It was a beautiful evening in Seoul.
The sky was slowly melting from pale gold into soft shades of violet, the city lights flickering on one by one as if Seoul itself was taking a quiet breath after a long day. Outside the large, fancy restaurant—its glass walls glowing warmly, chandeliers visible even from the street—Soo-bin stood frozen in place, clutching her phone a little too tightly.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, heels clicking softly against the polished stone pavement. Every few seconds, her eyes darted toward the restaurant entrance, then back to the road, then to the time glowing on her phone screen. The faint hum of traffic mixed with muted laughter from inside the restaurant, each sound making her chest tighten.
She exhaled slowly, rubbing her temple.
Inside, through the glass, she could already see them—Tae-sung ssi's family, seated properly, composed, dressed in quiet luxury. His mother sat upright, hands folded, eyes sharp and observant even from a distance. His father calmly sipped tea. They looked… settled. Prepared.
And Soo-bin was still outside. Alone.
Her fingers trembled as she dialed her mother's number again.
The call barely rang once before it was answered.
"Mom," Soo-bin whispered urgently, turning slightly away from the entrance as if hiding would somehow soften her embarrassment. "When are you guys coming? Tae-sung ssi's family is here already."
There was a pause on the other end, followed by her mother's voice—breathless, irritated, but trying to sound reassuring.
"We'll be there in five minutes."
Soo-bin squeezed her eyes shut.
"Mom… you've been saying five minutes for a very long time now," she said, her voice cracking just slightly despite her effort to stay calm. "That's why I told you to book a car."
Her mother scoffed loudly.
"You think we're living in the city to just book a car whenever we want? Do you know how much that will cost?"
Soo-bin pressed her lips together, nails digging into her palm.
"And there are no taxis stopping for us. We came all the way from the subway," her mother continued, irritation rising with each word.
"Mom," Soo-bin said, unable to hide her frustration now, "even if taxis passed right in front of you, you wouldn't notice them. Do you really have to be this stingy when it comes to your daughter's life?"
Her voice dropped on the last word, heavy with humiliation and fear—fear of being judged, fear of being seen as careless, fear of disappointing people who were already watching her from inside.
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end.
"This girl—!" her mother snapped. "Who do you think you are yelling at? Did they set the date and time without informing us? We agreed properly, didn't we?"
Soo-bin stared at her reflection in the restaurant glass—perfect hair, perfect dress, eyes filled with panic.
"And it's because of traffic," her mother went on. "It's not like we can do much about it."
Just then, another voice cut in.
"Enough."
The sudden calmness startled Soo-bin.
She recognized it instantly.
Her father.
She heard the faint sound of movement, then her mother's irritated muttering faded into the background. Mr. Kim had taken the phone.
"Soo-bin ah," he said gently, his voice steady and warm, the complete opposite of the chaos around her. "Don't worry. We're almost there."
Her throat tightened.
"We didn't expect the roads to be this bad," he continued. "I know you must be anxious. Just… stay where you are. Don't bow too much, and don't apologize too much either."
Soo-bin swallowed hard, nodding even though he couldn't see her.
"Yes, Dad."
"We'll be there soon," he said again, firmer this time. "You're doing fine."
"We really couldn't get a taxi. It got a little late… Thank God your brother was nearby and came to pick us up."
The moment she heard the word brother, Soo-bin's shoulders stiffened.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
Min-woo.
A faint chill ran down her spine, and for a second she forgot the cold evening air, the restaurant lights, everything.
"Why…" she blurted out immediately, panic slipping into her voice before she could stop it. "Why did you have to bother Min-woo? I should have arranged everything properly. I told you I would—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Someone had stepped closer.
Before she could turn, a familiar presence entered her space, calm and composed. Tae-sung had come out of the restaurant, the warm light from inside outlining his tall figure against the darkening street.
Soo-bin covered the phone instinctively.
"Appa, just a minute," she whispered hurriedly, then lowered the phone.
She turned to Tae-sung, forcing herself to smile despite the sudden tightness in her chest.
"I'm sorry, oppa," she said softly. "Are… are your parents upset?"
Her eyes searched his face, afraid to find even the smallest hint of irritation.
Tae-sung shook his head immediately.
"No, no. It's fine," he said reassuringly. "I'll manage. It's working hours—being late is understandable."
His tone was calm, reasonable, kind.
Soo-bin let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She gave him a grateful, understanding smile and nodded slightly.
"Thank you," she said sincerely.
He gestured toward the entrance.
"Come inside. It's cold out here."
She hesitated, then shook her head gently.
"My parents will be here any moment. I'll wait here."
Tae-sung studied her face for a brief second, then nodded. He reached out and patted her back lightly—a small, polite gesture meant to comfort—before turning and heading back inside.
The glass doors closed behind him.
The warmth disappeared.
Soo-bin lifted her phone again.
"Appa," she said quietly, her voice lowered. "Will Min-woo be coming here? Tae-sung ssi's brother is also here."
There was a pause.
Her father understood immediately.
But he didn't answer right away.
What could he say? Speaking Min-woo's name aloud in this situation—bringing him here, letting him see all of this—would only tear open something that had never fully healed. Saying anything directly would only break Min-woo's heart.
So he chose silence first.
Then, carefully, he said, "Min-woo has some urgent work afterwards. He won't be coming."
Soo-bin closed her eyes.
She knew.
Her mother, listening quietly beside him, understood too. She didn't argue this time. She only sighed—long and heavy—as if the truth sat between them, unspoken but painfully clear.
Meanwhile, on the road a few streets away, Min-woo drove.
The city lights streaked past his windshield, reflecting faintly in his eyes. His jaw was clenched, his grip on the steering wheel tight. His expression was dark, unreadable—hurt buried beneath layers of restraint he had learned far too well.
No one needed to say it out loud.
Everyone knew Min-woo would not come.
And asking him to—
asking him to stand there, smile, and watch—
would only shatter what little strength they all had left.
Soon, the car finally slowed and came to a stop in front of the venue.
The engine was barely turned off when Soo-bin's mother pushed the door open and stepped out, the sound of her heels sharp against the pavement. Even before Soo-bin had fully gotten down, her mother's voice started—low at first, then rising with familiar irritation.
"Honestly, today of all days…" she muttered, adjusting her shawl. "Couldn't we have planned this better? See how late we are?"
Soo-bin stood quietly beside her, smoothing her dress, eyes lowered.
Her father stepped out next, his face full of apology the moment he straightened his coat. He bowed slightly toward the entrance, then toward Soo-bin.
"I'm really sorry," he said gently. "We kept them waiting too long."
Before Soo-bin could reply, she glanced back at the car.
Min-woo hadn't come out.
He remained seated behind the wheel, the window slightly lowered. Their eyes met for just a second. He didn't smile. He didn't speak. He only gave her a small nod—subtle, restrained, filled with things neither of them could say.
Then he pressed the accelerator.
The car pulled away smoothly, disappearing into the flow of traffic without another glance back.
Soo-bin watched until the tail lights vanished.
Her mother followed her gaze and let out a quiet sigh when she saw the expression on Soo-bin's face.
"You understand your brother, right?" her mother asked, her voice softer now, almost careful.
Soo-bin didn't answer.
She didn't trust her voice.
Instead, she turned away slightly and forced a small smile, changing the subject as if nothing had happened.
"Can we go inside?" she said. "They've been waiting for some time now."
Then, after a brief hesitation, she looked at her mother, eyes earnest, hands clasped together almost unconsciously.
"And Mom… please," she said quietly. "I'm begging you—don't ruin this for me."
Her voice dipped, turning gentle, almost playful in the way only a daughter could manage with her mother.
"Please be a little adjusting, okay? Just a little… can you?"
She even tilted her head slightly, trying to lighten the moment.
Her mother stared at her for a second—then suddenly laughed.
"Of course," she said, shaking her head. "I want you to get married too. Only he can bear you, after all."
Soo-bin let out a small, relieved laugh.
"I want this to end smoothly more than anything," her mother added, sincerity clear in her tone.
Her father smiled quietly beside them.
For a brief moment, all three of them shared a soft smile—fragile, hopeful, filled with unspoken wishes.
Then they turned together and walked inside the venue.
As they walked inside, the warm glow of the restaurant lights immediately enveloped them.