile playing at his lips. “You’ve been smiling a lot lately, Atty. Yoon.”

Minjeong raised an amused eyebrow. Hyomin ducked her head, pretending to study her notes, though her heart skipped a beat.

“It’s called appreciating good work,” Seokhoon replied smoothly, shutting down the teasing.

Jinwoo exchanged a knowing glance with Minjeong. “You two are in sync tonight” he said casually. “Almost like you’ve been practicing together.”

Hyomin froze mid-pen stroke, cheeks warming, but managed a soft laugh.

Minjeong smirked, leaning slightly forward. “Every reaction, every glance… the other seems to anticipate it. Kind of creepy… or kind of cute.”

Seokhoon’s gaze stayed on Hyomin, sharp and steady, but the faint curve of his lips betrayed him. Hyomin felt a flutter in her chest, aware of just how much she noticed every subtle expression of his—how his eyes followed her gestures, the way he subtly mirrored her posture, the tiny tilt of his head whenever she spoke.

“Do you two want to tell us, or should we guess?” Jinwoo added, voice teasing.

Hyomin gave a soft laugh, glancing down at her notes. “There’s nothing to guess” she replied lightly, keeping her eyes on the papers.

Seokhoon’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smirk. “All professional,” he murmured, low and smooth.

Jinwoo raised an eyebrow. “Professional, huh? That explains the way you two keep looking at each other.”

Hyomin’s ears warmed. She dared a quick glance at Seokhoon, catching the flicker of amusement in his eyes. In the briefest of moments, their eyes met—just for a heartbeat—but it was enough to send a small thrill through her. She hid her smile behind her pen, pretending to jot notes.

When the meeting ended, they walked out together, side by side. Their shoulders brushed slightly, not enough for anyone to notice, yet the tiny shared smiles, the brief looks that lingered a moment too long, and the quiet rhythm they carried between them spoke louder than any words could.

Even without words or gestures meant for the room, they both knew: these small, private signals were theirs alone.

By Thursday, the client meeting had ended just as the sun dipped behind glass buildings. Hyomin and Minjeong walked side by side, traffic hum filling the air.

“Good job back there,” Minjeong said. “You gained his trust.”

Hyomin smiled. “Thank you, unnie. I was nervous. I wasn’t sure if he’d agree.”

At the corner, Minjeong studied her. “Hyomin-ah… can I ask something personal?”

Hyomin’s chest tightened. “Of course.”

“What exactly is your relationship with Atty. Yoon?”

A stone landed in her stomach. “He’s my mentor. Sometimes a friend. That’s all.”

Minjeong didn’t flinch. “You don’t have to pretend. I’ve seen how he looks at you… it’s more than colleagues, isn’t it?”

Hyomin’s breath caught. She looked at passing cars. Silence answered.

“I’m not scolding” Minjeong said gently. “I’m just worried. You know about the Internal Harassment Prevention Policy, right? Atty. Yoon pushed for it. If anyone finds out, it won’t be taken lightly.”

Hyomin’s chest ached. “I know. But… I can’t help how I feel.”

Minjeong touched her arm. “Be careful. I support you, but I don’t want either of you to be hurt.”

The light turned green. They walked forward, Hyomin carrying her words like a weight.

By Friday night, exhaustion had finally settled over her. Hyomin tried to push Minjeong’s warning to the back of her mind, but the words echoed in her thoughts, impossible to silence. Instead of driving straight home, Seokhoon steered the car toward the Han River, the city lights shimmering on the water as if inviting them to pause, just for a moment..

“Five minutes,” he said.

The hum of traffic faded. The city reflected on the rippling water.

“Are you always this considerate with juniors?” Hyomin asked, hugging her coat tighter.

He glanced at her. “Only with the ones who make me break my rules.”

“So… just me?”

“Do you see anyone else?” His lips quirked.

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Not subtle, are you?”

“I’m not trying to be,” he said, leaning slightly closer. “Do you want me to treat you like the others?”

“Of course not,” she said. “But you could at least pretend you’re not spoiling me.”

He chuckled. “You like it.”

“Yah,” she muttered. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Then stop smiling like you do,” he teased, gaze softening.

His fingers brushed hers—once, twice—then laced firmly through.

Her heart leapt. Minjeong’s voice echoed: Seokhoon pushed for that policy. If anyone finds out…

“This feels… right,” she whispered.

He squeezed her hand. “It does.”

“Seokhoon-ah… after the client meeting, Minjeong-unnie asked me something.”

“What about?”

“About us. She noticed our interactions. And reminded me about the policy.”

His expression hardened slightly, thumb brushing her hand.

“She supports us but… she's worried. If people find out…”

Seokhoon exhaled. “Of course, Minjeong’s sharp. And yes… I fought for that policy. I believed in it.”

Hyomin’s throat tightened. “Do you regret this—us?”

He looked at her, steady. “No. Never. This isn’t abuse of power. It’s choice. Yours and mine.”

“But if they find out—”

“You don’t need to worry too much.”

“How can I not?”

“Your probation ends in a few weeks,” he said. “After that, you’ll be rotated to another department as part of the firm’s policy to give first-years exposure to different practice areas.”

“So… I won’t be under you?”

“Not professionally, no.”

Relief flickered. “Then… that means…”

“That we’ll have freedom,” he finished. “No one can say I abused my position. Until then, we keep this between us.”

“You thought this through, didn’t you?”

“I had to” he murmured, brushing his forehead against hers. “You’re worth the risk—and patience.”

She squeezed his hand. “Then I’ll wait. Just a little longer.”

His lips curved. “So will I.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead—steady, grounding, full of unspoken promise.

Flustered, she nudged him. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Dangerous? That’s what you call someone who buys coffee every morning?”

She laughed, shaking her head. Before she could reply, he pulled her against him.

“You talk too much,” he murmured atop her head.

“And you’re too smug,” she shot back.

The city lights sparkled across the river, but for Hyomin, the glow came from him—steady, undeniable, and theirs alone.

Chapter Text

The firm was unusually lively that Monday morning. Hyomin passed the first-floor tables, where the first-year lawyers from all departments were busy at work, but she noticed something odd. None of the litigation team members were there. Puzzled, she made her way to Attorney Yoon’s office on the second floor, only to find it empty as well. Checking her phone, she realized why: almost the entire litigation team was gathered in the conference room. Raising an eyebrow, she headed toward the room, sensing immediately that something was different.

As she entered, the hum of quiet chatter paused for a moment, all eyes briefly turning toward her. Minjeong, perched at the edge of the conference table, grinned mischievously, clearly relishing the moment.

“Big news,” she announced, a teasing lilt in her voice. “We’ve got a new lawyer joining us. Part of a government exchange program. He’s Korean-American from Ashford, Clark & Partners in New York. Apparently they want him to observe how our courts work.”

Hyomin’s curiosity piqued. “Korean-American?” she repeated. “How old?”

“Early thirties, has a masters in law, and apparently has a very good personality,” Minjeong said with a wink. “You’ll be partnered with him for court sessions.”

Hyomin nodded politely, her expression friendly.

Partnered with someone new… this could be interesting. She thought, keeping her reaction calm.

From across the room, Seokhoon’s sharp gaze briefly swept the conference room, noting the quiet stir of the team, but he remained focused on his own work, expression neutral.

When the Korean-American lawyer arrived, the room collectively noticed his presence. He was tall, well-dressed, with an easy charm that didn’t feel forced. His dark hair was neatly styled, his posture confident yet relaxed.

“Good morning, everyone. I am Daniel Park from New York,” he said, his voice smooth, friendly, and warm.

Jinwoo leaned back slightly in his chair, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “And this is Atty. Yoon Seokhoon,” he added, gesturing toward the man at the head of the room. “Head of Litigation here, the one keeping the rest of us in line.”

Seokhoon looked up briefly, expression neutral, and gave Daniel a firm nod. “Welcome, Atty. Park. I trust you’ll find our procedures… distinctive,” he said, calm but authoritative.

Daniel inclined his head respectfully. “Thank you, Atty. Yoon. I’m eager to learn and observe your process.”

At the edge of the room, Minjeong and Jinwoo exchanged glances, a hint of mischief in their smiles.

“I’m Heo Minjeong,” she said politely. “And this is Atty. Lee Jinwoo. We’re the junior associates of the Litigation Team, and we’ll be around if you need anything while you get settled.”

Daniel smiled politely at them as well. “It’s very nice to meet both of you. I appreciate any guidance you can provide while I get oriented.”

Jinwoo then gestured toward the rest of the team. “These are our first-year lawyers: Choi Hoyeon, Ji Gukhyeon, and Oh Sangchul. They’ll be assisting with court procedures and can help answer any questions you might have along the way.”

Daniel nodded politely to each of them in turn, offering a courteous smile.

Jinwoo finally turned toward Hyomin. “And this is Kang Hyomin. She’ll be your main guide while you get acquainted with the Korean court system. She’s excellent at what she does, so you’re in good hands.”

Hyomin stepped forward, extending her hand with a warm, professional smile. “Hi, Atty. Park. I’ll be helping you get oriented. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Atty. Kang,” Daniel replied, shaking her hand firmly. “I’ve heard excellent things about your work, and I look forward to learning from you.”

Seokhoon, seated across the room, kept his composure, noting Daniel’s attentiveness. His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly—a quiet acknowledgment of the newcomer’s presence, nothing more.

After the introductions, Hyomin took the lead, guiding Daniel on a brief tour of the firm. She showed him the key offices, the layout of the floors, and where different departments were situated, pointing out the spaces he might frequently visit. Daniel listened attentively, asking thoughtful questions and taking mental notes, clearly appreciating the orientation.

Once the tour concluded, they settled in a quiet corner of the office, and Hyomin began orienting him on the basics of the Korean legal system. She explained the structure of the courts, the procedural flow for litigation cases, and key differences from the system he was familiar with in New York. Daniel nodded thoughtfully, asking clarifying questions here and there, showing genuine curiosity and engagement.

The team returned to their tasks, conversations resuming at a more normal, subdued pace. Hyomin gathered the materials she would need to guide Daniel through the procedures, while he followed politely, ready to learn.

As they moved toward the side table, the subtle hum of the office around them faded into the background, setting the stage for their first one-on-one session.

Hyomin guided Daniel through the procedures, her voice steady, precise, and professional. Daniel nodded thoughtfully, clearly impressed.

“I see… that makes sense,” he said. “Thank you for explaining it so clearly.”

The first-years exchanged quiet whispers of admiration.

“She really knows her stuff,” Gukhyeon commented. “And she’s calm under pressure too. A good example for all of us.”

Seokhoon’s gaze lingered on Hyomin a fraction too long. A subtle jealousy stirred, mingled with pride.

Good. Let him learn from her. She deserves this… but I won’t let anyone forget I’m here too.

Even as he reminded himself to stay professional, his eyes tracked every gesture—how she corrected Daniel’s minor mistakes with clarity, how her voice remained steady and patient. Each movement reminded him of her growth, and why he had to remain composed and vigilant, protective even from afar.

Daniel looked genuinely impressed, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “

You really make this look simple,” he said. “I hope I can pick up even half of what you know while I’m here.”

Hyomin smiled politely, glancing briefly toward Seokhoon.

“I’m sure you will,” she replied warmly, her tone professional but kind.

Minjeong and Jinwoo exchanged a quiet, knowing look from across the room, subtle smiles tugging at their lips. They alone noticed the faint tension, the way Seokhoon’s jaw tightened and his gaze lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Seokhoon’s chest tightened again.

Yes, let him learn… she can gain a lot from him as well.

He squared his shoulders, suppressing any flicker of possessiveness, determined to remain composed and professional until the rotation allowed him to guide her more openly.

Over the next few weeks, Hyomin found herself spending long hours with Daniel. His questions were thoughtful, his curiosity genuine, and his eagerness to adapt to the Korean system left her busier than usual. What surprised her was how much her schedule shifted—late nights preparing orientation materials, extended hours at the courthouse, and entire afternoons explaining procedures step by step. Without realizing it, her time with Seokhoon had lessened, their usual quiet conversations replaced by professional distance.

One afternoon, Daniel leaned forward over a stack of files, his brow furrowed. “Could you explain how motions are typically argued here?”

“Of course,” Hyomin said, pointing out the relevant section. Their hands brushed lightly as she handed him a document. She smiled politely, shaking off the faint awareness. It’s just a brief touch… professional guidance.

Daniel noticed, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Thank you. I appreciate your help—it’s more than just professional guidance.”

Hyomin nodded, her voice steady. “I’m glad to help you adjust, but it’s all work-related,” she said, reminding herself as much as him.

Across the room, Seokhoon’s gaze flicked toward them. The brush of their hands, the way Daniel leaned in attentively—it all made his chest constrict. He masked it with his usual composure, but the jealousy simmered like a quiet storm.

Why does my chest tighten every time he’s near her?

He watched Daniel tilt his head, listening intently, occasionally laughing at her subtle jokes or nodding thoughtfully at her explanations. Each small, innocent interaction tugged at him. She was patient, professional, and radiant in her confidence—and Daniel was seeing all of it. A part of Seokhoon stung with envy: he had fought to know that side of her, to nurture it, and now someone else got to witness it every day.

Still, he told himself firmly.

It’s just work. She’s helping him learn.

But reason didn’t quiet the ache.

At a side table, Choi Hoyeon and Ji Gukhyeon whispered conspiratorially as they watched.

“Oh, look at Hyomin,” Hoyeon teased. “She’s so friendly with him. Don’t you think they’d make a cute pair?”

Gukhyeon grinned. “Right? Daniel seems nice. She’s practically glowing. Admit it—we’re witnessing the start of an office romance.”

“Oh, come on,” Hoyeon scoffed, though mischief sparkled in her eyes. “He’s perfect for her. Friendly, smart, handsome… and she’s practically mentoring him!”

Hyomin sighed, lowering her pen. “Stop it, you two. I’m dating someone. Don’t make up stories.”

They exchanged sly looks. “Sure, sure,” Gukhyeon said. “We’ll believe it when we see it.”

“Oh, please,” Hoyeon added. “We know what ‘just work’ looks like, and this isn’t it.”

Hyomin rolled her eyes but kept her tone firm. “Seriously, enough. It’s professional, nothing more.”

Daniel chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “I can assure you, your guidance is purely professional—and very much appreciated.”

Hyomin gave him a grateful smile, relieved. Friendly, professional… that’s all.

From the corner of the room, Seokhoon passed by, catching the sound of their laughter. His jaw clenched, his chest tightening.

If only I could say it—that Hyomin and I are together. That no one else has the right to tease, or even wonder.

But the firm’s policy loomed over him like a shadow. Until the rotation, until she was no longer directly under his wing, he couldn’t let it slip. Not even a hint.

A few days later, Oh Sangchul joined the teasing, leaning on Hyomin’s desk with a sly grin. “Hyomin, are you going to keep being so helpful, or are you going to let him take you to lunch sometime?”

Hyomin laughed lightly, shaking her head. “We’re just going over court procedures, Sangchul. That’s all.”

Sangchul winked. “Professional, huh? Don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye on the office gossip.”

Daniel chuckled, amused but unfazed. “I’ll take the procedures over gossip any day.”

Hyomin smiled politely, keeping her focus on the files. It’s just work. That’s all it is.

But Seokhoon, watching from afar, felt the jealousy bite sharper each day. He clenched his fists subtly, forcing calm into his expression.

She’s guiding him. She’s growing. She can learn a lot from him too. I need to let this happen.

Still, beneath the discipline, the truth pressed on his chest like a weight. He missed her. He missed the quiet moments, the easy exchanges, the closeness that was now overshadowed by her new responsibility. For now, he would stay silent, guarding her from a distance—waiting for the moment when their time could belong to them again.

Later that afternoon, as the team clustered at their desks reviewing documents, Minjeong leaned toward Jinwoo, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you see how Atty. Yoon keeps glancing at Hyomin every time Daniel asks her something?” she murmured, a sly curve tugging at her lips.

Jinwoo smirked, eyes still on his papers. “Oh, I see it. He’s trying to look subtle, but honestly? It’s obvious if you’re watching closely.”

Minjeong chuckled under her breath. “Poor guy… he’s holding it together on the outside, but inside? He’s practically combusting.”

Jinwoo’s grin widened. “Level four out of five jealousy. I’d bet a coffee he’ll pull her aside soon—quietly, of course.”

Their shared amusement lingered between them, muted by the hum of papers shuffling and keyboards tapping. Neither dared speak too loudly. Seokhoon’s calm authority was enough to keep them cautious but they couldn’t resist taking note of every subtle flicker in his gaze.

Across the room, Seokhoon sat in perfect stillness, his gaze fixed on the motions before him. To others, he seemed calm and focused, the picture of composure. Yet beneath that exterior stirred a precise storm: pride in Hyomin’s clarity, a quiet possessiveness he wouldn’t name, and an awareness of Minjeong and Jinwoo’s watchful eyes.

Let them look. Their whispers meant nothing.

What mattered was Hyomin—her safety, her growth, and choosing the right moment to finally speak.

When Hyomin crossed back to his desk with a quick question, his gaze softened just slightly, his nod deliberate, carrying unspoken reassurance.

Minjeong noticed immediately and nudged Jinwoo. “See? He can’t help it,” she whispered, smirking.

Jinwoo shook his head, amused. “Professional, huh? Sure…”

Hyomin, unaware of the quiet glances and murmurs, returned to Daniel’s side, her voice calm, precise, and sure. Admiration stirred around her, a quiet ripple through the room. And across the way, Seokhoon felt his resolve sharpen. He would wait. He would let her shine, let her teach, let others admire her. She deserved every bit of it. But when the moment came, no one—not Daniel, not even the watchful eyes of their juniors—would doubt where she truly belonged.

One afternoon, Hyomin’s father stopped by the firm to deliver legal files her mother had sent regarding a personal matter. As he waited for his daughter in the lobby, his gaze drifted across the room and settled on Attorney Park, who sat nearby, quietly absorbed in a stack of documents.

“Excuse me,” her father said, approaching him, “you look very familiar. May I ask your name?”

Daniel looked up, a polite smile on his face. "I’m Daniel Park, visiting from New York for work"

Her father’s eyes lit up. “Park… that can’t be a coincidence. Are you related to Park Junwan, my old friend?”

Daniel’s smile widened. “Yes, sir. That’s my father.”

Her father chuckled. “Well, I never imagined. Small world!”

Just then, Hyomin arrived in the lobby, files in hand. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

Her father turned to her, still smiling. “I came to deliver these for your mother. And I see you’ve met Daniel—he’s my friend’s son.”

Hyomin blinked, slightly surprised. “Oh! I didn’t realize… that’s nice to know.”

Her father nodded warmly. “Since he’s visiting only for a short time, why don’t you invite him over for lunch at home someday before he heads back to the U.S.? It would be a nice way to get to know each other.”

Hyomin smiled politely at Daniel. “That sounds nice. I’ll let you know.”

Seokhoon, standing nearby, felt a sharp, almost burning spike of jealousy. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, jaw tight enough to ache.

Inviting him at her home? Inviting him into her family? 

The thought twisted in his chest. He wanted to step forward, to claim her right there, to make sure no one misunderstood their connection. But he forced himself to remain composed, lips pressed into a thin, tight line.

I can’t. Not until the rotation is finalized. Until then, no one can have a foothold in her life, not even someone connected to her family. She’s mine, in every way that matters, and I’ll wait.

Hyomin walked through the quiet rows of desks on the first floor, the files from her father balanced neatly in her arms. Most of the team was still preoccupied in their own corners, the hum of quiet conversation fading as she moved toward her office.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a tall figure descending the stairs. Seokhoon. His steps were unhurried, but there was a certain tension in the way his hand brushed the railing, his gaze already fixed on her. He almost never came down unless there was business—yet here he was, seeking her out.

Hyomin stopped mid-step, her brow furrowing. Is he… coming for me?

When he reached the bottom, Seokhoon didn’t speak immediately. His eyes swept briefly over the files in her arms, then back to her face. For a moment, his usual composure cracked—the faintest tightening of his jaw, a restrained heaviness in his expression.

“Atty. Kang” he said at last, his voice low, steady. “Do you have a moment?”

She nodded cautiously. “Yes… of course. Atty. Yoon”

He hesitated, almost as if weighing how much to reveal here in the open. Then, his gaze softened, carrying something she couldn’t quite name.

“Can we talk?” he asked, quieter this time. “In my office.”

Hyomin hesitated, her pulse quickening. There was a seriousness in his tone that made her chest tighten with both curiosity and apprehension. Still, she gave a small nod. “Alright.”

He didn’t say anything more until they climbed the stairs together, the steady rhythm of their footsteps the only sound between them. The second floor was quieter, the hum of the firm dimming behind closed doors. When he pushed his office door open, he gestured for her to enter first.

The door clicked softly shut, cocooning them in the stillness of the room. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, painting faint stripes across the desk piled with neatly arranged files. Seokhoon lingered for a moment, one hand resting on the back of his chair, before finally turning to face her.

“I want you to know,” he began carefully, his voice steady but low, “that what you’re doing—helping him, guiding him—it’s fine. It’s good. I trust you.” His gaze didn’t waver, but his composure cracked just slightly. “But I also need to be honest. Watching it… it made me jealous.”

Hyomin blinked, caught off guard. Her lips curved into a small, almost teasing smile. “Jealous?” she echoed, both amused and strangely touched.

“Yes.” The admission was quiet but firm, carried on a breath he seemed to have been holding. “I don’t like the thought of being… sidelined. Even if I know it’s only work, that doesn’t stop me from feeling it. I respect your professionalism, Hyomin. I know you’re just doing your job. But I also care about where I stand with you. I couldn’t leave it unsaid.”

Her chest softened, warmth stirring inside her at his rare vulnerability. She had always admired his control, his steady calm. Seeing him set it aside, even briefly, made something in her tighten. “Seokhoon-ah…” she said gently. “Thank you for telling me. You don’t need to worry. I’m careful with how I handle this. And you—” she held his gaze a moment longer, her voice warm, certain, “you’re important to me. Always.”

Some of the tension bled from his shoulders, a genuine smile tugging faintly at his lips. “Hearing you say that… it means more than I can explain. I’d rather speak it plainly than let it fester in silence.”

Hyomin chuckled softly, the sound easing the air between them. “So mature, as expected. That’s one of the things I like about you.”

For a moment, the office seemed to shrink around them, the muffled noise of the firm beyond the walls fading into nothing. What remained was quiet, grounding—an acknowledgment of the bond they were choosing to guard carefully, even within the constraints of their world.

The quiet between them stretched, warm but delicate. Hyomin shifted the files in her arms, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You know…” she began softly, tilting her head at him, “I think I owe you something.”

Seokhoon arched a brow. “Owe me?”

“For accidentally making you jealous,” she said with a playful lilt. “How about dinner tonight? My treat.”

His lips curved, amused. “Dinner as… an apology?”

“Exactly.” She grinned. “You can order whatever you want. Even the most expensive thing on the menu.”

Seokhoon gave a low chuckle, leaning back against his desk. “That sounds dangerously like a challenge. You sure you can handle it?”

Hyomin crossed her arms, feigning confidence. “I can handle more than you think. Don’t underestimate me, Attorney Yoon.”

He studied her for a moment, eyes glinting with quiet affection beneath the teasing. “I wouldn’t dare. But don’t think a dinner is enough to erase the fact that I was jealous.”

“Oh? Then maybe dessert too,” she shot back quickly, her grin widening.

That earned her a genuine laugh, soft but unguarded, breaking through his usual composure. “Alright. Dinner and dessert. But only because you insisted.”

Hyomin smirked, satisfied. “Good. Then it’s settled. Tonight.”

As she turned toward the door, Seokhoon’s gaze lingered on her, lighter now, the earlier storm in his chest giving way to something steadier.

Maybe jealousy wasn’t so bad—if it led to moments like this.

Chapter Text

The hall where their journey had begun felt transformed—brighter, quieter, charged with anticipation. The first-year lawyers clustered together, some whispering nervously, others holding themselves in tense silence. The steady click of heels on polished floors echoed through the room, weaving into the low murmur of conversation.

But this time, it wasn’t just them. Partners, associates, and senior lawyers filled the space as well, their presence a tangible reminder of the moment’s gravity. Only forty percent of the batch would move forward, retained as permanent lawyers.

Hyomin’s pulse quickened, though her face remained composed. When the announcements began, relief swept over her as she listened:

“All first-year litigation lawyers from the Litigation Department—Choi Hoyeon, Ji Gukhyeon, Oh Sangchul, and Kang Hyomin—have been retained,” Atty. Kwon Nayeon’s, the managing partner of Yulim, voice rang out clearly, her smile genuine.

A round of congratulations followed, with her colleagues clapping, smiling, and exchanging relieved glances. 

Hyomin allowed herself a small smile. The weight of the past six months’ probation was finally lifted.

“Congratulations” Seokhoon said softly, his tone calm but carrying a quiet sense of approval. “You all worked hard for this.”

Minjeong stepped forward, clapping lightly. “Well done, everyone! I knew you all had it in you. Hyomin, Hoyeon, Gukhyeon, Sangchul. You made it through brilliantly.”

Jinwoo nodded, giving them a brief, approving smile. “It’s not just surviving the first six months. You’ve shown dedication, skill, and teamwork. Keep that momentum going in your new departments.”

Hyomin nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It feels good to finally reach this point. And thank you—your support means a lot.”

Seokhoon’s eyes met hers briefly, sharp and attentive. “Now the real work begins but at least the first hurdle is behind you.”

“True” she agreed, straightening her posture. “Time to prove ourselves in our new departments.”

Choi Hoyeon and Kang Hyomin were placed under Corporate Law, headed by Atty. Go Taeseop—the son of one of the firm’s founding partners and long considered one of its most powerful figures. For years, his influence was used to shape internal politics, at one point even positioning himself against Seokhoon in a quiet bid for dominance. But following the scandal and eventual firing of Atty. Hong, something in Tae-Seop shifted. Instead of wielding his power for schemes, he began channeling it toward rebuilding the firm’s integrity and mentoring the next generation. His reputation remained daunting—brilliant, unyielding, and intimidating—but now carried the promise of guidance rather than manipulation. For Hyomin and Hoyeon, being placed under him meant opportunity, pressure, and perhaps the chance to witness a man remaking his own legacy.

Ji Gukhyeon was assigned to Antitrust Law under Atty. Jung Jiung, a meticulous strategist whose cases often set precedents in court. For Gukhyeon, it meant long hours of research and razor-sharp arguments—exactly the kind of challenge he thrived on.

Oh Sangchul would join Financial Law under Atty. Yeonsu, a department notorious for its complexity and high stakes. Yeonsu was respected for her calm under pressure, guiding her team through corporate battles where billions hung in the balance.

As the room buzzed with murmurs and congratulations, Atty. Ko Seungcheol, the firm’s founding and former managing partner, stepped forward. His presence commanded attention, and the room grew quiet.

“Before we conclude,” Atty. Ko began, his tone steady and warm, “we’d like to recognize the exceptional performance among our first-year lawyers.”

All eyes turned to him, the air thick with anticipation. ‘This year’s top-performing first-year lawyer,’ he declared, pausing just long enough to let the words reverberate, ‘with a remarkable 90% winning rate in court—and earning a 35% salary increase—is… Kang Hyomin.’

A wave of applause erupted. Hyomin blinked, momentarily stunned, then allowed herself a modest bow.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice steady but humble. “This achievement isn’t mine alone. It’s the result of the guidance of my mentors, the support of my colleagues, and the teamwork we built together. I’ll continue working hard and learning every day.”

Minjeong clapped the loudest, grinning. “I knew it! Hyomin, you’ve worked so hard—well deserved.”

Jinwoo nodded approvingly. “Your skill, confidence, and dedication have truly stood out. Keep it up. You set a standard for your peers.”

Seokhoon, standing a few steps away, observed quietly. His composed expression remained intact, but a flicker of pride softened his eyes. She had earned every bit of this recognition.

Hyomin felt a rush of satisfaction mingled with relief, the grueling probation months, the late nights, the challenges in court, all culminating in this moment of achievement.

Later that afternoon, Seokhoon made his way to the office of Managing Partner Kwon Nayeon. The polished hallway reflected his composed steps, but inside, a subtle tension lingered. Today wasn’t about cases or client files—it was about transparency and trust.

He knocked lightly and entered when called. Kwon Nayeon looked up from her documents, her sharp eyes softened slightly as she recognized him.

“Atty. Yoon” she greeted. “What brings you here?”

He straightened his posture, keeping his expression professional. “Atty. Kwon, I wanted to inform you personally about something important regarding Kang Hyomin.”

Her brows lifted slightly, curiosity piqued. “Go on.”

Seokhoon chose his words carefully. “Hyomin and I… we are in a relationship. I wanted you to know officially, so there’s no misunderstanding or concern regarding professionalism in the firm.”

Kwon Nayeon regarded him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “I see. And this doesn’t affect your professional duties?”

“Not at all,” he said firmly. “I understand the importance of maintaining boundaries and professionalism. With her now assigned to the Corporate Law Department, our roles no longer overlap, and our relationship will not interfere with our work now or in the future.”

A brief silence followed. Then, a small smile tugged at Kwon Nayeon’s lips. “I appreciate your honesty, Atty. Yoon. Transparency is crucial, especially with our internal policies. As long as professionalism is upheld, I have no objection.”

Seokhoon allowed himself a fraction of relief, though his composure remained steady. “Thank you, Atty. Kwon. I just wanted to ensure there’s clarity from the start.”

“Keep that same discipline in court and within the firm, and there will be no issues.” she said, returning her attention to her files

Seokhoon straightened his jacket, glancing around the office one last time before heading out.

Atty. Kwon approached him by the doorway, a warm smile on her face. “You handled everything so well today.”

He allowed himself a small nod, keeping his composure. “It was necessary. Nothing more.”

“Necessary, yes,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his. 

“But also… impressive. And—” She paused, smiling genuinely. “Seokhoon-ah, I’m happy for you. Truly. On a personal level.”

He raised an eyebrow, faintly amused. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Not because of your title or responsibilities, but just… you. For finding and choosing happiness this time, after all that’s happened.”

Seokhoon exhaled slowly, a flicker of warmth crossing his features. “I appreciate that Atty. Kwon” he murmured. “It’s… a relief, finally. Knowing the professional side of things is settled, and the personal side… can exist without conflict.”

“Exactly,” she said, nodding. “You’ve earned that space for yourself.”

He allowed himself a brief, genuine smile, tension easing from his shoulders. “It’s good to know. Makes leaving the office tonight feel… lighter.”

“Then go,” she said lightly, her tone warm but steady. “The work is done for now.”

With a nod, Seokhoon gave a final glance around the office, the weight of professional and personal pressures slightly lifted, and stepped out—leaving her smile lingering quietly in the space behind him.

The small private room at the restaurant buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses. It was the litigation team’s last team dinner together—a mix of celebration and farewell. Hyomin sat near the center, smiling as Choi Hoyeon animatedly recounted a mishap during one of their early cases. Ji Gukhyeon chimed in with playful exaggeration, while Oh Sangchul laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink.

Seokhoon observed quietly from across the table, the corner of his mouth tugged in a rare, approving smile. Even as the room erupted in jokes and memories, his gaze kept returning to the first-years—proud, relieved, and alive with energy.

Sangchul raised his glass. “To surviving the first six months! And to making it through probation with style.”

Minjeong, seated beside him, leaned forward slightly, her smile tight with emotion that only Hyomin noticed. Quietly, almost to herself, she said, “I… I’m really going to miss you, Hyomin. Not just as a teammate, but… someone who’s always been there, supporting us. I never had a girl friend until I met you.”

Hyomin reached out subtly, touching Minjeong’s arm gently. “I’ll miss you too, unnie. We can still hangout, you know. I’m just at the other side of the office.”

Minjeong blinked, nodding, laughing lightly through the lump in her throat. “Yeah… I know. But it won’t be the same without you around.”

The group’s attention shifted as Seokhoon stood, clearing his throat. The room quieted immediately.

“I just want to take a moment,” he began, his voice steady, “to thank all of you for your hard work these past six months. You’ve handled every challenge with professionalism, energy, and a commitment that makes this firm proud. Each of you has grown, learned, and contributed in ways that matter. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

The first-years straightened, a mix of pride and humility in their expressions.

He continued, softer but deliberate, “I also want to say that watching all of you develop has reminded me why I chose this career—to work alongside people who are driven, talented, and unafraid to challenge themselves. Thank you for trusting me as your mentor and letting me guide you when needed.”

A brief silence followed, respectful and attentive, before Jinwoo nudged Minjeong slightly and whispered with a grin, “Wow… he’s really different now. Smooth talker, smiling… way less scary than the boss we know before.

Seokhoon allowed a small, rare smile at that, the tension of the past six months softening in the glow of their achievements. The room erupted in applause, cheers, and laughter, voices overlapping in warmth and camaraderie.

Hyomin looked across the table at Seokhoon, noticing the faint glimmer of pride in his eyes. She felt a quiet happiness for him—not as a subordinate, not as a colleague, but simply as someone she cared for deeply.

The conversation picked up again, stories of courtroom mishaps, office banter, and inside jokes filling the room. Though they would all move to different departments soon, the bond forged through shared challenges and victories remained unbroken, stronger than ever.

As Seokhoon sat back down, Jinwoo raised his glass again, smirking. “Okay, now that we’re officially allowed to breathe, someone tell me how Hyomin managed to spill coffee on three case files in one day without getting fired.”

Hyomin waved her hands dramatically. “Yah!! It was a tactical maneuver! I was testing the firm’s emergency protocols!”

“Oh, right,” Sangchul interjected, grinning. “We call that the ‘Hyomin Special’ Step one: Panic. Step two: Blame the printer. Step three: Survive.”

Hoyeon rolled her eyes, laughing. “Honestly, you guys would survive a zombie apocalypse better than a courtroom.”

Gukhyeon chimed in, “Speak for yourself! I’d argue with zombies. Professional decorum, even in chaos.”

Jinwoo laughed, pointing at Gukhyeon. “Sure, until the zombie eats your lunch.”

Seokhoon shook his head slightly, trying to maintain his usual composure, but a corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “You’re all hopeless.”

“Hopeless? No, no,” Hyomin said, grinning. “We’re just… highly entertaining.”

Minjeong leaned closer to Hyomin and whispered, “Highly entertaining… and slightly terrifying if Atty. Yoon ever gets mad.”

Sangchul leaned back, mock-raising a toast. “To Atty. Yoon—the man who smiles now, but we all know he has a terrifying glare hidden somewhere.”

Seokhoon’s eyes flicked toward Hyomin, a subtle smirk forming. “Keep testing me, and you’ll see it again,” he said dryly, earning a chorus of playful groans.

Hoyeon raised her glass. “To the end of probation and surviving Atty. Yoon’s… less scary days!”

Everyone cheered, clinking glasses, the laughter echoing warmly. Hyomin caught Seokhoon’s eyes across the table, the tiny smirk still lingering, and felt a quiet happiness just knowing he was proud—both professionally and personally.

After a few more rounds of laughter and clinking glasses, Jinwoo leaned back with a mischievous grin. “Alright, team, I think it’s time for a new tradition. Let's ’Roast the Boss.’”

Everyone glanced at Seokhoon, who raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “I don’t recall signing up for this.”

“Don’t worry,” Hyomin said, pretending to ponder. “We’ll be gentle… or not.”

Hoyeon was first. “Alright… remember the first week? When Atty. Yoon scared the living daylights out of us all with that one look? I swear, I thought I’d been yelled at just for blinking.”

Gukhyeon chuckled. “Yeah, and let’s not forget the time he made Hoyeon retype an entire brief because of… what? Three typos? That was legendary.”

Sangchul waved a hand. “I’ll never live it down. But I have to admit. He’s less terrifying now. Still scary, but like… approachable scary?”

Seokhoon’s smirk was faint, but he didn’t interrupt. He had learned patience… mostly.

Jinwoo chuckled. “He won't even join our team dinners before but look at him now - doing speeches”

Minjeong leaned in with a sly grin. “I think the best part is that he smiles now. Remember the first week? No smiles. Not one. Now we’re getting corners of a smile. Baby steps, everyone.”

Hyomin grinned. “And he laughs quietly too—when we’re not looking. Hard to catch, but terrifying if you do.”

Jinwoo clapped dramatically. “I nominate that for the official firm handbook: ‘How to survive Atty. Yoon’ Step one: Don’t blink. Step two: Smile cautiously. Step three: Learn from secret laughs.”

Seokhoon finally leaned back in his chair, letting out a small, rare chuckle. “Alright, alright. Enjoy your roast while you can. Keep it up too long, and I might revert to my old terrifying self.”

Hoyeon gasped in mock horror. “Threatening us now? That’s low, Atty. Yoon!”

Sangchul smirked. “Low? No, he’s evolved. We just didn’t notice the upgrade.”

Hyomin watched him, a small smile tugging at her lips. He was still commanding, still sharp—but tonight, amidst laughter and jokes, she could see the softer, warmer side of him, the side that appreciated every victory, every struggle, every member of his team.

As the laughter died down and plates were cleared, the team lingered, reluctant to let the evening end. Minjeong and Jinwoo chatted quietly in one corner, still teasing, still laughing, while Hoyeon, Gukhyeon, and Sangchul lingered around Seokhoon and Hyomin, exchanging farewells and congratulations.

Hyomin took a deep breath, savoring the warmth of the room, the camaraderie they had built, and the weight of six months finally lifted. She glanced across the table, catching Seokhoon’s eyes. For a fleeting moment, the noise of the room faded.

His gaze was steady and calm, yet beneath it lingered something unspoken—a quiet acknowledgment of the path they had walked together, the trials endured, the victories earned, and the moments quietly shared between battles. Then, almost imperceptibly, his lips shaped the words: “Proud of you.”

Hyomin’s smile bloomed softly, touched with both relief and gratitude. She needed no spoken assurance; his understanding was enough. In that silent exchange, she glimpsed the promise of what lay ahead—freedom, growth, and the quiet joy of being truly seen by someone who mattered.

Seokhoon’s lips quirked into a faint smile, almost imperceptible to anyone else, a mirror to her own. The first-year probation was over. The challenges of the firm would continue, of course, but for tonight, they could simply be themselves—lawyers, colleagues, friends… and something quietly more.

With a final nod toward each other, they joined the rest of the team, laughter and chatter resuming around them. But for Hyomin and Seokhoon, the moment lingered—a small, steady thread connecting them, unspoken but unmistakable, as this chapter of their lives closed on a high note.

Chapter Text

The morning sun streamed through the tall glass windows of the Corporate Law Department, catching the polished floors and gleaming desks. Hyomin and Hoyeon stepped into the office, both carrying a mix of anticipation and nerves. Today marked the start of their rotation in Corporate Law under Atty. Go Tae Seop—a seasoned lawyer whose reputation for precision and high standards preceded him.

Hoyeon glanced sideways, lowering her voice. “Do you think he’s as scary as everyone says?”

Hyomin allowed herself a small smile. “Not scary. Just… sharp. He notices everything. Which means we can’t afford even the tiniest slip.”

“Great,” Hoyeon muttered, adjusting the strap of her bag. “I barely slept last night, thinking about all the case files I skimmed. What if he asks me something I don’t know?”

Hyomin gave her a reassuring nudge. “Then you answer honestly, and you back it up with effort. He values initiative. Remember? We’re here to learn, not to be perfect.”

That earned a faint laugh from Hoyeon. “Easy for you to say—you thrive under pressure.”

Hyomin raised an eyebrow, teasing. “And you don’t? You’re the one who kept me awake with your endless questions about corporate structures.”

Hoyeon grinned despite herself. “Fair point. At least we’re in this together.”

Hyomin nodded firmly, her voice steady. “Exactly. Whatever happens, we’ve got each other’s backs.”

Before Hoyeon could reply, the sharp click of a door opening drew their attention. Both straightened instinctively, nerves settling into quiet focus as Atty. Go stepped into view.

Seated behind a large mahogany desk, he looked up as they entered. His presence was commanding, yet not intimidating—more like a quiet force that demanded respect through competence rather than theatrics.

“Ah, you must be Kang Hyomin and Choi Hoyeon,” he said, voice calm but firm, with a small, assessing smile. “Welcome to Corporate Law.”

Hyomin inclined her head politely. “Thank you, Atty. Go. We’re eager to learn and contribute.”

Hoyeon added, “We’re looking forward to working under your guidance.”

Atty. Go’s eyes flicked briefly over each of them, sharp and thoughtful. “Good. I expect dedication and diligence, but I also value initiative. In Corporate Law, things move quickly, and the smallest oversight can have huge consequences.”

Hyomin nodded, feeling a familiar thrill at the challenge. She was ready.

“Your first assignment will be Cheonggye Estates,” Atty. Go continued, leaning back in his chair. “It’s a property developer with projects inspired by the Cheonggyecheon River—blending tradition with modernity. They’re ambitious, and their contracts are complex. You’ll need to study their corporate structure, existing agreements, and ongoing negotiations. Hyomin, you’ll be the lead on this.”

Her pulse quickened. Lead? Already? “Understood,” she said steadily. “I’ll make sure to review everything thoroughly.”

Go’s expression softened just slightly. “I’ve heard good things about you, Kang Hyomin. I expect this to continue. And Hoyeon, you’ll assist on research, due diligence, and supporting tasks. Remember, research is the backbone of Corporate Law. Every strategy, every clause, every negotiation begins with how well you understand the facts. Learn from this experience; precision and foresight start with thorough research.”

Hoyeon smiled, hiding her excitement. “We won’t disappoint, Atty. Go.”

Hyomin glanced at Hoyeon, their silent nod of mutual encouragement speaking volumes. This was different from litigation. There were no courtroom battles and no pleas, but the stakes were no less significant.

“As for Cheonggye Estates,” Atty. Go continued, tapping a file on his desk, “they’re expanding residential projects and commercial spaces along historically significant sites. Your work will involve contract review, compliance checks, and liaising with clients. Mistakes are costly therefore attention to detail is key.”

Hyomin made a mental note of every detail, already mapping out a plan in her head. This was an opportunity not just to grow professionally, but to prove she could thrive outside her comfort zone.

As they left Atty Go’s office, Hoyeon let out a low whistle. “Cheonggye Estates… this is huge. We are in charge of this?”

Hyomin’s lips curved in a small smile. “Looks like it. Big responsibility, but… we can handle it. And I’m lucky to have you by my side, Hoyeon.”

Hoyeon grinned. “Don’t worry, I'll make sure you won't get lost in the paperwork jungle.”

Hyomin laughed softly, already feeling the energy of new beginnings. The city outside buzzed, but inside, she felt the same quiet determination she had on her first day as a first-year lawyer—only now, stronger, more experienced, and ready to take on the challenges of Corporate Law.

The soft hum of the city at night filtered through the wide windows of Seokhoon’s apartment. Hyomin sat at the dining table, surrounded by stacks of legal documents and laptop screens, her brow furrowed as she absorbed every detail about Cheonggye Estates.

Seokhoon moved around the kitchen, chopping vegetables with methodical precision. The smell of garlic and sesame oil filled the apartment, a subtle comfort against the tension that had settled over Hyomin. He glanced at her from time to time, noting the tight grip on her pen and the slight tremor in her shoulders.

“You’ve been at it for hours,” he said, placing a steaming bowl of soup on the table. “Take a breath, Jagiya. Dinner’s ready.”

Hyomin looked up briefly, offering a tired but grateful smile. “I can’t stop now. I need to be ready for tomorrow. This client… it’s a big account.”

He moved to stand behind her chair, scanning the files. “Start by emphasizing your knowledge of property law, but also show them you understand their vision. You said Cheonggye Estates blends tradition with modernity, right? Use that angle when discussing contracts and compliance. They’ll notice if you grasp their identity as a company.”

Hyomin exhaled, letting his suggestions sink in. “Okay… I can frame it that way. I’ll make sure my questions are precise and that I demonstrate I’ve done my homework on their projects.”

Seokhoon shook his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Before you dive back into work, eat something first, Hyomin-ah. I promise I’ll help you refine the questions after.”

They shared a quiet meal together, the aroma of the dishes filling the kitchen. Conversation was minimal, comfortable, and grounding. Once they finished, Seokhoon set his utensils aside and leaned casually against the edge of the desk.

“By the way,” he said, his voice calm but deliberate, “I spoke with Atty. Kwon this morning.”

Hyomin’s brow furrowed slightly. “Spoke? About what?”

He offered a faint, reassuring smile. “About us. I told her we’re together. So… nothing to worry about anymore. You can focus on the client without thinking about office gossip or unnecessary scrutiny.”

Hyomin’s chopsticks stilled, her breath catching. She lifted her gaze to him, eyes wide with surprise. “You… really told her?” she asked softly, a mix of awe and relief coloring her voice.

For a moment, her heart swelled with something unshakable: gratitude and pride. “Seokhoon-ah, that must not have been easy. But… thank you. You’ve always carried so much for us, and I don’t take that lightly.”

“I did. And she’s fine with it. Professional boundaries remain, of course, but it’s out in the open now.” His tone carried the weight of care behind the words, and for a moment, the tension she’d been carrying eased.

Hyomin exhaled, leaning back slightly in her chair. “I can’t believe how much lighter that makes me feel. Thank you, Jagiya.”

He shrugged modestly, though the faint curve of a smile softened his usual composure. “You’re welcome. Now, about tomorrow’s meeting… I’ve got a few suggestions on how to approach Cheonggye Estates. You’re already prepared, but a little strategy never hurts.”

As he outlined his thoughts, she listened intently, grateful not just for his guidance but for the quiet reassurance that came with knowing he had her back—even in ways beyond work.

Hyomin adjusted the cuffs of her blazer as she and Hoyeon walked down the corridor toward the meeting room. Every step echoed with the weight of responsibility, but also with the quiet thrill of proving herself in this new arena. Litigation had taught her resilience; now Corporate Law demanded precision, foresight, and composure. She inhaled deeply, centering herself. Today was not just another assignment—it was her chance to show she belonged.

When they stepped inside, Atty. Go was already there, seated at the far end of the table with his usual composed expression. His presence was steady, a reminder that he was watching not only the clients but also how Hyomin would handle herself. She exchanged a brief glance with Hoyeon, who gave her a small nod of encouragement before they took their seats.

The meeting room was filled with the quiet hum of anticipation as Hyomin and Hoyeon set their files neatly on the table. The Cheonggye Estates team entered shortly after, a mix of project managers and corporate strategists. Their eyes flicked toward her, sizing up the young first-year lawyer leading the discussion.

Hyomin took a steadying breath. “Good morning, everyone. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us today. I’m Atty. Kang Hyomin from Yullim Law Firm, and I’ll be guiding our discussion on your ongoing projects and contractual needs.”

One of the project managers, a tall man with a sharp gaze, leaned forward. “We’re particularly interested in ensuring that the Cheonggyecheon-inspired developments maintain both historical integrity and modern functionality. How do you approach contracts to reflect that balance?”

Hyomin clicked her tablet to display a carefully prepared slide. “We prioritize clarity and flexibility. Contracts are structured to protect your intellectual property, adhere to local regulations, and include clauses that allow for adaptive development. For instance, in projects near the Cheonggyecheon River, we’ve considered both environmental compliance and community engagement, ensuring that every development step aligns with your vision of blending tradition with modernity.”

A woman on the client team nodded approvingly. “Interesting. And how would you handle subcontractor disputes?”

Hyomin consulted her notes briefly, then responded with confidence. “We implement a tiered resolution approach. First, we prioritize mediation and negotiation, preserving relationships. Only if disputes escalate would we escalate to formal arbitration or litigation. Our goal is to resolve conflicts efficiently without compromising project timelines or your brand image.”

Hoyeon, quietly assisting, provided additional examples of how similar clauses had been successfully used in other developments. The synergy between the two first-year lawyers impressed the client team, showing not just individual competence but a coordinated, thoughtful approach.

Atty. Go, observing silently from the side, nodded approvingly. Hyomin felt his guidance underpinning her confidence, a subtle reassurance that allowed her to lead without hesitation.

One of the Cheonggye Estates project managers raised a complex scenario regarding foreign investors in their developments. “We want to include overseas investment clauses that comply with local law but also protect us from liability in unexpected market conditions. How would you structure that?”

Hyomin’s fingers hovered briefly over her notes before she answered. “We recommend a dual-layered clause: first, compliance with domestic property law and foreign investment regulations; second, protective terms that define liability thresholds and dispute resolution methods. This ensures you’re protected without limiting investor confidence.”

The client exchanged impressed glances. “I wasn’t expecting such a thorough approach from someone so new,” the project manager admitted.

Hyomin allowed herself a small smile. “I’m fortunate to have guidance from Atty. Go and access thorough research resources. It’s about leveraging expertise to ensure the client’s vision is realized accurately.”

Throughout the meeting, she maintained a careful balance—professional and authoritative, yet approachable. She asked clarifying questions when needed, validated their concerns, and demonstrated both knowledge and empathy for the client’s priorities.

By the end of the session, the clients were visibly satisfied. “You’ve given us confidence that our projects are in capable hands,” one of the strategists said. “We’re looking forward to continuing this collaboration.”

Hyomin packed her materials, exchanging a brief but respectful nod with each client. Hoyeon whispered, “You were incredible. They really responded to your approach.”

Hyomin exhaled, tension melting slightly. “I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

Stepping out of the meeting room, she felt a rush of accomplishment. Corporate Law would be challenging in ways she hadn’t experienced in litigation, but she felt ready. The projects were complex, the clients demanding, but she was learning, growing—and, for the first time, trusting herself fully in this new role.

After the meeting, the two girls decided to step out for lunch before heading back to the office to tie up loose ends. They found a cozy noodle shop a few blocks away, its warmth and chatter a welcome contrast to the polished formality of the firm.

Hoyeon twirled her chopsticks, grinning. “So… leading a major client meeting on your first day in Corporate Law. No big deal, right?”

Hyomin chuckled, shaking her head. “Trust me, I was terrified the whole time. I just tried not to let it show.”

“You didn’t just hide it, you owned it,” Hoyeon said, leaning forward. “The way you explained those clauses? Even the Cheonggye Estates team looked impressed. Honestly, I was proud just watching you.”

Hyomin’s expression softened. “I wouldn’t have pulled it off without you. Your notes and examples made all the difference.”

Hoyeon pretended to puff her chest out. “Research queen strikes again.” Then, with a playful smirk, she added, “But seriously, Hyomin, I feel lucky we’re doing this together. It’s stressful, yeah, but it doesn’t feel so heavy when you’ve got someone to laugh about it with.”

Hyomin raised her teacup in a small toast. “To surviving our first big client meeting—and to many more victories.”

They clinked cups, both laughing as the tension of the day melted into the comfort of friendship.

After lunch, they walked back into the firm side by side, their steps lighter than when they had started the day. Stopping by the research room, Hoyeon grinned. “I’m going to hunt down Sanghul and brag about our victory before you steal all the credit.”

Hyomin laughed, swatting lightly at her arm. “Go ahead. Just make sure you tell him I carried you through it.”

They parted with playful smiles, but Hyomin could hardly keep herself calm. Her heart raced, her pace quickened, and she found herself almost skipping down the hallway. She clutched her folder close, cheeks aching from the grin she couldn’t wipe away. By the time she reached the far side of the firm, she was practically glowing with pride.

She peeked into Seokhoon’s office, eyes sparkling, a bright smile lighting up her face.

“Seokhoon-ah!” she called softly, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up from the stack of documents on his desk, eyebrows lifting at her sudden energy. "Hyomin? You look like you just won the lottery. What’s going on?”

She stepped fully inside, closing the door gently behind her. “I have news! I finally survived our first meeting with Cheonggye Estates. Atty. Go was really impressed with my approach and… and they responded positively to our suggestions. They want me to continue the collaboration!”

Seokhoon’s lips curved into a small, approving smile, though he kept his professional composure. “That’s excellent,” he said smoothly, leaning back slightly in his chair. “I knew your hard work would pay off.”

Hyomin’s hands fisted in quiet excitement. “I wanted you to hear it first! You gave me such good guidance last night, and it really helped me organize my thoughts. I feel… confident for the first time.”

He allowed a brief flicker of warmth in his eyes. “I’m glad. You’ve earned it, Hyomin. Now… go show them exactly why you’re in charge of this project.”

Before she could leave, he added with a teasing smirk, “And don’t think you can slip away just like that. How about we celebrate your small victory with dinner? My treat.”

Her grin widened, cheeks warming. “Dinner with the boss? I’d be honored.”

He shook his head, mock exasperation in his eyes. “Yah! I’m not your boss anymore… just dinner with your boyfriend.”

Hyomin’s laughter bubbled up, bright and unrestrained, making him grin just a little wider. He watched her leave, a quiet pride settling in his chest. His expression stayed composed, but the faint lift at the corner of his lips betrayed how genuinely happy he was for her success—and how much he cherished these small, shared moments.

Chapter Text

The text popped up in the group chat late in the afternoon—a cheerful note from their mother announcing her plans for a birthday celebration. Hyomin read it twice, a smile tugging at her lips, before grabbing her keys and heading straight to her twin sister Hyoju’s house.

Hyoju opened the door almost instantly, arms crossed with mock suspicion. “So, Eomma is throwing us a party?”

Hyomin laughed as she slipped inside. “Not just any party. Our first joint one. Can you believe it took her 29 years to finally do this?”

Hyoju chuckled, shaking her head. “Finally. Now it’ll really feel like we’re twins.”

They settled into the living room, the familiar ease of sisterhood wrapping around them like a blanket. After a beat, Hyomin leaned forward, eyes bright. “You know what this means, right? We have to shop for our dresses together.”

Hyoju groaned but was already smiling. “You’re not going to rest until we’re coordinated, are you?”

“Exactly,” Hyomin teased. “Come on, it’s our big night.”

Not long after, they found themselves weaving through racks of dresses in a chic boutique. Hyomin plucked a shimmering silver gown and held it up against her twin with a grin. “This would look amazing on you.”

Moments later, Hyomin twirled in front of the mirror, a soft blush-pink tea-length dress adorned with delicate floral embroidery, flowing lightly around her knees. “This feels light and dreamy. Perfect for a garden dinner, don’t you think?”

Across the fitting room, Hyoju emerged in a rich emerald-green gown with a flowing A-line skirt and subtle leaf-patterned lace at the bodice, its elegant cut accentuating her figure while keeping a natural, effortless charm. She studied her reflection, tilting her head with a small, satisfied smile. “Elegant without being fussy. I like it.”

Hyomin’s eyes lit up as she glanced at her twin. “You look like a queen in a secret garden.”

“And you,” Hyoju countered, a teasing lilt in her voice, “look like you’re waiting for someone to twirl you under the fairy lights.”

Hyomin laughed, bright and unrestrained. “Exactly, that’s the point. It’s romantic.”

Hyoju shook her head with a soft smile, stepping closer so their reflections stood side by side in the mirror: two women in distinct styles, yet equally chic.

“You know,” she said, adjusting Hyomin’s strap with sisterly precision, “we don’t have to match. You can be whimsical, I can be refined. Together, we’ll cover every shade of elegance.”

Hyomin slipped her arm around her twin’s waist, grinning at their reflections. “Two different looks, one perfect pair.”

The sales clerk beamed at them, as if confirming what they already knew: whatever they wore, together, they would shine.

They took turns disappearing into the fitting rooms, emerging with exaggerated runway poses. Some dresses earned genuine admiration; others had them doubled over in laughter. At one point, Hyomin stumbled out in a gown two sizes too big, tripping over the hem, while Hyoju nearly cried from laughing too hard.

After what felt like hours of fun and trial, they finally found their final dresses, perfectly suited for the garden celebration. Hyomin’s blush-pink dress now seemed to sparkle even more in the light, the floral embroidery giving her an ethereal, celebratory glow. Hyoju’s emerald-green gown shimmered subtly, the lace patterns echoing the natural beauty of a garden in full bloom. They shared a victorious glance in the mirror, silently celebrating their choices.

By the time the shopping bags piled at their feet, they collapsed onto a plush bench, still glowing from their laughter. Hyoju leaned her head against Hyomin’s shoulder, her voice softening. “You know… this feels really nice. Just us, doing something simple together.”

Hyomin smiled, her laughter fading into a warm, steady glow. “Yeah. We should do this more often, unnie.”

She hesitated for a second before adding, “Actually… there’s something I need to tell you unnie.”

Hyoju tilted her head, curiosity sparking. “That sounds serious. Wait ... don’t tell me it’s about him again?” Her tone carried a playful edge, but there was a hint of sharpness. “Because if it’s the ex, I swear, I’ll—”

“No, no!” Hyomin laughed, shaking her head. “Not him. I… have a boyfriend.” The words tumbled out in a rush, and she braced herself for her twin’s reaction.

Hyoju’s eyes widened, then narrowed with mock sternness. “Then I want to meet him. Immediately. And he better treat you like the queen you are. None of the nonsense from last time.”

“You will,” Hyomin promised, her lips curving into a secret smile. “At the party.”

Hyoju’s lips quirked into a satisfied smirk. “Good. Because I’m holding him personally accountable.”

Kang Hyomin and Kang Hyoju, were celebrating their 29th birthday together for the very first time at their parents’ estate. The sprawling garden had been transformed into an elegant outdoor venue, glowing beneath a canopy of fairy lights draped across the trees. White tents rose gracefully over linen-draped tables, while uniformed waitstaff glided between guests with silver trays of champagne and delicate hors d’oeuvres. At the far end, a lavish buffet stretched under soft golden lighting, each dish a masterpiece crafted by one of the city’s most sought-after caterers.

The air pulsed with warmth and celebration, laughter spilling into the night, glasses clinking in cheerful toasts, and the low hum of conversations weaving together like music against the backdrop of a star-pinned sky.

Hyomin moved gracefully through the crowd, her heels clicking lightly against the polished wooden deck laid out for the event. She paused here and there, exchanging smiles, making sure every guest felt welcome. Her heart swelled as she took in the scene, with family, friends, and familiar faces all gathered in one place, celebrating not just their birthday but the rare joy of togetherness.

She spotted Daniel standing awkwardly near the edge of the crowd. Sighing softly, Hyomin reminded herself that she had been technically obligated to invite him—his father had extended an invitation the last time they met in the office, and she hadn’t wanted to offend him.

“Eomma, this is Atty. Daniel Park,” she said, guiding a tall young man toward her mother. “He’s the son of Appa’s old friend.” Daniel bowed slightly, flashing a polite smile.

Her mother’s eyes crinkled warmly. “It’s so nice to meet you, Daniel. My husband has told me a lot about you and your father.”

Hyomin smiled and continued, motioning toward a group of young professionals. “And these are my first-year lawyer friends: Gukhyeon and Sangchul. They’ve been my partners through thick and thin at the firm.”

Her mother greeted them with her signature warmth, eyes crinkling with delight. “Welcome, welcome! And Gukhyeon—it’s wonderful to finally meet you, I’ve heard such great things. Sangchul, I’m especially happy you’re here tonight. Make sure you eat plenty. You’ll need the energy.” She gave Gukhyeon a fond smile, and touched Sangchul’s shoulder with gentle affection, her presence making each of them feel instantly at home.

A few minutes later, Minjeong, Jinwoo, and Seokhoon stepped into the garden together, drawing Hyomin’s attention instantly. Warmth spread through her chest as she watched how naturally her mother welcomed everyone, her smile as radiant as the lights strung above.

“And these are the Junior Associates, Atty. Heo Minjeong and Atty. Lee Jinwoo, my seniors from the litigation team,” Hyomin introduced, her voice steady, though her heart skipped at the sight of Seokhoon beside them. “And this is Atty. Yoon Seokhoon, my former boss in the Litigation Department.” She glanced at them with a smile that was both professional and quietly personal, pride and affection mingling in her eyes.

Her mother’s face lit up even more. She reached for Minjeong’s hands warmly. “Welcome, Atty. Heo. Hyomin always says the kindest things about you.” Then she turned to Jinwoo with playful fondness. “And you must be Atty. Lee. I can already tell you keep the office lively.”

Finally, her gaze landed on Seokhoon. For a brief moment, her smile softened, the warmth in her eyes deepening. “Atty. Yoon. It’s good to see you again. Thank you for guiding my daughter all this time. We’re honored to have you here tonight.” She inclined her head ever so slightly, treating him with a respect usually reserved for family’s most trusted guests.

Seokhoon’s usually serious expression softened as he bowed politely. “It’s good to see you again, Professor Choi. I hope all is well with the family.”

Her mother was just about to respond to Seokhoon when a burst of voices cut across the garden.

“Imo! It’s us!!”

Sol A and Eunjin came rushing in together, waving dramatically as though they hadn’t seen Hyomin’s family in years. Their laughter rang louder than the music, and though their entrance was a little chaotic, the sparkle in their eyes and the warmth in their smiles made it impossible not to be charmed.

“Happy birthday, Hyomin! And Hyoju too!” Sol A called out, holding up a carefully wrapped box. Eunjin followed, grinning as she handed over a small bouquet. “We couldn’t let the day go by without something special for you both!”

Hyomin’s eyes lit up, touched by the thoughtful gesture. “You guys didn’t have to,” she said, her voice warm, as she accepted the gifts. Hyoju laughed, already unwrapping the package in eager anticipation, while Hyomin gave both of them a quick, heartfelt hug.

The garden seemed to glow a little brighter with their joy, the moment weaving perfectly into the celebration around them.

The doorbell rang again, and Hyomin hurried over, her smile widening as she opened it. Choi Hoyeon stepped in, flanked by his younger twin sisters, Miyeon and Soyeon, who clutched little gift bags and craned their necks to take in the festive decorations.

“Imo Hyomin!” they squealed in unison, running into her arms.

“You two look so pretty tonight,” Hyomin said warmly, bending to hug them both before smoothing down their dresses. “Come on in.”

The twins didn’t need much coaxing. The moment they spotted Seokhoon nearby, their faces lit up.

“Seokhoon-oppa!” Soyeon called, tugging her sister forward. “You’re here!”

Miyeon grabbed his hand without hesitation. “You said you’d play the clapping game with us again!”

A ripple of laughter spread among the guests as Seokhoon crouched down, his usual composure softening into something tender. “And I always keep my promises” he said, letting them pull him into their game right there in the foyer.

The younger lawyers who had only ever seen Atty. Yoon in his sharp, no-nonsense element stared in stunned silence. This was the same man who could dismantle an argument in court with a single look—now patiently letting two little girls clap his hands out of rhythm and giggling when they declared victory.

Minjeong leaned toward Jinwoo, her voice pitched low with amusement. “I think half the associates here just had their worlds turned upside down.”

Jinwoo smirked. “Well, now they know the secret. The great Atty. Yoon isn’t just terrifying—he’s also everyone’s favorite oppa.”

Hyomin, standing a few steps away, allowed herself a quiet smile. She had seen this side of him before—the warmth beneath the meticulous lawyer, the laughter he reserved for moments like this. And as she watched their shocked expressions, a small, secret pride fluttered in her chest. People could finally see what she had always known, that behind Atty. Yoon’s stern exterior lay a gentle heart that quietly touched those around him.

Across the room, Hyomin’s parents exchanged a glance, unaware of the quiet bond between Hyomin and Seokhoon. Her mother smiled at the scene, her father’s expression thoughtful, as if appreciating how someone could be both the formidable lawyer and, in small moments like this, a man full of warmth and ease.

Once the last of the guests had arrived, the celebration paused for a short program in honor of the twins’ birthday. Hyomin and Hyoju’s parents stepped forward first, offering heartfelt words about the joy and pride they felt watching their daughters grow. 

Then, Hyoju’s parents, who had raised her through all these years, took their turn. Her father addressed the crowd with a warm smile, signing his message in sign language as an interpreter conveyed his words aloud, letting everyone feel the love and gratitude he had for Hyoju. The room was filled with applause and gentle laughter, the moment a touching reminder of family, love, and the lives that had shaped them both.

After the program, Seokhoon found himself standing beside Hyomin’s father, Judge Kang Ilchan of Daegu, his posture straight and attentive. He spoke with careful respect, aware of the man’s reputation in the legal world.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Judge Kang,” Seokhoon began, bowing slightly. “I’ve heard so much about your work through mutual colleagues, especially Attorney Park and Attorney Seo. Your recent cases… they set quite a standard.”

Judge Kang’s expression was calm, yet there was a flicker of curiosity. “I’ve heard of your litigation work as well. Handling criminal cases is never easy, especially with the stakes you’ve been dealing with.”

Seokhoon nodded, his tone deferential but sincere. “It’s challenging, yes, but I strive to learn from the best. Many of our colleagues have always spoken highly of your approach to the law—it’s inspiring to someone like me who hopes to make a difference in the courtroom.”

For a moment, their conversation stayed strictly professional, but Seokhoon’s respect carried an extra weight. Beneath the polite words, he knew this wasn’t just any senior lawyer and judge he was speaking to. This was the man who might one day be his father-in-law, and he wanted every word to reflect that.

In another corner, Minjeong and Jinwoo exchanged quiet work updates, their voices low but animated. Nearby, Hoyeon, Gukhyeon, and Sangchul doubled over with laughter as Hyoju launched into one of her office stories, their camaraderie effortless and genuine.

The party hummed with life—laughter and chatter weaving through the house, glasses clinking, soft music playing in the background, and the occasional squeal of delight around the birthday cake. The atmosphere was warm, familial, and just lively enough to feel like the perfect celebration.

Hyomin drew a steadying breath, her heart swelling as she took it all in: the laughter, the mingling voices, the shared joy of friends and family. This moment was hers, and she let herself savor it fully

Hyomin floated through the room, checking on guests and sharing laughs.

Hyoju sidled up to her twin with a mischievous grin. “Trying to steal all the attention again, Hyomin? Honestly, I think people are forgetting it’s my birthday too,” she teased, nudging her sister playfully.

Hyomin rolled her eyes, though she laughed.

“Please, everyone knows the spotlight naturally follows me,” she shot back, nudging Hyoju in return.

Sol A, leaning casually against the table with a drink in hand, chuckled.

“Oh no, here we go again.” Eunjin grinned. “Don’t worry, Hyoju. You still have your fans.”

The room erupted in laughter, the teasing warm and affectionate. Hyomin felt a tug in her chest, grateful for friends who made even ordinary moments feel special.

Later, Seokhoon quietly pulled Minjeong and Jinwoo aside, guiding them toward a quieter corner of the living room where the hum of conversation softened. He moved with measured calm, his hands folded lightly in front of him, but there was a certain intensity in his gaze that made both of them pause.

He glanced at each of them, as if weighing how to begin, before finally exhaling just enough to break the silence. The low light from the nearby lamps cast gentle shadows across his face, making his usual composure feel more deliberate, almost intimate.

Jinwoo shifted on his feet, sensing that something important was coming. Minjeong leaned slightly forward, curiosity flickering in her eyes. Neither spoke, giving Seokhoon the floor, which he appreciated; it allowed him to speak without interruption, without the usual teasing or chatter.

After a careful pause, he finally met their eyes and said, his voice low but firm, “Hyomin and I are officially together now.”

Jinwoo blinked, putting on an exaggerated show of shock. “Wait… really? No way. This is news to me!” His eyes widened just a fraction too much.

Seokhoon arched a brow, unimpressed. “You’re terrible at acting, Jinwoo. Don’t even try.”

Jinwoo broke into a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine, fine. I just wanted to see if I could sell it. Guess not.”

Minjeong’s eyes sparkled with amusement and approval. “Well, about time. You two look… right together.”

Jinwoo nodded, a playful glint in his eyes. “Yeah, it makes sense… though I have to ask—did Hyomin actually let you walk out of the office alive before saying yes?” He gave Seokhoon a teasing smirk.

Seokhoon’s lips curved into the tiniest, almost imperceptible smile. “It wasn’t that dramatic. She just… didn’t let me hide it any longer.”

Jinwoo laughed, shaking his head. “Figures. That girl’s got a sharp mind and a sharper eye. Good luck keeping up with her, Atty. Yoon.”

Seokhoon’s tone remained calm but carried a quiet warmth. “I don’t plan on keeping up. I plan on matching her every step.”

Seokhoon then added, more casually, “It’s been hard to hide. But tonight, it’s finally public, at least among friends. And… I already told Atty. Kwon.”

Minjeong raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming. “Oh? The managing partner knows?”

Seokhoon nodded, casual but confident. “Yes. I wanted her to know so there’s no confusion at work. But no one else yet—just you two.”

Minjeong shook her head, still grinning. “Of course. You’d be strategic about this, Atty. Yoon. Not surprising.”

Meanwhile, Hyomin, completely unaware of the whispered exchange in the corner, laughed with her twin and friends, feeling a bubble of happiness she hadn’t felt in a long time. The warmth of family, the energy of friends, and now the quiet certainty of a new chapter with Seokhoon made the night feel… perfect.

Hyoju tugged her aside when the laughter had ebbed into softer hums of conversation. Her twin’s eyes gleamed with mischief, though her voice was quieter, more deliberate this time.

“So,” Hyoju began, folding her arms with mock seriousness, “when exactly were you planning to introduce me to this mysterious boyfriend of yours? Because if you think you can keep him hidden all night, you’re wrong.”

Hyomin blinked, caught between surprise and amusement.

“You’ll meet him,” she said quickly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “At the right time.”

Hyoju raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. “The right time? You’ve been holding out on me long enough. I want to meet him properly—tonight.”

Hyomin’s heart gave a small, nervous flutter, but she nodded, her resolve firming. “Fine. Tonight.”

Seokhoon stopped in front of them, bowing politely before straightening to meet Hyoju’s expectant gaze.

“Good evening. You must be Hyomin’s twin,” he said warmly.

Hyoju lifted her chin, studying him with the sharp curiosity of someone who refused to be easily impressed.

“Kang Hyoju,” she introduced herself, her smile edged with playful challenge. “So you’re the one stealing my sister’s time these days.”

Hyomin groaned softly, but Seokhoon didn’t flinch. Instead, the corner of his lips curved in the smallest smile.

“If that’s the case, I owe you an apology,” he replied evenly. “But I promise, she’s in good hands.”

Something in his tone—steady, respectful, but certain—made Hyoju’s teasing soften into genuine interest. She nodded slowly, as if testing his sincerity.

Then, just before stepping back, Seokhoon lifted a hand with practiced ease and signed a single phrase: It’s nice to meet you.

For a moment, Hyoju froze. Surprise flickered in her eyes, quickly giving way to something warmer, deeper. She glanced at her twin, then back at Seokhoon, and her expression softened into approval that words couldn’t quite capture.

“Well,” she said finally, a smile tugging at her lips. “I think I like you.”

Hyomin exhaled, both relieved and touched, while Seokhoon simply inclined his head, his calm composure never wavering.

While Hyomin and Hyoju chatted with Seokhoon, Sol A and Eunjin naturally gravitated toward Hyoju’s first-year lawyer friends—Hoyeon, Gukhyeon, and Sangchul. The group quickly fell into easy conversation, swapping office anecdotes, joking about litigation chaos, and laughing over shared memories from their first six months.

“Do you guys know what Hyomin did before her… um, date with Atty. Yoon?” Sol A asked casually, sipping her drink, completely oblivious to the bombshell she was about to drop. “She, like, orchestrated this whole mess—”

Hoyeon froze mid-bite, eyes widening in shock. “Wait… what? Did you just say date?”

Eunjin immediately realized her mistake, waving her hand nervously. “Uh… well, yeah… but I mean… you know, it’s not like we were supposed to—”

Gukhyeon’s jaw practically hit the table. “You mean… our Hyomin… is dating Atty. Yoon Seokhoon? The one who terrifies everyone in litigation?”

Sangchul’s face flushed a deep red, a mix of disbelief and embarrassment. “No way… She… she’s dating him?”

Hoyeon leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes. “Yah!!!! Hyomin! You owe us some explanations!”

Hyomin, nearby helping herself to a slice of cake, froze mid-bite as her name rang out. The fork hovered halfway to her lips before she lowered it, pulse giving a little jump. Slowly, she turned to find her first-year friends staring at her—wide-eyed, incredulous, and very much ready to pounce.

Her cheeks warmed under their collective gaze, and for a fleeting second she considered feigning ignorance. But the amusement bubbling in their eyes told her there was no escaping.

With a laugh, she set down her fork and raised both hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright! You caught me.” Her eyes twinkled, betraying both nerves and giddy delight. “Yes… I’m dating Atty. Yoon.

A stunned silence fell over the table, broken only by Hoyeon’s dramatic whistle. “I cannot believe this… the Hyomin we’ve seen running circles around the office, all professional and composed… is secretly dating him?”

Eunjin shook her head, laughing. “I told you… she’s always full of surprises.”

Sangchul crossed his arms, mock scowling, though his eyes sparkled. “Hyomin! You should’ve told us earlier! We could’ve prepared a welcome speech… or confetti… or something!”

Hyomin shook her head, still smiling. “Honestly, I wanted to see how long I could keep it under wraps before you guys completely freaked out.”

Hoyeon groaned, half exasperated, half amused. “Well, congratulations, I guess. But you owe us the full story. Every little detail.”

Hyomin’s cheeks warmed, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Of course. Don’t worry, guys. I’ll tell you everything… just try not to faint. Seokhoon… he’s wonderful. Totally worth all the surprises.”

There was a beat of silence before Sangchul’s brows knit together. “Wait, wait, wait,” he said, leaning forward in mock horror. “Did you just call him Seokhoon? Not ‘Atty. Yoon’?”

The others erupted into laughter at his tone, and Hyomin covered her face with her hands, half-embarrassed, half-amused. “Oh no,” she groaned, peeking at them through her fingers. “You guys are never going to let me live this down, are you?”

The tension melted into laughter and chatter, though Hoyeon, Gukhyeon, and Sangchul still stole glances at Hyomin, admiration mixed with disbelief. Sol A nudged Eunjin, whispering conspiratorially, “Well… that definitely wasn’t on the night’s agenda.”

Eunjin grinned. “Neither was anyone’s agenda, apparently.”

Meanwhile, Minjeong, Jinwoo, and Seokhoon had overheard the commotion from a distance. Minjeong shook her head, amused. “Well… that escalated faster than I expected,” she whispered to Jinwoo.

Jinwoo smirked, a knowing glint in his eye. “Secret’s out. And judging by their reactions… exactly as expected.”

Seokhoon’s lips twitched with a faint, private smile. Outwardly, he maintained his usual composed, calm demeanor—but inwardly, he couldn’t help the small, quiet amusement at Hoyeon, Gukhyeon, and Sangchul’s shocked faces. 

He allowed himself a subtle, satisfied breath. Seeing Hyomin surrounded by laughter and warmth, hearing her friends’ astonished chatter, he felt a soft swell of pride—and a quiet happiness that he was finally part of this world of hers.

Later that night, after the garden party had gradually settled down and the few of the guest had quietly said their goodbyes, the house felt softer, cozier, a calm contrast to the laughter and chatter that had filled the outdoor space earlier.

Hyomin paused at the doorway leading into the living room, taking a steadying breath. Seokhoon followed, his usual composure slightly tempered by the quiet weight of the moment. She could feel her heart thumping against her chest, each beat reminding her how important this was.

The faint scent of the night air lingered on her dress from the garden, mixing with the warm aroma of tea and polished wood inside the house. Her parents were seated together on the sofa, quietly sipping tea, their expressions calm but attentive.

Seokhoon glanced at her, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Hyomin gave his hand a light squeeze, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve been ready. It’s just… my heart is racing.”

He nodded, eyes softening. “Then I’ll be right here with you. Just remember, no matter what, we face this together.”

Taking a final deep breath, Hyomin squared her shoulders and stepped forward. “Eomma… Appa… I want you to meet someone important,” she began, her voice soft but steady. She turned to Seokhoon, offering him a reassuring glance. “You already know him as Atty. Yoon, right? But I want you to know he’s also my boyfriend.”

Her parents blinked in surprise. They had only ever known him as Hyomin’s former boss at the firm. Her mother leaned back slightly, eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Wait…” her mother murmured, voice gentle but incredulous. “Am I hearing this correctly? Your boyfriend?”

Hyomin’s cheeks flushed. “Yes… that’s him,” she said, glancing nervously at Seokhoon. He gave her a small, reassuring nod.

Her father raised his eyebrows, leaning forward. “So the man we’ve always known as your professional mentor… is also your boyfriend?” He chuckled softly. “Well, that’s… unexpected.”

Hyomin felt her heart race. “I… I know it’s surprising. I wanted you to meet him properly. Not just as my former boss, but as someone who’s important to me personally.”

Her mother’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I see… that explains the happiness we’ve noticed recently. I should have guessed sooner.”

Her father leaned back, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Honestly… we were a little suspicious. Seeing him at the hospital, always visiting you, so composed, so reliable… we had to check. A little background check, just to be sure he was the right man for our daughter.”

Hyomin’s eyes went wide in shock. “Yahhh!! You… you did a background check on him?!”

Her mother laughed softly. “We just wanted to make sure he’s responsible and trustworthy. And it turns out he is kind, respectful, competent. We don’t care about the age gap or his past. He’s exactly the type we’d hope for our daughter.”

Seokhoon inclined his head respectfully. “Thank you for your trust, sir, ma’am. I promise to continue caring for Hyomin and supporting her in every way I can.”

Hyomin’s heart swelled with relief, gratitude, and a little embarrassment. She squeezed his hand, overwhelmed by the support from both her family and him.

Her father smiled warmly. “One reason I came to the office that day,” he added, teasing slightly, “was to observe him myself. Make sure he was the right fit for our daughter.”

Hyomin blinked, half in shock, half in amusement. “You… watched him at work?” she whispered incredulously.

Her father shook his head with a measured smile. “Not in the literal sense. But we observed quietly, and we inquired about his reputation. As lawyers, we are skilled investigators, after all. We simply wished to ensure that our daughter was in capable hands.”

Seokhoon allowed the faintest smile, the calmest of his composure softening in the warmth of the moment. “I appreciate your concern and trust” he said quietly.

Hyomin laughed softly, cheeks warm. “I… I can’t believe you did all that,” she admitted, glancing between her parents and Seokhoon.

Her mother reached over to squeeze her hand. “We just want you to be happy, Hyomin. And from what we see, you are.”

Her father leaned forward playfully. “But remember… if you ever hurt our daughter, you’ll have both of us to answer to. Understand?”

Seokhoon’s expression remained calm, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Understood, sir,” he said softly.

Hyomin laughed again, a flush creeping onto her cheeks. Relief, joy, and love mingled in her chest as she realized that tonight wasn’t just about her birthday. It was a celebration of trust, love, and a new chapter in her life.

As the evening grew darker, Seokhoon spotted Daniel near the doorway, nursing a drink and watching the remaining guests. He approached him, maintaining his usual calm composure, though his tone was firm.

“Atty. Park,” Seokhoon began, stopping a few feet away, “I want to make something clear. I’m dating Hyomin now. If you have any interest in her, I suggest you stop.”

Daniel blinked, then laughed softly, shaking his head. “Atty. Yoon, relax. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Seokhoon raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Daniel smirked, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m happily married. That’s why I need to go back to the US. I miss my wife. So… Hyomin is completely off-limits.”

Seokhoon’s eyes narrowed slightly, then a small, almost amused smile tugged at his lips. “I see. I apologize for misunderstanding. Well… that makes things easier.”

Daniel chuckled. “Exactly. Enjoy your victory, Atty. Yoon.”

Seokhoon nodded, satisfied. He straightened his shoulders and glanced toward Hyomin across the room, who was laughing softly with her friends. The corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly. Tonight, everything had finally fallen into place.

And for Daniel, tonight marked his last evening in Korea—a quiet farewell before returning home, leaving behind nothing unfinished.

As the night drew on, most of the guests had gone home, leaving behind only a handful of close friends and family. The soft hum of quiet conversation filled the room, mingling with the lingering scent of candles and cake. Hyomin sat between her twin and Seokhoon, the echoes of earlier laughter still faintly lingering in her mind, while her parents watched with gentle, approving smiles.

The first-year lawyers exchanged amazed glances, still processing the revelation, and her closest friends lingered nearby, savoring the intimacy of the moment. Seokhoon’s hand found hers under the table, a quiet reminder of the bond they now shared openly. Hyomin leaned back slightly, letting herself soak in the love, acceptance, and joy that surrounded her.

For the first time in a long while, everything felt exactly as it should—filled with trust, laughter, and the promise of new beginnings. The evening wasn’t just a celebration of her birthday; it was the start of a chapter where hearts aligned, surprises turned into happiness, and Hyomin finally felt completely at home in the life she was building with the people she loved..

After the last guests had gone, Seokhoon found Hyomin alone in the quiet living room, a small box in his hand.

“Happy birthday, Jagiya” he said softly, offering it to her.

Inside was a delicate necklace, its pendant shaped like a tiny, intricate snowflake, each branch perfectly symmetrical and sparkling as it caught the light. The crystal at its center shimmered like a frozen drop of winter morning dew.

Hyomin’s eyes widened softly, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the delicate edges.

Her heart warmed at how perfectly the pendant reflected her favorite season, the quiet magic of snow, the crisp air, and the serene stillness she loved so much. She looked up at Seokhoon, a mixture of surprise and affection in her gaze. 

“You remembered,” she breathed, her voice almost reverent, touched by the thoughtfulness behind the gift.

Seokhoon’s fingers brushed a strand of hair back from her face.

“This isn’t the only gift,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You’ll find out the rest next weekend.”

Hyomin’s heart fluttered. She leaned into him for a brief hug, already imagining the surprises that awaited her. As the quiet night settled around them, she knew this birthday was just the beginning—of love, laughter, and a life shared with the people who mattered most.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since her birthday, yet Hyomin still found herself smiling at the memory of Seokhoon’s teasing and thoughtful gifts. She hadn’t expected that the surprises were far from over.

The sun had barely risen when a soft knock echoed through her apartment. Before she could answer, the door swung open to reveal Seokhoon, casually dressed yet effortlessly sharp, with Hash trotting happily at his side.

“Morning, birthday girl,” Seokhoon greeted, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Ready for your surprise?”

Hyomin blinked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Early morning, huh? It’s been a week since my birthday…”

Her words were interrupted by Hash, who leaped forward, tail wagging furiously. “Oh, hi there, Hash! I’ve missed you,” she said, crouching down to greet him. The dog circled her legs happily, barking softly.

Seokhoon chuckled. “He insisted on coming. Apparently, he’s part of the gift committee.”

Hyomin laughed, shaking her head. “Of course he is. Typical Hash.”

She remembered that she had packed her things yesterday, even though he hadn’t said where they were going. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Wait a second… I packed my stuff, but you didn’t tell me where. I don’t even know if my clothes are appropriate, so I ended up packing everything! Are you seriously making me get in the car completely blind? You’re evil, you know that?”

Seokhoon grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just a little… all in good fun. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

Sliding into the car, Hyomin’s curiosity buzzed like electricity. “Worth it, huh? You’d better hope I survive this suspense, Seokhoon-ah. Where are we going?!”

“You’ll see,” he said, starting the engine, his smile teasing, “but only when the time is right.”

Sliding into the car, she watched as Seokhoon started the engine. “So… where are we going?” she asked, trying to sound casual, though her curiosity was bubbling beneath the surface.

“You’ll see,” Seokhoon replied, glancing at her with a spark of mischief. “Patience, Jagiya. All in good time.”

The drive was filled with laughter, playful teasing, and soft conversation. Hyomin leaned her head against the window, stealing glances at Seokhoon as he drove. His usual calm and composed demeanor softened when he smiled at her, and she felt a flutter in her chest she couldn’t quite explain.

“You really know how to plan a surprise, huh?” she said, her tone half-amused, half-impressed.

Seokhoon smirked. “I told you, I like seeing you happy.”

“I’m starting to think you enjoy this way too much.” Hyomin teased.

“I do,” he admitted, glancing at her briefly, his eyes warm. “Especially when it involves you.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she quickly looked out the window, pretending not to notice the subtle weight of his gaze.

A few hours later, the skyline of Busan appeared, the ocean sparkling under the morning sun. As Seokhoon pulled into the driveway of a luxurious resort overlooking Haeundae Beach, Hyomin’s eyes widened at the sight—the sparkling water, manicured gardens, and the elegant façade of the building.

“Omg… we’re in Busan?” she gasped, eyes wide with disbelief and delight. “You planned all of this? Seriously?”

Seokhoon leaned back in the driver’s seat, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “Before you ask… yes, I’m covering everything.”

Hyomin laughed, crossing her arms as a flush of excitement spread across her cheeks. “Ya! I can pay too, you know. Seriously, how can you afford all this? A luxury resort, a trip to Busan… are you secretly a Chaebol?”

He raised an eyebrow, mock-offended, and glanced at her with a gleam in his eyes. “Excuse me? I’m a senior partner, thank you very much. Years of work, no one to support—except Hash—and plenty to spend.”

Hyomin smirked, shaking her head in disbelief. “Ah, so that’s your excuse for spoiling me rotten, huh?”

Seokhoon leaned a little closer, the corners of his mouth curling into a playful grin. “Maybe. But let’s be honest… I love spoiling you. And I enjoy seeing that grin of yours.”

Hyomin felt her chest warm at his words, the teasing banter making her heart flutter. She glanced out at the shimmering ocean, then back at him, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “You’re crazy… you know that?”

“And yet,” he murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “you somehow love it.”

For a moment, the noise of the world fell away. The salty breeze, the faint sound of waves crashing, and the sight of Seokhoon’s warm smile made her feel like the only person in the world.

After checking into their suite, they wasted no time heading down to the beach. The sand was soft under their feet, the waves gently lapping at the shore.

“Race you to the water,” Hyomin said suddenly, sprinting ahead with a laugh.

Seokhoon chased after her, scooping her up in his arms for a playful spin. “You’re fast, but not fast enough!”

They collapsed onto the sand laughing, Hash running circles around them, barking happily. Hyomin felt a deep contentment. 

I never knew a weekend could feel like this… like we’re the only ones who matter.

They laughed together, the sound blending with the rhythmic crashing of the waves. Hash barked happily, running circles around them, adding to the chaos and joy.

They spent the morning splashing in the water, teasing each other relentlessly, and stealing small touches—hands brushing, playful nudges, and lingering glances that left their hearts racing.

Later, they settled under a beach umbrella. Seokhoon let out a rare sigh. “You know… I rarely take time off. Work… it consumes me.”

Hyomin looked at him, her eyes softening. “I know. I’ve seen you buried in files, always on call. But it’s nice… seeing this side of you. Relaxed. Happy.”

He smiled, brushing her hair back from her face. “This weekend. It’s for you. I wanted us to have time like this. Just us.”

Her chest tightened at his words. He’s doing this all for me… and I can’t stop smiling.

Seokhoon took Hyomin’s hand and pulled her close. “Promise me something?” he asked softly.

“What?” she replied, her heart fluttering.

“That we’ll always find time for moments like this” he said, brushing his lips lightly against her temple.

Hyomin smiled, leaning into him. “I promise.”

Later that evening, they enjoyed a quiet dinner at a seaside restaurant, the soft hum of conversation around them blending with the gentle crash of waves outside. 

Candlelight flickered across their table, casting warm reflections on the wine glasses and the neatly arranged plates. The food was exquisite, but neither of them paid much attention to it—conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter, shared stories, and lingering glances that needed no words.

As they savored dessert, an elderly lady at a nearby table leaned toward them with a gentle smile.

“Excuse me,” the elderly lady said, her voice warm and melodic, “I couldn’t help but notice—your wife is absolutely beautiful.”

Hyomin blinked, caught off guard, a rosy tint rising to her cheeks. She opened her mouth to clarify, “Oh, we’re not—”

But Seokhoon’s hand found hers under the table, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He inclined his head politely, a small, proud smile softening his features. “Thank you, Halmoni. “She is beautiful… inside and out. Truly remarkable. And I’m very lucky to have her.””

“Ah, I see. Well, you are a very lucky man.” The elderly lady chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with delight at his reply. She gave them a gentle nod and gracefully stepped away, leaving the two alone in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Hyomin let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in playful exasperation. “Yah! We’re not even married—”

Seokhoon’s lips curved into a small, teasing smile. “Does that make what I said any less true?” he asked, his eyes warm and steady, locking onto hers.

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, but she couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips as she squeezed his hand. “You do realize you just made me sound like a possession,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Not a possession,” he replied gently, his gaze unwavering. “A choice. Every single day.”

The compliment lingered in the air, sweet and unexpected, adding a new layer of warmth to the already perfect evening.

Later, back in their suite, Seokhoon poured them each a glass of wine, his touch lingering a second longer than necessary as he handed her the glass. Hyomin’s gaze softened, the intimacy of the day settling comfortably between them.

On the balcony, the ocean stretched endlessly before them, bathed in moonlight. Hyomin leaned against the railing, taking in the view, but she felt the pull of Seokhoon’s presence behind her.

“I don’t usually do this,” he murmured, voice low, sending shivers down her spine. “Taking time off… spending like this. But for you… I wanted everything to be perfect.”

Her heart tightened. “You always find a way to surprise me” she whispered, turning to face him.

His hands framed her face, thumb brushing her cheek. “Hyomin…”

The word was soft, intimate, charged with everything he had been holding back. Then his lips were on hers—slow, deliberate, claiming and gentle all at once. Hyomin’s breath caught, and she melted into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck as the world narrowed to just them.

The kiss deepened, heated yet tender, a mixture of longing and discovery. Every brush of their lips, every soft murmur of each other’s names, sent waves of warmth through her. Seokhoon’s hands traced her back, holding her close as though he never wanted to let go.

Seokhoon leaned closer, his gaze locking onto hers, steady and unwavering. “I love you Hyomin-ah,” he said softly, his voice low and deliberate.

“I love you not just for your smile, or your laughter, or the way you light up a room… I love the way you see the world, the way you care so deeply, the courage you carry quietly, and the strength you show even when you think no one is watching. I love the way you make ordinary moments feel special, and the way being with you makes me want to be better—every single day. I love all of you, the parts you show and the parts only I get to see.”

Hyomin’s chest tightened, and her eyes glistened with tears she didn’t mind letting fall. Her lips curved into a soft, trembling smile. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice raw and certain, “for all of that… and more. For every part of you that I’ve come to know, and every part I’ll discover tomorrow and the day after.”

They lingered in each other’s arms, kissing, holding, savoring the closeness. The ocean breeze brushed against them, carrying the faint scent of salt and night flowers, while the soft sound of Hash snoring nearby added a comforting rhythm to the moment. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was the culmination of weeks of teasing, stolen glances, and growing desire, all leading to this perfect, shared intimacy.

Seokhoon’s lips traced hers one last time before he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with longing. “Come with me” he murmured, voice low and husky.

The balcony doors slid shut behind them, muffling the distant sounds of the resort. Seokhoon’s hands found Hyomin’s waist almost instinctively, pulling her close until there was no space between them. She shivered against him, their breaths mingling, as his lips trailed along the side of her neck, sending a warmth coursing through her. Every touch, every brush of skin, deepened the connection they’d been building for weeks.

“Hyomin-ah,” he murmured, voice low and rough with desire. He cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek, searching her eyes with intensity. “I want you… are you sure?”

Hyomin’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening, but her gaze remained steady on his. “Yes… I want this too,” she whispered, voice trembling slightly, yet certain. She tilted her head back instinctively, letting him explore, feeling the steady strength of him against her. Every brush of his lips, every whisper of her name, made her pulse thrum in response.

She pressed closer, hands tangling in his hair, pulling him down to meet her lips. Their kiss was hungry, urgent, and yet tender, a perfect mix of passion and intimacy. Seokhoon’s hands roamed over her back, tracing the curve of her spine, pulling her into him as if he never wanted to let her go.

Hyomin gasped softly, her body arching into him. Every touch, every low murmur from him, sent heat pooling deep inside her. She had never felt so seen, so desired, so utterly safe in someone’s arms.

Seokhoon broke the kiss only to murmur against her lips, “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for so long.”

“I… I’ve wanted you too,” she whispered back, trembling with desire and anticipation.

He captured her lips again, more demanding now, as if needing to communicate everything he’d held back in that single kiss. Hyomin clung to him, losing herself in the sensation, the closeness, the way their bodies fit together perfectly.

For a long moment, they simply existed in each other—touching, kissing, exploring—letting the world outside disappear. The gentle sound of the waves below, the soft glow of the moonlight, and the warmth of each other’s bodies made everything feel infinite.

Eventually, they slowed, foreheads pressed together, breathing hard, hearts racing in sync. Seokhoon’s hands cradled her face gently, thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

“I love you,” he whispered again, this time with a fierce intimacy, as if sealing a promise that went beyond words.

“I love you too,” Hyomin breathed back, voice soft and shivering, her body and heart fully entwined with his.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, the night carrying them in its quiet intimacy. This weekend hadn’t just been a gift. It had become a promise of passion, trust, and love that would only grow stronger from here.

The first light of morning spilled softly into the suite, painting the room in warm gold. Hyomin stirred against Seokhoon, her head resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. The quiet sound of Hash softly snoring at their feet added to the serenity of the moment.

She blinked sleepily, memories of the night before still vivid—the first time they had shared that closeness, that intimacy, that trust. Her body still hummed with the memory, but more than that, her heart felt full, tethered to his in a way it never had been before.

“Good morning,” Seokhoon murmured, voice low and husky from sleep. He brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her cheek.

“Morning,” she replied, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “You… slept well?”

He chuckled, tightening his arms around her. “I slept perfectly. Especially with you here.”

Hyomin tilted her head up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, savoring the warmth and tenderness of the moment. When she pulled back slightly, her expression softened with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Seokhoon-ah… about Hash…”

He raised an eyebrow, alert. “Hash?”

“Yes,” she said, propping herself on her elbow. “Your ex-wife agreed to leave Hash in your custody, but with conditions, right? Did she expect you to find a roommate—or even a wife—just to take care of him? Should we get married already, or should I just move in with you?”

Seokhoon’s lips curved into a small, amused smile. “She did suggest that. But don’t worry. We don’t need to get married just for Hash. We’ll figure something else out.”

Hyomin blinked, surprised. “Something else…? I know how much you care about Hash, and I’m willing to do this for you.”

He leaned closer, brushing his thumb gently over her cheek, his gaze soft but intense. “Yes, something else. Something that doesn’t require either of us pretending. My love for you isn’t conditional, Hyomin-ah. I love you… not because of Hash, not because of anyone else’s expectations. I love you for you.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest, her heart swelling. “But what about Hash?”

Seokhoon pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “I’ll take care of Hash… and I’ll take care of you. Because I love you. You don’t need to be anyone’s wife just because of circumstances. You are more than that.”

Hyomin’s lips curved into a smile as she leaned up to kiss him again, her heart echoing every word.

“Arasso,” she whispered, soft but certain, feeling the truth of it settle deep inside her.

They lingered in each other’s arms, a comfortable intimacy lingering from the night before. Every brush of skin, every gentle touch, every soft murmur reminded them both that what had happened was not just physical—it was a declaration of trust, love, and connection.

Hash let out a soft bark, causing Hyomin to laugh and ruffle his fur. Seokhoon’s gaze softened as he watched her, a quiet contentment settling over him.

This… this is perfect, he thought, wrapping her a little closer.

For a long moment, they simply held each other, hearts beating in sync. Nothing had to be rushed. Nothing had to be forced. Last night had been the first step, and now, in the soft glow of morning, they both knew—this love was real, unconditional, and entirely their own.

Chapter Text

The weekend birthday trip hadn’t ended with the beach or quiet dinners. Before returning to Seoul, Seokhoon insisted on a detour to Changwon—to visit his mother. Hyomin smiled at a memory that now seemed quietly amusing: she had assumed, without a second thought, that Seokhoon was a Seoul boy. There had been no trace of a regional accent in his voice, nothing to hint at his hometown. She remembered how he had explained it briefly—he’d gone to high school in Seoul, and that was why he sounded the way he did. At the time, it had struck her as both practical and oddly charming: so polished, so self-assured, yet still rooted to the small hometown he held dear.

Hyomin’s stomach fluttered with nerves as they drove south.

“Seokhoon-ah… I don’t have anything suitable to wear. What if she doesn’t like me?” she murmured, tugging at the hem of her light dress.

Seokhoon glanced at her, calm and steady. “Hyomin, you don’t need to impress anyone with clothes. You’re beautiful just the way you are. My mother will see that too.”

Hyomin took a deep breath, letting his confidence ease her worries. His words were grounding, reminding her that she didn’t need to be perfect—just herself.

The drive from Busan to Changwon took just over an hour, the highway cutting through rolling hills dotted with small farms and clusters of houses. Spring greenery stretched alongside the road, and the occasional glimpse of a quiet stream or a distant mountain peak added a peaceful charm to the journey. Hyomin watched the scenery in quiet awe, the hum of the car and Seokhoon’s steady presence beside her calming her nerves.

By the time they arrived, the streets had a slower, more relaxed rhythm than the busy city life she was used to. Small cafes and local shops lined the roads, their signs painted in gentle pastel tones. Seokhoon’s mother was standing in the doorway of her modest, warmly maintained home. At first, she looked surprised to see him—then her face lit up with a mixture of joy and relief.

“Seokhoon! My son!” she exclaimed, hurrying forward to embrace him tightly. The hug was immediate and heartfelt, the kind that spoke of months of longing and the quiet ache of distance finally soothed. Hyomin lingered behind for a moment, unsure of how to step forward, but Seokhoon gently guided her with a hand at her back.

It had been months since their last meeting, and the warmth in her hug was immediate, sincere, and slightly wistful. She stepped back slightly, eyes flicking curiously to Hyomin. “And… who is this?”

Hyomin offered a polite bow, cheeks tinged with pink. “It’s so nice to meet you, Ajumeoni. I’m Kang Hyomin.”

Before she could say more, Seokhoon gently interjected, his voice calm but firm. “Eomma, she’s my girlfriend.”

For a heartbeat, his mother froze, eyes widening in surprise.

“Girlfriend?” she repeated, her voice a mixture of shock and disbelief. Then, as the words sank in, her expression softened, and a radiant smile spread across her face. Relief, joy, and a quiet pride shimmered in her eyes.

“My son… has someone… after all these years,” she murmured, her voice catching slightly. “After everything, you’ve finally found someone to care for you. How wonderful.”

She glanced between them, lingering on Hyomin with warmth and approval. “Thank you… for being here with him today, for making him happy.”

Hyomin’s nerves melted under the mother’s gentle acceptance.

“It’s really an honor to meet you, Ajumeoni,” she said softly. “I’ve heard so much about you from Seokhoon… he always speaks so fondly of you.”

His mother’s eyes twinkled as she folded her arms, studying Hyomin with curiosity. “You know, Seokhoon isn’t exactly… easy to deal with.”

Hyomin laughed softly, shaking her head. “Oh, I know, Ajumeoni. I’ve been with him long enough to understand that.”

Seokhoon shot her a look, mock offended. “Hyomin-ah! You’re supposed to be on my side here!”

Hyomin leaned back, smiling serenely. “I am on your side but let’s be honest—I’ve handled worse than your stubborn streak.”

His mother’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Ah, I see. You’re not intimidated, huh? Good. He can be a handful—stubborn, controlling, dramatic… sometimes he doesn’t even realize how much trouble he causes.”

Seokhoon groaned dramatically, holding up his hands. “Eomma! I am perfectly manageable! She doesn’t know half of it!”

Hyomin raised an eyebrow, teasing lightly. “Oh? Because from where I’m sitting, you’re the one who bends to me more than I bend to you.”

His mother laughed, shaking her head. “Exactly! See, Seokhoon? She already has you under control. Don’t even think of arguing with her.”

Seokhoon sputtered, trying to defend himself. “Eomma! That’s not—”

“Nope,” his mother cut him off with a sly grin. “You’ve had your fun, Seokhoon, but she’s the boss here. Treat her well, or I’ll know—and I will intervene.”

Seokhoon groaned dramatically. “Eomma! You’re supposed to be on my side! Not hers!”

“I am on your side,” she said, a sly grin forming. “But in life, Seokhoon, the right side isn’t always yours. And right now, she is. Hyomin, you have my support. If he gives you any trouble, I’ll remind him who raised him.”

Hyomin’s chest warmed at the words, her smile growing shy but genuine. “Thank you, Ajumeoni. That means a lot.”

Seokhoon looked at her, a mix of amusement and mock exasperation in his eyes. “Outnumbered again,” he muttered under his breath.

Hyomin relaxed into her seat, the tension she’d carried all the way from the car melting away. His mother reached for the tea set on the side table, pouring two delicate cups with practiced grace.

“Here,” she said, handing one to Hyomin. “You must be tired after the trip. Drink this. It’s chamomile. It’ll help you unwind.”

Hyomin accepted it with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Ajumeoni. That’s very kind of you.”

His mother settled back in her chair, eyes warm and curious. “So… tell me about yourself, Hyomin. What made you fall for my son, hmm?”

Hyomin laughed softly, a little nervous. “Well… I think it started when I realized how kind he is, not just to me, but to everyone around him. And… I guess I love how he cares so deeply about people even if he doesn’t always show it.”

Her mother’s eyes softened, and a hint of pride shone through. “That’s exactly the boy I know… but it’s been so long since I saw him like this. You’ve brought out a side of him I haven’t seen in years. I can tell he’s happier.”

Hyomin hesitated, then added quietly, “He’s… always so strong and capable, and I admire that. But what really made me fall for him was how, behind all that strength, he’s thoughtful, protective, and… really genuine with the people he cares about. He’s not perfect, but he’s… completely himself.”

Her mother smiled knowingly, leaning forward slightly. “That’s what matters most. It takes someone special to see through all that and appreciate the real Seokhoon. I can tell, just from the way you look at him… that you understand him in a way few people do.”

Hyomin felt warmth bloom in her chest. “I try. I just… want him to be happy. Truly happy.”

Her mother reached out, giving Hyomin’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Then I already like you. More than I can say. It’s not easy to find someone who makes my son this… alive again. You’re doing something wonderful for him, Hyomin.”

Hyomin felt a wave of relief and gratitude. “I really hope we can get along, Ajumeoni.”

His mother chuckled, giving her a reassuring nod. “Don’t worry. By the end of today, I think we’ll be more than fine—we’ll be a team. And trust me, Seokhoon needs a team like you.”

Seokhoon, watching quietly from the side, couldn’t help the small, soft smile tugging at his lips. He reached under the table, gently squeezing Hyomin’s hand.

“You see?” he murmured. “She already likes you more than me.”

Hyomin laughed softly, leaning slightly closer to him. “Maybe…”

They continued talking, the conversation flowing naturally as they shared stories about their lives, memories from Seokhoon’s childhood, and even lighthearted family anecdotes. Hyomin laughed at the small mischiefs her mother recalled, while Seokhoon listened quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips, watching the easy connection forming between the two most important women in his life. Hours seemed to pass effortlessly as the room filled with laughter, gentle teasing, and the quiet warmth of acceptance.

Hyomin realized she could genuinely enjoy herself with Seokhoon’s mother. There was no pretense, just warmth, humor, and kindness. By the time they left the living room, it felt as if they had already formed a quiet bond.

Seokhoon suggested they take a stroll to the nearby park, and Hyomin welcomed the idea. The warm summer air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, while the soft hum of cicadas added a lazy, comforting rhythm to the afternoon. As they walked together, laughter and gentle conversation flowing naturally, Seokhoon’s mother fell slightly behind, catching his arm with a quiet touch. Her voice was low, meant only for him, carrying a tenderness that made Hyomin smile softly from a few steps ahead.

“You know,” his mother began, a small, tender smile lighting her face, “I like her.”

She paused, as if gathering her thoughts, then continued softly.

“I was hesitant at first, I admit… I thought she might be one of those Seoul girls—sophisticated, sharp, a little distant. And because she’s a lawyer, I imagined she’d be serious, bossy, always needing things her way.” She shook her head gently, a quiet laugh escaping her lips.

“But she’s not. She’s gentle, kind, and genuine. Somehow, she brings out the best in you. I haven’t seen you this happy in so long, Seokhoon. I can see it… deep in your eyes. You truly like her.”

Her words hung in the warm summer air between them, soft but unwavering, leaving Hyomin walking a few steps ahead with a quiet, reflective smile.

Seokhoon’s steps slowed, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I was worried about how you’d feel, Eomma.”

“Me?” she said with a teasing lift of her brow. “I’ve been waiting for years to see you smile like this. She’s good for you, Seokhoon. Take care of her.”

He nodded, the weight of her approval settling warmly in his chest. “I will. I promise.”

Later, as they prepared to leave, Seokhoon’s mother busied herself in the kitchen, gathering a few containers. “Here,” she said, handing them neatly wrapped portions of homemade dishes. “Take some with you to Seoul. You two will need fuel for the trip, and I insist you eat well.”

Hyomin’s cheeks flushed. “Ajumeoni… thank you. This is so thoughtful of you.”

His mother shook her head with a playful smile. “Yah, Hyomin-ah. Stop calling me ajumeoni. From now on, you call me Eomma, okay?”

Seokhoon snorted, leaning back slightly. “Eomma? Already giving her special privileges, huh?”

His mother shot him a mock glare. “Of course, I like her more than you”

Hyomin laughed, nodding. “Alright, Eomma. I’ll remember.”

Seokhoon chuckled softly, leaning close.

“Looks like you’ve officially passed the first test,” he murmured.

Hyomin smiled, feeling the warmth of approval settle comfortably around her.

“I think I can manage this, Eomma,” she said gently, giving Seokhoon’s mother a grateful look.

His mother’s eyes twinkled. “Good. Now, let’s not waste time. Seoul isn’t going anywhere, but you two have a long ride ahead. And Hyomin-ah… thank you for being here with him. You’ve made me happier than I expected today.”

Hyomin’s heart swelled. “Thank you, Eomma. It truly means a lot to me. Visit us in Seoul please?”

After hugs, laughter, and a few last playful scoldings for Seokhoon, they stepped outside. The sun had begun to dip low, painting the sky in soft shades of orange and pink. Hyomin clutched the containers of food, feeling the tangibility of Eomma’s care, and Seokhoon slid an arm around her waist.

“This feels… like more than just a visit,” Hyomin murmured softly.

Seokhoon pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “It is,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “It’s the beginning of something… with you and with my family. You’re a part of that now.”

Hyomin smiled, leaning into him, her hand brushing lightly over his. The drive back to Seoul was no longer just a journey home—it was the first chapter of a life they would continue building together, surrounded by warmth, acceptance, and the quiet reassurance of love.

Chapter Text

The weeks before Minjeong and Jinwoo’s wedding were a delicate balancing act. Between long hours at the office, client meetings, and court filings, she found herself juggling wedding plans like a second full-time job. Hyomin, her confidante, had made it a point to step in whenever she could.

It was a Friday evening when Hyomin arrived at Minjeong’s apartment, a bag slung over her shoulder containing swatches of fabric, neatly folded invitations, and a small notebook filled with scribbles and checklists.

“Hyomin-ah, you’re a lifesaver,” Minjeong exclaimed, closing her laptop. “I swear, between work and all this wedding prep, I’d collapse without you.”

Hyomin smiled, setting her bag down on the coffee table. “That’s what I’m here for unnie. But tonight, I have an idea, we should invite your daughter. She can help with the decorations, and maybe even give some fashion advice.”

Minjeong hesitated, glancing at her daughter who was lounging on the sofa scrolling through her phone. “You really think she’d be interested? She’s usually so focused on her own thing…”

Hyomin grinned knowingly. “Trust me. Fashion, flowers, color palettes. She’ll love this.”

Moments later, her daughter arrived in her apartment, curiosity sparking in her eyes as she scanned the swatches, centerpieces, and neatly stacked invitations. “So… you want my opinion?” she asked, arching a brow, clearly intrigued.

“Exactly” Hyomin said, her tone playful. “We need your expertise. Which fabrics, which flowers, what vibe works best. It’s all in your hands.”

The daughter immediately immersed herself in the preparations, pairing fabrics, critiquing color combinations, and offering stylish suggestions for the invitation layout. Her confident energy filled the room, and Hyomin found herself enjoying the easy collaboration.

Minjeong watched quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Wow… she’s really into this. And she’s got such an eye for detail.”

Hyomin laughed softly. “I wasn’t wrong. She’s a natural. And honestly, she keeps us on our toes. I like it.”

Hours passed in a flurry of discussion, laughter, and teasing critiques. Hyomin adjusted pleats, pinned flowers, and debated minor details with her. The conversation flowed effortlessly, blending practicality with creativity, with occasional bursts of teasing that left everyone smiling.

By the end of the night, the seating charts were finalized, invitations checked off, and the fabrics chosen. Her daughter leaned back, smirking. “Alright, I’ll admit it. I’m kind of proud of this setup. But you two better not ignore my genius ideas next time.”

Hyomin smiled warmly, offering a gentle nod. “Not a chance. You’re officially part of the wedding team now.”

Minjeong leaned back in her chair, exhausted but grateful. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you both. You’ve made all of this so much easier… and actually fun.”

Hyomin winked. “That’s what friends—and honorary wedding assistants—are for.”

A few weekends before the wedding, Minjeong and her daughter decided to spend the day together, taking a break from the whirlwind of wedding preparations. They wandered through the boutiques in Seoul, the daughter’s eyes lighting up at every display of fabrics, accessories, and shoes.

“Eomma, look at these!” she exclaimed, holding up a pair of elegant heels. “These would go perfectly with the colors we picked for the wedding!”

Minjeong laughed softly, shaking her head at her daughter’s enthusiasm. “You’re enjoying this way more than I thought you would. I guess all those hours with me stressing over dresses finally rubbed off on you.”

Her daughter twirled in front of a mirror, adjusting a hat she found on a display. “I’m telling you, Mom—I live for fashion. And this wedding is the perfect excuse to indulge a little!”

As they settled into a quiet café later, sipping coffee and nibbling on pastries, Minjeong’s expression softened.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, her voice hesitant. “You’re not… upset that I’m marrying again, are you? I know it’s been hard since your father and I separated.”

Her daughter shook her head quickly, a reassuring smile on her lips. “Mom, don’t be silly. I want you to be happy. You’ve been so lonely these past years. I just want to see you smiling again. That’s all that matters.”

Minjeong felt a wave of relief wash over her.

“Thank you” she murmured, reaching across the table to squeeze her daughter’s hand. “It means so much to me… knowing you understand.”

As they rested on a bench outside the boutique, Minjeong’s daughter fiddled with a pair of chic heels, eyes thoughtful.

“Eomma… do you think I could ever go to fashion school?” she asked quietly, her fingers tracing the stitching.

For a moment, Minjeong’s heart skipped. It was the first time her daughter had ever asked her for a favor like this, and the honesty in her voice melted her heart. She studied her daughter’s earnest expression, feeling both pride and tenderness swell inside her.

“Fashion school? You really want to?” Minjeong asked softly, her voice gentle.

She nodded, biting her lip. “Yes… but Dad… he wouldn’t allow it. He thinks it’s impractical.”

Minjeong’s expression softened even more, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Well… maybe it’s time someone believed in your dreams as much as you do. You have my full support.”

Her daughter’s face lit up, a mix of relief and excitement. “Really? You’d actually let me try?”

“Of course,” Minjeong replied, squeezing her hand gently. “Sometimes, we just need the courage to follow what we love, even if it’s not the path everyone expects.”

Her daughter’s eyes sparkled, and she threw her arms around Minjeong in a tight hug. “Thank you, Eomma! I’ll work so hard—I promise!”

Minjeong held her close, feeling her heart swell even more. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt such warmth and gratitude directed solely at her.

Minjeong smiled softly at her daughter’s excitement, a playful thought crossing her mind. “You know… would you like to move in with me for a while? So we can spend more time together?”

Her daughter laughed, shaking her head. “Eomma, I’m already living on my own. I don’t want to be a permanent third wheel! Besides, I can always visit you.”

Minjeong chuckled, gently ruffling her daughter’s hair. “Fair enough. I guess I’ll have to make do with visits and shopping trips, then.”

Minjeong felt her chest warm at the words, a quiet, precious bond settling between them, one she knew would only grow stronger in the weeks ahead.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with laughter, style tips, and endless talk about the wedding: the hanbok, the flowers, even the seating arrangements. By the time they headed home, Minjeong realized this day had been more than just a fun bonding. It was a quiet reassurance that her daughter supported her, that she was not facing the changes in her life alone.

Minjeong savored the quiet moment with her daughter, their laughter still lingering in the room. She felt a deep sense of gratitude for these small, shared joys—the fleeting moments between the chaos of work and the whirlwind of wedding planning. In that instant, she realized how much support and love surrounded her, from family, friends, and her daughter, who had become her little confidante in ways she hadn’t expected.

And so began the weeks that followed—a blur of hanbok fittings stretching late into the evenings, endless food tastings at wedding halls across the city, and countless messages flying back and forth about seating charts, video montages, and ceremonial details. There were moments of chaos too: a florist changing her mind last minute, a seamstress redoing a hem overnight, even a brief panic when the slideshow froze during rehearsal. Yet, through all the late nights and flurries of stress, excitement wove everything together, tying every effort into one shared anticipation.

And now, at last, the day had come. The wedding hall glowed beneath soft chandeliers, its stage framed with cascading white orchids and peonies. Rows of chairs stretched neatly down the aisle, where a pale carpet awaited the bride’s steps. Guests arrived in waves, some in sleek suits and dresses, others in vibrant hanbok, their quiet chatter blending with the strings of a live quartet. The wedding of Heo Minjeong and Lee Jinwoo was no longer a plan on paper. It was here, alive and unfolding.

Inside the bride’s waiting room, the air buzzed with activity. Stylists leaned close to adjust Minjeong’s makeup, her daughter fluttered around to fix the train of her gown, and on the side table lay her hanbok, neatly folded for the paebaek ceremony later. Minjeong sat in front of the mirror, a bouquet trembling slightly in her hands.

Hyomin bent down to smooth the lace along her friend’s dress. “You look so beautiful, Minjeong-unnie,” she said softly, her voice steady against Minjeong’s nerves.

“Do I?” Minjeong whispered, her lips trembling into a nervous smile. “My legs feel like jelly. What if I stumble? What if I forget everything the moment I step out there?”

Hyomin chuckled softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Minjeong’s ear. “Unnie, you’ve weathered enough courtroom storms to handle a bride in mild panic mode. Trust me. You’ve got this.”

She caught her own reflection in the mirror and chuckled softly again, though her eyes betrayed the storm inside her.

“Back then, I thought I knew what marriage meant. I thought nerves were just about how I looked, or whether everything would go according to plan. But now… now it’s different.” Her throat tightened, and for a brief moment, her smile trembled.

“This time, it feels bigger. More fragile. Because I know what it means to choose someone for the rest of your life and I don’t want to get it wrong. I don’t want to fail again.” She blinked rapidly, fanning her face with her hand as if to laugh off the tears threatening to spill.

Her daughter leaned closer, slipping her fingers gently into her mother’s hand. “You’re not failing, Mom. You’re brave for trying again. And Jinwoo’s not just anyone. He’s the one who makes you laugh again.”

The words undid Minjeong’s composure, and she squeezed her daughter’s hand tightly, a tear escaping down her cheek.

“You’re right,” she whispered, smiling through the ache. “And I’m so glad it’s you who’s here with me. I was afraid you’d think… that this meant I was choosing a new life without you. But instead, you’ve been my anchor through everything.”

Her daughter’s eyes softened, her voice trembling with conviction. “I just want you to be happy, Mom. You deserve this.”

Minjeong’s heart swelled at the words, joy blooming through the nervousness. For all the gowns and flowers and ceremony, nothing meant more than this—the quiet blessing of the person who mattered most. She laughed softly again, this time from a place of pure gratitude.

“Then I can walk forward without fear.” Her eyes softened, though a faint shimmer of tears gathered there. For a moment, her gaze drifted to the empty space where her mother should have been. The thought pierced her chest—her mom would have loved to see this, to walk beside her, to share in her joy.

Instead, it would be her daughter, Yuna, who would guide her down the aisle. The young woman stood tall, dressed in a pastel hanbok that honored her grandmother’s memory. Minjeong looked at her daughter and smiled through the ache.

“You’ll walk me, right?” she asked gently.

Yuna nodded, her own voice trembling with emotion. “Of course. Halmeoni can’t be here… but I’ll take her steps today.”

A soft knock came at the door. The photographer peeked in, camera in hand.

“Bride’s room photo?” he asked politely.

Minjeong nodded, wiping quickly at her eyes.

Yuna slipped beside her mother, their hands linked as they posed for the camera. Minjeong tilted her head against her daughter’s, both of them smiling through the rush of emotion. The shutter clicked, capturing the bond that made this day complete.

Then Seokhoon entered, his presence calm yet grounding.

“Are you ready, Minjeong?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

Minjeong took a slow, deep breath, letting the nerves and excitement swirl together.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she whispered, a small smile tugging at her lips.

The four of them—Minjeong, Yuna, Seokhoon, and Hyomin—fell into place as if it had always been this way. Not by blood, but by choice: a family shaped through loyalty, love, and shared history.

The photographer’s lens clicked again.

“Beautiful. You all look like family,” he said with a warm smile.

Minjeong’s chest tightened, not with anxiety, but with something far more tender. For the first time in years, she felt it—this sense of belonging, of home, and of love surrounding her in every direction.

The ceremony was simple yet elegant. The vows were heartfelt. Hyomin felt her throat tighten as Minjeong and Jinwoo exchanged rings. She dabbed her eyes quickly, but Seokhoon noticed. Without a word, he slipped his handkerchief into her hand. Their fingers brushed, a brief touch that lingered in the air longer than it should have.

Beside them, the other first-year lawyers watched, tears in their eyes. Hoyeon clasped her hands together, whispering, “Atty. Jinwoo looks so happy… I didn’t know weddings could feel this emotional.”

Gukhyeon leaned forward slightly, a soft grin on his face. “Atty. Minjeong really deserves this. After everything she’s been through, it’s like… she finally found her peace.”

Sangchul nodded in quiet agreement, his usually steady expression touched with warmth. “And Atty. Jinwoo  looks at her like she’s his whole world. That’s real.”

The three exchanged small, genuine smiles, their whispers blending into the hushed awe of the moment, as if even they knew they were witnessing something far more precious than just a ceremony.

The reception hall glowed beneath warm chandeliers, every table adorned with soft blooms and flickering candles. The air buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and the hum of conversation. A soft melody from the live band filled the space, drawing everyone’s attention back to the center of the room where Minjeong and Jinwoo stepped onto the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife.

They moved together with an ease that spoke of love earned through time and patience, their smiles never wavering as they swayed in rhythm. Midway through the song, Jinwoo lifted his gaze and gestured for the other couples to join them. Slowly, pairs spilled onto the floor—their parents first, then uncles and cousins, until the dance floor became a whirl of joy and celebration.

Not far from where Hyomin stood, a woman in her thirties glided toward Seokhoon. She was striking in a fitted dress, her bold eyes glittering with intent. Leaning in just a little too close, her perfume trailing in the air, she spoke in a low, sultry voice that carried easily through the music. “Would you dance with me?”

Hyomin froze, her chest tightening as she took in the sight. The woman’s confidence, her elegance, the way she seemed perfectly matched to Seokhoon’s age — it all made Hyomin’s pulse quicken in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Seokhoon, however, only offered a polite smile, his tone calm but resolute.

“I’m sorry. I only dance with my girlfriend” he said gently, shaking his head.

The woman tilted her head, lips curving as if she was used to getting her way, then let out a light laugh before slipping back into the crowd. Hyomin tried to mask her relief, but the sting of jealousy burned hot in her chest. She looked away, pretending to focus on the couples swirling across the floor, though her thoughts were anything but steady.

And then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, Seokhoon stepped toward her.

He extended his hand, his eyes steady and unyielding. “Shall we?”

Hyomin blinked, caught between embarrassment and a sudden rush of joy. Her jealousy melted into warmth as she placed her hand in his, and in the next heartbeat, she was in his arms. Their steps fell easily into sync, the music carrying them into a private world of their own.

The chatter, the clinking of glasses, even the crowd around them blurred away. His gaze held hers, steady and grounding, until her chest fluttered uncontrollably.

“You dance well” she teased softly, her lips curving.

“I told you before,” he murmured back, the corner of his mouth lifting, “I’m good at things that matter.”

Hyomin’s cheeks warmed, but the memory of the other woman flickered in her mind. She bit her lip, then blurted, “You could have said yes to her, you know.”

Seokhoon’s brows rose, amused. “Are you jealous?”

Her eyes widened, and she tried to look away. “I wasn’t… I mean—maybe a little,” she admitted, her voice dropping.

He chuckled low, leaning in until his breath brushed her ear. “Good. I like it when you’re jealous. It reminds me that you care.”

Her heart skipped, torn between indignation and a laugh.

“You’re insufferable,” she whispered, though her smile betrayed her.

“And yet,” he murmured, tightening his hand at her waist, “you’re still here, dancing with me Jagiya.”

Their moment didn’t go unnoticed. Just beyond the dance floor, a cluster of senior lawyers had gathered with drinks in hand. Whispers rippled between them as they took in the sight of Seokhoon and Hyomin, no longer just colleagues but unmistakably something more.

“Is that… Atty. Yoon and Kang Hyomin?” one of the senior associates muttered, eyebrows raised.

“Are they… together?”

“What? Since when—?”

“Dancing like that in front of everyone,” another chimed in, half-scandalized, half-curious.

“Is this even acceptable? Senior-junior lawyers are not ….”

But before the murmurs could grow sharper, Atty. Kwon, the managing partner herself, set down her glass with calm authority. Her gaze was steady, her voice carrying over the hushed conversations. “They are both excellent lawyers and responsible adults. If they choose to build something together, it’s not for us to question, but to respect.”

A quiet voice, tinged with surprise, piped up from the back. “You knew?”

Atty. Kwon’s lips curved into a small, amused smile. “I did. He told me from the start. And I’ve been waiting to see them finally… well, like this.”

The murmurs softened, replaced with nods of understanding. Some of the senior lawyers exchanged sheepish glances, realizing the truth had been out in the open all along.

The group stilled at her words. One or two nodded immediately in agreement.

“They do look good together” someone admitted with a small smile. Another, less convinced, still pressed, “But what about firm policy—?”

“Policies are written to prevent abuse, not to forbid love,” Atty. Kwon cut in smoothly, her tone firm but not unkind. “And I trust Atty. Yoon enough to know he won’t let his personal life interfere with his work.”

The weight of her words settled over them, softening the tension. Some of the senior lawyers even chuckled, exchanging amused glances.

“Well,” one said, lifting a glass in their direction, “about time Atty. Yoon let someone in.”

Meanwhile, on the dance floor, Hyomin flushed crimson when she noticed the attention, but Seokhoon only smirked, pulling her closer as if to silently agree with every whispered speculation.

Later that night, when the music and chatter had softened into the background, Hyomin and Seok Hoon slipped outside for air. The garden was hushed, the faint chorus of cicadas weaving into the night, while fairy lights strung between the trees cast a soft, golden glow around them.

“You know…” Hyomin began, her lips curving as she tilted her head toward him, eyes shimmering with mischief. “You looked dangerously good tonight. Too good. I counted at least three women staring at you—and that’s only the ones I actually caught.”

A low chuckle escaped him, rich and unhurried. He leaned a fraction closer, gaze steady. “Says the one who walked in and stole the entire room. You were beautiful tonight, Hyomin-ah. You always are.”

Heat touched her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she let herself smile, her voice softening as she glanced back toward the hall where Minjeong and Jinwoo were still surrounded by laughter. 

“Watching them made me realize something. Marriage isn’t just pretty vows. It’s the everyday parts. The hard days, the small victories, the choosing each other again and again. It’s… scary, but kind of wonderful too.”

Seokhoon’s expression shifted, his eyes intent on hers. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it gently over her shoulders, the warmth of it grounding.

“Marriage isn’t easy” he said quietly. “I’ve lived through that. But when it’s with the right person… you fight, you compromise, you build piece by piece. That’s what makes it worth it.”

Hyomin’s lips curved, mischief slipping into her tone as she tilted her head at him. “So… are you saying you’d ever try again? Maybe with someone stubborn enough to argue with you, but soft enough to sneak tissues into your briefcase?”

His laugh was low, but his gaze didn’t waver. “Depends,” he said smoothly. “Would that someone also drive me crazy, make me smile at the worst possible times, and steal my dog’s affection?”

Her cheeks warmed, but she lifted her chin, meeting his look head-on. “If she did… then maybe she’s worth marrying.”

The words hung between them, light and playful on the surface, but charged with something far deeper. For a long moment, neither moved, as if both of them understood they had just stepped closer to a future they weren’t quite ready to name—but both secretly hoped for.

Chapter Text

The conference room at Lee and Seo Law Firm exuded sleek minimalism—glass walls gleaming under sunlight, polished wood catching the light in warm tones. The faint hum of the air conditioning mingled with the soft, rhythmic taps of pens against legal pads. Stacks of neatly arranged documents reflected the glow of the afternoon sun, casting a sharp, formal brightness over the tense gathering.

Hyomin sat across from Atty. Han, her ex-boyfriend, representing her client. She kept her posture straight, shoulders squared, her expression composed but alert, every muscle coiled with quiet readiness. The room felt heavier than usual, the kind of tension that made the air itself seem dense. Every pair of eyes was on her, colleagues and clients alike, waiting to see how she would navigate the delicate negotiation.

“Atty. Kang, your argument seems solid, but are you suggesting that the terms of the contract as signed should be altered retroactively?” Han asked, his voice sharp, measured, laced with that familiar edge that made her pulse tighten.

Hyomin’s jaw tightened instinctively, a dull throb pressing insistently behind her eyes. Her temple pulsed with every word, but she forced herself to swallow, leaning slightly forward. “Not altered retroactively, Atty. Han. What we’re seeking is a clarification on enforceability moving forward, ensuring both parties’ interests are legally protected.”

A bead of sweat tickled the back of her neck. She could feel the dull, gnawing pressure of a headache threatening to undo her focus, yet she maintained her composure, countering each objection with crisp logic, voice steady, hands clasped deliberately on the table. She adjusted her pen subtly when her fingers shook slightly, careful to show no weakness.

The room seemed to shrink as Atty. Han fired objection after objection, each question layered with legal nuance and, she suspected, a personal challenge. Yet Hyomin met every one with clarity, slicing through the technicalities with a scalpel’s precision. A faint nausea curled in her stomach, but she pushed it aside, anchoring herself to the words, the arguments, and the resolve not to falter.

Her colleagues scribbled notes, impressed, whispering in the quiet corners of the room at her poise under pressure. The client shifted in their seat, nodding slowly, reassured by her clear reasoning.

Finally, after what felt like hours in just a few minutes, the meeting drew to a close. The client gave a small, approving nod, the tension in the room easing, and a collective exhale swept through the space. Hyomin allowed herself a tight-lipped smile, the relief of finishing strong clashing with the relentless pounding in her head and the faint buzz of nausea threatening to pull her down. She pressed a hand briefly to her temple, steadying herself before rising, careful not to show how close she was to giving in to the pain.

Lunch was quieter. Seokhoon had joined her after finishing his own hearing, knowing she was at Lee & Seo Law Firm and sensing she might need a break. Hyomin sat across from him at a small, corner table, stirring her soup absentmindedly. She pressed her fingers to her temple, nausea curling in her stomach.

Seokhoon’s gaze was immediate. “Hyomin-ah… your head again?”

She shook her head, forcing a smile. “I’ll be fine. Just a little… stress, that’s all.”

“Stress?” he repeated, voice low but firm, his gaze locking on hers. “Hyomin, stop pretending. You’re only human. You’re going to make this worse if you keep ignoring it.”

Hyomin sighed, looking down at her plate. “I know… but there’s so much to do. The client expects the revisions today, and I have calls lined up this afternoon. I can’t slow down now.”

Seokhoon reached across the table, gently brushing her hand. “You don’t have to do it all alone. Let me help. Let me take some of the weight off you.”

She gave a small, wry smile, shaking her head. “I appreciate it Jagiya, really… but I can handle this. I have to.”

He leaned back, frustration and concern warring in his eyes. “Handle it all you want, but don’t expect me to just watch you fall apart. You’re making this harder on yourself, and on me.”

I can’t slow down now. Not when there’s so much to do. She thought, biting back the discomfort curling in her stomach.

Seokhoon’s hand rested lightly over Hyomin’s on the table, a quiet anchor amidst the throbbing in her temple and the nausea curling in her stomach. The subtle pressure grounded her, reminded her she wasn’t alone even as the headache gnawed at the edges of her focus.

Before he could withdraw it, Atty. Han appeared, striding toward them with a sharp, scrutinizing gaze.

“Don’t touch her,” he barked, the words cutting across the soft murmur of the restaurant. Suspicion and accusation dripped from every syllable.

Hyomin flinched at the sudden intrusion, but she lifted her chin, forcing calm into her voice. “What are you doing here? This is not your concern, Atty. Han.”

Atty. Han’s eyes didn’t move from their joined hands, narrowing in disbelief. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“Did she ask you to touch her? Because it looks like you’re forcing yourself on her.” His tone was harsh, tinged with judgment, as if he were seeing something scandalous where there was only trust and support.

Hyomin’s fingers tightened slightly around Seokhoon’s, a quiet anchor.

“I’m fine,” she said softly, her eyes locking on his steady gaze. She refused to let Atty. Han’s presence shake her. This wasn’t about him, and she wouldn’t let his assumptions define her.

Atty. Han took a threatening step closer, his voice rising. “This is how you treat someone under your guidance? You touch her like she’s yours, as if her consent means nothing. It’s reckless, it’s disgusting, and I won’t stand for it. Test me, and I’ll make sure you’ll be held liable before the week is over. Don’t think I’m bluffing.”

Seokhoon shifted forward, his posture protective but calm, a faint edge of irritation sharpening his tone.

“Atty. Han,” he said, each word deliberate, slicing through the charged silence, “Hyomin is my girlfriend.”

For a long, frozen moment, Han’s fork hovered mid-air. Disbelief and a flush of embarrassment battled across his face, leaving him rigid.

“Y-You… what?” His voice cracked, disbelief mingling with fury.

“I said it clearly,” Seokhoon continued, stepping closer, his gaze locked on Han. “Hyomin is with me. Not you, not anyone else. You will respect that.”

Hyomin let out a small, incredulous laugh, part relief, part lingering irritation.

“Seokhoon…” she murmured, squeezing his arm, her eyes softening.

Atty. Han’s jaw tightened. “You cannot just… this changes nothing.”

“Everything changes,” Seokhoon shot back, his tone low and controlled, yet edged with fire. “Your assumptions, your arrogance, it ends here. Back off or face the consequences.”

Atty. Han’s eyes flicked between them, his chest heaving. For a long moment, he said nothing, then spun on his heel, his chair scraping harshly against the floor.

“This is not over,” he snapped, voice tight with anger, and stormed out, leaving the room in a heavy, suffocating silence.

Hyomin’s heartbeat thrummed in her ears, a mix of fear, relief, and daring defiance. Seokhoon’s quiet insistence had not just defended her; it had erased any room for misreading.

His thumb brushed hers gently, a silent “I got you.”

Warmth bloomed through her chest, pushing back the tension lingering from Han’s outburst. She realized, with a flush of gratitude, that Seokhoon’s words were not just a declaration; they were a boundary, firmly set, shielding her from judgment and assumption.

The days that followed were unrelenting. Hyomin’s headaches throbbed with increasing intensity, and waves of nausea often made her stomach twist painfully, yet she pushed through—meetings, client briefings, drafting contracts—each task a battle against the sharp pain and dizzying fog clouding her mind. Her fingers trembled slightly as she typed, her vision occasionally blurring, but she refused to slow down.

Seokhoon had noticed.

At first, it was subtle. A raised brow when she stumbled on her way to the pantry, his hand shooting out to steady her, the way his eyes lingered too long when she massaged her temples during long meetings. But soon, subtlety gave way to sharp words.

“Hyomin, you can’t keep doing this,” he hissed one night in the empty conference room, his tie loosened after another grueling day. “Your body can’t take this forever. If you collapse in front of a client, what then? You think that’s strength?”

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t lecture me, Seokhoon. I know what I’m capable of. Just worry about yourself.”

His jaw tightened. “This isn’t about me. This is about you wearing yourself down. You think drowning in work proves strength? All it proves is how reckless you’re being.”

“Reckless?” She scoffed, slamming a file shut. “You don’t understand. I’ve worked too hard for this case. If I slow down now, it’s not just me who suffers—it’s my team. My clients. You think I can just waltz into a hospital bed and let everything fall apart?”

He took a step closer, his voice low but searing. “And what happens when you push yourself past the point of no return? When you collapse and don’t get back up? Who picks up the pieces then, Hyomin? Who explains to your clients why their lawyer couldn’t show up in court because she refused to take care of herself?”

Her throat tightened, but she masked it with fury. “You don’t get to play savior here. You’re not my doctor.”

“And you’re not listening to reason!” His voice rose, reverberating off the glass walls of the empty office. “You keep telling me you’re fine, but I see you shaking through depositions, stumbling out of hearings like you can barely stand. Do you think I don’t notice? Do you think it doesn’t scare the hell out of me?”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by her ragged breathing. She looked away, her pride warring with the burn of his words.

By mid-morning the next day, the pressure became unbearable. A wave of vertigo hit Hyomin, the office tilting and spinning as if the walls were closing in. She clutched the edge of her desk, willing herself to stay upright, but her legs buckled beneath her.

Not now, not here… I can’t fall now, she thought frantically, heart hammering.

With a startled gasp, she sank to the carpeted floor, papers from her desk fluttering around her like frightened birds. Panic prickled along her skin, her chest tightening as she struggled to catch her breath, desperate for a moment of stability in the chaotic spin of the room.

Hyomin’s body lay motionless on the floor, her shallow breaths rattling in her chest. Around her, colleagues froze, papers strewn across the carpet, the office air thick with alarm. No one moved fast enough, their shock rooting them in place, until Hoyeon’s voice broke through the stunned silence.

Hoyeon’s voice trembled as she clutched her phone, calling out desperately.

“Atty. Yoon… Hyomin just fainted! Please, you need to get here—now!” Her words rushed out, sharp with panic, echoing the chaos in the office around her. She didn’t wait for a reply, pressing the phone closer as if her urgency could somehow transmit itself through the line.

Seokhoon, already moving at full speed, answered immediately, his heart hammering. The moment he heard Hoyeon’s words, a cold dread coiled in his chest. He didn’t question her tone—he knew every second mattered.

The office door burst open, and Seokhoon was there instantly, his expression pale, jaw tight with a mix of fear and fury. Without hesitation, he scooped Hyomin into his arms. Her body was light but completely limp, pulse fluttering weakly against his chest.

“Seokhoon… I’m fine…” she murmured, her voice barely audible, lost in the haze of pain and nausea.

“Hyomin, don’t talk. Just stay still. You’re not fine!” His voice shook with concern, betraying the panic he felt.

His eyes darted to Hoyeon. “Call an ambulance. Now!”

Hoyeon fumbled for her phone, her hands shaking as she dialed, murmuring reassurances to Hyomin.

“It’s going to be okay, Hyomin. The ambulance is on the way. Just breathe, okay?”

Seokhoon’s hand pressed against the back of her head, holding her close, his thumb brushing gently along her temple in a rare gesture of tenderness.

“I told you not to push yourself like this,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice low, almost a growl of frustration and concern. “You can’t keep ignoring this—do you hear me?”

Hyomin’s eyelids fluttered, the pain and dizziness overwhelming her. She wanted to protest, to insist on finishing the day’s work, but the words caught in her throat. For once, she felt completely helpless—and the vulnerability was foreign, almost frightening.

The distant wail of the approaching ambulance reached their ears, and Seokhoon’s grip tightened slightly, a silent promise that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

At Yulje Hospital, Hyomin was wheeled into the ER, the bright fluorescent lights and antiseptic scent making her stomach twist. Seokhoon stayed close, sliding his hand into hers and holding it with quiet intensity, grounding her amidst the whirlwind of nurses and beeping monitors.

The first doctor, a young resident with a clipboard, frowned as she reviewed the initial vitals. “Ms. Yoon, can you tell me when these headaches started? Any changes in vision, dizziness, or nausea?”

Hyomin blinked, trying to steady her voice. “It started a few weeks ago… at first, mild. But it’s gotten worse. The nausea comes sometimes, and sometimes my vision blurs, especially during long meetings.”

The doctor jotted notes, then asked, voice more serious, “Any fainting spells?”

Hyomin hesitated, then shook her head. “Not until this morning… I collapsed at the office.”

“And your menstrual cycle? Any chance of pregnancy?” the doctor asked carefully, glancing at Seokhoon.

Hyomin’s face flushed, eyes wide. “I… I’m not pregnant.”

Seokhoon’s jaw tightened, fingers tightening around hers, a mix of relief and frustration crossing his features. 

“Why didn’t you come sooner?” the doctor asked.

“I had work,” she whispered, voice hoarse, ashamed at how vulnerable she felt. “Deadlines, clients… I couldn’t stop.”

The doctor exchanged a look with a nurse, then continued gently, “Ms. Kang, stress and overwork can make symptoms worse, but fainting and severe headaches can’t be ignored. Any family history of migraines or neurological issues?”

Hyomin nodded slightly. “Yes… my mother had migraines.”

“And medications?” the doctor asked.

“Occasionally painkillers… nothing strong,” Hyomin replied, trying to appear composed despite the pounding in her head.

Seokhoon leaned closer, voice low but firm, “No more hiding things, Hyomin. From now on, you tell me—and the doctors—everything.”

Hyomin gave a small nod, the weight of both relief and guilt pressing against her chest. She hated feeling weak, but she knew, finally, she wasn’t alone in facing this.

Later that afternoon, Seokhoon brought Hyomin to Dr. Chae Songhwa, South Korea’s tenth-ranking female neurology professor, for a thorough evaluation. Dr. Chae was known for her piercing intellect and meticulous attention to detail, a woman whose calm demeanor could command respect in any room.

The walls of her office were lined with medical texts and framed awards, a testament to decades of dedication and expertise. Hyomin sat stiffly on the examination chair, her body still weak, fingers clutching the edge of the seat, while Seokhoon stayed close, his presence a steady reassurance.

Dr. Chae Songhwa adjusted her glasses, studying Hyomin’s file before lifting her gaze, sharp yet kind. “Hyomin-ssi, tell me exactly what you’ve been experiencing.”

Hyomin wet her lips, voice hesitant. “Headaches, Dr. Chae. Mostly on the right temple. Sometimes nausea… and blurred vision when I work too long. This morning I fainted at the office.”

Seokhoon’s hand found hers under the table, warm and grounding. “And she’s been pushing through all of this without rest,” he added, his tone low but firm, edged with quiet frustration.

Dr. Chae Songhwa nodded thoughtfully, her pen tapping against the file. “Any family history of neurological issues? Migraines, epilepsy, seizures, anything unusual?”

Hyomin lowered her eyes, her voice small. “My mother had migraines.”

Before Dr. Chae Songhwa could continue, the door creaked open. Dr. Lee Ikjun poked his head in, a tray with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, looking slightly flustered.

“Oh—sorry! I didn’t realize there was an ongoing consultation,” he said quickly, stepping inside, cheeks faintly pink.

His eyes landed on Seokhoon, and he froze.

“Wait… Yoon Seokhoon? What are you doing here?” His voice was half-shock, half-incredulous amusement.

Seokhoon blinked, equally stunned, then let out a soft laugh.

“Lee Ikjun? Wow… it’s been years.” His surprise shifted into amazement, his brows still raised as nostalgia pulled at his expression.

He leaned casually against the wall, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “My girlfriend, Kang Hyomin, is having some serious headaches. She fainted this morning, so I brought her here for an expert opinion.”

Ikjun’s eyes softened as realization dawned. “Ah… no wonder. Don’t worry, Songhwa is the best in this field so she’s in good hands.”

Songhwa accepted the cup from him, her usual calm composure flickering into a faint smile. “Aishh. Thank you, Ikjun-ah. That’s thoughtful. But… how do you two know each other?”

Seokhoon chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “He’s my old neighbor and classmate. We grew up together in Changwon. Caused plenty of mischief until he moved to Seoul in high school.”

Ikjun laughed, setting the tray down. “Unbelievable. A reunion in a hospital of all places. I never thought I’d see you here.”

Songhwa cleared her throat gently, amusement tugging at her lips. “Before you two get lost in memories, let’s get back to the consultation.”

Ikjun raised his hands in surrender. “Right, right. I’ll step outside. Songhwa-ya, don’t keep them in there too long, okay? We need to catch up”

Once the door closed behind him, Songhwa refocused. “Alright. We’ll proceed with MRI and CT scans to rule out anything structural—tumors, lesions, anything that could explain the fainting spells and headaches. The nurse will guide you to the laboratory area, and then please come back this afternoon for the results.”

A nurse appeared at the doorway, offering a polite smile before motioning for them to follow. She led them to the next floor where the diagnostic laboratories were located.

Hyomin swallowed hard as the technician guided her onto the scanner table. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her blouse.

“I hate hospitals,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady.

Seokhoon crouched beside her, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “I know. But you’re going to be okay. I’m right here.”

As the machine began to whir, Ikjun appeared at the doorway again, tilting his head toward Seokhoon. “These scans will take a while. Come on, let’s grab coffee downstairs. You’ll drive yourself insane pacing in here.”

Seokhoon hesitated, glancing at Hyomin. She met his eyes and gave a faint nod.

“Go,” she murmured. “I’ll be fine.”

“Only a few minutes,” he muttered before rising reluctantly.

Ikjun hooked an arm around his old friend’s shoulder as they walked toward the elevator. “It’s surreal, huh? Running into each other after all these years—here of all places.”

Seokhoon exhaled, his tension easing slightly. “Yeah. I didn’t expect this… honestly, I can’t sit still knowing she’s in there.”

“Which is why you need coffee,” Ikjun quipped, steering him down the hall. “Besides, I need to know what happened to the kid who used to pick fights with old men for littering on the street. What did he end up becoming?”

Seokhoon chuckled faintly, shaking his head. “A lawyer. And you—what did the boy who couldn’t stop singing trot songs at class talent shows become?”

Before Seokhoon could tease him further, his gaze dropped to the scrubs Ikjun was wearing. He blinked, realization dawning. “Wait… you’re a doctor?”

Ikjun’s grin widened, clearly pleased at the surprise. “Mm. Not just a doctor—professor of HPB surgery. And if you ask around this hospital, I’m the most handsome doctor here.”

Seokhoon let out a low whistle, half-amused, half-impressed. “So that’s what became of the kid from Changwon. A surgeon.”

Their laughter faded into a more comfortable silence as they sipped their drinks.

After a pause, Seokhoon studied him with curiosity. “So… how do you know Dr. Chae Songhwa?”

Ikjun nearly choked on his coffee before smirking. “Know her? She’s my girlfriend.”

Seokhoon froze. “Wait—your girlfriend? Dr. Chae Songhwa?”

Ikjun puffed his chest slightly, enjoying his friend’s disbelief. “Surprised? Yeah, we’ve been friends for twenty years before we got together. She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

Seokhoon shook his head, laughing in disbelief. “Of all people, Ikjun… you never change. Always full of surprises.”

Ikjun chuckled, pointing at him with mock offense. “And you—still so dramatic. Guess we’re both exactly who we used to be.”

The two shared a smile, nostalgia softening the edges of their banter, their coffee cups clinking softly together like a toast to unexpected reunions.

After a few hours, they were called back to the consultation room. Dr. Chae Songhwa’s tone was calm, reassuring. “Good news. No tumor, no neurological lesions. This is a case of genetic migraines, worsened by stress and long work hours.”

Hyomin exhaled, her chest loosening with relief. “So… it’s not something worse?”

“Nothing structural,” Songhwa confirmed. “But you need to manage your triggers. I’ll prescribe caffeine with acetaminophen for acute attacks, and I need you to regulate sleep, hydration, and meals. No more skipping.”

Seokhoon tightened his grip on Hyomin’s hand, his voice firm. “You hear that? No more ignoring your body.”

Hyomin nodded, swallowing her pride. “I promise… I’ll try.”

“Not try,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Do it, my love.”

Before leaving the office, they both thanked Songhwa for her time, their words polite and measured, an acknowledgment of her professionalism and care.

Outside, the late afternoon air felt heavy, mirroring the unease settling over Hyomin. Neither of them spoke as they made their way across the parking lot, the unspoken worry about the test results hanging between them. When they finally slipped into Seokhoon’s car, the low purr of the engine filled the silence, a quiet reminder of everything left unsaid.

Hyomin clasped her hands in her lap, her eyes fixed on them. Her voice came out softer than she intended.

“Jagiya ... I’m sorry… for not listening. For being so stubborn. I didn’t mean to make you worry like that.”

Seokhoon’s gaze stayed on the windshield, but his jaw relaxed. After a moment, he let out a slow breath.

“I should be the one saying sorry. I was too harsh with you. I didn’t mean to come off angry—it’s just…” He paused, his voice dropping.

“I was scared. Seeing you like that in the office. I didn’t know what to do except argue with you because I didn’t want to lose you.”

Her chest tightened, the raw sincerity in his words cutting through her defenses. She turned to him, her lips curving in the faintest of smiles. “Then maybe… we’ll both try to do better.”

That was when his eyes finally flicked toward her, steady and determined.

 “You’re staying at my place this week. No debates. I’ll make sure you eat, rest, and actually take your medication on time.”

Her eyes flew wide in protest. “A whole week? Seokhoon, I can take care of myself.”

He gave her a look, half stern, half tender. “Really? Because the woman who fainted this morning clearly doesn’t know what ‘taking care of herself’ means.”

She flushed, biting her lip. “That was just… bad timing.”

“Exactly,” he countered, his tone softening as his hand reached for hers, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. “Bad timing that could’ve ended much worse. I’m not willing to take that risk again.”

Hyomin sighed, torn between protest and the warmth rising in her chest. “You’re being bossy.”

“I’m just worried,” Seokhoon corrected, his tone gentler now. “Let me do this, Jagiya. For once, just let someone else take responsibility for you.”

Her lips curved, a trace of vulnerability breaking through. “You really won’t let me argue, will you?”

“Nope,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re moving in—temporarily. And I’m hiding your work phone if I have to.”

A soft laugh escaped her, easing the tension. “Fine. But don’t regret it when you realize I hog the blankets.”

Seokhoon leaned closer, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “Then I’ll just have to hold onto you tighter.”

Relief mingled with a quiet pang of humility as she met his gaze. For once, she let herself lean on someone else, realizing just how much he cared—and how much she needed it.

On the drive home, the city lights blurred outside the window, but all she felt was the warmth of his hand in hers. It wasn’t just concern anymore. It was an unspoken vow.

That evening, Hyomin rested on Seokhoon’s bed, a warm blanket draped over her shoulders. The soft glow of the lamp bathed the room in gold, casting a cocoon of quiet intimacy around them. Seokhoon moved about carefully, pouring her tea and lining up her medications on the table, every gesture precise, almost reverent.

When he finally settled beside her, his hand sought hers, thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. Hyomin leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. The familiar steadiness of his breathing calmed her, easing the dull ache that lingered at her temples.

“You scared me today,” he murmured, turning his head just enough that his lips grazed her hair.

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost guilty.

“I know.” He shifted, tilting her face toward him with a careful hand at her cheek. His eyes searched hers for a moment, worry and tenderness mingling, before he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “But promise me you won’t ignore your body anymore.”

Her chest tightened, warmth spilling through her. “I promise,” she said softly.

Satisfied, Seokhoon smiled faintly and bent to kiss the corner of her lips, tentative at first, as though afraid she might still break. Hyomin’s hand rose, curling gently at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Their lips met fully this time, unhurried and tender, the kind of kiss that spoke of care rather than urgency.

When they finally pulled apart, Hyomin’s head found his chest, his arm wrapping securely around her shoulders. The throbbing in her head was fading now, replaced by the warmth of his embrace. In his care, in his kisses, she found not just comfort—but a quiet, undeniable sense of home.

Chapter Text

Hyomin woke on Wednesday morning wrapped in the lingering scent of Seokhoon’s pillow. The master bedroom still felt unfamiliar, yet there was a strange safety in the neat sheets and faint trace of his cologne in the air. She stretched lazily beneath the blanket, only to realize Seokhoon was already awake—leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, one brow arched in amusement.

“I thought you’d prefer the guest room,” he teased.

“I don’t like it there,” Hyomin mumbled, her voice still husky with sleep. “Too cold. Too… impersonal.”

A grin tugged at his lips. “So instead, you take over my bed?”

“Exactly.” She gave him a faint but triumphant smile.

“Come on,” Seokhoon said with a soft grin. “Let’s have breakfast, my love”

By the time she padded into the kitchen, the smell of eggs and toast filled the air. Seokhoon had managed a simple meal, already dressed for work with his tie knotted and hair brushed neatly. He set a steaming mug of coffee in front of her before sitting down.

“Eat everything,” he ordered gently. 

Seokhoon kept his mornings at the office, but deliberately cleared his afternoons just for her—sharing meals, making sure she actually rested, and carving out quiet moments that felt dangerously close to domestic bliss.

“And don’t even think about turning this place into a law office.”

Hyomin’s gaze slid toward her laptop on the counter.

“We’ll see,” she murmured, her grin widening when he let out a dramatic sigh.

He came home early that afternoon, balancing takeout in one hand and his briefcase in the other. The apartment was quiet, except for the clacking of keys. He walked into the living room to find her hunched over her laptop, brows furrowed, completely absorbed.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, setting the bags down. “You last… what, five hours?”

Hyomin didn’t even glance up. “It’s a critical case. The deadline's close.”

Seokhoon walked over, gently but firmly closing the laptop. “Soup first. Work later.”

She looked up at him, lips parting in protest, but the sternness in his eyes softened into something warmer. Reluctantly, she obeyed, letting him spoon soup into her bowl as though she were incapable of feeding herself. 

She rolled her eyes but inside, her heart warmed.

That night, they curled up on the couch, the glow of a K-drama flickering across the living room. Halfway through, Seokhoon’s eyelids grew heavy.

“You’re worse than the ahjummas who fall asleep in front of daytime dramas,” Hyomin teased, nudging him with her elbow.

He only mumbled something incoherent before drifting off completely, head lolling against the cushion. Shaking her head fondly, Hyomin reached for her laptop and began typing quietly, the soft clicks of the keyboard filling the silence where his steady breathing had taken over.

Hours later, Seokhoon stirred awake to find her still working, her eyes barely open as sleep finally caught up to her. With a quiet sigh, he slipped the laptop from her lap and scooped her up gently in his arms. Hyomin murmured faintly but didn’t resist as he carried her to the bedroom, settling her under the covers before climbing in beside her.

Thursday morning, she found sticky notes scattered across the apartment.

       Drink water, Hyomin-ah, one read, stuck to the fridge.

      Take your meds, another warned, taped to her nightstand.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “He’s ridiculous.”

Sol A and Eunjin came over with fruits, wide-eyed as they scanned the notes.

“Wow,” Sol A teased, “your boyfriend takes micromanagement to the next level.”

Hyomin rolled her eyes, but her blush gave her away. “It’s not micromanagement. It’s… just him being annoying.”

Eunjin smirked, holding up another sticky note she found by the sofa.

“Don’t skip meals, or else. Honestly, Hyomin, this is less of a boyfriend and more of a full-time guardian.”

“Guardian angel,” Sol A corrected dramatically, clasping her hands together.

Hyomin groaned, covering her face with both hands. “Can we not make this a big deal?”

“But it is a big deal,” Sol A sang, nudging her. “No one’s ever bossed you around and actually gotten away with it—except him.”

Her muffled voice came through her palms, equal parts flustered and fond. “Don’t remind me.”

The two laughed, dropping onto the couch beside her. Sol A offered her a peeled orange slice, while Eunjin started arranging the fruit basket on the coffee table.

“You know,” Eunjin said with a sly grin, “this is the first time we’ve seen you so… cared for. It’s kind of nice.”

Hyomin peeked over the pillow, softening. “It is nice… though don’t tell him I said that. His ego’s already big enough.”

“Too late,” Sol A teased. “We’re absolutely telling him.”

The three burst into laughter, the room filled with the easy warmth of friendship. Hyomin leaned back, realizing how rare and precious this simple moment was, with sticky notes, fruit, and friends who knew her well enough to tease without judgment.

They soon settled into the familiar rhythm of catching up. Sol A launched into stories from the hospital, describing a patient who insisted he was allergic to water until she proved him wrong. Her animated gestures and deadpan delivery had Hyomin and Eunjin howling, their sides aching from laughter.

Eunjin, in turn, shared about her weekend back home.

“My cats staged a protest,” she said dryly, pulling up photos on her phone.

“Mom went on vacation for three days, and they acted like she’d abandoned them for good. My mom says they’re more spoiled than I am.” The others cooed at the pictures, laughing when one cat glared at the camera as if holding a grudge.

When it was her turn, Hyomin hesitated for a beat before confessing, “I went to Busan last week… and I met Seokhoon’s mom.”

That earned her an immediate chorus of gasps and squeals from both Sol A and Eunjin.

“Already?” Sol A exclaimed, nearly spilling her orange juice.

Hyomin ducked her head, embarrassed. “It wasn’t planned. It just kind of happened.”

Eunjin leaned forward, grinning. “And? Tell us everything.”

Hyomin toyed with the edge of a sticky note, her voice softening as she spoke. “I was nervous, honestly. I kept worrying she wouldn’t like me, or that I’d say something wrong. But… she was kind. Warm, even. It felt less like a formal introduction and more like… being welcomed.”

Her friends exchanged a glance, their teasing replaced by genuine smiles.

“Hyomin,” Sol A said gently, “do you realize how big that is? He trusts you enough to bring you home.”

Eunjin nudged her with a grin. “And you clearly care enough to be nervous about it.”

Hyomin laughed under her breath, cheeks warming. “I guess I do.”

The afternoon sun slanted through the windows, painting the apartment in a golden glow as their laughter slowly gave way to softer chatter. Eventually, Sol A checked her phone and sighed. “Night duty calls. I should get going before I fall asleep on a patient.”

Eunjin grabbed her bag with a grin. “We’ll let you rest. See you back at our place next week, okay?”

“See you, girls! Thank you!” Hyomin beamed, waving them off.

Sol A called over her shoulder with a laugh, “Don’t enjoy your boyfriend too much while we’re gone!”

By late afternoon, Seokhoon came home later than usual. He carried a bouquet of fresh flowers in pastel colors. For a moment, Hyomin just stared, startled by the unexpected gesture.

“What’s this for?” she asked, her voice caught somewhere between suspicion and wonder.

“For being the most stubborn patient I’ve ever had,” he said with mock solemnity, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed him. 

As he crossed the room to find a vase, Hyomin felt her chest tighten with both exasperation and a warmth she didn’t want to name just yet. Watching him fuss with the flowers, she couldn’t help but feel grateful, knowing that even his teasing was filled with care.

They cooked dinner together that evening, though Hyomin barely got past peeling onions before he shooed her away.

“Medical probation,” he reminded her, wagging the knife. “Sit down before you hurt yourself.”

Later, as they sat on the balcony, tea warming their hands, Hyomin’s smile faded slightly. “I feel useless,” she admitted softly. “Doing nothing all day feels wrong.”

Seokhoon reached over, capturing her hand in his, brushing his lips against her knuckles. “Resting is part of your job now. Don’t fight me on this, Hyomin-ah.”

Her throat tightened at the tenderness in his voice, and for once, she let herself sink into it.

The night deepened around them, the city lights flickering in the distance as if to echo the quiet between their words. For the first time in days, Hyomin allowed herself to breathe without guilt, leaning into the comfort of Seokhoon’s presence. Sleep would come easier that night, wrapped not just in blankets, but in the certainty that she wasn’t facing this alone.

Friday morning, laughter filled the apartment as Seokhoon set down a plate of pancakes with the pride of a five-star chef. The pancakes were lumpy, uneven, and a little too dark around the edges, their sweet smell tinged with the faint scent of something almost burnt.

“This is… creative,” Hyomin said carefully, biting her lip to keep from laughing outright.

“Just eat it,” he muttered, nudging the plate toward her with mock irritation.

She reached for the syrup, but he caught her hand first, sparking a playful tug-of-war that ended with both of them laughing so hard they nearly toppled the plate. For the first time in days, heaviness pressing at her temples, replaced by the simple joy of their messy, ordinary morning.

That evening, while Seokhoon was out picking up dinner, the quiet of the apartment was broken by the sharp ring of the doorbell. Hyomin, still in her loose house clothes, slipped on her slippers and padded toward the door.

When she opened it, her breath caught. A woman stood there with Hash’s leash in hand, the dog wagging happily as if unaware of the sudden tension in the air. Recognition struck immediately—so did the confusion.

The woman’s gaze flicked over Hyomin, lingering on her casual clothes, her hair unstyled, the way she seemed at home here. Her brows furrowed.

“Have we met before?” she asked, voice polite but edged with curiosity.

“Yes,” Hyomin replied cautiously, her heart thudding. “At the animal clinic… when Hash had fractures.”

The woman’s expression softened with the memory, but only for a moment. She straightened, offering a small, almost pointed smile.

 “I see. I’m Seokhoon’s ex-wife,” she said, her tone steady. Her eyes swept over Hyomin again before she asked, “And you are…?”

Hyomin’s fingers tightened around the doorknob, but she lifted her chin and managed a polite smile.

“I’m Kang Hyomin,” she said evenly. “Seokhoon’s girlfriend.”

The woman’s brows arched, her eyes sweeping over Hyomin once more. 

“Girlfriend?” she echoed, as if tasting the word. Then, with a curious tilt of her head, she added, “You look so young… how old are you?”

Hyomin hesitated, unsure whether to bristle or laugh at the question, the air between them charged with something unspoken.

Hyomin didn’t flinch under the woman’s gaze. Instead, she let a small, easy smile curve her lips.

“Old enough to know what I want.” she replied, her tone calm and steady. 

The ex-wife blinked, momentarily thrown, before her expression settled into something unreadable. Hash tugged lightly at the leash, his bark slicing through the silence, grounding them both.

Inside, Hyomin busied herself with the kettle, but the tension clung to the air like smoke. The ex-wife’s eyes drifted to the dining table, where pastel-colored post-it notes lay scattered in neat little rows—each one a fragment of Seokhoon’s concern.

    Eat your meals on time, Jagiya.
    Don’t skip sleep.
    Take care of yourself.

Her lips curved into a faint, almost careless smile as she brushed her fingers lightly over one of the notes, the words lingering in the quiet space between them.

“He used to send me things like this all the time,” the woman said, her tone light but tinged with something sharper. 

“I always found it… controlling. As if I couldn’t handle my own life without reminders.”

Hyomin’s gaze lingered on the words. A warmth stirred in her chest, unexpected yet steady.

“Funny,” she murmured, meeting the woman’s eyes. “I think it’s sweet. It just means he cares enough to worry.”

The ex-wife’s smile faltered, just barely, but the flicker was enough. She leaned back, crossing her arms with practiced poise. 

“Or maybe you’re still in that stage where it feels flattering—like every word is proof of devotion. Wait long enough, and you’ll see how suffocating it can be.”

Hyomin didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head, her voice calm, confident. 

“Or maybe it only feels suffocating if you stop appreciating the heart behind it.”

A taut silence hung between them, electric and unrelenting. The ex-wife’s fingers tightened on her phone, nails tapping against the case, as though the sound could fill the space her words could not.

And for the first time, Hyomin realized it wasn’t the message that unsettled her. It was the ache of knowing those words were no longer meant for her.

The woman tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “How old are you, really? You look too young to know what you want.”

Hyomin’s lips curved, calm but cutting. “Every day, I argue with lawyers twice my age—and win. Trust me. Knowing what I want isn’t the problem. It’s making sure others accept it.”

The ex-wife blinked, then gave a slow, practiced smile. “Confident. I suppose that’s what drew him in.”

Hyomin leaned forward slightly, her voice even but firm. “Or maybe it’s because with me, he doesn’t have to pretend. He can just… be.”

Something flickered in the woman’s eyes, sharp and wounded, though her smile didn’t falter.

“Be?” she repeated, almost scoffing.

“That’s rich. He was never really with me, Hyomin. Always the lawyer, always the provider, always the so-called ‘perfect guy'.. Do you honestly think you’ve seen every side of him in the short time you’ve been together?”

Hyomin didn’t blink. “I don’t need to see every side at once. What matters is the version of him that shows up now—and that version chooses me.”

The ex-wife’s composure cracked, just slightly, her voice gaining an edge.

“Chose me once, too. Chose me enough to marry me. And still, look where we ended up. Do you really believe you’re different? That love alone will save you from the same ending?”

The words stung, but Hyomin met her gaze, unyielding.

“Yes. Because I don’t run when it gets hard. I fight for the people I love.”

A bitter laugh slipped from the woman’s lips. “Fight? You don’t even know what that means yet. One day, you’ll wake up and realize the man you’re fighting for is the same man who let me slip through his fingers.”

Hyomin’s voice dropped, low but cutting. “No. One day, you’ll wake up and realize the man you lost is the man who finally found where he belongs.”

The air between them burned, taut and dangerous—neither willing to give ground, each word striking deeper than the last.

The ex-wife’s smile wavered, bitterness seeping through. “Belongs? Don’t be so sure. Men like Seokhoon… they don’t belong to anyone. They give pieces of themselves, but never the whole. I should know—I spent years trying to hold on to him.”

Hyomin straightened, her voice cool but edged with fire. “Maybe the problem wasn’t him. Maybe it was that you wanted to own him instead of standing beside him.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade. “Careful, Hyomin. You talk like you’ve won, but you’ve barely started. Do you really think he’s healed just because you’re here? His scars run deeper than you can handle.”

Hyomin’s chest tightened, but she refused to falter. “Scars don’t scare me. They’re proof he survived. And if you couldn’t handle them, that’s not my burden to carry.”

Her composure cracked at last, the ex-wife’s voice rising. “You’re naïve! You think love is enough to hold a man like him? Wait until the pressure of his work consumes him. Wait until his silence feels like a wall you can’t break through. Then you’ll understand what it means to be invisible in your own home!”

Hyomin’s words came fast, unflinching. “If that day comes, I won’t stay silent. I’ll break the wall, or I’ll tear the whole house down if I have to. But I won’t let him face it alone.”

For a moment, the ex-wife’s lips parted, as if to argue—but no words came. Her eyes glistened, fury warring with something softer, something that almost looked like regret.

“Bold words,” she whispered harshly. “I wonder how long before you choke on them.”

Hyomin leaned in, her voice steady, unyielding. “Maybe. But at least I’ll never regret fighting for him.”

The silence that followed was deafening—thick, suffocating—until Hash’s bark shattered it, breaking the tension that neither woman seemed ready to end.

For a fraction of a second, the woman’s smile faltered before she smoothed it back into place, as though unwilling to give Hyomin that victory.

The front door swung open, Seokhoon’s voice carrying in with an easy warmth, the kind that usually melted the day away.

“Jagiyaaa, I brought—”

He froze, the words dying on his tongue as his eyes fell on the scene before him. He stopped in the doorway, bags of food dangling from his hands, eyes locking on the unexpected scene before him: Hyomin calm with her tea, his ex-wife seated opposite her with a faint, knowing smile.

The tension in the room was almost tangible. His gaze shifted between the two women, and in an instant, he understood.

“Oh,” he said evenly, his tone carrying both surprise and steel. “So you’ve already met… my girlfriend.”

The title hung in the air, deliberate and unmistakable. Hyomin’s heart thudded, the flutter inside her grounding into something sure and solid.

The ex-wife’s brows lifted, her lips curving into something between a smile and a wince. “Girlfriend, is it? After all those years of you being alone… I thought it would take longer.”

Seokhoon set the bags down with a quiet thud, his jaw tightening. “You wanted me to move on. Don’t look surprised now that I finally did.”

For a flicker of a moment, the woman’s composure slipped. Her eyes softened, then sharpened again as she rose slowly from her seat, brushing her hand over Hash’s head one last time.

“I’ll leave him here for now. I’ll ask my husband to pick him up on Monday.” Her gaze lingered on Seokhoon for a heartbeat too long, something unspoken flickering in her eyes before she turned back toward the door.

Hyomin set her cup down gently, her voice calm but steady. “That’s fine.”

Seokhoon moved to Hyomin’s side then, steady and unyielding, his hand brushing against hers in quiet reassurance as he watched his ex-wife pause briefly at the doorway, as if tempted to look back, before finally stepping out.

The door clicked shut behind her, the silence in her wake heavy with everything left unsaid. Hash trotted back to his corner, settling down as though nothing had happened.

Seokhoon exhaled slowly, then turned to Hyomin. “What did she say while I was gone?” His tone was casual, but his eyes searched her face carefully.

Hyomin hesitated, fingers tracing the rim of her teacup.

“Nothing important,” she muttered, though the edge in her voice betrayed her.

His brows furrowed. “Hyomin-ah.”

Hyomin’s fingers tightened around her teacup, the porcelain clinking softly against the saucer. 

“She talked about you,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended. “About how she used to get those notes too—but to her, they were suffocating, not sweet. Then she had the nerve to look me in the eye and say you’ll treat me the same way. That I’ll end up feeling controlled. Invisible.”

Her chest heaved, anger burning hotter with every word.

“She called me naïve. Said I don’t know what I want. That your scars are too much for me to handle. Like I’m just some kid playing house until you decide she was right all along.” Her eyes flashed as she bit out, “She made it sound like she still knows you better than I ever could.”

Seokhoon’s expression hardened, his voice firm but gentle as he reached across the table, covering her trembling hand with his. “Hyomin-ah, stop. Don’t let her poison sink into you. She doesn’t know me anymore—she lost the right to the moment she walked away.”

He leaned closer, his gaze unwavering, his voice low and steady. “You’re not her, Hyomin, and you’re not a rebound. You’re not here to fill an empty space she left behind. You’re the woman I choose every single day. You’re the one I trust when I thought I’d forgotten how, the one I can finally breathe with. Whatever she thinks she knows about me doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is us.”

Her anger faltered, the fire in her eyes colliding with the raw sincerity in his.

Hyomin’s lips parted, her anger flickering beneath the weight of his words. Slowly, her fingers curled under his, holding on as though grounding herself. Her voice softened, almost breaking. “You always know the right thing to say… I hate that she can still get under my skin.”

Seokhoon brushed his thumb over her hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Because you care. That’s not weakness. It’s proof of how much this means to you.”

Hyomin let out a shaky breath, her shoulders easing just a little. “I believe you, Seokhoon. I do. But if she thinks she can walk in here and rattle me like that…” Her jaw tightened, eyes flashing again. “She’s wrong. I may forgive a lot of things, but not someone trying to belittle what we have.”

Seokhoon squeezed her hand gently, steady and reassuring. “Then let her think what she wants. We don’t owe her anything—not explanations, not validation. We just owe it to each other to hold on.”

Hyomin nodded, her anger cooling into something sharper, more controlled. She leaned back against her chair, her gaze still hard. “Fine. I’ll let her words go for now. But I won’t forget them.”

The silence stretched taut between them until Seokhoon tilted his head, a teasing glint cutting through the tension. “So you were jealous.”

Hyomin scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m not jealous. Just… irritated. This place used to be yours and hers. Sometimes it feels like I’m just living inside memories that were never mine to begin with.”

For a heartbeat, the weight of her confession lingered in the air. Then, to her surprise, Seokhoon chuckled, a low, easy laugh that disarmed her. “That’s exactly why I’m buying a new one.”

Her eyes flew wide, disbelief flashing across her face. “What?”

He grinned, fingers tangling in her hair with an easy affection. “It was supposed to be a surprise, but I want us to choose together. Tell me what you like, Hyomin-ah. What should we get? How many rooms do you want? You want a pool? The broker already sent options. I’ll show you the pictures.”

She blinked, thrown off by how casually intimate he sounded. “Why are you even asking me? It’s your house.”

He softened, stepping closer until his voice dropped. “Because it won’t be just my house anymore. Wherever you are, that’s where home is.”

Hyomin’s throat tightened; her heart misstepped. She turned her face away, cheeks warm. “You really don’t fight fair,” she murmured.

Seokhoon only smiled, the kind that reached his eyes and stayed there. “Good thing I don’t have to. You’re already mine.”

Saturday morning, Hyomin woke to the sound of Hash whining and climbing onto the bed. His little paws dug into the blanket until he finally wedged himself between her arms. She laughed, pulling him close, his tail wagging furiously. At the doorframe, Seokhoon leaned casually, arms crossed, watching the scene with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Looks like you’ve been replaced,” Hyomin teased, pressing a kiss to Hash’s head.

They spent the morning at the park, the crisp air filled with the scent of grass and fallen leaves. Hyomin’s hand brushed against Seokhoon’s as Hash tugged at the leash, darting after every bird and rustling leaf. She watched him crouch to scoop the dog into his arms, laughing as Hash wriggled and nuzzled against him. The sight stirred something warm in her chest, a quiet, unexpected ache of affection. This was a side of him few ever saw, gentle, patient, and surprisingly tender.

By lunchtime, her parents arrived, carrying dishes from home. The table filled quickly—stews, rice, and fruits arranged with care. Her mother cast an assessing glance at Seokhoon, while her father sat quietly, his questions simple but pointed. Through it all, Seokhoon remained steady, pouring drinks for them, serving food to Hyomin before himself, listening more than he spoke. It wasn’t grand gestures but the small, attentive ones that softened her parents’ wary gazes. By dessert, her mother was smiling at a story he told, and her father had relaxed enough to laugh when Seokhoon leaned over to cut Hyomin’s meat for her without thinking.

By the time her parents left that afternoon, the house felt quieter, the air lighter somehow. Hyomin sat back on the sofa, still replaying the small shifts she had noticed—her mother’s softened tone, her father’s rare, genuine laugh. It felt like a door had opened.

Beside her, Seokhoon draped an arm around her shoulders, the silence between them comfortable. To him, the day had felt like an unspoken test, one he hadn’t prepared for yet instinctively understood mattered more than anything. He hadn’t tried to impress, only to be sincere—and seeing Hyomin’s parents slowly lower their guard was enough.

Hyomin leaned against him, her eyes closing in quiet relief. For the first time in a long while, she let herself breathe, and Seokhoon, watching her, thought that maybe this was what home was supposed to feel like.

Sunday was slower, gentler. Breakfast was eaten in pajamas at the kitchen counter, with Hyomin mock-fighting Hash for the last pancake while Seokhoon sneakily fed him bites under the table, pretending innocence when she caught him. The hours stretched unhurried—lazy reading on the couch, quiet glances that said more than words, small touches that spoke of comfort rather than urgency.

By late afternoon, they settled in the living room, the golden light of sunset spilling across the floor. Hyomin leaned against him, Hash curled at their feet, and she felt a soft, fluttering happiness settle in her chest.

“You know,” Seokhoon murmured, brushing a stray hair from her face, “this feels dangerously close to perfect.”

Hyomin smiled faintly, her heart skipping a beat. “Don’t jinx it.”

He chuckled and tilted her chin so their eyes met.

“Then let me put it another way. This.” His thumb traced lightly over her cheek, deliberate and gentle. “This is exactly the life I want.”

Her breath caught, words failing her for a moment. She looked away, cheeks burning, but her hand found his anyway.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, her voice soft but shaky.

Seokhoon leaned in, pressing his forehead lightly against hers. His voice was low, steady, almost pleading. “You don’t have to explain anything. Just stay with me.”

Hyomin’s heart thudded against her ribs, the corners of her lips tugging upward despite the storm of emotions still simmering inside her.

Seokhoon caught that smile, and his own lips curved before brushing against hers in a slow, teasing touch.

His breath lingered against her mouth as he whispered, “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

For a moment, the world narrowed to just the warmth of his hand in hers, the soft rise and fall of his chest, and Hash snoring quietly at their feet. Hyomin rested her head against him, letting the fluttering, giddy happiness of the weekend settle around her like a soft, unshakable blanket.

Chapter Text

Hyomin pushed open the office doors, the soft rhythm of her heels echoing against the polished floor. After a week of rest, the familiar space felt both comforting and strangely new, as though she were stepping into it with fresh eyes. Relief loosened her shoulders, yet a quiet anticipation stirred in her chest.

Her colleagues looked up at once, smiles breaking across their faces.

“Atty. Kang, finally!” one of the juniors exclaimed, rising from his desk.

“We were worried you’d hibernated under your blanket all month.” Another chimed in with a grin. “Or maybe you just missed us too much to stay away any longer?” Laughter rippled through the office.

Hyomin joined in with a soft chuckle, adjusting the strap of her bag. “Missed you? Don’t flatter yourselves. I just didn’t want to come back to a mountain of case files.”

The teasing continued, lighthearted and affectionate, but Hyomin’s gaze kept slipping past them, scanning the room almost unconsciously.

“Still looking for someone?” a colleague teased knowingly.

Before she could reply, the door behind her swung open.

“Yah, move out of the way, let me through!” a familiar voice called.

Hyomin turned, her lips parting in surprise. “Atty. Heo?”

Her best friend stood there, holding a small bouquet of flowers and a bag of take-out. 

“You didn’t think I’d let you sneak back into work without seeing me first, did you?” Minjeong huffed, though her grin gave her away.

The office filled with more laughter as Hyomin hurried forward to hug her. “Unnie, you didn’t have to—”

“Of course I did,” Minjeong cut in. “You were practically off the radar for a whole week. I needed to see for myself that you’re alive and not just buried in Atty. Yoon’s apartment.”

Hyomin flushed at the remark, swatting her friend’s arm while the others laughed louder. “Yah unnie!!!”

But despite her embarrassment, warmth spread through her chest. Surrounded by colleagues, teased by her best friend, and quietly searching the room for the man she couldn’t wait to see, Hyomin felt something she hadn’t in a long time — that she truly belonged.

Later that week, Hyomin was sorting through a pile of case files, her pen tapping absently against the edge of the folder, when a soft knock broke her focus. She glanced up to find the firm’s secretary lingering at the doorway, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.

“Atty. Kang… someone’s here to see you.”

Hyomin tilted her head, brows furrowing. “A client?”

The secretary shook her head. “No, not exactly.” She fidgeted, lowering her voice. “She didn’t give her name… only said you met her last Friday. And she wants to see you. Alone.”

Hyomin froze, the memory clicking into place.The ex-wife. Memories of their tense confrontation still lingered, but curiosity outweighed hesitation. 

After a pause, she drew in a steadying breath. “Bring her to the conference room. I’ll be there in a minute.”

When Hyomin finally stepped inside, the woman was already there. The sharp, commanding presence she remembered had softened, replaced by a quiet, weary calm. Her hands rested neatly on the table, fingers lightly intertwined, as if bracing herself for this moment.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” she began softly. “I know I’m the last person you’d want to talk to.”

Hyomin remained standing, hands lightly resting on the desk. “What is it you want to say?”

The ex-wife drew in a breath, her voice low but steady.

“I owe you an apology,” she said, a faint, sorrowful smile tugging at her lips. “Seeing you in the house that was once mine… it stirred up a part of my past I wasn’t ready to face. I reacted out of shock, maybe even jealousy. But the truth is, I let him go. I made my choice, and I can’t undo that. What I saw, though…” She paused, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Was him—truly happy—in a way I could never have given him. And you… you’ve given him a love and a grace I never could.”

She looked down, her fingers twisting together. “So, I wanted to tell you this, woman to woman. I’m letting go. And I hope you’ll take care of him in ways I couldn’t.”

Hyomin’s throat tightened. For a long moment, she said nothing, then quietly replied, “It takes courage to admit that. Thank you for trusting me enough to say it here.”

“I also wanted to tell you,” the ex-wife continued, “I’ve decided Hash should stay with him. He’s better with both of you, and it feels right to finally let go.”

Hyomin felt a quiet swell of relief and gratitude.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For trusting us with him. I promise, we’ll give him all the love and care he deserves.”

The ex-wife’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, not with hostility this time, but with something closer to understanding. She gave a faint smile. “That’s all I could ask for.”

For the first time, there was no edge between them—only a fragile but genuine respect, like two women who had finally stopped standing on opposite sides.

That evening, the office had already gone quiet by the time Hyomin left her desk. The long corridors echoed faintly with her footsteps, the day’s conversations still weighing softly on her mind. Outside, the night air was cool, brushing against her skin as she stepped out to find Seokhoon leaning against his car. His tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, and the way his gaze softened the instant he saw her made her heart ache in the most familiar, comforting way.

“You’re late,” he said, a hint of mock sternness in his tone, though the relief in his eyes betrayed him.

Hyomin smiled faintly, sliding into the passenger seat as he opened the door for her. “I had a visitor.”

He got in beside her, brow furrowing slightly. “A client?”

She shook her head, drawing a slow breath. “No. Her.”

The single word hung between them, and Seokhoon froze, his hand hovering over the ignition. His expression shifted, tension tightening the line of his jaw. “She came to see you?” His voice was low, laced with protectiveness.

“Yes,” Hyomin said softly, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “But it wasn’t like before. She apologized… for what happened last Friday. She said she was shocked, seeing you happy with someone new, in the house that used to be hers.”

Hyomin glanced at him, searching his face. “But she admitted she was wrong. She said she made her choice years ago—and she’s finally accepted it.”

Seokhoon’s shoulders eased, though disbelief flickered in his eyes. He turned toward her fully, as though needing to see every nuance in her expression. “She actually said that?”

Hyomin nodded, her voice gentler now. “And there’s more. She said Hash should stay with you. With us. That it was time for her to let go.”

Silence settled inside the car, broken only by the distant hum of traffic. Seokhoon leaned back against his seat, exhaling slowly, as if a weight he’d carried for years had suddenly been lifted. His hand reached for hers instinctively, warm and steady.

“She really said that,” he repeated, softer this time, wonder coloring his voice.

Hyomin squeezed his hand, her chest tightening at the rawness in his eyes. “Yes. And I told her thank you for trusting her son with us.

Seokhoon’s throat worked, his jaw trembling slightly as though words failed him. He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss against her knuckles, lingering there longer than usual. 

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear those words from her. Not after everything.”

Hyomin’s eyes softened, her heart swelling at the vulnerability in him. She gave his hand a tender squeeze, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to carry that fight anymore. We finally have Hash… and we can give him the home he deserves. Together.”

For a long moment, he just looked at her, as though memorizing the way she sat there—steady, calm, his anchor in a storm he thought would never end. And in his eyes, there was something deeper, something unspoken yet unmistakable, as if her words had given him permission to dream of the life he wanted to give her.

Three months passed in a rhythm of comfort and love. Hyomin and Seokhoon settled into shared routines—laughter over late-night meals, stolen kisses between long hours of work, quiet evenings that always ended in each other’s arms. Life carried its challenges, but together, they found balance.

It began unexpectedly, on an ordinary Saturday morning at the neighborhood grocery. Seokhoon had gone in search of fresh fruit when he spotted her—Hyomin’s mother, struggling to reach for a bundle of greens on the top shelf.

“Professor Choi?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

She turned, startled, then surprised recognition softened her face. “Seokhoon?”

What should have been a brief encounter stretched into something more. He offered to help carry her basket, then insisted on walking her home. Along the way, they talked about nothing and everything—recipes, neighborhood gossip, the way Hyomin still skipped meals when she worked too much. By the time he left, both felt oddly lighter, as though a bridge had quietly been built.

That one incident didn’t stop there.

Soon, Seokhoon found himself accompanying her to hospital check-ups, waiting beside her with quiet patience, cracking small jokes to ease her nerves. He carried grocery bags without being asked, discussed which fruits were sweetest in season, and listened attentively whenever she spoke. On weekends, he suggested slow walks through the park or down shaded streets, never rushing her, always matching his pace to hers.

Her father’s approving nods grew more frequent, her mother’s smiles warmer, until their conversations flowed with ease. They spoke of Hyomin often—her stubbornness, her laughter, the way she carried burdens too quietly—and in those moments, Seokhoon felt the quiet honor of being trusted with pieces of her life.

And Hyomin? She remained blissfully unaware.

Until one late afternoon, when she dropped by her parents’ house unannounced.

The sound of voices drifted from the kitchen, and when she stepped inside, her breath caught. There was Seokhoon, sleeves rolled up, carrying a pair of plastic bags for her mother as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Her mother beamed at him, her tone warm and familiar in a way that made Hyomin pause.

For a moment, she could only stand in the doorway, watching the two people she loved most—two worlds she hadn’t realized had already found their way to each other.

Hyomin simply watched, unsure whether to announce herself or retreat. Then, unable to contain her surprise, she blurted out, “What are you doing here, Seokhoon?”

Seokhoon glanced up, slightly startled, but his expression softened instantly when he saw her.

“Hyomin,” he said gently, a small, welcoming smile on his lips.

She forced herself to return the smile, though her heart fluttered with curiosity and something else—an unspoken question she couldn’t quite put into words. She stepped inside, setting down her bag, and her mother beamed at her.

“I didn’t know you were coming Hyomin-ah,” her mother said, glancing between them. “But I’m glad you came.”

Seokhoon offered Hyomin a polite nod.

“Just helping out with a few errands,” he said easily, though her eyes lingered on him, still puzzling over how her boyfriend had slipped so comfortably into her home.

Hyomin crossed her arms, one brow arching, her tone laced with playful suspicion. “Since when did you and my mom become best friends?”

Her mother chuckled before Seokhoon could answer, stepping in with a smile. “Since he rescued me at the grocery one month ago. You should’ve seen how he scolded me for carrying too many bags.”

Seokhoon rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “I wasn’t scolding Ma’am. I was… concerned.”

As they settled into the kitchen, the atmosphere was warm and easy, but Hyomin couldn’t shake the feeling that she had stumbled onto a secret she didn’t yet understand.

Hyomin never forgot the sight of Seokhoon standing in her parents’ kitchen, sleeves rolled up, carrying grocery bags as though he had always belonged there. She teased him endlessly afterward, but the image stayed with her—how naturally he fit into her world, how effortlessly he earned her parents’ affection.

For Seokhoon, the moment only deepened his resolve. He had spent months quietly building trust with her family, but now he wanted more than acceptance. He wanted their blessing.

A few days later, he found himself at the Kangs’ doorstep, his chest tight with nerves. The wild ginseng and wine in his hands felt heavier than they should, as though they carried the weight of everything he wanted to say. His palms were damp, and he had to steady his breath before pressing the doorbell.

When the door opened, Hyomin’s mother blinked in surprise, her eyes widening slightly.

“Oh, Seokhoon-ssi! What a surprise. Hyomin isn’t here. I didn’t know you’re coming”

“I know, Ma’am,” he said quickly, bowing slightly. “I actually came to speak with you and Sir, if you’ll allow me.”

Minutes later, he sat in their living room with his back straight, his heart pounding harder than it ever had in any courtroom trial. Hyomin’s parents waited in calm silence, their expectant eyes fixed on him. He laced his fingers together, holding them tightly in his lap as if that small act could steady the trembling he couldn’t quite control.

“Judge Kang and Prof. Choi,” he began, his voice steady but low, “I came today because I owe you both honesty and respect. Your daughter… Hyomin has changed my life in ways I never thought possible. She has been my strength, my peace, my joy. And I want to make a promise not just to her, but to you as well that I will protect her, respect her, and cherish her for the rest of my life.”

He lowered his head in a deep bow. “With your blessing, I would like to ask for Hyomin’s hand in marriage.”

Silence stretched, weighted but not hostile. Hyomin’s father leaned back, studying him with sharp, discerning eyes.

“Marriage is not a small promise, Seokhoon,” the older man said, his tone firm. “You know what our daughter has endured. And you know what you yourself have endured. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you are ready? Truly ready to put her before everything else?”

Seokhoon raised his head, meeting that gaze with unwavering certainty. “Yes, Sir. I’ve made mistakes in my past, but those years taught me what truly matters. And it’s her. It will always be her.”

For a long moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the ceiling fan. Then the sternness on Judge Kang's face cracked, his lips twitching into the ghost of a smile.

“Good,” he said finally. “That’s what I needed to hear.”

Beside him, Hyomin’s mother’s eyes shone with tears. She reached forward, laying a gentle hand over Seokhoon’s.

“You already treat her with the love we’ve always hoped for her,” she said softly. “You have our blessing, Seokhoon.”

The weight in his chest broke apart, replaced by a flood of relief and gratitude. He bowed again, deeper this time, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you… thank you both.”

When he stepped out of their home that evening, the air felt lighter, the sky more open. His decision was no longer just a dream forming quietly in his heart. It was real, blessed, waiting to be spoken.

The next time he saw Hyomin, he would ask her to be his forever.

Seokhoon leaned back in his chair, staring at the calendar on his desk. The red-marked dates of “business trip” were nothing but a cover, a carefully constructed excuse. Hyomin thought he would be gone for meetings abroad, but in truth, every detail of his absence was devoted to preparing the moment that would change both their lives.

One evening, as he closed his laptop, Hyomin curled up on the couch beside him, her chin propped on his shoulder.

“Do you really have to go?” she asked softly. “Can’t I come with you? I’ll be quiet, promise. Just a shadow.”

Seokhoon chuckled, brushing his hand through her hair. “Not this time. It’s going to be exhausting—long meetings, endless reports. You’d be bored out of your mind.”

Her lips pushed into a pout, her voice tinged with disappointment. “But I’d rather be bored with you than waiting here alone.”

He pinched her cheek gently, his eyes warm even as his words carried a light scolding edge.

“Don’t you have work to do? I can’t let you skip out on your clients just to trail after me like a shadow.” His smile lingered, softening the tease. “Besides, I wouldn’t get anything done with you there distracting me.”

Hyomin swatted his hand, half sulking, half amused. “You’re impossible. Always finding excuses.”

Seokhoon only pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice lowering into something tender. “It’ll only be a few days, Jagiya. And when I come back…” He paused, fighting the urge to say too much. “I’ll make sure it’s worth the wait.”

Hyomin leaned into him despite her pout, her arms looping loosely around his waist. “It better be,” she murmured, half sulking, half teasing. “Because I’ll be counting every hour.”

He held her tighter, his chin resting on her hair, eyes closing briefly as a quiet smile tugged at his lips. If only she knew that each hour she counted would bring her closer not to his return from a business trip, but to the moment he had been carefully building piece by piece—the moment he would ask her to be his forever.

His plan began with Jinwoo. One late evening, they found themselves tucked into the corner of a quiet café, the city’s noise reduced to a faint hum beyond the frosted glass. The table between them was crowded with half-empty coffee cups, crumpled sugar packets, and the leather-bound notebook Jinwoo had insisted on bringing, as though they were strategizing for court rather than planning a proposal.

“I feel like I’m preparing for trial, not a proposal,” Seokhoon admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jinwoo smirked. “You are on trial. Hyomin’s the judge, jury, and executioner.” He tapped the notebook. “But don’t overthink it. She doesn’t want a grand show—she just wants you.”

Seokhoon exhaled slowly, his chest tightening with the weight of it. “Still… I want it to be perfect. She deserves that much and more.”

Jinwoo’s expression softened, the teasing slipping away. He pressed a hand to his chest, his voice steady. “Then don’t try to perform perfection. Just speak from here. The rest will follow. Trust me, she’ll see it in your eyes before you even say a word.”

Seokhoon looked down at his hands, then back at his friend, and for the first time that night, he allowed himself to believe it might really be enough.

The next day, Seokhoon found himself in Sol A’s hospital lobby, with Eunjin already perched on the arm of a chair, brimming with curiosity. Their combined energy filled the space before he even spoke.

“So,” he began cautiously, glancing between them, “if you were Hyomin, what kind of proposal would make your heart race?”

Sol A clasped her hands against her chest, eyes shining. “Easy. Simple. Intimate. Just the two of you. She’d melt faster than chocolate on a summer day.”

Eunjin groaned dramatically. “Ugh, that’s so predictable. She deserves unforgettable. Think drama, think spotlight—this is once in a lifetime!”

Seokhoon chuckled, rubbing his temple. “So… simple and unforgettable? You two do realize that’s impossible, right?”

“Not impossible,” Sol A countered softly, her voice dipping into something steadier. She leaned closer. “It’s possible if it comes from you. Don’t stage a show. Stage your love.”

Her words struck deeper than she probably intended. They lingered with him, looping in his mind long after he left the office.

By the time he stepped into the jewelry store with Hyoju the following afternoon, the echoes of Sol A’s advice hadn’t faded. The glass cases shimmered under bright lights, dazzling with choices. Yet each glittering ring only seemed heavier with meaning, tightening the knot in his chest.

He ran a hand across the back of his neck, exhaling. “I honestly don’t know what I’m looking at. I’ve cross-examined CEOs with less pressure than this.”

The jeweler’s lights scattered across the rows of rings, each glint feeling like it demanded an answer he wasn’t ready to give. Seokhoon’s chest tightened as he imagined Hyomin’s hand, the quiet promise that would come with it, and the life he was asking her to share. His palms were damp, his thoughts tangled, until Hyoju’s calm presence beside him grounded him back to the moment.

Hyoju chuckled softly. “Relax, Oppa. I know my sister.” She reached into the case, picking up a delicate ring with a timeless design.

“Not too flashy?” Seokhoon asked, studying the sparkle.

“Hyomin’s heart doesn’t need diamonds the size of mountains,” Hyoju said, her eyes warm. “She needs something that reminds her of you—steady, sincere, unshakable.”

Seokhoon’s throat tightened as he nodded. “This one then. It feels… right.”

Hyoju’s smile widened knowingly. “It is right.”

Finally, there was Minjeong. In the quiet of her office, the afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, striping her desk in pale gold. She leaned forward, arms folded on the polished surface, one brow arched in disbelief as Seokhoon laid out his plan.

“So you want me to trick her into thinking she has a client meeting?” she repeated, her lips curling into a sly smile.

“She trusts you,” Seokhoon said firmly. “If anyone can get her there without suspicion, it’s you.”

Minjeong tilted her head, her grin widening. “Oh, she’s going to kill me for this. But in the best way possible.”

A laugh escaped Seokhoon, though it was thin, nervous. His fingers drummed restlessly against the desk. “I just… hope she says yes.”

For a moment, Minjeong studied him, her sharpness softening into something gentler. “Atty. Yoon… she’s been saying yes to you from the very beginning. You just haven’t asked yet.”

Relief flickered across his face—

But the door swung open.

And there stood Hyomin.

Her eyes widened as they landed on him, disbelief hardening into anger.

“You…” Her voice cracked before it sharpened like a blade. “You said you were abroad, Seokhoon. Business meetings”

The room went silent, the air taut. Seokhoon rose halfway to his feet, words dying on his lips. But Hyomin’s glare cut through him, her jaw clenched, her fists tight at her sides.

“I can’t believe you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with fury. “You lied to me.”

She turned on her heel and stormed out, the slam of the door echoing through the office—leaving Seokhoon frozen, his carefully built plan crashing down around him before it even began.

Chapter Text

The slam of the office door still echoed when Seokhoon shot to his feet. For a heartbeat, he stood frozen, his carefully laid plan crumbling before it even began. Then instinct took over.

“Hyomin. Wait!” He hurried after her, ignoring Minjeong’s startled look as he slipped out into the hallway.

He caught up to her just as she turned a corner, her pace brisk and unyielding. 

Without giving himself time to think, Seokhoon reached for her wrist. “Come with me.”

“Let go,” she hissed, trying to pull free, but he didn’t. 

Instead, he guided her firmly toward the nearest conference room, pushing the door open and ushering her inside before anyone else could notice the scene.

The door shut behind them with a muted click, and the quiet of the empty room pressed in around them. Hyomin folded her arms, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. 

“So this is your idea of an explanation? Dragging me in here like I don’t have a choice?”

Seokhoon’s shoulders tensed, but his voice was steady. “No. This is my only chance to tell you the truth without you walking away before I can.”

Her eyebrow arched. “Truth? Because last I checked, you were supposed to be abroad. Or was that just another story you fed me?”

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I had to reschedule some meetings. Minjeong had an urgent client issue, and I took care of it. I didn’t get a chance to tell you I’d arrived—”

“Didn’t get a chance?” she cut in, her voice sharper now. 

“Do you even hear yourself? It doesn’t matter if it’s one day or one hour—you let me believe a lie. And maybe to you that’s small, but to me…” 

She paused, her throat tightening as the memory of her past clawed at her chest.

 “…to me, it’s not small. I’ve been through this before, Seokhoon. Being kept in the dark, being fed half-truths until the whole thing collapses. I can’t—” Her voice cracked, but she forced it steady again. “I can’t go through that again.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, his expression stricken. 

Then, quietly, he said, “Hyomin… I’m not him. I would never betray you like that. But you’re right, I was wrong to think this didn’t matter. Even the smallest lie cuts deeper when you’ve already been scarred.”

Her arms loosened slightly, though her eyes still glistened with anger and hurt. “Then don’t make me question you please. Not for something this simple. Because if I can’t trust you here, how can I trust you with anything else?”

He stepped closer, voice low but resolute. “You can. I promise you’ll never be left in the dark again—not about anything. No excuses.”

Hyomin studied him, her heart torn between doubt and the steady sincerity in his gaze.

Finally, she let out a long breath, the fight draining from her shoulders. “Good. Because next time, Seokhoon… I won’t stay.”

The words hit him harder than any slap could have, but he nodded, accepting them like a vow he had no choice but to keep. Relief flickered in his expression, tempered by the gravity of her warning. The storm hadn’t cleared, but at least for now, they stood on the same ground again.

Hyomin’s warning still hung in the air when she finally walked out of the conference room, leaving Seokhoon standing there, chest tight, every word of hers weighing on him.

He dragged a hand down his face and let out a long, frustrated breath. So much for the perfect timing, the careful planning, the grand moment he had envisioned. All of it was slipping through his fingers.

The door cracked open again. Minjeong peeked in, eyes wide with curiosity.

 “Well, that was… intense.” She stepped inside, shutting the door behind her, a grin tugging at her lips. “Should I congratulate you on surviving, or start planning your funeral?”

Seokhoon groaned, dropping into a chair. “Not funny.”

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” Minjeong shot back, perching on the edge of the table. “You’re supposed to be planning a proposal, and instead she nearly set you on fire.”

His head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Minjeong.”

“What?” she asked innocently, biting back a laugh. “I didn’t say anything. But if Hyomin knew what you were really sneaking around for…” She let the thought dangle, her grin widening at the panic flickering across his face.

“Don’t you dare.” His voice dropped, low and warning.

Minjeong chuckled, swinging her legs casually. “Relax, your secret’s safe. But watching you sweat a little? Priceless.”

Seokhoon muttered something under his breath, face buried in his hands, while Minjeong leaned back, enjoying every second of his misery.

“Honestly, I almost feel bad for you. Almost. You’ve got a mountain to climb before she says yes—but hey, at least it’ll be entertaining for me.”

Seokhoon groaned again, and Minjeong’s laughter rang out, light and merciless, filling the quiet room.

Two evenings later, Hyomin finally gave in to Seokhoon’s persistence and agreed to dinner. 

“Just food,” he had promised with disarming simplicity. “No drama, no work, no storm clouds.”

They ended up at a cozy little restaurant tucked into one of the quieter streets of the city. The kind of place with warm lights, wooden tables, and the faint scent of grilled meat wafting from the kitchen.

Hyomin set down her chopsticks after finishing her plate. “Alright. You got me here. Now what’s your grand plan? Win me over with side dishes?”

Seokhoon grinned, leaning across the table. “It seems to be working.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smirk. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” he said lightly, “but you’re smiling. That’s a win.”

Before she could retort, he reached across and flicked a grain of rice stuck to her sleeve. “You’re a messy eater, you know that?”

Hyomin swatted his hand away, laughing despite herself. “Excuse me? You’re the one who nearly choked on kimchi earlier.”

“That was strategic,” he countered with mock seriousness. “To make you laugh.”

“Oh, please.” She shook her head, still chuckling, and reached over to jab his arm with her chopsticks.

Seokhoon caught her wrist before she could pull back, his hand warm around hers. For a second, their playful bickering stilled, their eyes meeting across the table. His thumb brushed lightly against her knuckles before he released her hand, his smile softening.

“I miss you,” he said quietly, the teasing gone from his voice.

Hyomin’s breath hitched, her walls faltering at the tenderness in his tone.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered back, her eyes dropping to their hands before flicking up to meet his again.

Seokhoon leaned in, lowering his voice as if confessing something monumental. “I even skipped two whole lunches because I was too busy thinking about you.”

Hyomin blinked, then let out a snort of laughter. “Wow. Tragic. Should I feel honored or guilty?”

“Both” he shot back instantly, lips twitching.

She shook her head, still laughing, though her cheeks betrayed her with a flush. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, leaning back with a teasing spark in his eyes, “you’re still here.”

She shook her head, hiding her grin behind her drink.

Across the table, Seokhoon’s chest tightened. She had no idea that in just a few days, he planned to ask her the one question that had been burning on his tongue for weeks. He pictured it now—the moment he would kneel, the words he’d say, the way her expression might shift from shock to something brighter.

His heart thudded at the thought, but he forced himself to keep the smile easy, casual. Tonight wasn’t the time. Tonight was about laughter, about easing the weight between them. But still… he couldn’t help rehearsing silently, his gaze lingering on her as if imprinting this exact moment into memory.

Hyomin caught him staring. “What?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “Just… you look pretty. That’s all.”

Hyomin’s eyes rolled, though the faint pink on her cheeks betrayed her. “Aigoo… you really know how to say nonsense, don’t you?”

Seokhoon chuckled, setting his glass down. Then, without warning, he leaned across the table, closing the distance. Hyomin stiffened in surprise as his hand brushed her hair aside, his lips pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

Her breath caught. “What was that for?” she whispered, trying—and failing—to keep her voice steady.

He leaned back with a soft grin. “Consider it… a promise.”

Hyomin blinked, her cheeks warming despite herself. She grabbed her drink quickly, sipping just to hide the sudden rush of heat on her face. 

“You’re so strange sometimes,” she muttered, pretending to focus on the menu even though the food was long finished.

Seokhoon only chuckled, watching her from across the table, his chest swelling with both nerves and anticipation. 

Soon, he thought. Very soon.

The proposal had been meticulously planned for months, yet Seokhoon wanted it to feel effortless, natural—like every moment of their relationship had quietly led to this one. Hyomin had agreed to meet Minjeong for what she thought was a usual client consultation, a favor she owed her friend, and followed the directions to a quiet location.

She froze as she spotted him waiting there, and her brows knit in confusion. “Seokhoon… what are you doing here?”

He smiled softly, a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “I was hoping you’d ask me that.”

“I… I thought I was meeting a client,” she said, blinking at him, unsure if she should be annoyed or amused.

“You are,” he replied smoothly, taking a small step closer. “The client of the most important decision you’ll ever make.”

He held out his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Where exactly?”

“There’s somewhere I want to show you.”

Hyomin tilted her head, brow furrowed, eyes narrowing slightly. “Somewhere? Here? In the middle of all this snow… what exactly are you trying to show me?”

“You’ll see” he replied, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Just follow me.”

With a mix of curiosity and reluctant amusement, Hyomin took his hand, letting him guide her along the snow-dusted path. Each step was familiar yet new, the crisp winter air carrying their quiet laughter as they walked together, unaware of the magic awaiting them at the end of the path.

Hyomin and Seokhoon walked side by side along the tree-lined paths, their breaths forming soft clouds in the cold air. Conversation flowed easily, punctuated by quiet laughter, familiar teasing, and the occasional pause to admire the snow settling on branches. Every step felt like a continuation of a rhythm they had always known, a harmony of small, shared moments.

The snowfall softened around them, muffling the world in a delicate hush. Hyomin’s eyes widened as a small gazebo came into view at the end of the path. String lights glowed warmly, their golden glow catching the flakes like tiny stars suspended in midair. The ground was lightly sprinkled with petals, their color vivid against the pristine snow, and a few candles flickered gently, casting a soft, intimate light that seemed to chase away the chill. Her breath caught, a sudden, unfamiliar tightness settling in her chest.

It was perfect ...

Somehow, the simplicity of it—the snow, the lights, the petals—made her pulse race faster than any grand gesture ever could. The walks they had taken together, the laughter, the quiet conversations, all led to this moment, and yet it felt entirely new, entirely extraordinary.

Hyomin’s mind swirled with disbelief and a hesitant thrill.

Did he really… plan all of this just for me?

Her hand unconsciously went to the scarf around her neck, fingers trembling slightly as if holding on to herself in a world that suddenly seemed to tilt.

Seokhoon stepped closer, his eyes locking onto hers. There was a steadiness there, but also a vulnerability, a hint of fear that she might say no—or that she might see the weight of everything he had been holding in his heart.

“Jagiya… every step we’ve taken together, every walk, every laugh, every quiet moment… it all led me here.” His voice was low, raw, carrying the intensity of all the unsaid words, all the moments that had defined their love.

“From the smallest gestures to the biggest challenges, every memory with you has been a part of this journey I never want to end. You’ve become my home, my comfort, my laughter… my heart.”

He lowered himself to one knee, the snow crunching softly beneath him, a sound that seemed impossibly loud in the still winter air. His hand opened a small velvet box, revealing a ring that caught the glow of the lights and candles, scattering tiny sparks of light across her face.

“I love you, Hyomin-ah, more than I can ever say. You are my everything, my always… my forever. Will you marry me?”

Time seemed to stretch. Hyomin’s heart thundered in her chest, a mix of disbelief, joy, and an almost overwhelming warmth spreading through her. Her mind raced, trying to find words worthy of the moment, yet all she could do was look at him, seeing not just the man kneeling before her, but every quiet, patient gesture, every step he had taken to lead them here. 

This… this is love. 

She thought, feeling it in every pulse of her being, every fluttering breath, every beat of her heart.

Hyomin’s gaze flickered between Seokhoon and the ring, her heart pounding so fiercely she thought it might burst. Her fingers curled instinctively at her sides, then tightened around the edge of her coat, as if holding herself steady against the storm of feeling rising inside her. 

This is real… he’s really here… for me.

Her lips parted, and she opened her mouth, only to find words failing her. She swallowed, her pulse hammering in her ears. Every memory of their walks, their quiet nights, the shared laughter and the subtle comforts of being together, all rushed through her in one overwhelming wave.

All of this… led to this moment. And it’s just… us.

Seokhoon’s eyes softened, filled with quiet hope and a tinge of fear, watching her struggle to find the words. He leaned forward just slightly, his hand still steady on the velvet box, his breath visible in the cold air. 

“Hyomin… it’s okay. Just… say what your heart feels.”

A small, trembling smile broke across her face, and she finally found her voice, soft but sure. 

“Yes… yes, Seokhoon. Of course I will marry you.”

The relief that washed over him was almost audible. He rose, slipping the ring onto her finger with careful reverence, his hands warm around hers. Snowflakes swirled around them, the soft glow of the lights catching in her hair, in the sparkle of the ring, in the warmth that now seemed to cocoon them both.

For a moment, they simply stood together in silence, letting the world shrink to just the two of them. Then, gently, Seokhoon leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a soft, lingering kiss—a promise, a celebration, and a vow all at once. Every laugh, every step, every quiet moment had led to this.

Hand in hand, they stepped out of the gazebo, the snow crunching softly beneath their boots. Each breath hung in the cold air like mist, mingling with quiet laughter that seemed to belong only to them. Seokhoon’s thumb brushed lightly over the back of her hand, grounding them in the moment, while Hyomin rested her head briefly against his shoulder, savoring the warmth and the reality of it all.

The park, blanketed in white, seemed to hold its breath around them. The string lights glimmered faintly through the snowfall, and the world beyond the path faded into soft shadows. For the first time in a long while, everything felt as it should—simple, perfect, and theirs.

“Shall we go?” Seokhoon murmured, a playful light in his eyes, though his voice still carried the weight of the moment.

Hyomin nodded, her smile radiant, a mixture of awe and certainty. “Yes… let’s go. Together.”

They walked slowly down the tree-lined path, the snow swirling around them, hearts in sync, every step a promise of the life they were about to begin—one filled with laughter, love, and countless shared walks yet to come.

And somewhere deep in the park, the soft glow of the gazebo lingered behind them, a silent witness to the beginning of forever.

By the time Hyomin and Seokhoon arrived at the hotel, cheeks flushed from the cold and excitement, Hyomin couldn’t hide her confusion. The function room had been transformed into a cozy celebration—twinkling fairy lights draped across the walls, flowers adorned the tables, and a few scattered balloons added a festive touch.

Her parents were already there, along with Seokhoon’s mother and relatives from Changwon, and of course, Hyomin’s closest friends. The sight made her pause, eyebrows raising.

“Seokhoon-ah,” she asked, tilting her head slightly, “what exactly is going on here?”

Seokhoon’s lips curved into a small, sheepish smile. “Engagement party,” he said simply.

Hyomin crossed her arms, pretending to scold him but failing as a smile tugged at her lips. “Why didn’t you tell me!!”

Seokhoon laughed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “If I told you, you would know I was proposing. And then… well, it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore.”

Her eyes softened, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You’re impossible,” she said, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her amusement.

“Maybe,” he admitted, “but it was worth it.”

Seokhoon’s relatives from Changwon whispered and nudged each other, still marveling at Hyomin’s beauty.

“Is that really her?” one asked. “She looks even better than the photos my mother sent.”

Seokhoon’s mother chuckled softly. “I told you she was stunning but seeing her in person is something else entirely.”

Hyomin blushed slightly, looking between both families.

Hyomin's mother stepped forward, placing a hand gently on Seokhoon’s arm. “Seokhoon, welcome to our family. You’ve made her so happy.”

Her father nodded, a small proud smile tugging at his lips. 

Seokhoon’s uncle shook his head, grinning broadly. “I never thought I’d see the day Seokhoon on one knee! And in the snow, no less. What happened to the calm, collected man we know?”

His aunt chimed in, teasing, “He’s usually all serious suits and sharp meetings! I half expected him to propose with a contract and a pen!”

Seokhoon flushed slightly, clearing his throat. “I… prefer to think of it as dramatic flair.”

Hyomin’s mother laughed, gesturing to Seokhoon’s relatives. “See? He has hidden depths. Dramatic flair seems to run in the family now.”

One of Seokhoon’s cousins leaned forward, smirking. “Honestly, we never thought you’d be the romantic type. Snow, candles, petals… who are you, Seokhoon?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, guilty. But don’t let this ruin my reputation!”

Hyomin raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “Wait… how do you guys even know all that already?”

Seokhoon smirked, shrugging casually. “I hired a photographer. They sent live pictures and raw videos while we were driving here. I couldn’t resist sharing the moment with everyone who matters.”

Hyomin blinked, a mix of amusement and mock exasperation crossing her face. “You… planned everything and made them watch it unfold in real time? Seriously?”

He leaned closer, voice low but teasing. “What can I say? I like to make moments unforgettable.”

Hyomin shook her head, smiling, though a faint blush crept onto her cheeks. “You’re ridiculous.”

Seokhoon’s mother stepped in, a soft laugh escaping her. “Let him be, Hyomin-ah. You know how he gets—he was so stressed about planning everything perfectly that he even said he was going abroad just to make this happen.”

Hyomin blinked, a small smile tugging at her lips as a sudden realization hit her.

So that’s why she had seen him in Minjeong’s office… he wasn’t really there for work at all.

The memory of his nervous posture and quick, apologetic smile replayed in her mind, and she shook her head, both amused and slightly exasperated at how clever he had been.

She turned to him, eyes narrowing though her lips curved in a smirk. “Yah!!! Was this the time we fought?”

Seokhoon froze mid-sip, nearly choking on his drink before coughing out a laugh. “Ah… you remember that part, huh?”

Hyomin crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair with mock indignation. “You’re unbelievable. All that drama, and this was your secret all along?”

Seokhoon reached across the table, his grin unapologetic. “Worth it.”

Meanwhile, Hyomin’s friends, Minjeong, Sol A, Eunjin, Hoyeon, and Hyoju, joined the banter immediately. 

“Hyominnnn-ah! Are you screaming yet? Because we are!” Sol A squealed, waving her phone like a recorder.

Eunjin jabbed Seokhoon lightly. “And you, Atty. Yoon, orchestrating the ‘client meeting’ ruse. So clever, yet sneaky. Who even taught you this?”

Hyoju smirked, pointing at him. “Hyomin-ah, do you like the ring? Atty. Yoon has been so annoying about finding the perfect one for you!”

Seokhoon groaned, rubbing his face with mock defeat. “I surrender! Roasted by all of you at once. Happy now?”

Even the relatives from Changwon shook their heads in disbelief, still whispering to each other. “He’s so meticulous at work, and yet this… this playful, romantic chaos? We would have never imagined it.”

Hyomin’s father raised his glass, grinning. “Well, whatever he’s doing, he’s made my daughter very happy. And that’s all that matters.”

The function room buzzed with laughter, teasing, and congratulations. Banter ricocheted from parents to friends to partners, each comment more playful than the last. Hyomin’s heart swelled as she watched Seokhoon navigate the teasing with charm, throwing the occasional grimace or witty retort, keeping everyone entertained.

She leaned close, her voice soft against his ear. “You really surprised them, didn’t you?”

Seokhoon smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And I plan to surprise you even more… later.”

“Yah!” Hyomin laughed, resting her head against his shoulder, rolling her eyes but smiling.

Surrounded by family, friends, and laughter, she felt a quiet, warm certainty settle in her chest. This was just the beginning—of marriage, of adventures, and of endless moments of love, laughter, and mischief shared together. In that moment, the world felt perfectly and completely theirs.

Chapter Text

Their engagement had barely been announced before the effects were felt. At work, the mood was lighter, full of excitement, though Hyomin thought ‘chaotic’ might be more accurate.

She noticed it first on Monday morning. The moment she stepped into the office, familiar faces popped around corners, their smiles bright, eyes sparkling with barely contained curiosity.

“Congratulations, Atty. Kang!” one co-worker chirped, voice bubbling with excitement. “You look radiant!”

Seokhoon, standing just behind her, drew a wave of greetings in his direction too, with firm handshakes, playful pats on the back, and a few teasing jabs at his usually stoic demeanor. Hyomin couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. Everyone seemed determined to make him squirm, or at least blush, and she silently enjoyed watching him handle it with unshakable composure.

Then, like a gentle tide of authority and warmth, their Managing Partner, Atty. Kwon Nayeon, appeared, her rare smile broad and genuine. She extended a hand toward Seokhoon first.

“Congratulations, Atty. Yoon and Atty. Kang,” she said, turning to Hyomin, her voice rich with approval. “I just heard about the wonderful news. I am truly happy for both of you.”

Hyomin felt a flutter of pride warm her chest, mixed with a soft amusement at the sight of Seokhoon responding with his signature calm, polished charm.

“Thank you, Atty. Kwon,” Seokhoon said, shaking her hand firmly, every movement measured yet effortless.

Hyomin stepped forward as well, her voice soft but sincere. “Thank you so much, Atty. Kwon. We really appreciate it.”

With the congratulations exchanged, Hyomin returned to her desk, settling back into her usual rhythm. She focused on her work, keeping papers and emails in order, but a quiet warmth lingered in her chest, a gentle reminder of the excitement that had filled the office just moments before.

Hours later, Minjeong appeared, dramatic as ever, striding toward Hyomin’s cubicle with the flair of a lead actress making her grand entrance. She waved a folder like a victory flag, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Hyomin-ah, your fiancée sends his regards. And don’t think you’re escaping the endless questions about wedding plans!”

Hyomin groaned, rubbing her temples in exaggerated despair. How am I supposed to survive her nonstop questions? She thought, already bracing herself.

“It’s only been three days, unnie. I haven’t even had coffee yet, and you’re already interrogating me.”

Minjeong feigned outrage, placing a hand dramatically over her heart. “Three days? That’s ages in engagement time! You’re basically torturing me with suspense.”

Hyomin laughed despite herself. “Suspense? More like you’re training me in patience… or endurance!”

Their quiet giggles drew a few amused looks from nearby coworkers, before Hyomin’s phone buzzed. She glanced down and saw Seokhoon’s name light up the screen. A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips as she picked it up, feeling a mix of relief and anticipation.

Her phone buzzed, and Seokhoon’s name lit up the screen. A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips as she picked it up.

“Hello?” she said, trying to sound casual.

“I believe it’s time for us to finally discuss—” His voice dropped slightly, just enough for dramatic effect, “—our first ‘couple’ task together.”

Hyomin blinked. “Task?”

“Yes,” he said, a faint smirk in his tone. “Buying a house. I’ve picked a few options, and I want us to see them. Are you free Wednesday morning? Do you have hearings or meetings that day?”

Hyomin groaned, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “Wednesday morning? You’re serious?”

“Completely,” he replied, amusement in his voice. “And I expect full cooperation. I promise it’ll be fun… mostly.”

Even through the phone, she could feel the excitement radiating from him. The chaos of congratulations and teasing at work faded for a moment, replaced by the thrill of this new adventure. Whether side by side or from a distance, she realized with a smile that there was no one else she would rather navigate it with than him.

By the following Wednesday, Hyomin barely had time to grab her things before Seokhoon appeared at the entrance of the model house, clipboard in hand and a small grin tugging at his lips.

“You ready for our first important task together?” he asked, his voice teasing, eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Hyomin crossed her arms, pretending to be serious. “If by ‘task’ you mean stalking open houses, then yes… I am fully prepared.”

Seokhoon chuckled, leading her inside. “I trust your taste, Hyomin. Today, you’re in charge.”

Her eyes widened as they entered the living room. Sunlight poured through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the soft wooden floors and open-plan layout.

“Wow. This is… cozy.” She ran her hand over the kitchen island. “I can see us cooking together here. And there’s enough space for a dinner party without bumping elbows!”

Seokhoon followed her gaze, his hand brushing hers accidentally as she gestured toward the living area.

“And the backyard?” he asked, nodding toward the sliding doors.

Hyomin’s face lit up. “Perfect for Hash! He’ll run around like a king.”

Seokhoon raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of kings…”

Hyomin spun around, grinning. “Yes, yes, he needs his own room. I’m already planning it. Plush bed, toys, maybe even a little window so he can watch the backyard. The full VIP treatment.”

Seokhoon laughed, shaking his head. “You're spoiling him too much.”

They moved upstairs to check out the bedrooms. Hyomin ran her fingers along the walls, imagining paint colors, furniture arrangements, and little details that would make the house feel like theirs.

Seokhoon lingered at the doorway, watching her excitement. “You really know what you want, huh?”

Hyomin smirked. “Of course. Someone has to make all the important decisions.”

She turned toward him, mock-serious. “And you… you just make sure I don’t pick anything hideous.”

He leaned slightly closer, voice low and teasing. “Deal. But I’m warning you, I might veto neon pink walls.”

Hyomin burst out laughing, wagging a finger at him. “Neon pink? You wish! I might like pink, but not blinding neon on our walls!”

Finally, they reached the master suite. Hyomin flopped onto the bed dramatically. “Okay, fine… this will do. Big bed, balcony overlooking the backyard… this could work.”

She sat up, playful and mischievous. “But remember, Jagiya… I get full say on the decorations.”

He sat beside her, eyes softening as he watched her enthusiasm. “Yes ma'am. You're the boss here”

“Exactly,” she shot back, bumping her shoulder against his. “And don’t you forget it.”

Seokhoon smirked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Before they left, Hyomin peeked into the little room they’d reserved for Hash. She knelt, opening the tiny window so he could look outside. “See? VIP treatment. This will be your kingdom, Hash.”

Seokhoon crouched beside her, quietly smiling at how she glowed with each detail she imagined. “Looks like our little family is already taking shape.”

Hyomin grinned, brushing his shoulder playfully. “Don’t get sentimental, Atty. Yoon. We still have more houses to see, remember?”

He chuckled, taking her hand gently. “I know. But… this one feels like ours already.”

Hyomin glanced at him, her heart fluttering, before shaking her head and standing up. “Okay, Mr. Romantic… let’s see the next one. But don’t think you’re getting off easy. I’m checking all the rooms.”

Seokhoon followed her with a laugh, secretly thrilled to let her take the lead, knowing that no matter which house they chose, every step felt like building their life together. One playful, one love-filled moment at a time.

Hyomin and Seokhoon moved from room to room, each house presenting its own quirks and charms. One had a beautiful garden but tiny bedrooms. Another had a sleek, modern kitchen but the living room felt cramped. Hyomin scribbled notes in her mental notebook, her eyes lighting up at some features and narrowing at others, while Seokhoon offered quiet commentary, teasing her gently when she got carried away.

Finally, they stepped into the last house on their list. Sunlight poured through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the open-plan living area. The space felt airy and inviting, yet warm and cozy without being crowded. Hyomin’s eyes immediately roamed over the kitchen, which boasted a massive island, plenty of cabinets, and room for everyone to gather without bumping into each other.

“This… this is nice,” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. She moved toward the sliding glass doors and peeked out. The city stretched before them in a dazzling view, the skyline framed perfectly by the backyard. “And the view! Look at this, Seokhoon. We could have dinner parties out here, morning coffee, sunset drinks…”

He stepped beside her, his arm brushing hers lightly.

“I have to admit, this one feels different. More… homey,” he said, his eyes scanning the spacious rooms. “Big enough for family, friends, Hash… even your unnie and Sol A and Eunjin if they crash here.”

Hyomin laughed softly. “Exactly. I can already picture everyone here—laughter echoing in the living room, music in the background, meals at this huge kitchen island. It feels like a house where life happens.”

She ran her hand along the smooth countertop, turning to glance at him. “This could work, Jagiya. Really work.”

He studied her for a moment, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Then it sounds like we’ve found it” he said quietly, almost reverently. “Our home.”

Hyomin’s heart fluttered, and she leaned against the counter, letting herself imagine the future—the laughter, the shared mornings, the quiet evenings, the chaos of friends and family. She could see it all here, in this perfect balance of modern design and cozy warmth.

“Okay,” she said, standing a little straighter, excitement in her eyes. “This is it. This is the one we’ll make ours.”

Seokhoon nodded, reaching out to take her hand.

“Then let’s do it,” he said, his voice steady but filled with quiet joy. “This is where our next chapter begins.”

Hyomin squeezed his hand, smiling up at him. “I like that… our next chapter.”

The two lingered for a moment, soaking in the space, imagining life unfolding in each room. The house was theirs, a perfect blend of modern design and cozy warmth, and the excitement of that discovery lingered as they returned to their everyday routines. With the major decision behind them, Hyomin and Seokhoon could finally focus on the next big adventure: their wedding.

“Hyomin-ah,” Seokhoon said one afternoon, glancing over his tablet, “spring or winter for the wedding?”

Hyomin smiled, remembering their proposal. “Spring. Definitely spring. Winter already gave us the proposal magic. I want flowers, sunlight… the whole bright, cheerful vibe for the wedding.”

“I had a feeling you’d pick spring,” he said, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Light and fresh… perfect for a wedding.”

“You’re such a planner,” she teased, rolling her eyes but smiling.

He leaned a little closer, voice soft but teasing. “And yet… here you are, indulging all my plans. For me.”

The rest of the week passed in a flurry of wedding research. Afternoons were spent poring over venues online, exchanging links with little notes:

“This garden has perfect lighting. Photos will be gorgeous!” or “Too many candles. Fire hazard.”

By the week’s end, they had a tentative date, a shortlist of venues, and a growing list of “must-haves.” Through all the laughter, playful teasing, and careful planning, one thing remained clear: no matter how busy life got, they were building this together.

On a bright Saturday morning, Hyomin, Minjeong, and Hyoju arrived at the bridal studio, armed with notebooks, coffee, and the kind of enthusiasm only a bride-to-be could summon. Seokhoon had a hearing that morning and couldn’t join, leaving Hyomin free to lead the first decisions with her matron and maid of honor.

“First things first,” Minjeong said, pulling out a map of local churches. “Hyomin, where do you want the ceremony?”

Hyomin scanned the options, fingers tracing the outlines of each location. “I want something modern, light, with high ceilings and lots of natural light. Nothing too fussy, but still elegant.”

Hyoju leaned over a photo of one chapel. “This one has that airy feel you like, plus the garden outside—perfect for photos.”

Hyomin nodded thoughtfully. “I like it. And it has enough space for guests without feeling cramped. Let’s tentatively choose this one.”

Next came the reception venue. Tables, lights, layouts, and a small terrace for an outdoor cocktail hour. Minjeong and Hyoju debated the pros and cons while Hyomin imagined the evening—the laughter, the dancing, the soft glow of candles and fairy lights.

“This one feels perfect,” Hyomin said, smiling as she pictured Seokhoon in a tailored suit, standing across the room from her. “Elegant, but intimate. Modern, yet cozy.”

Hyoju jotted it down. “Noted. Now, flowers. Hyomin, do you want something structured or wild, more classic or whimsical?”

Hyomin bit her lip, thinking. “I want soft colors, lots of greenery. Something effortless, natural… not overdone.”

Minjeong grinned. “Leave it to me and Hyoju. We’ll make it bloom just right.”

Excitement bubbled in Hyomin as they flipped through catalogs, discussing arrangements for tables, the ceremony aisle, and bouquets. She could already picture the twins scattering petals, the soft pastel blooms complementing her gown, and the warm, golden light of the modern reception hall.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Sol A.

“I’ll join you all for the food tasting after my shift! Don’t eat everything without me!”

Hyomin laughed, showing the message to Hyoju. “She’s coming later. We can save the tasting excitement for her.”

She quickly texted Seokhoon a photo of a chapel with a note: “Found one that fits the airy vibe we love. You’ll swoon when you see it.”

Within seconds, his reply came: “Swooning already. Keep going, I trust your taste.”

Minjeong leaned back, folding her arms with a satisfied smirk. “Church, reception, flowers… check, check, check. And the bride? Radiating.”

Hyomin chuckled, her gaze distant for a moment. “I just wish Seokhoon could be here. But it’s okay… he’s trusting me to decide, and that feels… special in its own way.”

Hyoju grinned. “Don’t worry, he’ll love whatever you pick. And we’ll make sure he’s impressed when he sees it.”

With the major choices made, Hyomin leaned back in her chair, heart fluttering with anticipation. The wedding was slowly taking shape, and even without Seokhoon by her side that morning, she felt his presence in every decision, every imagined laugh, and every tiny detail she carefully chose.

Two weeks before the wedding, the air buzzed with a mix of nerves and excitement. It was gown day. The day Hyomin would finally decide on the dress she’d wear to walk down the aisle.

The boutique was filled with the soft hum of music and the faint scent of fresh flowers. Racks of gowns lined the walls, glittering under the warm lights. Hyomin stood in front of the mirror in a simple silk robe, her hair tied back, cheeks already flushed with anticipation.

Hyoju, clutching her phone like a camera crew, grinned ear to ear. “Okay, are you ready? This is history. Don’t cry too early, or I will.”

Their mom gently smoothed Hyomin’s shoulders, her eyes warm. “Take your time, sweetheart. The right gown will speak to you. And when it does, you’ll know.”

The first gown was stunning—lace bodice, flowing skirt, but a little too ornate. Hyomin stepped out, watching herself in the mirror.

“It’s beautiful,” Hyoju said, tilting her head, “but… it feels like the dress is wearing you, not the other way around.”

Hyomin chuckled, nodding. “Exactly. Too heavy. Next!”

The second gown was sleek, satin with delicate straps, elegant and modern. Hyomin’s mom gasped softly. “You look gorgeous, darling. But…” She hesitated, her gaze thoughtful. “I don’t see you in it yet.”

Hyomin turned slowly, frowning. “You’re right. It’s beautiful, but it’s not me.”

Then came the third gown. A modern, clean silhouette with soft flowing layers, subtle beading that caught the light like stars, and just enough elegance without being overwhelming. Hyomin stepped out, and the room fell silent.

Hyoju’s jaw dropped. “Oh. My. God.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “That’s it. That’s the dress.”

Her mom’s eyes welled up instantly, hands flying to her lips. “Hyomin-ah… you’re glowing.”

Hyomin stared at her reflection, breath caught in her throat. For the first time, she could imagine the moment—the doors opening, walking down the aisle, Seokhoon’s face waiting for her at the end. Her heart raced, but this time it was with joy, not nerves.

Tears slipped down her cheeks before she realized it.

“This is it,” she whispered, smiling through her tears. “This is the one.”

Hyoju immediately dabbed her own eyes with a tissue, pointing at her sister. “Yah! Now I’m crying because you’re crying!”

Their mom pulled them both into a hug, her voice trembling. “My little girl… you’re going to be such a beautiful bride.”

Hyomin hugged them tightly, her heart full. “I just… I wish Seokhoon could see me right now.”

Hyoju shook her head firmly, wiping her cheeks. “Nope! He has to wait. He’ll faint when he sees you at the altar. And I will record it for evidence.”

Hyomin laughed, the sound bubbling out through her tears. In that moment, surrounded by her family, she knew—the dress, the day, the life ahead with Seokhoon—everything was falling perfectly into place.

A week before the wedding, Hyomin and Seokhoon finally began moving into their new home. The house still smelled faintly of fresh paint, and the boxes piled by the doorway felt like both an ending and a beginning. Boxes were scattered across the living room, some half-opened, others stacked neatly by the wall. Hash ran excitedly from room to room, nails clicking on the floor as if he were giving the new house his personal approval. Hyomin stood in the living room, trying to take it all in, when she heard muffled sniffles behind her.

Sol A collapsed onto the couch dramatically, hugging a pillow like it was her lifeline. 

“Yah, Hyomin-ah… after more than a decade of sharing one fridge, fighting over the shower, and late-night ramyeon, how can you just leave us like this?” Her voice cracked halfway through, and she burst into tears.

Eunjin, who had been carrying in a box of kitchenware, froze at the sound. Her lips trembled, and then the tears followed.

“Don’t start, Sol A… you’ll make me—” She broke down before she could finish, setting the box down and wiping her face with the back of her sleeve.

Hyomin sighed, setting her own box aside and walking over to them.

“What is this? Are you two seriously crying right now?” But her voice wavered, betraying the lump in her throat.

“You’re abandoning us!” Sol A sniffled, eyes glassy. “We’ve been roommates for over ten years!”

Eunjin nodded fiercely through her tears. “And now you’re leaving us to start a new family!”

Hyomin’s laugh came out watery as she hugged them both at once, the three of them clinging together like it was a farewell at the airport.

“Yah, you make it sound like I’m moving to another country, not twenty minutes away! You can come over whenever you want. We can still have sleepovers, eat ramyeon at midnight… you’re just being dramatic!”

But Sol A only cried harder. “I’m dramatic because I love you!”

That was when Seokhoon walked in, balancing two heavy boxes with ease. 

He stopped in the doorway, blinking at the sight of three women sobbing and tangled together on the couch. “Did I… walk into a funeral?”

Hyomin glared at him through her tears. “They’re being ridiculous.”

Sol A pointed an accusing finger at him. “You! You stole our roommate!”

“Guilty,” Seokhoon said smoothly, setting the boxes down. “But for the record, I’m sharing her. You two are welcome here anytime. I’ll even stock the pantry with ramyeon just for you.”

Sol A pointed at him, sniffling. “Take good care of her, Atty. Yoon. She’s our Hyomin too.”

The moment was messy, loud, and full of love—exactly the kind of send-off Hyomin never knew she needed before starting this new chapter of her life.

By the time the last box was unpacked and her friends had finally gone home, the house was quiet again. Hyomin sat cross-legged on the couch, still sniffling as she scrolled through the photos Sol A had taken earlier—blurry group shots, tear-streaked faces, and even one of Hash looking utterly confused in the middle of the chaos.

Seokhoon dropped onto the couch beside her, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

“You know,” he said casually, “for someone who accused them of being dramatic, you cried harder than both of them combined.”

Hyomin’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “Yah!”

He smirked, leaning in closer. “I’m serious. At one point, I thought I’d have to hand you tissues by the box. You almost scared Hash.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me? That was their fault! They started crying first!”

Seokhoon chuckled, tightening his arm around her. “Mhm. And you joined in like it was a competition.”

Hyomin groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “You love me. Enough to leave your best friends, the ones you’ve lived with for years.”

Hyomin peeked at him through her fingers, cheeks burning. "Of course not"

Seokhoon grinned, clearly satisfied with her flustered expression. “It’s okay, jagiya. Don’t worry. I’ll tell your friends that their roommate actually loves me more than she loves them.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, shoving his shoulder. Then, with mock seriousness, she added, “Keep teasing me and I’ll move back in with them. Sol A and Eunjin will welcome me with open arms—and probably more snacks than you ever buy.”

Seokhoon raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Wow. Threatening to abandon your fiancée before the wedding? Should I be worried?”

Hyomin fought back a laugh, lips twitching. “Depends. Are you planning to behave?”

He leaned closer, eyes glinting. “Not a chance.”

Hyomin groaned, smacking a pillow into his chest. “Ugh, why am I marrying you again?”

Seokhoon caught the pillow easily, his smirk softening into a smile. “Because you love me… more than snacks, more than your roommates, and yes—even more than Hash.”

Hyomin gasped, scandalized. “Now that’s going too far!”

Seokhoon laughed until she whacked him with the pillow again, the sound of their playful bickering filling their new home like the sweetest kind of beginning.

Chapter Text

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, painting Hyomin’s room in shades of gold and rose. Her heart fluttered like the delicate lace of her wedding gown, a mixture of anticipation, excitement, and the quiet realization that today was the day she and Seokhoon would begin their forever.

Outside, the world seemed to hold its breath. Guests were arriving, cars lined the streets, and flowers were carefully arranged to welcome everyone. Yet for Hyomin, the only thought that mattered was the moment she would walk toward Seokhoon, the man who had orchestrated surprises, laughter, and love in every step of their journey together.

Inside, Seokhoon adjusted his tie, the silence thick with memory. He had been here before, dressed for forever, but forever had slipped through his hands. He’d thought maybe he wasn’t meant for love.

And then she came. She made him laugh again, believe again, hope again. He looked at his reflection, the weight in his chest both heavy and freeing all at once.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and the wedding planner peeked in.

“Everything’s ready, Atty. Yoon. Guests are settling, and Atty. Kang is just finishing preparations.”

He nodded, exhaling slowly. “Good. Just… keep her relaxed until it’s time.”

The door closed again, and a familiar presence slipped quietly into the room. His mother, graceful in a flowing beige gown, carried a smile that trembled at the corners. She crossed the room with unhurried steps, her eyes glistening as she reached up to brush away invisible lint from his suit. Her hands lingered when she straightened his tie, trembling just enough to betray the emotions she tried to hold back.

“You know,” she murmured softly, her voice thick with feeling, “there was a time I feared you’d be alone forever… after everything that happened.” Her gaze lifted to his, warm and unshaken. “But now I see that you’ve found where you truly belong.”

Seokhoon’s throat tightened. He covered her hands with his, steadying them gently.

“I thought so too, Eomma,” he admitted, his voice low but sure. “But Hyomin… she showed me I wasn’t finished. That I could still love and be loved the right way.”

He swallowed, emotion rising, and laid a hand gently over hers. “Eomma… thank you. For everything. For raising me, for supporting me, for loving Hyomin already like your own daughter.”

His mother smiled through misty eyes and patted his chest lightly.

“She’s special. And she makes you better. I can see it.” She drew in a deep breath, pulling back before her emotions overwhelmed her. “Now go. Make her proud, and don’t let anyone see you cry first.”

Seokhoon chuckled softly, his nerves easing just enough, when the door swung open again.

“Yah, groom!” Lee Ikjun’s familiar voice boomed as he strode in, all energy and mischief, a perfect contrast to the tender moment that had just passed.

“Why do you look like you’re about to argue a murder case instead of getting married? Relax. It’s not cross-examination. It’s just Hyomin walking down the aisle.”

Seokhoon shot him a dry look, though the corner of his lips tugged upward. “You’re supposed to calm me down, not make me imagine tripping in front of two hundred people.”

Ikjun grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “If you trip, I’ll fall right after you so everyone laughs at me instead. That’s what best men are for.”

Seokhoon shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re lucky,” Ikjun said, his grin softening into something sincere. “You found someone who loves you just as much as you love her. That’s rare, Seokhoon. Don’t forget to enjoy it.”

For a moment, the room stilled. Seokhoon nodded slowly, the weight of his nerves shifting into something steadier—hopeful, grounded, and full of anticipation. He glanced at the mirror one last time, straightened his shoulders, and drew in a deep breath.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s do this.”

Meanwhile, Hyomin’s friends Minjeong, Sol A, Eunjin, Hyoju, and Hoyeon buzzed with excitement. They fussed over last-minute details, offered playful warnings, and teased her in the way only lifelong friends could. The room carried the soft scent of flowers and perfume, a blend of nerves and celebration.

“You better not cry too much, Hyominnnn,” Sol A warned, waving her phone like a weapon, camera poised to capture every teardrop. “If your mascara runs, don’t come running to me for emergency fixes.”

“I won’t” Hyomin promised, though her small, nervous smile betrayed her. “But if Seokhoon starts crying first, all bets are off.”

“Ha! That’s exactly what we’re waiting for,” Minjeong chimed in, nudging her with a grin. “The mighty lawyer breaking down in tears. Now that’s front row entertainment.”

Eunjin clutched Hyomin’s hands dramatically. “Please, for the love of all things holy, don’t forget to breathe when you walk down the aisle. If you faint, I’m not carrying you.”

“Hyomin-ah,” Hyoju said softly, adjusting a fold of her gown with surprising tenderness, “just focus on him. Everything else will fade away when you see him waiting.”

Hoyeon leaned against the vanity, arms crossed, her playful smirk hiding a trace of emotion. “Honestly, we’ve all been waiting for this day longer than you have. So if anyone cries first, it’ll probably be me.”

That made Hyomin’s throat tighten even more, her eyes already stinging despite her protests. Her friends laughed and fanned her quickly before the tears could spill.

“See?” Sol A squeaked. “Not even five minutes, and you’re already tearing up.”

They all burst into laughter, the sound chasing away the heaviness that had settled in the room. Some of them had shared years of memories with Hyomin, while others had come into her life later, yet in this moment, it didn’t matter. Together, they formed a circle of support around her, teasing, comforting, and reminding her she wasn’t walking into this new chapter alone.

And outside, the memory of that snowy day lingered, the proposal etched in all their minds. What began as a fleeting moment beneath falling snow had blossomed into this day, into the promise of a lifetime together.

A soft melody began, the piano notes floating through the hall. The air shifted, as though the entire room held its breath. The procession unfolded with elegance: her bridesmaids and maid of honor glided gracefully down the aisle, followed by her matron of honor, each step a reflection of their love and support for Hyomin. The flower girls, the twins, scattered petals with giggles that softened the solemnity, their innocence painting the moment with sweetness. Even Hash, with his little bowtie, walked proudly ahead, drawing a ripple of delighted laughter from the guests.

Then the doors opened, and Hyomin appeared on her father’s arm.

For a heartbeat, silence fell over the guests before a wave of gasps and soft sighs rippled through the hall. It was not the gown that caught them, but the way she carried herself. Every step radiated quiet grace, her chin lifted not in pride but in certainty, her smile faint yet luminous. The veil framed her face like morning light through glass, softening the edges while revealing the calm strength in her eyes.

Seokhoon’s throat tightened. He had told himself he was ready for this moment, yet nothing could have prepared him for the sight of her now. It felt as if time had collapsed. Every memory of her laugh, her stubbornness, and her warmth rushed into this single instant. His hands curled at his side, trying to steady the tremor that threatened to undo him.

Hyomin, feeling the weight of every gaze, turned her head slightly toward her father. His steady presence grounded her, his hand firm and warm where it rested against hers. She leaned into him for a fleeting second, and in that moment she was his little girl again.

But as her eyes lifted and found Seokhoon waiting at the altar, the world around her blurred. The flowers, the whispers, and the shimmer of candles faded until there was only him.

And in that single exchange of a look, the long walk down the aisle no longer felt daunting. It felt inevitable.

Seokhoon’s heart thudded in his chest, every beat synchronized with the soft click of her heels against the floor. He stood taller, trying to mask the tremor in his hands as she approached, each step a reminder of every walk, every laugh, every quiet evening they had shared.

As she reached him, Hyomin’s father smiled warmly, placing her hand in Seokhoon’s.

“Take good care of her,” he said quietly.

“I will” Seokhoon replied, voice steady, though his chest felt like it might burst.

The officiant cleared their throat, their voice steady as they opened the ceremony with solemn words in Korean. They spoke of the sacredness of marriage, the joining of two families, and the love that had taken root between Hyomin and Seokhoon. As the words faded into silence, all eyes turned to the couple. Hands clasped tightly together, they faced one another, their hearts exposed in the slight tremor of their voices.

Their vows unfolded as if the world had melted away, leaving only the two of them in the quiet glow of the moment. Hyomin’s voice was soft and steady, laced with warmth and just enough mischief to draw laughter from the room.

“Seokhoon-ah” she said, her gaze locked on his, “you have always been my calm in the middle of chaos. Though sometimes you were the chaos yourself, especially when you decided to keep things from me.”

The guests chuckled, and Seokhoon’s lips curved into a grin. Hyomin’s own smile softened as she continued. “But still, I promise to walk with you, to laugh with you, and yes, even to argue with you, because every moment with you is worth forever.”

When it was his turn, Seokhoon’s voice carried the steadiness of a man used to speaking in courtrooms, yet it was threaded with a tenderness that belonged only to her.

“Hyomin-ah” he began, his words deliberate, “I have spent my life preparing for many things. Trials, negotiations, strategies. Yet nothing prepared me for the joy you brought into my life. I promise to love you, to support you, and to keep surprising you. Though I will try to keep the snow and the drama optional.”

The laughter that followed was soft and affectionate, rising like music around them, before settling into a silence filled with emotion.

The officiant’s final words rang clear, blessing their union and inviting them to seal it with a kiss. As their lips met, the room erupted in applause and joyful cheers, the sound filling the hall like a promise carried on air. Petals drifted gently from above, scattered by friends eager to celebrate, while the couple lingered in that moment, suspended in love and certainty.

It was done. Husband and wife. A new chapter, written in front of everyone they cherished.

After the ceremony, the couple joined a brief paebaek, bowing respectfully to their parents and offering tea as a gesture of gratitude and tradition.

Hyomin’s father leaned closer, his smile warm as he said, “Welcome to our family, Seokhoon-ah.”

The sincerity in his tone drew a quiet nod and a grateful smile from Seokhoon.

Seokhoon’s mother, misty-eyed yet beaming, echoed the sentiment as she reached for Hyomin’s hand.

“And welcome to ours, Hyomin-ah. From today, you are our daughter too.” Her words wrapped around them like a blessing, sealing the bond not just between two people, but between two families.

The reception hall glowed beneath warm lights, the soft hum of music filling the air. Tables dressed in white and gold shimmered under the glow, while flowers cascaded from tall glass vases like carefully tended gardens. Friends and family filled the space, their laughter blending with the clinking of glasses and the occasional cheer as the newlyweds moved from table to table. It was not only a celebration of Hyomin and Seokhoon’s union but also a tribute to the journey that had carried them to this moment.

Glasses were raised, toasts were made, and the first dance began. Their movements flowed with an ease that felt both practiced and spontaneous, each step stitched with laughter and love. The night unfolded in perfect balance, modern in spirit yet rooted in tradition, grand yet deeply personal, vibrant in its chaos yet entirely their own.

When the music softened, Minjeong slipped into the seat beside Hyomin, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“So” she said with exaggerated drama, as if announcing breaking news. “How does it feel being married to the Atty. Yoon?”

Hyomin smirked, lifting her glass. “Like I just signed up for extra paperwork.”

Sol A nearly spit out her drink laughing. “More like signed up for daily objections! I can already hear it now—‘Objection, your honor! My wife is hogging the blanket!’”

Eunjin chimed in, grinning. “Or ‘Objection, irrelevant! We already decided on takeout for dinner!’”

Hyomin groaned, covering her face while her friends erupted into giggles. “You all act like I’m not a lawyer myself. If Seokhoon wants objections, I’ll give him counterarguments.”

“Oh no,” Hyoju said, clutching her chest in fake despair. “Two lawyers in one marriage. Their poor future children… dinner is going to feel like a trial every night.”

Just then, Seokhoon returned with fresh drinks, raising an eyebrow at the suspiciously guilty faces around the table. “What did I just walk into?”

“Courtroom banter,” Minjeong said innocently, pointing at Hyomin. “We’re predicting your married life.”

Seokhoon smirked, setting the glasses down. “Ah, but you forgot… I always win my cases.”

Hyomin shot him a playful glare. “Not this time. At home, the court is mine.”

Their friends howled with laughter, banging the table and cheering like they were in the gallery of an actual trial.

Seokhoon leaned close, his lips brushing Hyomin’s ear as he whispered just for her, “Then I guess I’ll happily lose. Only if it’s to you.”

Her cheeks warmed instantly, and the table burst into teasing squeals even without hearing his words.

Hyomin sighed, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “See? This is what I married. A smooth talker in and out of court.”

The laughter around the table was still echoing when Hyomin’s father walked over, having caught the tail end of the “courtroom marriage” jokes. He raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a knowing smile.

“So, two lawyers under one roof?” he mused. “Sounds less like a marriage and more like a permanent debate club.”

Hyomin groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Not you too, Appa…”

Her mother chuckled beside him. “Just remember, Hyomin-ah, no matter how many debates you win, the real judge will always be me when you visit.”

That sent another wave of laughter through the table, even Seokhoon bowing politely. “Duly noted, Eomma. Consider me warned.”

Across the room, Seokhoon’s mother raised her glass and called out, “Yoon Seokhoon, don’t forget being a husband means no legal tricks at home. Only sincerity!”

Seokhoon dipped his head with a grin. “Yes, Eomma. Full disclosure, no loopholes.”

“Good answer!” she replied, satisfied.

The playful energy softened when Atty. Kwon, their managing partner, stood up with a glass in hand. Her usually stern voice carried warmth tonight.

“I’ve watched these two grow—not only as brilliant lawyers, but as people who bring out the best in each other. In court, they may be sharp and relentless, but here…”

Her gaze lingered on the couple, eyes crinkling in a rare smile.

“Here, they are simply Hyomin and Seokhoon, building a life together. Let’s raise a glass to their future. May it be filled with laughter as loud as tonight, arguments that always end in love, and victories shared hand in hand.”

The room erupted in cheers, glasses clinking as Hyomin and Seokhoon exchanged a look that said everything—gratitude, joy, and the quiet certainty that this was the beginning of something greater.

Hyomin leaned closer, whispering under the noise, “See? Even our boss is teasing us about arguments.”

Seokhoon chuckled, eyes warm as he touched his glass to hers. “Then I suppose we’ll just have to prove them wrong or maybe prove them right in the best way.”

And with that, they took a sip, their laughter blending into the music and chatter of the night as the reception carried on in a whirl of dancing, food, and playful teasing about life as newlyweds.

As the newlyweds made their way through the reception, exchanging smiles and nods, two familiar faces stepped forward. Lee Ikjun, Seokhoon’s old friend from Changwon and his best man whom he had reconnected with earlier this year, wore his signature grin, eyes sparkling with excitement. Beside him stood Chae Songhwa, Ikjun’s fiancée and a renowned neurologist, whose calm and compassionate nature had offered guidance and support to Hyomin during a difficult time.

“Congratulations, you two!” Ikjun said, clapping Seokhoon on the shoulder. “You look incredible, and I can feel how perfect today is for you. I’m so happy for you.”

Songhwa smiled warmly at Hyomin, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “It really suits you both. Everything about today feels just right. I am so thrilled to see you so happy.”

Hyomin laughed softly, her cheeks warm. “Thank you both. It means so much to have you here celebrating with us.”

Seokhoon added with a grin, “We can’t wait for your wedding too this fall. We’ll be there to cheer you on and celebrate every moment.”

Ikjun leaned in, still grinning. “Oh, don’t worry. You two will be at the top of our list. And expect a little chaos, because that’s what makes weddings fun.”

Songhwa chuckled, her calm laughter weaving into the room’s joyful hum. “We are really looking forward to it. And we hope your days ahead are filled with as much love and laughter as today.”

Seokhoon and Hyomin shared a glance, their hearts full, feeling the warmth of friendships old and new.

As the reception hall slowly emptied, laughter fading into the night, Hyomin and Seokhoon slipped away hand in hand. The cool evening air wrapped around them as they stepped outside, the hum of music and chatter now just a distant echo.

Hyomin leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. “I still can’t believe it that we’re married.”

Seokhoon glanced down, his lips curving into that familiar, quiet smile. “Believe it. You’re my wife now, Kang Hyomin.”

Her heart skipped at the sound of it, warmth rushing to her cheeks. She gave him a playful nudge. “Mmm, don’t say it too often, or I might get addicted to hearing it.”

“That’s the plan,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

When the reception finally ended, Seokhoon and Hyomin slipped away to the hotel suite reserved just for them. The click of the door shutting behind them seemed to seal off the world, leaving only silence and the two of them—newly bound as husband and wife.

Hyomin leaned against the door for a moment, her chest rising and falling as if to steady herself. Seokhoon’s eyes met hers, and the weight of the day seemed to catch up with them both. There was no noise, no audience—just the quiet hum of something deeper, something waiting.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing her cheek with a tenderness that made her breath hitch. His voice dropped low, reverent, almost disbelieving. “My wife."

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, but her voice trembled. “My husband.”

The kiss that followed was unhurried yet heavy with everything unspoken—the promises, the longing, the thrill of finally standing on this side of forever. His hands lingered at her waist, pulling her closer, while her fingers curled into the fabric of his suit as if she never wanted to let go.

The tension grew, alive between them, each kiss deeper than the last. Seokhoon’s lips trailed softly to her jaw, then lower, leaving her breathless as she clung to him. Hyomin’s hands slid upward, loosening his tie with a mix of nervousness and anticipation, her laughter caught somewhere between giddy and shy when he murmured against her skin.

“My wife” he whispered again, like he couldn’t quite believe the words.

Hyomin’s heart swelled at the sound, her cheeks flushing as she whispered back, “Say it again.”

He did, over and over, between kisses, between quiet breaths, until the word felt like a vow etched into the space between them.

By the time they stumbled toward the bed, laughter mingled with warmth, softening the intensity into something tender. Hyomin tugged at his sleeve, teasing through the haze of affection. “Careful, Counselor. You’re not in court. You don’t have to prove your case tonight.”

Seokhoon chuckled low, brushing a kiss across her forehead before pulling her close. “Maybe not. But I fully intend to make my closing arguments.”

Her playful groan melted into laughter and gave way to another kiss, lighter this time, yet brimming with the same certainty. No longer bride and groom, but husband and wife, they discovered their forever in each other’s arms.

As the hours stretched on, the world beyond the suite quietly faded. All that remained was stillness, warmth, and the pulse of love that had brought them here.

For the first time as husband and wife, they held each other close, hearts synchronized, with the unshakable certainty that their forever had already begun.

Chapter Text

The days after their honeymoon slipped into an easy rhythm. Hyomin found comfort in the little routines of married life, cooking breakfast while Seokhoon hummed in the shower, evenings spent sprawled on the couch watching dramas, and lazy weekends shopping for things to fill their home. Work at the firm became part of that rhythm too, sometimes pulling them into long hours of reviewing cases side by side. Some mornings they rushed out together, juggling files and coffee cups in the car, laughing when one of them nearly forgot an important document.

At the office, colleagues teased them for stealing glances during meetings, though both were quick to switch back into professional mode. Even when late nights at the firm left them drained, they found small ways to make it easier, Hyomin resting her head on Seokhoon’s shoulder while they read through contracts, or Seokhoon quietly leaving snacks on her desk when she was too focused to eat. Between deadlines and hearings, they managed to carve out a simple happiness that felt entirely their own.

It was ordinary. Familiar. And that was what she loved most about it.

Still, she couldn’t shake the odd heaviness in her body. Some mornings, her limbs felt leaden, as if sleep hadn’t touched her at all. Once or twice, she had to pause while brushing her teeth, swallowing back a sudden wave of nausea.

Seokhoon noticed, of course.

“You’re pushing yourself too much,” he teased one evening as she dozed off at the dinner table. “You’re tired because you keep working. You don’t even nap.”

“I don’t need a nap,” she protested weakly, only to yawn right after.

They laughed it off, neither of them giving it much thought. After all, fatigue was normal. Cravings were normal. Even dizziness could be normal.

Until one afternoon, when Hyomin found herself sitting at the dining table, absentmindedly dipping crackers into peanut butter and then into hot sauce. Seokhoon caught sight of her and froze.

“Yah… Jagiya,” he said slowly, his brows knitting. “What are you even eating?”

She blinked at the bizarre combination, then laughed nervously. “I… don’t know. It just feels right.”

It wasn’t until later that night, alone and staring at her calendar, that a creeping thought she had never once considered began to form.

Hyomin lay in bed wide awake, the faint glow of her phone screen illuminating the calendar app. Her finger hovered as she traced the dates, counting and recounting, each number tightening the knot in her chest.

Her throat went dry.

“No way…” she whispered into the silence.

She turned her phone off, shoving it under the pillow as though hiding it would make the thought disappear. Beside her, Seokhoon slept peacefully, one arm draped over her waist, his breathing steady. She stared at him for a long time, her heart racing. Should she wake him? No. Not yet. Not until she was sure.

The next morning, Seokhoon left early for a court hearing, his briefcase in hand and a quick kiss pressed to her forehead. Hyomin waited until the door clicked shut and the apartment fell silent.

Later that morning, she found herself standing in the pharmacy aisle, her palms clammy against her sides. She grabbed a small white box and hurried to the counter, avoiding the cashier’s eyes as if the truth inside it might already be written on her face.

Back home, she locked the bathroom door, the box clutched tightly to her chest. Her hands trembled so badly she nearly dropped it. Everything felt strangely unreal. She tore open the cardboard, reread the instructions twice, and fumbled with the test as though the plastic strip might burn her fingers.

When she finally set it down on the counter, her knees felt weak. Seconds stretched into eternity.

One line appeared. Her heart stopped.

Then another.

Her breath caught. 

“No…” she gasped, stumbling back a step. Tears blurred her vision as she grabbed the counter for support. “Oh my God. Oh my God. It’s real.”

Her hands flew to her mouth, muffling the sob that escaped her chest. She sank onto the floor, staring at the test through tears, her whole body trembling. She hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t even imagined it.

And yet, two lines. Two undeniable lines.

Her life, their life, was about to change forever.

That evening, after they both returned home from work, Hyomin tried to think of a creative way to tell Seokhoon. Maybe she could slip the test into a small gift box, or buy tiny baby shoes and wrap them with a bow. The ideas swirled in her mind, each one sweet but none strong enough to calm the pounding of her heart. Because this wasn’t just any news. This was the moment she would tell the man who had always dreamed of being a father, the man who once admitted he wanted to cradle their child before he even held his law degree. The thought of placing that joy in his hands made her both nervous and overwhelmed with love.

When Seokhoon finally walked through the door, his shoulders heavy from the day but his smile instantly softening at the sight of her, Hyomin forgot every plan she had made. The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

“Jagiya… I’m pregnant.”

The world seemed to still. His briefcase slipped from his hand, landing on the floor with a dull thud. For a heartbeat he simply stared at her, as though he hadn’t heard right, as though his mind was racing to catch up with the words. Then his eyes shimmered, his lips parting in a trembling breath.

“You’re what…” His voice cracked. “You’re serious?”

Hyomin nodded, her own tears threatening as she pressed a hand to her stomach. “We’re going to have a baby.”

For a heartbeat, he just stared at her, motionless. Then his face broke into the widest, brightest grin she had ever seen. In two long strides he was in front of her, arms wrapping around her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe.

“We’re going to be parents,” he whispered against her hair, his voice trembling with emotion.

He pulled back just enough to cup her face, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her lips in frantic succession. “I love you. I love you so much. We’re really—this is happening.”

Hyomin laughed through her tears, resting her forehead against his. “You’re crying.”

“So are you” he countered with a watery chuckle. 

He bent down suddenly, pressing his lips to her stomach, as if the baby could already hear him. “Hi, little one. It’s your Appa. I promise I’ll be here… always.”

Hyomin’s heart swelled, her tears unstoppable. In that moment, she realized that their love had grown into something even greater—something alive, fragile, and infinite.

The weeks that followed were a blur of new sensations—some magical, others less so.

Morning sickness became her constant companion. Some days, Hyomin couldn’t even look at rice without rushing to the bathroom. She still reported to the firm every day, dressed in tailored suits that hid the small changes in her body. At her desk, she powered through meetings, reviewed contracts, and cross-examined case files, but the nausea often forced her to excuse herself to the restroom between tasks. No one at work suspected a thing—her colleagues only saw the same sharp, composed lawyer they had always known.

But Seokhoon noticed. He always noticed. Ever the doting husband, he hovered by her side at home, armed with ginger tea, crackers, and an expression of pure panic every time she looked pale. Sometimes, when she came home exhausted after a long day, he would take her briefcase from her hands, kiss her forehead, and whisper, “Let me take care of you tonight, jagiya.”

One morning, as she knelt by the toilet, pale and weak, he crouched beside her, rubbing her back.

“I swear, I’d take this from you if I could,” he murmured, guilt heavy in his voice.

Hyomin leaned against the cool tiles, panting, before giving him a faint smile. “You can’t even handle a paper cut without whining. You wouldn’t survive this.”

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead. “Then I’ll survive it with you.”

The day of their first appointment arrived faster than Hyomin expected. Between the long hours at the firm and the quiet moments at home, she had barely let herself think about what awaited them. But as soon as they stepped into the hospital, reality pressed down on her chest. Every sign on the walls, every nurse walking briskly through the hallway, reminded her that this wasn’t just another errand. This was about the tiny life growing inside her.

The clinic was calm, almost too calm compared to the storm of nerves brewing inside Hyomin. She clutched Seokhoon’s hand as they sat in the waiting area, her foot tapping lightly against the floor.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

Seokhoon brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “Jagiya, Songhwa said Dr. Yang is one of the best. We’ll be fine.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “I still can’t believe she and Ikjun just happened to know one of the top OB-GYNs in South Korea.”

“Well,” Seokhoon teased, “that’s what happens when you’re friends with an inssa who seems to know everybody.”

The nurse called her name, and moments later they were led into a small, pristine exam room. The hum of machines filled the silence, the ultrasound equipment standing ready.

When the door opened, Hyomin’s eyes widened. The man who walked in had gentle eyes behind round glasses, and a slightly awkward but genuine smile.

“Hyomin-ssi? Seokhoon-ssi? Annyeong.” He gave a small bow, a polite smile tugging at his lips. “I’m Dr. Yang Seokhyeong. Songhwa and Ikjun told me about you.”

Hyomin blinked, a little startled, before returning the bow. “So they really sent us to you…”

“Yes,” Seokhyeong said softly. “They wanted you to feel safe.”

There was something in the simplicity of his words, sincere and calm, that eased the tight coil of nerves in Hyomin’s chest. She let out a small, relieved breath.

After a few gentle questions about her health, Seokhyeong guided her toward the exam bed.

“First ultrasounds can feel overwhelming,” he explained, his voice soft but steady. “But they are also some of the most beautiful moments you will ever experience.”

The cold gel made her flinch, but Seokhoon quickly leaned over, smoothing her hair back with steady hands.

“I’m right here,” he whispered, his own nerves barely hidden.

Then came the soft hum of the machine. For a breathless moment, the screen showed only shifting gray shadows. And then, there it was. A flicker. A rhythm.

Seokhyeong’s lips softened into a smile. “That’s your baby.”

The steady thrum of a tiny heartbeat filled the room, rapid and strong.

Hyomin’s chest constricted, tears spilling instantly as her hand clutched Seokhoon’s.

“Oh my God…” she breathed, eyes blurring.

Seokhoon’s mouth parted in awe. He bent closer to the screen, his voice breaking. “That’s… that’s our baby.”

She turned her head to him, her tears falling freely now.

“Our baby,” she whispered back, their foreheads pressing together.

Seokhyeong quietly gave them space, as he always did with patients. His gaze lingered on the monitor, then back to them, and he spoke with quiet sincerity.

“Congratulations. Everything looks healthy so far. And to answer your question…” He paused, giving them a knowing look. “It’s just one baby.”

Hyomin’s heart skipped a beat. She had secretly hoped for twins, like her and her unnie, imagining double the chaos, double the laughter, double the love. A pang of disappointment fluttered in her chest.

Seokhoon squeezed her hand, noticing the subtle shift in her expression.

“Jagiya, it’s okay,” he said gently, brushing her hair back. “One is more than enough. I promise, I’ll love this child even more, and we’ll fill our life with everything they could ever need.”

Hyomin let out a wet laugh, her hand protectively resting on her belly. Seokhoon kissed her temple, his tears mingling with her own.

It wasn’t just the sight of the tiny heartbeat on the screen, or the sound that echoed in the room like a miracle. It was the realization that life, their life together, had grown into something more than just love. It had become family.

Hyomin had not expected keeping the secret to be this difficult. For days she thought of clever ways to share the news, like wrapping tiny baby shoes in a box or ordering a cake with a message on top. But when her friends gathered for their usual dinner, the truth slipped out between laughter and dessert.

They were sitting around the table, plates still warm with food, when Eunjin leaned closer and teased, “Hyomin, you have been glowing lately. Seriously, what’s your skincare routine?”

Hyomin froze, biting her lip. She glanced at Seokhoon who was quietly watching her from across the table. He gave her a small nod, his eyes full of encouragement. Her heart beat so fast it almost hurt.

“It’s not skincare,” she said softly, her hand moving almost instinctively to her stomach. “I am pregnant.”

For a moment the table fell silent. Then Minjeong shrieked so loudly that two people from the next table turned to look. “You’re pregnant? You are not joking, right?”

Hyomin nodded quickly, her cheeks burning, her smile breaking wide.

Hoyeon gasped, her hands flying to her mouth before she pushed back her chair and hugged Hyomin tightly. “Oh my God, Hyomin. You are going to be a mom. I am so happy I could cry right now.”

Eunjin clapped her hands so hard her glass nearly toppled. “This is insane. You kept this from us? When were you planning to tell us?”

Hyomin laughed, blinking back tears. “I was trying to find the perfect way to tell you, but I guess it came out on its own.”

Jinwoon leaned forward with sparkling eyes. “So this means next year there will be a baby at our dinners. Do you realize how spoiled this child is going to be? I am already thinking of toys to buy.”

Sol A squeezed Hyomin’s hand and grinned. “Forget toys, I am going to be the one carrying this baby around like it’s mine. Everyone is going to think I am the mom.”

Eunjin raised her eyebrows. “Please, Sol A. The baby will call me favorite aunt, just watch. I have been preparing for this role for years.”

Minjeong flipped her hair dramatically. “Hyomin, you can call me anytime for advice. Day or night. I have experience. I am a mother myself.”

Hoyeon crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Advice is one thing, but I am the one who will actually show up at two in the morning when the baby cries. That makes me the real MVP.”

Eunjin smacked the table, laughing even as her eyes glistened. “You two can argue all you want. In the end this baby is going to like me best. I will be the one spoiling them the most.”

Hyomin laughed until her cheeks hurt, her hand reaching across the table to find Seokhoon’s.

The warmth of her friends’ voices filled the space, wrapping her in joy and comfort. The secret that once felt so heavy was now light, spilling into promises, laughter, and tears she knew she would remember forever.

Telling their parents was an entirely different kind of moment. They visited on a Sunday afternoon, carrying fruit and pastries as though it were just another casual visit. Hyomin’s hands trembled slightly as she poured tea, her parents chatting happily about errands and neighborhood news. Hyoju, her unnie, sat nearby, scrolling on her phone but glancing up every now and then with a curious smile.

Finally, Seokhoon cleared his throat, his fingers brushing Hyomin’s under the table.

“Eomma, Appa” he began, his voice steady but warm, “we have something important to share.”

Both parents looked up, curious. Hyomin opened her mouth but her voice faltered, so instead she placed a gentle hand over her belly.

“You’re going to be grandparents,” she whispered.

Her mother gasped, covering her mouth with trembling hands as tears filled her eyes. Her father, usually so composed, broke into the widest grin.

His voice came out thick with emotion as he said, “A grandchild. Our first grandchild.”

Hyoju dropped her phone onto the couch with a squeal.

“Are you serious? Oh my God, Hyomin! You’re pregnant?” She hurried over to hug her sister, nearly squeezing the breath out of her. “I am going to be an aunt. Finally!”

Hyomin laughed through her tears, clinging to her unnie. The room soon filled with voices overlapping—her mother fussing about her diet, her father promising to buy toys and books, and Hyoju already calling dibs on babysitting rights.

Seokhoon was pulled into a tight embrace by her father, who clapped him on the back with pride. The tension he had not realized he was holding melted away, replaced with laughter and relief.

Later that evening, once they were back home, Seokhoon pulled out his phone and dialed his mother. The moment she answered, he could hardly contain his smile. “Eomma, we wanted you to know. Hyomin is pregnant.

There was a sharp gasp on the other end, followed by the sound of muffled crying.

“My grandchild,” she said through tears. “I am going to be a grandmother.”

Hyomin leaned close to the phone, her voice warm and shy. “Yes, Eomma. Please look forward to meeting your grandchild.”

His mother’s laughter rang through the line, shaky but overflowing with joy. “You have made me the happiest today. Take care of yourself, Hyomin-ah. And Seokhoon, take care of her every second.”

As they ended the call, Hyomin rested her head on Seokhoon’s shoulder, their hearts full. Their baby was no longer just theirs—it was already loved deeply by every corner of their family.

By the time the nausea faded, joy began to take its rightful place—growing brighter with every passing day, just like the life inside her

Her cravings, however, grew stranger by the day. One night, she shook Seokhoon awake at 2 a.m.

“I need chocolate ice cream.”

He groaned, half-asleep. “It’s the middle of the night…”

“And kimchi. Together.”

That had him blinking awake, incredulous. “Ice cream and kimchi?”

She pouted, eyes glossy. “Please?”

Ten minutes later, he was out the door, muttering about how his child was already bossing him around from the womb.

The nursery project kept them busy on weekends. They painted the walls a soft pastel, only to end up with streaks of paint smeared across their cheeks and clothes as they playfully attacked each other with brushes. By the end of the day, the room was a mess, but their laughter echoed through the house.

Later that night, as Hyomin folded the tiny baby clothes they had bought, she paused, holding up a pair of socks so small they fit in her palm. Tears pricked her eyes.

Seokhoon came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Can you believe someone that small will change everything?”

She leaned back against him, smiling. “They already have.”

One evening, she found him lying on the couch with his head on her belly, whispering.

“What are you doing?” she asked, amused.

“Introducing myself,” he replied, his hand gently stroking her stomach. “Hey, little one. It’s Appa. Just so you know, you’ve got the best mom in the world. And I’m going to spoil you, so don’t tell her when I sneak you candy someday.”

Hyomin laughed, brushing her fingers through his hair. “I heard that.”

By the time the third trimester rolled in, the pregnancy had become heavier—literally and emotionally.

Her feet swelled, her back ached, and she struggled to find a comfortable sleeping position. Some nights she ended up propped on three pillows, sighing in frustration.

Seokhoon, half-asleep, would wordlessly shift closer, massaging her feet or stroking her arm until she relaxed.

One particularly rough evening, she burst into tears while brushing her hair. He rushed in, alarmed.

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

Through sobs, she choked, “I look huge, I feel gross, and what if I’m not a good mom?”

His expression softened instantly. He crossed the room, kneeling in front of her.

“Hey, none of that. You’re beautiful, Hyomin-ah. You’re the strongest person I know. And you’re already the best mom. Look at how much you love our baby without even meeting them yet.”

She sniffled, burying her face in his chest. “You’re just saying that.”

“I mean every word,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. Then he bent down, pressing a kiss to her round belly. “Hear that, baby? Your mom’s perfect. Don’t ever forget it.”

Her tears turned into laughter, her heart swelling with love.

One night, as Hyomin shifted restlessly beneath the covers, Seokhoon slid closer, his palm settling gently over the curve of her stomach.

“Jagiya, can I tell you something?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

She turned her head toward him, her eyes soft in the dim light. “Always.”

He drew in a shaky breath. “I’m scared too. Scared I won’t know what to do, that I’ll make mistakes, that I won’t be enough. But I promise you and our baby this. I’ll never stop trying. I’ll never leave your side.”

Hyomin’s throat tightened as she reached for him, their fingers interlacing.

“We don’t have to know everything right now,” she murmured. “We’ll figure it out together.”

At that exact moment, a sudden kick pressed against his hand. Both of them gasped before breaking into laughter, the sound mingling with tears they didn’t bother to hide.

In the quiet dark, with their hearts steady and their baby reminding them of its presence, they realized they weren’t just waiting to be ready. They already were.

Hyomin quickly learned that pregnancy was as much about patience as it was about excitement. Morning sickness greeted her some days with merciless consistency, leaving her pale and weak by the bathroom sink. Other days, her cravings turned comical.

One night, at nearly midnight, she shook Seokhoon awake with a pout.
“Jagiya… I need Samgyeopsal. And sugar. Right now.”

He blinked at her, groggy but already sitting up. “Samgyeopsal? At midnight?”

She crossed her arms, her lower lip trembling as if the world would collapse without it. “You promised you’d take care of me.”

With a groan that melted into laughter, Seokhoon grabbed his hoodie and slipped on his slippers. “Fine, fine. For my queen and our little one, I’ll hunt for grilled pigs in the middle of the night.”

By the time he returned, triumphant with two servings of samgyeopsal from a late-night restaurant, Hyomin was already giggling at the absurdity of it all. She hugged him tightly, burying her face against his chest. “You’re going to be the best dad,” she whispered.

Through every doctor’s appointment, Seokhoon never missed a single one. He held her hand tightly when they first heard the baby’s heartbeat—a quick flutter that made Hyomin cry on the spot. He laughed, though his own eyes watered, whispering, “That’s our child.”

As the months went on, Hyomin’s belly grew rounder, and so did Seokhoon’s protective instincts. He fussed over her steps, banned her from lifting even grocery bags, and constantly reminded her to nap. She mostly worked from home now, reviewing contracts and handling paperwork at the dining table, her laptop surrounded by sticky notes and tea mugs. She often teased him for acting more nervous than she felt, laughing whenever he hovered nearby like a bodyguard.

But in the quiet moments, when they lay together at night with his hand resting gently on her belly, the enormity of their new chapter sank in. He whispered to their child, telling stories, promising adventures, swearing he’d always protect them both.

Then, during a routine ultrasound, the screen flickered to life. The technician smiled, eyes twinkling. “Do you want to find out the sex today?”

Hyomin and Seokhoon exchanged a glance, hearts hammering, fingers tightly intertwined. Their minds raced with anticipation, excitement, and nerves. The technician leaned closer, a small envelope in hand.

“Here’s something to open together,” she said, her smile unreadable.

Hyomin’s hands shook as she reached for it, Seokhoon’s breath catching in his throat. For a moment, the world outside the clinic ceased to exist. Whatever the answer was, it would change everything. And yet, the envelope remained unopened, a fragile secret holding the promise of the life that was about to arrive.

Chapter Text

The day arrived without warning. The afternoon air was thick and humid when Hyomin doubled over, clutching her stomach as the first sharp contraction ripped through her. Her gasp of pain echoed through the quiet apartment, and Seokhoon’s heart slammed in his chest.

He froze for a moment, panic gripping him like a vise.

“Hyomin… stay calm,” he stammered, though his own voice trembled. He scrambled through the house, grabbing the hospital bag and checking again if he had everything. The list he had memorized dozens of times blurred in his mind.

Hyomin gritted her teeth, trying to steady her breathing.

“Seokhoon… it’s starting…” she said, her voice tight but controlled.

“Starting?! Starting? Jagiya, that’s not starting! That’s… that’s happening now! Oh no, oh no, oh no!” he exclaimed, pacing, frantically tossing items into the bag. “Where’s the insurance card? Did I pack the snacks? Did I—”

“Seokhoon-ah, breathe,” Hyomin said, reaching for his arm, a small smirk breaking through the pain. “You’re panicking more than me.”

““I’m the one panicking here! You’re the one about to have the baby, yet you’re the calm one! How is that fair?!” he cried, his voice breaking as his hand tore through his hair in frustration

Another contraction hit, and Hyomin gripped the edge of the table, her teeth clenched. “It’s okay… we’ll be fine. Just get us to the hospital.”

Seokhoon grabbed her hand, his own shaking violently.

“Yes, yes, yes! Okay, we’re going. I’ve got this. I’ve got you… I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he muttered, half to her, half to himself, as he practically dragged her toward the car, the humid afternoon pressing down on them both.

Hours later, in the bright delivery room, Hyomin’s cries echoed with effort, her face damp with sweat. Every contraction left her trembling, but her grip on Seokhoon’s hand never faltered. He stayed by her side, whispering encouragements, his own voice tight with emotion and panic.

“You’re doing so well. Just a little more, Jagiya. I’m right here. Always,” he murmured, brushing damp hair from her forehead. His hands shook, and every time she gasped in pain, his heart clenched as if it were him going through it.

Another push, a harsh scream of effort, and Seokhoon’s hands clenched her own tighter. “You’ve got this. You are incredible. Breathe… breathe, my love”

Then came one final push. A sharp cry split the air, raw and alive, cutting through the room. The nurses spoke in voices both calm and urgent, steady hands guiding, reassuring. And then the silence returned, broken only by the fragile, desperate wails of their newborn.

Tears blurred Hyomin’s vision as the nurse gently laid the tiny, wriggling bundle onto her chest. She inhaled the delicate scent of new life, her hands instinctively cradling the baby.

“It’s a girl,” Dr. Yang announced with a warm, triumphant smile.

Seokhoon’s eyes brimmed with tears, his lips trembling as he leaned closer.

“Our little girl…” he whispered, voice cracking. He pressed a gentle kiss to Hyomin’s temple and then to the baby’s forehead, marveling at the tiny fingers curling around his own.

Hyomin sobbed softly, stroking the baby’s tiny fingers. “She’s perfect… she’s everything.”

Seokhoon’s hand rested over hers and the baby, a silent vow. “I promise I’ll love you both forever. No matter what, jagiya… no matter what.”

The room, once tense and frantic, was now filled with a quiet, profound love. For Hyomin and Seokhoon, everything had changed in a single, miraculous moment—their world now complete with the soft, urgent breathing of their daughter nestled between them.

As the night settled over the hospital, the room was dim except for the soft glow of the lamp beside the bed. Hyomin lay propped up against the pillows, her daughter sleeping soundly on her chest. Seokhoon sat beside them, unable to take his eyes off the two most precious people in his life.

For a long time, silence reigned, broken only by the baby’s tiny breaths and the steady hum of the machines. At last, Seokhoon reached out and brushed a lock of hair from Hyomin’s damp forehead.

“You were incredible,” he whispered. “I’ve never been prouder in my life.”

Hyomin tilted her head toward him, her eyes tired but shining. “We did this together.”

He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to her temple, then another to the crown of their daughter’s head. “She doesn’t even know yet how loved she is.”

Hyomin’s gaze softened as she traced her finger over her daughter’s tiny hand.

“I think… her name should be Yoon Hyojin,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Hyojin. It means ‘filial and treasure.’ And it’s a combination of our names—Hyomin and Seokhoon. Our little treasure.”

Seokhoon’s eyes glistened with tears as he pressed a gentle kiss to Hyomin’s temple.

“It suits her perfectly. Our little Hyojin,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over the baby’s tiny cheek.

A wave of peace settled over them, a stillness that felt like the calm after a storm. They stayed like that, just breathing, just existing, as if the world outside had fallen away.

Hyomin smiled faintly, her heart swelling with both fear and joy. With their daughter, Yoon Hyojin, cradled safely between them, they drifted into the first night of parenthood together

The morning after Hyojin’s birth, Hyomin’s parents and elder sister Hyoju arrived at the hospital. Hyomin’s mother held back tears as she peered at the tiny bundle in Hyomin’s arms.

“She’s… she’s perfect,” Hyomin’s mother whispered, her voice trembling. “Just like you, Hyomin.”

Hyoju gently touched Hyojin’s tiny hand, staring in awe. “I can’t believe I have a niece… She’s so small, so fragile… but so beautiful.”

Hyomin smiled tiredly, stroking her daughter’s soft hair. “She’s finally here, unnie. Our little Hyojin.”

Seokhoon’s mother couldn’t wait a moment longer. The moment she heard the news, she rushed from Chongwon. Now she stood by the bassinet, her hand trembling slightly as she brushed a fine lock of hair from Hyojin’s forehead.

“My granddaughter… she’s so delicate,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with pride and tenderness.

Seokhoon chuckled softly, watching her dote, then leaned toward Hyomin and murmured, “Looks like she’s already spoiled.”

Later that afternoon, Hyomin’s friends Sol A, Jieun, and Hoyeon arrived at the hospital. They fumbled with flowers and small baby blankets, excitement bubbling over.

Sol A bent close to Hyojin. “She’s so tiny! Look at those little fingers!”

Jieun laughed softly as Hyojin gave a sleepy stretch, wiggling her toes. “She already knows how to move! Watch, she’s exploring the world.”

Hoyeon gently touched the baby’s cheek, whispering, “I think she looks exactly like you, Hyomin.”

Seokhoon peeked over, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “Ya! What are you talking about? She looks exactly like me."

Hyomin burst into a laugh, nudging him playfully. “Of course you’d say that,” she teased, her eyes dancing as she looked between him and their daughter.

The day they brought their daughter home, the house felt different. Though it was the same familiar place, every corner now carried the quiet weight of something new, something fragile, something extraordinary.

Hyomin walked slowly, cradling their baby against her chest, while Seokhoon carried the hospital bag in one hand and hovered close behind her with the other, ready to steady her if she stumbled.

“Careful, jagiya,” he fussed, his voice low but anxious.

Hyomin chuckled softly. “Relax. I’m not going to break.” She glanced down at the tiny bundle in her arms. “She’s the one we have to be careful with.”

They stepped inside, greeted by the scent of freshly cooked soup. Her mother had stocked their fridge, knowing they would need comfort food. The nursery was already prepared, with pastel walls, a crib draped with a light canopy, and a rocking chair in the corner. It looked perfect, yet Hyomin and Seokhoon quickly learned that no amount of preparation could soften the reality of new parenthood.

Then came a soft thump-pat at the doorway. Hash had been quietly observing from the hall. His ears perked up, nose twitching as he caught the scent of the new arrival.

Hyomin knelt slightly, holding Hyojin closer to the floor.

“Hash… this is your baby sister,” she said gently.

Hash tilted his head, sniffing cautiously at the bundle in her arms. He stepped forward slowly, his tail wagging tentatively. Seokhoon held his breath.

“Be gentle, okay?” Hyomin whispered. “She’s tiny, but she’s ours.”

Hyojin let out a tiny stretch, wiggling her little fingers and kicking her legs ever so slightly. Hash’s ears perked up instantly. He leaned closer, sniffing her again, and then, with a little huff, pressed his warm nose against her tiny foot. Hyojin’s toes wiggled again, and Hash jumped back in surprise, but immediately nudged her gently once more, as if trying to figure out this new little human.

Seokhoon laughed quietly, relief and awe in his voice. “I think he’s fascinated.”

Hyomin smiled, stroking Hash’s head. “He’s going to love her so much. Just like us.”

For a moment, the four of them—mother, father, baby, and dog—stood together in the soft afternoon light. Hash settled beside Hyomin, watching over Hyojin like a devoted little guardian, already claiming the role of her first protector.

That first night was chaos.

Their daughter, who had been so peaceful in the hospital, now wailed endlessly in her new crib. Hyomin tried rocking her, humming lullabies, and pacing back and forth, but nothing seemed to work.

Seokhoon rushed around like a soldier on a mission. “Maybe she’s hungry? Maybe she’s cold? Do we need to change her diaper again?!”

“Jagiya, stop panicking,” Hyomin said, though her voice was strained with exhaustion. “Just… bring the milk.”

Minutes turned into hours. By the time the baby finally dozed off, both parents collapsed side by side on the bed, hair messy, clothes wrinkled, hearts racing. They looked at each other and burst out laughing despite the fatigue.

“She’s tiny,” Seokhoon said between chuckles, “but she’s already bossing us around.”

Hyomin sighed, brushing her daughter’s cheek with a trembling finger. “And we’ll let her. Every time.”

When their friends learned they were already home, they rushed over without hesitation. Soon, the apartment buzzed with laughter and chatter, the air carrying the faint scent of baby powder as everyone eagerly took turns cradling the tiny bundle.

Songhwa marveled at how calm Hyojin seemed despite all the new faces. “She’s so peaceful… maybe she inherited your patience, Seokhoon,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

Seokhoon chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let’s hope she inherited that and not my occasional panic attacks.”

Ikjun crouched down to Hyojin’s level, offering his finger. She gripped it with surprising strength, her tiny knuckles whitening. “Whoa, look at that grip! She’s already strong—stronger than me, probably.”

Minjeong knelt beside Hyomin, carefully draping a soft, pastel blanket over Hyojin. “She’s so soft… I can’t stop staring. I swear, she smells like a little angel.”

Jinwoon leaned closer with a playful grin. “Hey, Hyojin… you’re in trouble now. Your dad’s got a lot of embarrassing stories about him, and I’ll tell you all of them one day!”

Hyojin yawned, the tiniest smile tugging at her lips, as if acknowledging the warning.

Songhwa squealed softly, reaching to tickle Hyojin’s tiny toes. “Look at her react! She’s already got a personality!”

Hyojin kicked her legs just enough to make everyone laugh.

Minjeong gently bounced Hyojin on her knee, singing a little improvised lullaby.

“See, she likes music already,” she whispered, smiling as Hyojin’s eyes fluttered open briefly before closing again.

Hyomin, holding Hyojin close, laughed through her fatigue. “Be careful, you guys. She’s tiny, but she’s already stealing hearts faster than you can blink.”

Seokhoon leaned back, arms crossed, grinning proudly. “I warned you. She’s ours, and she’s perfect. Look at her, already charming everyone.”

As the friends took turns passing Hyojin around, gently cooing and marveling at her, the little apartment felt impossibly warm, filled with love, laughter, and the soft, delicate sounds of new life. Even Hash, lying on the rug beside them, wagged his tail and gave a curious sniff, accepting the tiny human who had already stolen the hearts of everyone in the room.

As days turned into weeks, they found a rhythm—imperfect, but theirs.

Seokhoon discovered he had a surprising talent for diaper duty, though he wore a determined frown every time. Hyomin teased him relentlessly until one day he mastered it so smoothly she clapped like he’d won an Olympic medal.

“You’re a pro now, appa,” she teased, kissing his cheek.

He grinned sheepishly, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

I’ve been practicing in secret,” he admitted, voice mock-serious, “just for her.”

Meanwhile, Hyomin’s patience blossomed. Even in her exhaustion, she found strength in the quiet hours of the night, whispering softly to her daughter while feeding her. Sometimes she cried without reason—tears of fatigue, of love, of fear that she wasn’t enough. But Seokhoon was always there, his arms strong around her shoulders, reminding her she was more than enough.

One evening, they sat together on the couch, their baby asleep in Seokhoon’s arms. He gazed at the little girl’s tiny face, then at Hyomin.

“Do you realize,” he murmured, “this is our family now? This is forever.”

Hyomin leaned against him, her smile soft and full of wonder. “Forever sounds perfect.”

It was late afternoon, and Seokhoon was still at the firm, finishing a pile of contracts for an urgent case. Hyomin had planned to handle some paperwork at home while Hyojin napped, but nothing could have prepared her for the moment that followed.

She leaned over the bassinet to adjust a small blanket and froze. Hyojin’s tiny body lay unnaturally still, her lips a pale bluish color. Hyomin’s heart leapt into her throat.

“No, no, no…” she whispered, shaking her gently. “Wake up, Hyojin-ah, please wake up.”

Panic clawed at her chest as she tried to wake the baby, but Hyojin remained limp. With trembling hands, Hyomin first dialed Seokhoon, but he didn’t answer—he was probably in a meeting. Heart racing, she quickly called Minjeong instead, her voice breaking before she could even explain.

“Minjeong! Something’s wrong! Hyojin—she’s not breathing!”

“Calm down, Hyomin. Breathe,” Minjeong urged, her voice steady despite the panic she must have felt. “Is she on the floor? Hold her upright, tap her back gently, I’m calling an ambulance!”

Hyomin followed the instructions, her tears blurring her vision, praying desperately as the sirens wailed in the distance. Minutes felt like hours. She carried Hyojin to the car, Minjeong already at the door, and sped toward the hospital.

At the ER, doctors and nurses whisked Hyojin away. Hyomin stood frozen in the hallway, gripping Minjeong’s arm, her chest heaving. Every second without her daughter felt like an eternity.

When Seokhoon finally arrived, his tie undone and his eyes wide with worry, Hyomin didn’t even notice him at first. She was shaking, consumed by guilt and fear.

“Why wasn’t she breathing? How could this happen?” she blurted, voice breaking. “I… I wasn’t watching her closely enough. This is my fault!”

Seokhoon pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as her tears soaked his shirt. “Hyomin-ah, listen to me. This isn’t your fault. Babies… sometimes this happens. You were doing everything right. You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have been here. I should have noticed sooner!” Her voice was raw, choking on sobs.

“You were here” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You were the one who acted. You called for help. You saved her. That makes you the best mother, not a failure.”

Hyomin buried her face in his chest, shivering. “But she… she looked so… blue.”

Seokhoon tightened his hold. “I know. I know it’s terrifying. But she’s okay. The doctors are taking care of her, and she’s strong. You’re strong. We’re both here for her. And for each other.”

Minutes later, a nurse returned with Hyojin in her arms, her tiny face pink and peaceful. Hyomin gasped and ran forward, tears spilling freely.

“Oh my sweet girl,” she whispered, rocking her gently. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never let this happen again.”

Seokhoon knelt beside her, his hand brushing over hers on Hyojin’s back. “You don’t have to apologize. We’re learning, together. And she’s okay. That’s what matters.”

For a long moment, they simply held each other and their daughter, letting the terror and guilt wash away in the quiet relief that followed, a stark reminder of the fragility of life—and the strength of their love.

The first year was a haze of sleepless nights and constant panic. Every squeak, every cough, every tiny hiccup made Hyomin’s heart leap into her throat. Seokhoon, who had seemed so composed during the pregnancy, discovered that his nerves were now in overdrive.

“Do you think she’s breathing enough?” he asked one 2 a.m., peering anxiously into the crib. “Should I… should I check her temperature again?”

Hyomin, tired and covered in milk stains, blinked at him. “Seokhoon, you checked five minutes ago. She’s fine. We’re fine.”

They laughed weakly, the exhaustion pressing down, but they learned quickly that no one had all the answers. Every mistake—overfeeding, missing a burp, misreading a cry—became a lesson in patience. Each day they tried again, always improving, always learning.

By the second year, Hyojin’s personality began to blossom, and so did the chaos. She learned to climb onto the couch, hide snacks in the couch cushions, and throw tantrums with alarming precision. Mealtimes became a battleground.

“Hyomin, she just smeared spaghetti in her hair again!” Seokhoon exclaimed, holding up a fork covered in tomato sauce.

Hyomin groaned, chasing a giggling Hyojin around the kitchen. “I don’t even know how this is possible! I just fed her five minutes ago!”

Yet, amidst the mess, there was laughter. They discovered that parenthood was equal parts exhaustion and wonder—sticky fingers and tiny hugs, tantrums and bedtime stories, tears and laughter tangled together in a way only a family could understand.

By Hyojin’s third birthday, both parents had grown into roles that still challenged them but felt increasingly natural. Seokhoon became an expert at bedtime storytelling, inventing characters with silly voices that made Hyojin giggle until she fell asleep. Hyomin mastered the delicate art of balancing work calls while soothing Hyojin’s small worries, like the fear of a thunderstorm or a scraped knee.

“Appa, will the lightning take my toys?” Hyojin asked one rainy night, clutching her stuffed bear.

“Not a chance, Hyojin. I’ve got you—and your toys—covered,” Seokhoon said, tucking her blanket snugly around her.

Even the small victories mattered. The first time Hyojin used the potty without an accident, Hyomin and Seokhoon high-fived like they’d won a championship, tears of pride brimming in their eyes. Each scraped knee or spilled juice was a reminder that parenthood was messy, but their love made it manageable.

By the fourth year, Hyojin was curious about everything: why the sky was blue, how plants grew, and why her parents sometimes argued and then laughed moments later. Hyomin and Seokhoon discovered that being parents meant constantly learning—not just about Hyojin, but about themselves. They argued over bedtime routines or discipline, but they always came back to each other, reaffirming their partnership.

“You’re doing too much again, Hyomin. Let me handle this part,” Seokhoon said one evening, taking over Hyojin’s bath time after Hyomin had spent half an hour prepping a story activity.

“I just want to make sure she’s happy,” Hyomin replied, voice soft but exhausted.

“She’s happy because of us, together,” he said, squeezing her hand.

Hyojin’s fifth birthday marked a milestone not just for her, but for her parents as well. They watched their little girl, full of curiosity, energy, and spirit, open presents with wide-eyed wonder. She hugged both of them, and for a moment, all the sleepless nights, the panic, and the constant learning felt worth it a thousand times over.

Hyomin glanced at Seokhoon, and they shared a quiet smile—the kind that said, we did it, we’re still learning, but we’re doing it together.

“Every day is a lesson,” Hyomin whispered, watching Hyojin chase Hash around the yard.

“And every day,” Seokhoon added, lifting their daughter into a hug, “we try our best. And she knows we love her more than anything.”

Parenthood wasn’t perfect. It was chaotic, exhausting, and terrifying at times. But Hyomin and Seokhoon realized that perfection didn’t matter. What mattered was showing up every day, learning from mistakes, celebrating small victories, and loving unconditionally.

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered softly through the apartment windows, painting the room in a gentle golden glow. Hyomin stirred in bed, Hyojin nestled against her chest, her tiny fingers tracing circles on her eomma’s shirt. Seokhoon sat at the edge with a steaming mug of coffee, his eyes crinkling with quiet joy as he watched his two loves.

“Good morning, my little Hyojin,” Hyomin whispered, brushing a curl from her daughter’s forehead. Hyojin wiggled, stretched her arms wide, and blinked up at her parents.

“Eommaaa,” she said with a grin. “Oppa sa-rang-heee!” She giggled, knowing she was being cheeky.

Hyomin gasped in playful shock. “Oppa? Yah, Hyojin-ah, that’s Appa, not oppa!”

Seokhoon put on an exaggerated pout. “So Appa is old now? Not handsome oppa anymore?”

Hyojin covered her mouth with both hands, laughing.

“Aniii, Appa still handsome! Appa saranghaeee!” She crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“That’s my girl,” Seokhoon said, hugging her close. Hyojin planted a big kiss on his cheek.

“Eomma, Appa—kiss too! Family kiss!” she demanded, pushing their heads together.

Hyomin laughed and kissed Seokhoon, making Hyojin squeal and clap.

Then she added proudly, “See? Happy family! Eomma, Appa, Hyojin… forever together!”

Hyomin’s heart swelled, tears stinging her eyes as she kissed her daughter’s cheek. 

Seokhoon smiled, his voice gentle. “Our sweet little girl” he said, as Hyojin beamed between them.

In moments like this, Hyomin often found herself looking back. She had grown in ways she never thought possible. She remembered the timid young woman stepping into her first year of law school—nights buried in books, doubts whispering at every turn, and the unrelenting pressure to prove herself worthy. That girl had walked a long road. By the time she entered her first year as a lawyer at the Yullim firm, she was no longer just a student but an advocate in her own right. The sleepless nights had turned into long days in court, the doubts into determination, the pressure into purpose.

And then, there was Seokhoon. Once the senior lawyer everyone found intimidating, a man cloaked in coldness and weighed down by loneliness, he had lived wrapped in his own sadness. Yet with Hyomin, the walls he had built began to fall. What once was silence turned into laughter, what once was solitude turned into love. He became her light, her partner, her everything. From sparks to vows, from colleagues to family, they built something far greater than either had ever dared to dream. Marriage had bound them together, but it was the laughter of their child that truly completed the home they had made.

Hyojin was five now, sweet, playful, and full of life. She filled every room with her giggles, her endless energy, and her love for singing and dancing. Always asking for “one more” bite, “one more” song, “one more” twirl, she carried a spirit that reminded Hyomin and Seokhoon of the joy hidden in simple things. Already, she would announce to anyone who listened that she dreamed of becoming a celebrity someday instead of following in her parents’ footsteps as lawyers, her little eyes sparkling with a future too big to contain.

As their daughter grew, so did they. Hyomin’s journey had carried her to the top of her field, now recognized as one of the leading female lawyers in Korea, admired not only for her victories in court but for breaking barriers and inspiring others who dared to follow the same path. And beside her, always, was Seokhoon. He had chosen a quieter but no less meaningful role, cutting back on his work to cherish the moments with Hyojin that could never be replaced. More than that, he became Hyomin’s anchor, the one who reminded her that she could chase her dreams without apology. He encouraged her to be the career woman she had always aspired to be, stepping in with steady love so she never had to choose between her passion and her family. For Seokhoon, there was no greater pride than watching her shine, knowing that her light only grew brighter because he had helped protect it. The once rigid man had discovered that his greatest victories were no longer in court, but in bedtime stories, school recitals, and the everyday chaos of fatherhood.

Seokhoon had once believed that strength meant silence, that discipline meant closing himself off from the warmth of others. But love had undone him in the gentlest of ways. Through Hyomin’s patience and Hyojin’s laughter, he discovered a life richer than any courtroom victory. The man who once measured his worth by titles and triumphs now measured it by the soft weight of his daughter asleep in his arms, and the quiet certainty that Hyomin’s hand would always be in his. Love was no longer a distraction from duty. It had become the very heart of his existence.

Now, life had a way of weaving stories together, threads of struggle, resilience, and love intertwining into a greater tapestry. For just as Hyomin and Seokhoon had found their light in each other, Minjeong and Jinwoon had written their own story of healing and hope.

Minjeong had traveled a long road, from the shadows of an abusive past to standing tall as one of the most respected lawyers at the firm. Her confidence no longer wavered, shining not only in the courtroom but in the quiet warmth of her smile. Beside her was Jinwoon, the man who had defied expectations and loved her without condition, her steady anchor in every storm. Together, they built a life that was calm, joyful, and full of laughter, the kind of laughter that gently stitched over old wounds and turned scars into reminders of how far they had come.

Three years ago, their prayers had been answered in the most extraordinary way. Minjeong had long convinced herself that motherhood might no longer be possible, that her age and her past had already taken too much from her. She even thought of letting go of the dream, unwilling to carry the weight of more heartbreak. But her love for Jinwoon, gentle, patient, and unwavering, prevailed over her fears. Together, they chose to try once more. Through IVF, their miracle finally came. They welcomed their son, Jaewook, a bright-eyed little boy who carried Jinwoon’s face, his mischievous grin, and the dimple that appeared whenever he laughed. For Minjeong, every giggle and every tiny hand reaching for hers was proof that love could still bloom in places she once thought barren. For Jinwoon, every moment with their son was a testament to faith and perseverance. To both of them, Jaewook was more than a blessing. He was hope reborn, love made visible, and the healing of every scar they once carried.s.

Jaewook had not only completed their family but also bridged the space between generations. Yuna, Minjeong’s daughter, cherished him as though he were her own, her love overflowing despite the years that separated them. To Jaewook, she was more than a sister. She was a playmate who filled his days with laughter, a protector who shielded him with gentle care, and at times, another parent whose presence comforted him. Their bond was living proof that family was never measured by age, but by the depth of love that flowed freely between hearts.

“Do you remember our first case together?” Minjeong asked softly, her voice carrying both nostalgia and pride as she glanced at Jinwoon with a fond smile.

Jinwoon chuckled, the sound warm and easy. “How could I forget? You argued like a lioness. I knew then I’d do anything to stand by you.”

Their laughter mingled with the children in the background, a harmony of past and present. The walls that had once held silence now carried echoes of joy, proof of how far they had come.

Now, life has a way of weaving stories together. Threads of struggle, resilience, and love had intertwined to form something far greater than any trial they had endured. Hyomin and Seokhoon had found their light, Minjeong and Jinwoon their healing, and in the laughter of their children, the future stretched wide with promise. Scars remained, but they were no longer marks of pain. They were reminders of battles fought, of love that endured, and of families built not in perfection, but in courage, forgiveness, and hope.

Across the city, life had settled into a different kind of harmony for Hoyeon. Her mother, once distant and lost in her own struggles, had finally come to her senses and now lovingly cared for the twins. With that change, the burden Hoyeon once carried alone was no longer hers to bear. She still lived with them, not out of necessity, but out of choice because home was where her heart remained.

The twins, now in high school, filled the house with endless chatter and energy. They were growing fast, yet despite their age, they never lost their sweetness toward their unnie. To them, Hoyeon was not just an older sister but their safe place, the one who had given them love when times were hardest.

Hoyeon often thought back to her lonely first year as a lawyer, to the uncertainty she had felt and the heavy weight of being both provider and protector. Meeting Hyomin and Seokhoon had changed everything. Whenever the world felt too heavy, they had been her saviors, stepping in with wisdom, warmth, and a steady love she had never known before. With them by her side, she was no longer just a breadwinner, but a woman who was supported, uplifted, and deeply connected. For the first time, she had also given herself permission to live freely, pursuing her own happiness, even letting her heart open to someone new, a kind lawyer from another firm who made her smile in ways she had not known she could.

One evening, as she tidied up the twins’ scattered belongings, they came tumbling into her arms, still playful despite their teenage years. Hoyeon laughed, holding them close, a swell of gratitude rising in her chest. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” she whispered, her voice soft with pride and relief. The twins clung to her, giggling, their laughter carrying through the house, a sound that reminded her how far they had all come, not just as a family of three, but with the people who had chosen to love them into wholeness.

And so, where there had once been loneliness, there was now belonging. Where there had once been fear, there was now strength. Hoyeon had not only survived, she had learned to live, to love, and to hope again. Her story, like those of Hyomin and Minjeong, was proof that even in the hardest seasons, family—whether by blood, by choice, or by grace—was the thread that stitched broken lives back together.

Family, in all its forms, had become the thread weaving their lives together, tested by hardships, mended by love, and strengthened by time. It was not only marriages or children that defined it, but also the quiet reconciliations and second chances that made it whole.

Among those stories, Hyoju, Hyomin’s sister, carried one of the most delicate. As a child, she had been entrusted to their aunt, whose husband was also deaf and understood her world in ways others could not. It was a decision born of love, yet one that left their mother with years of guilt and Hyoju with a lifetime of distance. For so long, their bond existed in silence, one weighed down by regret, the other by quiet acceptance.

But five years ago, something shifted. A fragile bridge was built, and step by step, they began to meet in the middle. What started as tentative conversations grew into shared moments, small, precious, and real. That first surprise visit Hyoju made to her biological parents’ home became the turning point, the moment that opened the door to a new rhythm between them.

Now, Hyoju visited every week. Shopping trips, afternoons over tea, simple weekend adventures, ordinary things that carried the extraordinary weight of healing. Laughter began to replace silence, and forgiveness softened the years of absence. Their bond, once fractured, had deepened into something neither of them imagined, warm, steady, and filled with a love finally spoken aloud.

Watching her niece, little Hyojin, grow only deepened that truth. In Hyojin’s bright giggles and boundless affection, Hyoju found what she once doubted, that family could heal, that joy could return, and that love, once given the chance, could be rediscovered.

Beyond family, Hyomin’s closest friends since high school—Sol A and Jieun—had also grown into women she admired deeply.

Sol A had risen through the medical field with quiet determination until she became a professor in her hospital. Thanks to Hyomin’s connection, she was given the opportunity to work closely with Dr. Chae Songhwa, a name that carried weight across the medical community. Under Songhwa’s mentorship, Sol A not only honed her skills but also discovered the grace and balance that came with true leadership. She often reflected on how far she had come, grateful for the paths her friendship with Hyomin had opened, but even more grateful for the resilience she had found within herself.

Jieun, on the other hand, had chased her passion for art with unwavering courage. Now a popular artist, her works carried stories of emotion, struggle, and beauty that drew people in. Every exhibition was more than a career milestone—it was a tribute to her father, who had always believed in her talent. Watching him stand proudly in front of her paintings, eyes shining with joy, was the greatest success Jieun could ever claim.

Though they no longer lived under the same roof or shared the everyday rhythms of student life, the three remained as close as ever. Messages, late-night calls, and spontaneous meetups kept their bond alive, but it was something deeper that held them together—an unspoken understanding that no matter how far their careers took them, they would always come back to each other. Theirs was the kind of friendship that distance and time could never erode, a promise made in youth and carried faithfully into adulthood.

For Hyomin, Sol A and Jieun’s triumphs were proof of the dreams they once whispered to each other during their teenage years. Life had taken them in different directions, with one pursuing law, another medicine, and the other art, yet their unwavering friendship remained the constant thread weaving their stories together.

Life, as it always does, had also moved forward for those who had once been part of Hyomin and Seokhoon’s past.

Seokhoon’s former wife had long since settled in Singapore, building a new life with her husband and their daughter. Their worlds no longer intertwined except for the rare exchange of calls, polite and brief, often circling back to Hash, the dog who once symbolized their shared home. The distance between them was no longer just about geography but about the quiet acceptance that they had both chosen different roads to peace.

Atty. Han, Hyomin’s ex, walked a different path entirely. Still single, he had married twice, both unions forged more from ambition and image than love, and both had ended in divorce. His brilliance in the courtroom remained undeniable, but beyond it, he seemed unable to secure the lasting companionship he had once sought. To those who knew him, there lingered a quiet irony in how the man who valued control above all else had yet to find a place where his heart could finally rest.

Meanwhile, Yullim Law Firm, once plagued with nepotism, corruption, laziness, and office politics, had undergone a transformation of its own. What was once a place where power determined success had been rebuilt into a firm defined by merit, hard work, and excellence. Its reputation shifted dramatically, rising to become the top firm in Korea, known not only for handling winning cases but for cultivating a culture where dedication was rewarded and integrity was honored. For those who had remained, and for those who had once walked its halls, Yullim’s renewal stood as proof that even the most flawed institutions could change, just as people could.

Among the contributors to this new Yullim was Daniel, a Korean-American lawyer who frequently visited to foster exchange between Korean and American law. He introduced fresh perspectives on advocacy and legal practice, broadening the horizons of the firm and challenging its lawyers to think beyond borders. In the early days, Seokhoon had suspected Daniel of having an interest in Hyomin, his protective instincts making him wary. But that suspicion ended five years ago when he confronted Daniel and discovered—much to his embarrassment—that Daniel already had a wife and family in America. The misunderstanding dissolved immediately, and what might have been rivalry turned instead into respect.

Now, Daniel was not just a colleague but a trusted friend. His visits to Yullim brought more than expertise; they carried camaraderie, inspiration, and proof of how far the firm had come. For Seokhoon, Daniel had become an unexpected ally, someone who pushed him to grow professionally while sharing in the victories of the firm’s renewal. For Yullim, Daniel’s influence was one more thread in the fabric of its success, helping shape it into the institution it had once only dreamed of becoming.

And yet, even in the midst of professional triumphs, Seokhoon had come to realize that the greatest victories of his life were not in courtrooms or accolades, but in the quiet moments with those he loved.

The evening air buzzed with warmth and laughter as Hyomin led Seokhoon into the softly lit hall. He had expected nothing more than a quiet dinner at home, but as the lights flickered on, the shout of “Surprise!” echoed through the room.

There they were—all the people who had shaped their journey. Jinwoon and Minjeong, with little Jaewook toddling close by. Ikjun and Songhwa, sharing their familiar, lively banter. Sol A and Jieun, arm in arm, radiating the same joy that had carried their friendship through the years. Hoyeon, glowing with contentment as her teenage twin sisters playfully teased her. Even Seokhoon’s mother and relatives were there, their smiles soft with pride, standing beside Hyoju and Hyomin’s parents. 

And then came the sweetest voice of all—Hyojin’s. Their five-year-old daughter darted forward, eyes shining as she held up a cake almost too big for her small arms.

“Happy birthday, Appa!” she squealed, her laughter spilling into the room like music.

Seokhoon’s heart swelled as he bent down to scoop her into his arms, the chorus of birthday wishes rising around him. For a man who had once lived in silence and shadows, this was everything he had never dared to dream of—a life overflowing with love, with family, with friends who felt like home.

As the guests drifted toward the food and music, Seokhoon turned to Hyomin, his eyes soft. “You did all this for me?”

Hyomin smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course. You’ve given me so much, Seokhoon. I just wanted you to feel how loved you are. Not just by me, but by everyone here.”

He took her hand, squeezing it gently. “I don’t need the party to know that. Every day with you, with Hyojin… that’s already more than I ever thought I’d have.”

Her smile deepened, eyes glistening. “Still, you deserve to be celebrated. You’re not the man who used to stand alone anymore. You’re the man who built all of this with me.”

Seokhoon leaned closer, pressing his forehead to hers.

“No,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You were the one who built me.”

Hyomin let out a soft laugh, her heart swelling as their daughter tugged at their hands to cut the cake.

“Then we built each other,” she said.

And as Seokhoon blew out the candles with Hyojin’s tiny hands clasped over his, he knew she was right. His wish had already come true—their love, their family, their forever.

The night carried on with laughter, stories, and the soft hum of music, but for Hyomin and Seokhoon, time seemed to stand still. Surrounded by family, friends, and the life they had built together, they no longer felt like the lonely souls they once were. Their journey had been full of trials, heartbreaks, and countless long nights—but it had also been filled with courage, second chances, and love that refused to give up.

In the glow of that celebration, one truth was clear: life was not perfect, but it was beautiful. The scars of the past had become reminders of strength, and the dreams once whispered in the quiet had become the foundation of their present.

As Hyomin looked around the room—at her husband, her daughter, her friends, her family—she realized that this was the ending she never knew she was searching for. And perhaps, it was also a beginning.

Later that night, when the laughter had softened and the guests had begun to leave, Seokhoon held Hyomin close, his voice low and steady. 

“Do you remember when you once asked me what love is?” he said, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “Back then, I gave you an answer that felt true at the time. But now… I know better.” 

He cupped her face gently, eyes filled with the kind of certainty that only comes with years.

“Love isn’t just sacrifice, or trust, or even the idea of family and home. Love, to me, has always been you, Hyomin.”

Her eyes welled, her lips curving into a trembling smile as she leaned into him.

And as Seokhoon kissed her softly, with Hyojin’s laughter echoing from across the room, they both knew their story had come full circle.

For love, after all, was not just about finding the right person. It was about building a world together—one full of laughter, healing, and hope. And for Seokhoon, that world had a name: Hyomin.

~END~