Dasom began the morning with a long, satisfying stretch beneath the soft blankets.
For the first time in a while, she'd slept deeply.
No nightmares.
No panic.
Just warmth and silence.
A delicious aroma drifted through the apartment, pulling her further awake. Something savoury… and definitely homemade.
Still half asleep, she reached for her phone and checked the time.
9:02 AM.
"Perfect," she mumbled to herself. "Workout, shower, breakfast—"
Then reality hit her.
Dasom abruptly sat upright.
Right.
She wasn't at home.
Her eyes slowly scanned the unfamiliar but clean apartment room before the memories from last night came flooding back all at once.
The fight with Gyu.
The rain.
The panic attack.
Oscar.
She groaned dramatically and buried her face into the pillow.
"Oh my God…"
Meanwhile, from the kitchen, Oscar Sparks hummed quietly to himself while plating breakfast.
Dasom eventually dragged herself out of bed and shuffled toward the kitchen in his oversized hoodie and sweatpants, her hair messy from sleep.
Oscar glanced up briefly when she entered.
"Well, good morning."
Dasom squinted suspiciously at the amount of food on the counter.
"…Did you cook enough for an army?"
"You eat like one."
"I do not."
Oscar merely raised a brow.
Dasom ignored him immediately.
Instead, she leaned against the kitchen island and crossed her arms.
"I thought you'd already be at work."
Oscar returned to pouring coffee calmly.
"Your grandfather doesn't return until tonight," he explained. "I finished the remaining tasks before they left to settle the Japan contracts."
Dasom blinked. "You finished everything early?"
"Mhm."
"…You scare me a little."
"I get that often."
Dasom laughed quietly before stealing a piece of rolled omelette straight from the plate.
Oscar looked at her hand. "That was for presentation."
"Tough luck."
He shook his head with the faintest smile.
The morning sunlight spilled across the apartment windows while the city buzzed quietly far below them.
It felt strangely domestic.
Dangerously comfortable.
Dasom sat down at the island while Oscar brought over the last few dishes.
"You didn't have to do all this," she said softly as she looked over the breakfast spread and helped set the table.
"I know."
That simple response made her pause.
Oscar sat across from her and casually added, "But I wanted to."
For some reason, hearing that made her chest feel warm.
Dasom quickly looked down at her food before he noticed.
"So…" Oscar started carefully while stirring his coffee. "You planning on ignoring Mingyu all day?"
"Yes."
"Dasom."
"I said yes."
Oscar chuckled softly into his cup. "You two really are siblings."
She huffed dramatically. "He called me a sl—"
"I know what he almost called you."
Dasom immediately went quiet.
Oscar's expression softened slightly. "He shouldn't have said it."
Her shoulders loosened a little hearing someone validate her feelings.
"But," Oscar continued calmly, "that idiot loves you more than anything."
Dasom stabbed at her breakfast with her chopsticks. "I know that too."
"He was terrified last night."
At that, her movements slowed.
Oscar rested his forearm against the counter.
"You know how he gets when it comes to you."
Dasom sighed heavily. "…I just hate when people act like I'm fragile."
Oscar studied her quietly for a moment. Then said, "You're not fragile."
Her eyes lifted to his.
"You survived things most people couldn't even imagine surviving." His voice remained calm and steady. "But surviving something painful doesn't mean you stop needing people."
Dasom stared at him silently.
God.
Why was he so emotionally intelligent this early in the morning?
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You sound like a therapist."
Oscar deadpanned immediately: "I charge by the hour."
That finally broke her composure.
Dasom burst into laughter so suddenly she nearly choked on her food.
Oscar quickly slid her water across the counter.
"See? Near-death experiences before 10 AM. Very on brand for you."
Dasom was still laughing when she finally managed to catch her breath, wiping the corner of her eye.
"You're such a nerd," she said, pointing at Oscar with her chopsticks.
Oscar Sparks didn't even look offended. "I've been called worse."
"That's not the flex you think it is."
"It wasn't meant to be."
That made her laugh again, softer this time. She leaned back in her chair, clearly more relaxed than she had been all night before.
"So what are we doing today?" she asked casually, like she hadn't just emotionally combusted less than twelve hours ago.
Oscar sipped his coffee. "We?"
Dasom nodded. "Yeah. I'm bored now. Entertain me."
He set his cup down slowly. "…I actually have a day planned."
Dasom blinked. "You do?"
Oscar nodded once.
"You're not going back to the estate immediately."
She squinted at him. "That sounds like a kidnapping."
"It's a scheduled recovery day."
Dasom opened her mouth, then closed it again. "…That sounds worse."
Oscar ignored her.
"First, you're going to freshen up properly."
She looked down at herself.
"I already showered."
"You slept in airport-level exhaustion and emotional distress clothes," he replied flatly. "That doesn't count."
Dasom sighed dramatically but didn't argue further.
"Then what?"
Oscar stood and reached for his phone on the counter.
"I had clothes delivered from the nearby mall."
Dasom tilted her head.
"…You did what?"
"We have VIP after-hours access," he added calmly, like it was normal information everyone should have.
Dasom stared at him.
"You're telling me I had a panic attack, ran away from my life, ended up in your apartment, and you responded by organising a luxury fashion drop-off?"
Oscar paused.
"…When you say it like that, it sounds excessive."
"It is excessive."
He shrugged. "It's efficient."
Dasom shook her head, still smiling despite herself. "You're insane."
"I've been called worse," he repeated smoothly.
She pointed at him again.
"You're repeating jokes now. That's how I know you're not okay."
Oscar finally let a faint smile slip.
"Go get ready, Petal."
At the nickname, Dasom paused for half a second—then quickly turned away before he could notice the way her expression softened.
"…Bossy," she muttered, walking toward the hallway.
"Correct," Oscar called after her. "Ten minutes."
Dasom didn't turn back. But her voice echoed down the hall anyway. "Make it fifteen."
"Seven."
"Deal's off."
"Ten," Oscar immediately amended.
From the hallway, she laughed again.
-
By the time Dasom came out, Oscar was already waiting by the door with his keys in hand.
She had changed into something simple but put together—clean lines, soft fabric, hair still slightly damp but styled neatly enough to pass as intentional.
He gave her a quick once-over.
"Better."
Dasom narrowed her eyes.
"That sounded like you graded me."
"You passed."
"…Wow. I feel so honoured."
Oscar Sparks only gestured toward the door.
"Come on."
The city air was crisp but bright when they stepped outside.
For once, there were no schedules, no emergencies, no family expectations pressing down on her shoulders.
Just movement.
They started at a steady walk along the riverside path, the water reflecting the soft morning light.
Dasom eventually slowed, rolling her shoulders.
"I'm not out of shape," she said defensively.
Oscar glanced at her.
"You say that like you're trying to convince yourself."
That earned him a light shove.
Within minutes, their walk turned into a run—competitive without actually saying it out loud.
Dasom picked up speed first.
Oscar matched her effortlessly.
"You're cheating," she called over her shoulder.
"With what?"
"Long legs."
"That's genetics, not cheating."
They ran like that for a while—no pressure, just familiarity, like their bodies remembered this rhythm even if life had gotten more complicated.
By the time they slowed down again, Dasom was breathing easier than she had in days.
Lunch was next.
Oscar led her down a narrow street tucked behind busier lanes, stopping in front of a small, unassuming pizza shop.
No branding updates. No modern renovations. Just an old sign and a warm smell drifting out the door.
Dasom blinked.
"No way…"
He pushed the door open.
Inside, it looked exactly the same.
The worn counter. The handwritten menu board. The slightly too-small tables squeezed into corners.
A slice of time that hadn't changed.
Dasom slowly walked in, almost cautious.
"This place… is still here?"
Oscar nodded.
"Barely survived three redevelopment proposals."
She smiled faintly.
"That's insane."
"You used to order too much cheese and then complain you couldn't finish it," he added.
Dasom gasped.
"I was a child."
"You did it last year."
"…That was a phase."
Oscar didn't argue. He just ordered two slices and a drink like it was routine.
When the food arrived, Dasom took one bite and immediately went quiet.
"…It tastes the same."
Oscar leaned back in his chair.
"It should."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
There was something grounding about it—simple food, familiar place, memories layered into every bite.
After lunch, Oscar glanced at his watch.
"Next stop."
Dasom groaned lightly.
"Are you always this organised?"
"Yes."
"That's terrifying."
"Thank you."
The spa was quieter than she expected—minimal, clean, almost hidden in plain sight inside a luxury building.
Oscar didn't even let her argue.
Within an hour, they were both lying on heated massage tables, muscles slowly unclenching under professional hands.
Dasom mumbled into the towel.
"If I fall asleep, don't let me snore."
"I can't control that."
"You can judge silently."
"I already am."
She laughed softly, half asleep already.
After massages came adjustments.
The chiropractor examined her posture, shook his head once, and muttered something about "stress accumulation" before proceeding with careful, controlled cracks.
Dasom immediately sat up afterward.
"I feel taller."
Oscar, from the next table, responded:
"You're not."
"I emotionally feel taller."
"Sure."
Then came facials—soft music, warm steam, and the kind of quiet that didn't demand conversation.
For once, Dasom let herself fully relax without thinking about anything else.
By the time they stepped back outside, it was mid-afternoon.
3:07 PM.
The city had shifted into golden light.
Dasom stretched her arms above her head.
"I could actually live like this," she said dramatically.
Oscar raised a brow.
"Doing nothing?"
"Being taken care of."
"That's not nothing."
She glanced at him.
"…You're weirdly philosophical today."
"I had coffee."
"That explains everything."
Their final stop was ice cream.
A small shop near the water, the kind that always had a line but never changed its menu.
Dasom chose immediately.
Chocolate.
Oscar took vanilla.
She looked at his cup.
"That's boring."
"It's reliable."
"That's worse."
"It's consistent."
She rolled her eyes but didn't argue further.
They sat by the riverside again, this time eating in silence as boats drifted past and the sun slowly lowered.
Dasom leaned back on her hands.
"…Today feels unreal."
Oscar didn't look at her, just nodded slightly.
"It's supposed to."
She turned her head toward him.
"You planned all this because I was having a breakdown?"
He finally glanced at her.
"I planned it because you've been holding everything together for too long."
That made her quiet.
For once, she didn't have a sarcastic reply ready.
Instead, she just looked back out at the water.
And stayed there a little longer than usual.
-
"Oscar.. can I ask something?" She said as she shifted her eyes and settled on Oscar.
He softly hummed in response.
"Whatever happened with Marli? I thought you two would've been endgame."
Oscar didn't answer immediately.
He took another slow bite of ice cream, like the question deserved time to dissolve before he dealt with it.
Oscar Sparks leaned back slightly, eyes on the river rather than her. "…Marli."
Dasom watched his expression carefully.
"I mean," she added quickly, softer now, "you don't have to answer if it's—"
"It's fine," he cut in gently.
A pause.
Then he exhaled through his nose. "We didn't break up because something dramatic happened," he said. "It just… stopped fitting."
Dasom frowned slightly. "That sounds like a polite breakup answer."
"It is a polite breakup answer."
She gave him a side-eye. "So there is an impolite version?"
Oscar's mouth twitched faintly. "…She wanted a life I couldn't give her."
Dasom nodded slowly, processing that. "And you?"
He shrugged. "I wanted to keep building on the life I already had."
Silence settled between them again, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Just honest.
Dasom swung her legs lightly against the bench.
"I really thought you'd be married by now," she said casually.
Oscar glanced at her. "To who?"
She gestured vaguely. "I don't know. Someone perfect. Rich. Elegant. Probably terrifying."
"That narrows it down to most people in your circle."
"That's not helpful."
"It's accurate."
That earned a quiet laugh from her.
Then she tilted her head, more serious this time. "Do you ever regret it?"
Oscar finally looked at her properly. "No."
The answer came immediately.
Dasom blinked. That surprised her more than she expected.
He softened his tone slightly.
"I don't regret the relationship," he clarified. "I regret the way it ended for her. But not the decision."
Dasom nodded again, slower this time. "…That's very you."
"What does that mean?"
"You don't hold onto things that don't work," she said. "Even if they hurt."
Oscar didn't deny it.
Instead, he looked at her for a moment longer than usual.
"And you?" he asked.
Dasom blinked. "Me what?"
"You still holding onto things that don't work?"
Her smile faded just a little. The question landed differently than she expected.
She looked back out at the water. "…I'm working on it," she said quietly.
Oscar didn't push.
He just nodded once. "Good."
A breeze passed between them, cool and steady.
After a moment, Dasom nudged his arm lightly.
"You know," she said, trying to lighten it again, "for someone who claims to be boring, you've had a very emotionally complicated life."
Oscar hummed. "I contain multitudes."
"That sounds illegal coming from you."
"It's not."
She smiled again—small, but real this time.
And for a while, they just sat there, eating ice cream.
Dasom went quiet for a moment longer than usual. The river kept moving like nothing important had just been said.
Then she turned slightly toward him.
Oscar was already watching her—not pushing, not guessing, just waiting as he could see she had a thought on her mind.
"…If I tell you something," she said carefully, "can you promise to keep it between us?"
Oscar didn't even hesitate. "Yes."
No conditions. No questions. Just immediate certainty and that steadied her more than she expected.
Dasom exhaled slowly. "…Okay."
She picked at the edge of her ice cream cup, suddenly finding it very interesting.
"I was dating Bo."
Oscar's expression didn't change much, but his attention sharpened slightly. "Your brother's best friend," he clarified.
She nodded. "…Yeah."
Dasom glanced at him quickly, then away again. "It wasn't—public. Obviously. Gyu doesn't know."
Oscar stayed quiet, letting her continue at her own pace.
So she did.
She told him everything.
How it started quietly. How it never really felt like something she could announce out loud. How it had always been easier to keep it hidden than explain it.
Then her voice dropped slightly.
"Last night… he came to the estate."
Oscar's gaze stayed steady.
Dasom swallowed.
"Yixing found us."
At the mention of the name, Oscar's eyes flickered briefly—but he still didn't interrupt.
"He thought we were just… talking," she continued. "But Bo and I… we were trying to end things properly."
She hesitated.
"Or at least… I was."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the empty ice cream cup. "Then I sent him home."
Oscar nodded once, encouraging her to keep going.
Dasom took a breath. "And Gyu had no idea any of it was happening."
Silence followed.
Long enough for the wind to pass between them again.
Oscar finally spoke, voice calm. "So Mingyu thinks you've been single."
Dasom nodded. "…Yes."
"And Bo is his closest friend."
"…Yes."
Oscar leaned back slightly, processing that in quiet layers. "I see."
Dasom immediately looked at him. "That 'I see' sounds dangerous."
"It's not dangerous," he replied evenly. "It's just… a lot of variables."
She groaned softly and dropped her head into her hands for a second. "I know it's messy."
Oscar tilted his head slightly. "It's not messy. It's just sensitive."
Dasom looked up at him again. "That's your polite way of saying it's a disaster."
"It's my accurate way of saying it's complicated."
She let out a breath and leaned back again.
"…Bo and I are done now," she added quietly. "Properly."
Oscar nodded. "Do you want me to treat this as something I need to keep an eye on?"
Dasom blinked. "What? No."
He studied her. "Then what do you want from me?"
She hesitated.
Then shrugged slightly. "…I don't know. I just didn't want to carry it alone."
That made Oscar quiet for a second longer than usual.
Then he nodded once. "Then you don't have to."
Dasom looked at him, searching his face for any judgment. There wasn't any.
She relaxed a little. "…Thanks."
Oscar picked up his cup again. "One condition."
Her eyes narrowed immediately.
"What?"
"Don't make me part of a romantic crisis triangle again today."
That got an immediate laugh out of her. "I cannot promise that."
"I figured."
They sat there again, the conversation settling into something lighter afterward, like the weight had been acknowledged and gently set down instead of carried between them.
And finally, Dasom didn't feel like she was hiding something alone anymore.