The last rays of sunlight slipped through the boutique's glass as Min-Kyung's staff packed the last of the dresses away. The workday's frantic rhythm was winding down, replaced by a new energy—restless, giddy relief, models stripping off heels and trading runway poses for inside jokes. Joon-ho watched from across the room, catching the tail end of a heated debate between Min-Kyung and Alina, flanked by Natty in an oversized sweatshirt and the Japanese model, Yumi, in battered jeans and a tank.
He made his way over, slipping a hand around Min-Kyung's waist. She barely flinched—just leaned into his side, letting the warmth of his palm settle her after a day of wrangling egos and fabrics.
Alina noticed first. "There he is. Joon-ho, your woman's been keeping you all to herself."
Yumi grinned. "Maybe she's afraid you'll run off with one of us."
Min-Kyung snorted, rolling her eyes. "He's more trouble than he's worth, believe me." But she didn't pull away.
