By the time Suho finally stepped out of Mirae's glass doors, the sky had already sunk into that quiet, late-night blue. Almost 9 p.m. His shoulders felt heavy, his mind still buzzing from numbers, meetings, and strategies.
He had overworked on his very first day back; he knew it. He had been so swallowed by the tasks piling up that he had forgotten to call her. He didn't even notice his phone was on silent.
And when he finally checked it… A few missed calls, unread messages. And a very obvious death sentence waiting at home.
His stomach dropped. He didn't dare call back. So he packed his things and grabbed his coat in pure panic and left the office immediately, then stopped on the way to buy flowers. Her favorite colors. His only chance for survival. Hoping the simple bouquet would act as armor against whatever storm waited at home.
He stepped inside as silently as a guilty child.
And there she was.
Hauen.
Sitting on the couch. Arms crossed. Eyes fixed on him with the kind of glare that could have set a forest on fire.
Suho went still. Absolutely still. He could practically hear his heartbeat panicking inside his ribs. That was the glare that told him, clearly, he was absolutely, undeniably fucked.
Then he tried the oldest trick in his book. His charming smile bloomed, soft and sweet, the one that melted entire boardrooms.
"Hauena…" he said gently, inching toward her like he was approaching an angry tigress.
She didn't blink. She didn't speak. But the glare? It stayed. But more intensified.
Suho swallowed again and held up the bouquet like a peace treaty. "Here, I brought these flowers for you," he said quickly, like a child presenting evidence of innocence.
Her voice sliced through the air. "What time is it, Mr. Kim?"
He smiled nervously, Adam's apple bobbing. "I'm sorry, Jagi… I had a lot of work to finish, and I lost track of time. And your calls, too."
He actually knelt in front of her, hands resting on her knees, looking up with those pleading, puppy-soft eyes. "Please forgive your teddy…"
She watched him in silence, her expression completely unreadable. He swallowed, panic rising again. He tried again, gently pushing the flowers closer.
"Here… take this. It smells good, see? It reminded me of you." His voice softened, trying to melt her with sincerity.
But she held her stare. And he waited, breath held, heart thumping, clutching flowers like a shield, hoping she would let him back into her warmth.
She was one breath away from exploding. Her nose flared, her jaw tight, and the moment her mouth opened, everything inside her came pouring out: anger, fear, love, panic, all tangled like wires sparking inside her chest.
"Do you even realise how worried I was?" she yelled, voice cracking at the edges.
He blinked, stunned, still kneeling, flowers forgotten between his fingers.
"It was your first day going alone without me, and you left before the sun even came up properly. And—" her voice shook, louder "—you're returning at night. No call, no message, no nothing!!"
Her chest rose and fell sharply. "You think I can take your absence so easily?"
The room held its breath.
"My blood pressure went up thinking something happened to you. Who told you to overwork on the first day? You think you can finish everything in one day? You're still under treatment!! Did you forget that?"
Her voice broke. Tears pooled in her eyes, trembling, refusing to fall. "Did you forget what the doctor said? What if something happened to you again?…"
Every word came from the fear that lived like a scar under her ribs. Losing him once had torn her apart. The idea of it happening again… she couldn't even breathe around it.
He didn't defend himself. Didn't interrupt. Didn't argue. He just looked down, absorbing everything, every tremble, every frustration, every fear hidden between her words. Because he knew she wasn't scolding him. She was worried, terrified.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, still lowering his gaze. His voice sounded small in a way that cracked her heart open.
That one soft apology, small, broken, sincere, hit her harder than any explanation. Her heart twisted instantly, painfully, shifting her frustration into warmth. He looked exhausted, overworked, guilty… and hers.
Her breath softened.
He looked up slowly, hoping for forgiveness in her eyes.
And the moment she saw the tired slope of his shoulders, the vulnerability in his face, her anger melted, just dissolved, leaving behind only love and the ache of worrying too much.
She slipped off the couch and into his arms, hugging him tight, her hands wrapping around his neck tightly.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you…" she whispered against his shoulder.
He exhaled in relief, holding her just as close, pressing soft kisses into her hair. He rubbed her back gently.
"That's okay… I made you worried. I should have called you back," he said quietly.
She didn't let go. She just held him, feeling the guilt of shouting at him curl inside her chest. He kept his arms around her, calming her with slow strokes on her back, kissing her hair again and again, grounding her.
After a while, she pulled back, eyes teary, lashes were moist. "I missed you," she whispered.
He smiled softly and pecked her lips. "Missed you too, Jagi…"
She finally smiled, and he felt the tension in his heart melt at the sight.
"Did you eat?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No…"
She frowned, slightly mad again, "I'm still mad that you overworked… don't do that again," she said, softer this time.
"I'm sorry… From tomorrow onwards, I'll come home on time," he promised.
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, warm and forgiving. "Come, let's eat."
He watched her stand, and her eyes caught the bouquet again. She looked back at him, softened by the gesture.
"I liked it," she said, smiling gently.
His heart practically wagged like a happy puppy. He smiled, sweet, almost shy.
She turned toward the kitchen. "Come."
And he followed her without a second's hesitation, trailing behind her like the sweetest, most obedient shadow, his guilt dissolving into quiet love.
Dinner left a gentle warmth between them, the kind that lingered on their skin long after plates were cleared. Suho showered quickly, changed into his comfortable nightrobe, and stepped out, towel-dried hair falling messily over his forehead.
She was already on the bed, lying on her side, waiting. The kind of waiting that made his heartbeat stumble.
A small, helpless smile tugged at his lips. He padded over to her and climbed onto the bed, hovering on her with a gentle shadow, his expression a mix of cute trouble and warmth.
She arched a brow. "What is it, Teddy?" she asked, amused, her hands automatically resting on his shoulder.
His smile deepened, softened. "I missed my Hauenie today." He murmured.
Her eyes sparkled, teasing. "Ohh... Really...? How much?" her hands gently caressing his jaw now.
He smiled shyly, gently kissing her palm. "Very much… every little thing about her."
She let out a small giggle. "Yet you didn't call me."
His pout was immediate. "I apologized already…"
Then, more sheepishly, he admitted, "Actually… I thought of calling you in the morning. But I thought you'd tease me for missing you too early. So I stopped myself."
She looked at him, amused. "Why would I tease you for missing me?"
He gave her an I know you too well look. "I know you. If I had called you earlier, saying I missed you, you'd have teased me until I fainted."
She giggled because he was right. "Well, I can't help that."
Suho let out a soft, defeated hum and dropped his head onto her chest. The sound vibrated lovingly against her. Her fingers slipped into his hair, brushing gently, melting away whatever tension lingered from earlier.
After a moment, her voice turned quiet. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."
He looked up at her, eyes warm and playful. "I don't want your sorry anymore. Give me something else."
She arched a brow at him, a tiny smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. "What do you want then?"
His answer arrived with a smile that glimmered like he was hiding a secret. His gaze was playful, warm, a little sinful. His hand slipped beneath her top, warm and slow, gliding up her waist. "Ummm... A moment of love," he murmured, voice brushing against her skin.
She laughed softly. "What?"
He pressed his lips together, shy for a breath, yet not losing confidence. "I mean... I want you… pabo." His voice came kind of whiny.
Her giggle bloomed again, teasing on purpose. "Hmm? I didn't get it. Say it properly."
He narrowed his eyes at her, a playful warning stitched into his glare. "Stop teasing. You know exactly what I meant."
She giggled.
With that, he leaned in, kissing her jaw, then tucked himself against her neck, scattering warm kisses that sent tiny sparks dancing along her skin. When he gave a small playful bite, she gasped, letting out a surprised giggle, her fingers threading through his hair, already surrendering to his warmth.
"Aren't you tired?" she whispered, steadying herself as his mouth drifted down to her collarbone.
"I am," he murmured against her skin, voice warm and lazy, "that's why I'm recharging for a goodnight sleep."
She smiled, her heart softening like warm honey at the way he said it, as if loving her was the only way he could rest peacefully.
His lips kept trailing downward. His breath, his warmth, his scent, all of him gravitated toward her like instinct.
Then he paused, lifted his head. His eyes had shifted, still tender, but deeper now, shaded with want and a hint of quiet fire. Playfulness dimmed into something more intimate. More vulnerable. His hands are caressing the soft skin of her waist.
"Can I?" he asked softly. He wasn't sure if she wanted it. And he cared too much to assume.
And she felt her whole chest soften at that simple, honest question.
She smiled, eyes gleaming with teasing warmth. "Since you started, please go ahead, Mr. Kim."
His ears turned pink instantly, but his grin flickered, full of boyish delight and something deeper. He didn't waste another heartbeat. He leaned in and captured her lips, slow and searching at first, like he was rediscovering her after a long day apart.
And then his shyness melted. The kiss deepened. Heat unfurled between them, quiet at first, then hungry and breathless.
Her fingers curled into his robe. His hand traced her waist, anchoring himself to her as their lips moved in perfect rhythm. Soft gasps slipped between them, her giggles brushing against his mouth whenever he nipped her lower lip. His low hums filled the spaces between kisses.
The night wrapped around them again, warm and familiar, as their bodies tangled in that intimate language they both spoke fluently.
A mix of laughter, whispers, and gentle sounds of love, everything that made their world glow behind closed curtains.
And once again, they found each other completely.