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hisfavegirl · 1 month ago

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Shadows - Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader x Aegon Targaryen.

summary : your marriage to aemond was based solely on his obsession and regret for not being able to have your sister, helaena. you were just a shadow of your sister in his eyes, and you were determined to make him realize that he was wrong.

You leaned your head against the headboard of your bed, fingers lightly gripping the book in your hands. The soft glow of the nearby candles illuminated the delicate pages, the words blurring slightly as your mind wandered. It was a gift from your mother, given to you on your 18th nameday just yesterday. Her thoughtful gesture had filled you with warmth, a rare comfort in the cold, stony halls of the Red Keep.

Your eyes shifted to the door as it creaked open slowly. For a moment, you thought it might be the wind, but then you saw one of your maids step inside, her eyes lowered respectfully. She curtsied, folding her hands neatly in front of her.

“Princess,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Prince Aemond has asked for you to come to his chambers.”

Your heart tensed at her words. It was late. The moon was high in the sky, and most of the Keep had retired for the night. For a moment, you considered refusing. You were tired, and the quiet of your chambers felt safe, peaceful. But you knew Aemond. He was not a man to be denied.

With a quiet sigh, you closed the book gently, running your fingers over its cover before placing it on the side table. The weight of duty settled over your shoulders like a heavy cloak. Your maid moved forward, ready to help you with your robe, but you raised a hand, stopping her.

“I’ll go on my own,” you said firmly, and the maid bowed her head, stepping aside.

The halls were dim, lit only by the flickering glow of torches mounted on the stone walls. Your footsteps echoed softly with every step, and with each echo, your heart grew heavier. The walk to Aemond’s chambers felt longer than usual, each step carrying with it a mix of anticipation and unease.

When you reached the door, the guards outside gave you a brief nod, stepping aside to let you in. You paused, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before pushing the heavy door open.

The warmth of the room hit you first — the glow of the fire crackling in the hearth bathed the chamber in a soft orange light. The rich scent of burning wood mingled with the faint hint of leather and steel. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for him.

There he was. Aemond sat in the large chair by the fire, legs spread slightly, one arm draped lazily over the armrest while the other toyed with the pommel of his dagger. His eye was sharp, focused, and his face unreadable, save for the slight curve of his lips — not quite a smile, but something close to it.

His eye lifted to meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. He tilted his head slightly, his silver hair falling over his shoulder.

“Come in, wife,” he said softly, his voice smooth and sharp, like a blade hidden beneath silk.

You stepped inside, letting the door close behind you with a soft thud. You didn’t move further, waiting for him to speak, to explain why he had summoned you so late. But he didn’t. He just sat there, watching you, his gaze as steady and unyielding as stone.

“You called for me, husband,” you said, trying to keep your voice even, calm.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together. His gaze never left yours. “Is it so strange that I wish to see my wife?”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning you couldn’t quite grasp. Aemond was never direct — not with his words, not with his emotions. Everything he said, everything he did, had layers beneath it. And you had spent far too much time trying to unravel them.

“I was reading,” you replied, lifting your chin slightly, not wanting to seem small before him. “A gift from mother.”

Aemond’s gaze flickered, barely a shift, but you noticed it. His eye lingered on you longer now, sharp as a blade, as if he were trying to read you the same way you tried to read him.

“Our mother gives you books,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair. “I give you more than that.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You hated the way he twisted things, how every word out of his mouth was both truth and poison.

“Is that why you called me here?” you asked, your patience thinning. “To remind me of what you give me?”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, dark and quiet. He tapped the pommel of his dagger twice against his knee, his gaze never straying from you.

“No, my sweet wife,” he said, rising slowly from the chair. Each step he took toward you echoed in the quiet chamber, slow and deliberate. “I called you here to remind you of something far more important.”

Your heart began to race as he closed the distance between you. He stood before you now, taller, broader, his gaze pinning you in place like a hawk cornering its prey. He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Everything you have,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, “is mine.”

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling a little faster now. His fingers lingered on the side of your face, the touch deceptively gentle, but the weight of his words pressed down like iron shackles.

“You know that, don’t you?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you more closely. His eye, clear and sharp, searched your face for an answer. “Say it, wife.”

Your throat felt tight, your pride warring with the reality of your position. But you knew what he wanted. He wanted to hear it from you, to have you say the words so he could hear them aloud.

“Yes,” you whispered, barely able to force it out. “I know.”

His hand lingered on your cheek a moment longer before he let it fall away. His gaze softened, but only slightly. He leaned in close, his lips just a breath away from your ear.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Remember it.”

You stood there, your eyes fixed on the flickering flames in the hearth, your heart growing heavier with each passing second. The warmth of the fire did nothing to chase away the cold you felt within. You glanced at Aemond, his figure moving with slow, deliberate steps as he circled you like a predator stalking its prey.

Your patience thinned, your voice sharper than before. “Why did you call me here at this hour, husband?” you asked, turning your head to follow his movements. “I’m tired.”

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze was steady, piercing, his lips curling into that faint, knowing smile that always made you feel as if he knew something you didn’t. His eye, sharp as a blade, watched you with unnerving intensity.

He reached out, fingers brushing against the loose strands of your hair. He toyed with it, twisting a lock of silver around his fingers as if it were silk. The gentle tug made you inhale sharply, but you stood your ground, refusing to let him see how he unsettled you.

“You shouldn’t leave your hair down like this,” he muttered, his voice a low hum, almost thoughtful. “It makes you look too much like her.”

Your breath hitched. Your eyes narrowed as you looked up at him, trying to read the meaning behind his words.

His fingers lingered in your hair a moment longer before he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. He tilted his head, his lips brushing lightly against your forehead, an intimacy so gentle it could have been mistaken for tenderness — if only it had been real.

But then, he whispered her name.

“Helaena.”

Your entire body tensed. The name echoed in your mind, louder than the crackling fire behind you. You froze, your breath caught in your chest as if he’d driven a dagger through your ribs.

Slowly, you pulled back, just enough to see his face. His expression was unreadable — calm, cold, as if nothing had happened. But you knew. You knew.

All at once, it became so clear. Every glance, every touch, every moment you had tried to convince yourself that maybe he saw you — it was never you. It was her. It had always been her. Not because he loved her more, but because you looked like her. Because you shared the same silver hair, the same eyes, the same face.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as anger and something far more painful welled up inside you. You pulled your head away from his touch, your eyes burning with an emotion you weren’t ready to name.

“You called me here for this?” you said, your voice trembling with barely restrained fury. “To remind me that I’m just a shadow of her?”

Aemond tilted his head, his gaze cool and unaffected. “You are not a shadow, wife,” he said, his tone too smooth, too controlled. “You are the reflection of something I cannot hold.”

The words stung worse than if he’d slapped you. Your throat tightened, but you refused to look away from him. You would not let him see you break.

“Then perhaps you should call for her next time,” you said, your voice sharp as broken glass. “Not me.”

His eye flashed with something — surprise, anger, or perhaps amusement. It was always so hard to tell with Aemond. But you didn’t wait to find out. You turned on your heel, your steps firm and unyielding as you moved toward the door. Your fingers curled around the handle, gripping it tightly.

“You forget yourself, wife,” Aemond said, his voice louder now, commanding. “I called for you. Not her.”

You froze, your back to him, your heart pounding so hard it hurt. Slowly, you turned your head, just enough to glance at him over your shoulder.

“No,” you said quietly but firmly, your eyes burning with something far stronger than pain. “You called for the part of me that reminds you of her.”

His face hardened, his jaw tightening as his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t deny it.

Without another word, you pushed the door open and stepped out, letting it close behind you with a dull thud. The sound echoed through the corridor, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the storm inside your heart.

You walked away, refusing to look back. This time, you wouldn’t let him see you break.

You walked slowly, each step heavier than the last as if the weight of Aemond’s words had settled on your shoulders like an unshakable curse. The cold stone beneath your feet echoed with every step, the silence of the Red Keep pressing down on you from all sides. Your breath was shallow, your chest tight with a storm of emotions you couldn’t quite name—anger, hurt, resentment, and something far more dangerous: love.

His voice lingered in your mind, his words like poisoned thorns that refused to be pulled free. “You are the reflection of something I cannot hold.” No matter how many times you tried to push it away, it echoed louder. A reflection. Not a person. Not you.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms, grounding you in the present. But it wasn’t enough to silence the flood of memories that surged forward.

You remembered the day you gave birth to your first daughter—his daughter. The pain, the exhaustion, and the overwhelming relief when you heard her first cry. You had waited for him, had told the maester to send word to Aemond the moment it was over. You wanted him to be the first to see her, to hold her, to tell you that you had done well.

But he never came.

You had waited for hours, lying in that bed with your newborn daughter cradled against your chest, her tiny hand clutching your finger. You had thought, he must be on his way. He’ll come. But he didn’t. Not that day. Not the next.

Later, you learned why.

He had been with her.

Your heart twisted in your chest at the memory. Your sister, Helaena, heavy with Aegon’s child, had been feeling unwell. He had stayed with her, comforting her, attending to her every need. Her. Not you. Not the mother of his child.

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now. You bit down on your lip, your head held high as you walked through the dimly lit halls. I will not cry for him. Not again.

When you reached your chambers, you pushed the door open with more force than necessary. The sharp creak of the hinges echoed like a scream. You stepped inside, slamming the door behind you, your breath shallow, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum.

Your eyes swept over the familiar room—the soft glow of the candles, the bed that suddenly felt far too large, the book your mother had gifted you still lying open where you’d left it. The sight of it brought a bitter smile to your face. Mother always said I was strong. She had believed in you, trusted in your strength. But right now, you felt so fragile, so breakable.

You leaned back against the door, sliding down until you sat on the cold floor, knees pulled up to your chest. Your arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold the pieces together.

Why wasn’t I enough? The question clawed at your mind, a whisper that grew louder with every heartbeat. Why her?

You hated how much it hurt. Hated how much you still wanted him. Despite everything, you wanted him to choose you, to see you, to love you for you. Not because you shared Helaena’s face, not because you reminded him of something he could not have.

But you knew the truth. No matter how many children you gave him, no matter how many times you stood by his side, he would never look at you the way he looked at her. She was his comfort, his light in the darkness. And you? You were just the shadow she cast.

A sob built in your throat, but you pressed a hand to your mouth, stifling it before it could escape. Your chest ached with the weight of everything you had tried to hold in for so long. The pain, the jealousy, the love you still felt for him even when you knew it was foolish.

Minutes passed—maybe hours. You weren’t sure. But slowly, the tears dried, and the ache dulled into something colder, something harder. Your breathing steadied, your heart slowed, and the storm inside you quieted into a sharp, bitter calm.

You lifted your head, your eyes sharp with a new resolve. If he wanted a reflection, if he wanted something he could never have, then you would show him exactly what he had chosen to ignore.

If he will not love me, he will fear me.

The morning sun bathed the garden in a soft, golden glow, but your presence outshone it all. Each step you took was deliberate, purposeful, the soft rustle of your gown trailing behind you like the whisper of a storm about to break.

Today, you were different.

The gown you wore clung to you in ways it never had before — tailored perfectly to your figure, the fabric flowing like water over your curves. The sleeves were sheer, the neckline daring but elegant, revealing just enough to draw attention but not enough to be called improper. The color was striking, a rich, deep green that matched the jewels on Queen Alicent’s crown. It was a choice no one could ignore, and that was exactly what you intended.

The whispers began the moment you stepped into the garden. Servants and ladies alike glanced your way, their eyes narrowing with judgment, their murmurs growing louder as you passed.

“She’s trying too hard.”

“Did you see her dress? How shameless.”

“She’s just desperate for attention.”

The words floated around you like gnats, insignificant and easy to brush away. Your chin lifted higher, your gaze fixed straight ahead as if none of them existed. You could feel their stares, sharp as daggers, but you refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

Let them whisper. Let them stare. They will learn.

Your steps were slow but steady, the click of your heels on the stone path echoing with every stride. You felt powerful in a way you hadn’t before, as if each glance thrown your way was feeding something inside you. For so long, you had felt unseen, unheard. But not today. Today, you would be seen.

Ahead, you spotted familiar faces—ladies of the court gathered beneath the shade of a large tree, their eyes darting toward you like vultures watching prey. Their gazes lingered on you with envy, disapproval, and a hint of fear. Good.

You didn’t look away.

Instead, you met their eyes, one by one, holding their gazes with quiet defiance until each of them shifted uncomfortably, their confidence faltering under the weight of your stare. It felt satisfying, far more than you had expected. Let them know who I am.

Further down the path, you spotted him.

Aemond.

He stood near the edge of the garden, speaking with Ser Criston. His posture was as rigid as ever, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, his gaze focused on whatever the knight was saying. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but you knew he would. He always did.

Your heart tightened in your chest, that familiar ache threatening to return. But this time, you smothered it before it could take hold. No more waiting for him to see me. No more hoping for something that will never come.

With slow, deliberate grace, you continued down the path. You knew the moment he noticed you. His head tilted just slightly, his sharp gaze flickering toward you. His one violet eye narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he took in the sight of you.

You did not stop.

You did not lower your gaze.

You let him look. Let him see you.

When you passed him, you didn’t glance his way, didn’t offer him a word, not even a nod. It was as if he were the one invisible now.

You felt his gaze burn into your back as you walked away, each step as steady as the beat of a war drum. Let him stare. Let him wonder. Let him want.

Today, you had become something more.

And from this moment on, you would never let anyone, not even him, make you feel small again.

The soft, sweet voice of your daughter calling your name pulled you from your thoughts. You turned, and there she was — your little girl, her silver hair catching the sunlight like strands of pure silk. Her wide violet eyes, so full of warmth and innocence, gazed up at you with pure adoration.

A smile tugged at your lips, softening your expression as you knelt in front of her. You brushed a strand of hair from her face, pressing a gentle kiss to her round cheek. Her giggle was like music, light and pure, easing the weight you had been carrying in your heart.

“Mother,” she said, tugging lightly on your hand, her small fingers curling around yours. “Grandmother wants to see you.”

Her voice was so sure, as if she had taken it upon herself to be the messenger of important news. You nodded, letting out a small breath of amusement. Of course, mother would send for you.

“Then we shouldn’t keep her waiting, should we?” you replied softly, brushing your thumb over her tiny fingers. She beamed up at you, eyes bright with joy.

Hand in hand, the two of you walked together, her small steps quick and eager to match your stride. She hummed a soft, tuneless melody as she skipped beside you, her little feet tapping lightly on the stone path. You glanced down at her, heart swelling with love at the sight of her carefree happiness.

But then, you felt it.

A shift in the air, like a sudden chill despite the sun’s warmth. The weight of a gaze heavy on your back — sharp, unyielding, and far too familiar. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Him.

Aemond.

His presence was as tangible as a blade pressed against your spine, the intensity of his stare burning through every layer of you. You knew that gaze too well — piercing, calculating, always watching. Your fingers curled just a little tighter around your daughter’s hand, grounding yourself in her warmth.

Don’t look back.

You kept walking, kept your chin high, your pace steady. You would not turn. You would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how aware you were of him. He always looks. He always watches. But he never comes closer, does he?

Your daughter’s humming continued, her small, soft voice unbothered by the storm that raged behind you. You envied her innocence, her blissful unawareness of the complexities that twisted between you and her father.

You could hear his footsteps now, slow but deliberate, following at a distance. His shadow lingered just beyond the edge of your vision, never too far away, but never close enough.

Always watching. Always waiting.

But you wouldn’t stop. You wouldn’t turn. Not today.

Today, you had more important things to do than worry about a man who only knew how to watch from the shadows. Your daughter’s little fingers tugged at your hand, and you glanced down at her, your heart softening all over again.

“Will Grandmother have lemon cakes?” she asked, her voice hopeful, eyes shining with excitement.

You smiled, leaning down just a bit to whisper, “I think she might, but only if you ask her nicely.”

Her giggle filled the air again, sweet and unburdened by the weight of everything you carried. And for a moment, just a moment, you let that warmth chase away the cold burn of Aemond’s gaze.

Let him watch.

You had more important things to hold on to.

As you stepped into your mother’s chambers, the soft hum of quiet activity greeted you. Alicent stood near the window, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Her handmaidens worked around her, adjusting the delicate green fabric of her gown and brushing her auburn hair until it gleamed. The faint scent of sage and chamomile filled the air, bringing a sense of calm to the room.

Her eyes lifted from the embroidery in her hands as you entered, and a gentle smile tugged at her lips. “There you are,” she said, setting the embroidery aside. “Come, sit with me.”

She gestured toward the cushioned seat beside her. You guided your daughter to a nearby chair before taking your place beside your mother. Alicent’s gaze lingered on you, taking in every detail, her eyes filled with that quiet, watchful intensity she always had. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly as her eyes trailed over your gown — a gown that was different from your usual choices.

“You look… different,” she remarked, tilting her head, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. It wasn’t disapproval, but something closer to curiosity. “Is there something on your mind, dear?”

Her voice was soft, careful, but you knew better than to think it was a simple question. Alicent never asked without reason. Her eyes were trained on you like a hawk, waiting for any sign of weakness, any hesitation.

You shifted slightly in your seat, glancing at your daughter, who was humming to herself while playing with the lace on her dress. For a moment, you considered how much to say. How much to reveal.

“It’s nothing, Mother,” you replied, straightening your posture. “I simply wished for a change.”

Alicent raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing together into a thin line. “A change, is it?” she repeated softly, her tone thoughtful. She leaned forward just a bit, her gaze sharp as she studied you with that look you’d seen so many times before. It was the look of a mother who knew something wasn’t being said. “And who is this change meant to impress?”

Her words were pointed, though her voice remained calm. You could feel her searching your face for a reaction. She was too clever, too perceptive. She saw more than you wanted her to.

“No one, Mother,” you answered firmly, lifting your chin. “It’s for me.”

A pause lingered between you. Alicent’s eyes remained on you, unblinking, and you held her gaze. For a moment, you weren’t just her daughter — you were a woman who had learned to wield silence as a weapon, just as she had.

Finally, she leaned back in her chair, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Good,” she murmured, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “It should always be for yourself.” Her voice lowered, her eyes hardening slightly. “Don’t let anyone else dictate who you must be. Not your husband. Not even the king.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt the weight of them, knowing she spoke from experience.

“Now,” she said, her tone lightening as she glanced toward your daughter. Her face softened as she leaned forward, her smile more genuine. “And how is my sweet granddaughter? Have you been keeping your mother in line, little one?”

Your daughter giggled, her smile bright and innocent as she nodded. “Yes, Grandmother! Mother is always good.”

Alicent laughed quietly, her eyes crinkling with warmth. “Is she, now?” she teased, glancing at you with a knowing smile.

For a moment, the tension lifted, and the room felt lighter. You allowed yourself to laugh softly with her, the warmth of her presence washing over you like a shield from the world outside. But even in that warmth, you still felt the weight of unseen eyes on you — the memory of Aemond’s sharp gaze burning into your back earlier in the day.

But for now, you let it fade. Here, with your mother and your daughter, you felt a fleeting sense of peace — and that, for now, was enough.

You were seated beside your mother, watching your daughter play with the lace on her dress, her soft giggles filling the room like the chime of little bells. Alicent sat gracefully, hands folded neatly in her lap, a serene smile tugging at her lips as she watched her granddaughter with quiet affection.

“She has your spirit,” Alicent remarked, her gaze never leaving the child. “Bold, unyielding, and far too clever for her own good.”

You chuckled softly, glancing at your daughter. “She’ll need it,” you replied, your tone carrying the weight of experience.

Just as your mother was about to speak again, the sound of the door creaking open drew both of your gazes. The soft murmuring of servants hushed instantly, and the familiar heavy thud of boots echoed into the room. A figure stepped inside — tall, commanding, with silver hair that caught the dim glow of the chamber’s light.

Aemond.

He didn’t say a word at first, his single eye locked onto you with that unwavering intensity you’d grown used to. He didn’t look at Alicent, didn’t look at your daughter. His gaze was for you alone. There was something sharp in the air now, something unspoken but undeniable.

“Aemond,” Alicent said softly, standing from her chair, her brow raised in question. “Is there something you need?”

But Aemond didn’t answer her. His steps were slow and deliberate as he crossed the room. You didn’t move, didn’t speak, only watched him with wary eyes. When he reached you, he didn’t ask, didn’t explain. His hand wrapped around your wrist, firm but not harsh, and with a single tug, he pulled you to your feet.

“Come,” he said quietly, his voice low but commanding. “We need to talk.”

“Aemond,” Alicent’s voice came sharper this time, her gaze darting from you to him. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing that concerns you, Mother,” he replied curtly, still not looking at her. His focus stayed on you, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you like a storm cloud.

You glanced at your mother, searching for her guidance, her permission — but Alicent only watched you, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes hard to read. She said nothing.

Heart pounding in your chest, you turned back to Aemond. “Can we not do this later?” you asked, keeping your voice calm, steady. “I’m with our daughter.”

His grip on your wrist didn’t loosen. His eye narrowed, sharp as a blade’s edge. “Now, wife,” he said with quiet finality. His tone wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. It left no room for argument.

Your daughter’s playful humming faded as she glanced up, her little face scrunching in confusion. “Mother?” she called, her voice soft and unsure.

You swallowed the knot forming in your throat. Slowly, you turned back to her and forced a smile. “Stay with Grandmother, my love. I won’t be long.”

Your daughter hesitated, her small fingers curling into the lace of her dress, but Alicent approached her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Come, sweet girl,” she said softly. “Your mother will be back soon.”

With that, Aemond tugged you forward, leading you out of the room. The sound of the door closing behind you was louder than it should have been, sealing you both away from the warmth and safety of the chamber.

The hallway was colder, quieter, and somehow it made his presence feel larger than it was. His hand remained on your wrist as he led you forward, his pace faster than yours, forcing you to keep up.

“Aemond,” you said firmly, trying to pull your wrist free. “What is this about?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at you.

“Aemond,” you said again, sharper this time. You dug your heels into the floor, yanking your arm back with more force. It was enough to stop him, though his grip didn’t release you. Slowly, he turned to face you, his face shrouded in shadow, his sapphire eye gleaming like ice.

“Why do you wear that dress?” he asked suddenly, his gaze flicking down to the gown you wore.

Your breath caught in your chest. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he said, his tone colder now, colder than the stone walls around you. His eye locked onto yours, and for a moment, you saw something dangerous in him — jealousy, rage, something darker. “You know what I mean.”

You pulled your wrist again, and this time he let you go, but his eye never wavered.

“It’s just a dress, Aemond,” you said slowly, your eyes narrowing. “Am I not allowed to dress as I please?”

His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together. “You know it’s not just a dress.”

Silence stretched between you. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“Why do you care, Aemond?” you asked, your voice sharp and unforgiving. “You barely looked at me when I bore your child. You didn’t come to me. You didn’t see me. But now you care about a dress?”

His face remained stone-cold, but his eye flared with something fierce, something wild. He stepped forward, close enough that you had to tilt your head to look up at him.

“You are mine,” he said slowly, deliberately, as if daring you to argue. His gaze bore into you, unwavering and unyielding. “Not theirs. Not anyone else. Mine.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Yours?” you repeated, your eyes flashing with defiance. “When have I ever been yours, Aemond? You love her. Not me.”

His nostrils flared as he leaned in, his face inches from yours. “Watch your tongue, wife,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “Or I will remind you exactly who you belong to.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you didn’t lower your gaze. Not this time. Not now. “Then act like it,” you shot back, your voice sharp as a blade. “If you want me to be yours, Aemond, then claim me. Stop looking at her. Stop leaving me in the cold. Stop pretending that I’m a shadow of her.”

His face twisted, his features caught between fury and something else — something you couldn’t name. His breathing was shallow, his lips parted, but no words came.

For a moment, you both stood there, silent and still, breathing the same sharp air that filled the hall.

Then, slowly, his eye softened, the edge of his rage dulling. His gaze lowered from yours to the floor. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He only stood there, his silence louder than any argument you could have had.

You stared at him, waiting for him to say something — anything. But he didn’t.

With a deep breath, you stepped back, lifting your chin high. “When you figure out who you truly want, Aemond, you know where to find me.”

You turned on your heel, walking back toward Alicent’s chambers with your head held high.

He didn’t follow. He only stood there, alone in the cold, just as he’d left you so many times before.

You stepped back into your mother’s chambers, closing the heavy wooden door behind you with a soft thud. The warmth of the room embraced you instantly, a stark contrast to the cold tension that had filled the hallway with Aemond. The soft glow of the fire illuminated the chamber, casting golden light onto Alicent’s face as she sat with your daughter on her lap.

Her gaze was sharp, searching, as she watched you cross the room. “What happened?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. Her voice was calm but firm, the way only a mother could be.

“Nothing, Mother,” you replied quickly, forcing a smile as you approached them. “All is well. There’s no need to worry.”

Alicent didn’t look convinced. Her eyes, as sharp as ever, studied you in silence. She had seen too much in her life, endured too many lies and half-truths, to be deceived so easily.

“Is that so?” she asked quietly, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Then why does your face look as if you’ve been at war, child?”

You felt your breath catch in your chest, but you didn’t answer. Instead, you turned your gaze to your daughter, who was watching you with wide, curious eyes. Her little hands tugged at the hem of Alicent’s sleeve, her small voice breaking the silence.

“Mother?” she called softly, tilting her head in that innocent, curious way children do. “What’s wrong with Father?”

Her words were like a dagger to the heart. You froze for a moment, your fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. You glanced at your daughter, her wide, expectant eyes staring back at you, waiting for an answer.

How could you explain it to her? How could you explain that the father she adored so much had left cracks in your heart that you couldn’t mend? That he looked at you but didn’t see you. That he touched you, but only as a reminder that you were his — not because he wanted you.

You crouched down in front of her, forcing a smile onto your face even as it strained the muscles in your cheeks. Your hands cupped her small face gently. “Father is just… tired,” you said softly, brushing a lock of silver hair behind her ear. “He has many responsibilities. It’s nothing for you to worry about, sweetling.”

Her brows pinched together as if she wasn’t fully convinced, but she nodded slowly, her little hands reaching up to touch your face. “Don’t be sad, Mother,” she whispered, her voice filled with childlike concern. “I’ll stay with you.”

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you pulled her into your arms, holding her close. “Thank you, my sweet girl,” you murmured against her hair, feeling the warmth of her small body pressed against yours. “That’s all I need.”

From behind you, Alicent’s voice rang out, quiet but certain. “He should not make you feel this way.”

You didn’t turn to face her. You didn’t have the strength. “It’s fine, Mother,” you replied, your voice muffled as you held your daughter closer. “It’s always been fine.”

But you both knew that wasn’t true.

You spent the afternoon with your mother and daughter, their warmth and presence offering you a fleeting sense of peace. But a restlessness settled in your chest, and soon, you found yourself longing to see your sister. The thought of Helaena brought back memories of simpler times, times when you both leaned on each other without the weight of politics, duty, and marriage pressing down on your shoulders.

So you left your mother’s chambers, your daughter staying behind under Alicent’s watchful eye. The hallways of the Red Keep felt colder than usual, the torches lining the stone walls flickering faintly. Each step echoed softly as you made your way toward Helaena’s room.

Her door stood ahead of you, the carved wood familiar, almost comforting. You raised your hand to knock, but before you could, a sound from inside stopped you.

Laughter.

Not just any laughter — his laughter.

Your breath caught in your throat, heart tightening with an uncomfortable pressure. You knew that laugh too well. Aemond’s laughter was a rare thing, something that had always felt like a secret meant only for a chosen few.

But he had never laughed like that with you.

You stood frozen in front of the door, hand still raised but unmoving. Your fingers curled into a loose fist, and for a moment, you debated walking away. Don’t go in, a voice in your head warned. You already know what you’ll see.

But curiosity — or perhaps something more painful — drew you in. Slowly, quietly, you pushed open the door just a sliver, careful not to make a sound. The sight before you made your heart sink.

Helaena sat by the window, her head tilted back with a soft, joyful smile on her face. Her laughter was like bells, light and innocent, as if she had no care in the world. And there, sitting close beside her, was Aemond. His gaze was fixed on her, his lips curved into a smile — not the cold, sharp smirk he often wore, but a true, unguarded smile.

He looked at her like she was the only light in the world.

You gripped the edge of the door tightly, nails digging into the wood. A bitter taste filled your mouth, something between rage and heartbreak. You had seen him smile, yes — but never like that. Never for you.

The urge to slam the door, to march inside and demand answers, burned hot in your chest. But what would you say? What could you say? That you were jealous of your own sister? That you hated how he looked at her like she was precious while you felt like an obligation?

Your breathing grew shallow, and you stepped back, letting the door close softly. You felt your heart pounding, a mixture of fury, sadness, and something else — something more dangerous.

Why her? you thought bitterly, turning away from the door. Why does it always have to be her?

Tears threatened to rise, but you refused to let them fall. You straightened your back, shoulders tense with the weight of pride and anger. If he wouldn’t see you, then you wouldn’t let him see you break.

With quiet, deliberate steps, you walked away from Helaena’s door, your face a mask of cold indifference. If love was a game of thrones, then you would play it too — not as a sister, not as a wife, but as a woman who refused to be forgotten.

You ran toward the gardens, your breath sharp and uneven as you tried to escape the storm brewing in your chest. The world around you felt distant, the soft rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds drowned out by the thudding of your heart.

Why her? Why always her?

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t let them see you break — not him, not her, not anyone. The cool breeze brushed against your skin, but it did nothing to calm the fire of betrayal burning inside you.

You came to a stop near a large tree, leaning against it to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell quickly, and you closed your eyes, pressing your hands against the rough bark as if grounding yourself to the world.

Then, a sound.

A low, familiar chuckle echoed behind you. It was sharp, almost mocking, but far too familiar to mistake for anyone else. Slowly, you turned, wiping at your face quickly as if to erase any sign of weakness.

There, leaning casually against a stone pillar, was your brother, Aegon. His eyes were half-lidded, his smirk lazy but sharp, like a blade hidden behind a smile. A cup of wine dangled from his hand, as always. He raised it slightly in greeting, taking a slow sip as his eyes watched you like a cat watching a bird with a broken wing.

“You look upset, sister,” he drawled, tilting his head with mock concern. “Did something happen?”

You didn’t answer, your lips pressing into a thin line. You hated the way he always knew. Aegon was many things — careless, selfish, and drunk more often than not — but he was never blind.

His grin widened as if he could read your mind. He pushed off the pillar and walked closer, his steps slow and deliberate.

“Let me guess,” he said, voice low, his eyes narrowing with amusement. “He’s with her, isn’t he?”

Your whole body tensed. His words hit harder than they should have, his casual tone like salt on an open wound. You hated that he knew, hated that he could say it so easily — as if it were obvious, as if it were inevitable.

“Shut up, Aegon,” you hissed, your voice sharper than you intended.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin never fading. “Why? It’s true, isn’t it?” He took another step closer, his eyes scanning you with slow, lazy interest. “Poor little sister. Stuck playing second to the precious Helaena. Must be exhausting.”

“Leave me alone,” you muttered, turning away from him, trying to put distance between you. But you heard him follow, his steps crunching softly against the gravel path.

“You think running will change it?” Aegon called after you, his voice carrying the cruel edge of someone who knew too much. “He’ll always go back to her, you know. Always.”

You stopped in your tracks, your fists clenching at your sides. Slowly, you turned to face him, your eyes blazing with quiet fury.

“At least I don’t have to drown myself in wine to forget who I am,” you snapped, your voice low and sharp like a dagger. “You’re pathetic, Aegon.”

His smirk faltered, if only for a second, but he recovered quickly. His eyes darkened, his grin shifting into something colder.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, raising his cup as if in a toast. “But at least I see things as they are, not as I wish them to be.”

You didn’t reply. There was nothing more to say. You turned on your heel and walked away, heart pounding harder with every step. His laughter followed you, lingering in the air like smoke from a dying fire.

“He’ll always go back to her.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, tasting copper. No. You wouldn’t let that be true. You couldn’t. But as much as you hated Aegon, there was something far worse about the fact that his words had struck something you already feared.

What if he was right?

You turned to face Aegon, your eyes filled with a quiet sadness that even he couldn’t ignore. His grin faltered for a moment as he tilted his head, finally taking in the change in you. The way you held yourself, the way your gown clung to you with deliberate elegance, the fire in your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

He blinked slowly, his gaze sweeping over you like he was seeing you for the first time. Then, just as quickly, his grin returned, sharper now, more knowing. His chuckle was soft but cruel, cutting through the stillness of the garden like a blade.

“Well, well,” Aegon muttered, taking a long sip from his cup. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he lowered it, licking a stray drop of wine from his lip. “Look at you, little sister. Finally decided to remind him of what he has, hmm?”

You said nothing, your eyes narrowing as you folded your arms across your chest.

Aegon let out a louder laugh, tilting his head back, his silver hair catching the light of the setting sun. It was the kind of laugh that grated on you — not because it was loud, but because it was laced with too much truth.

“You think he’ll notice?” Aegon asked, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Men like Aemond never notice until it’s too late. He won’t see it, not until someone else takes it from him.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling into the fabric of your gown.

“That’s enough, Aegon,” you said firmly, your voice calm but laced with warning.

“Is it?” he asked, his grin widening as he leaned in, his breath reeking of wine. His voice dropped to a low, taunting whisper. “You know I’m right. You could dress like a queen, shine brighter than the sun itself, and he’d still be chasing her shadow.”

Your heart ached, but you didn’t let him see it. You lifted your chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“At least I don’t drown in my misery like you,” you shot back, eyes hard as steel. “I know my worth, Aegon. Can you say the same?”

His eyes flashed, a flicker of something like anger or maybe regret, but it was gone in an instant. He smirked, leaning back with that same lazy arrogance he always wore like armor.

“Careful, sister,” he said, pointing at you with his cup. “That fire of yours might just burn you first.”

“Then let it burn,” you replied coldly, turning on your heel. “At least I won’t waste away, watching from the sidelines like you.”

You didn’t wait for his response. You walked away, each step more purposeful than the last, your gown trailing behind you like a banner of defiance. You could still hear him laughing, the sound echoing in the garden like a ghost that refused to leave.

But you didn’t stop.

You wouldn’t stop.

If Aemond was too blind to see you, then perhaps it was time to remind him what he stood to lose.

You sat on the edge of your bed, the soft fabric of your nightgown pooling around you like a quiet storm. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the lone candle flickering against the stone walls, casting long, shifting shadows. But your mind was far from calm. Aegon’s words from earlier echoed in your head like a bell that wouldn’t stop ringing.

“He won’t see it, not until someone else takes it from him.”

Your fingers tightened around the edge of your bed, your jaw clenching as the realization settled in. You had spent too long waiting for Aemond to see you — to truly see you. You had given him everything: your heart, your body, your devotion. But it had never been enough. Not when her name was still whispered between breaths, not when his gaze lingered just a little too long on Helaena’s face.

Enough.

If Aemond would not see you for what you were, then you would make him see. And to do that, you needed someone who knew how to play the game better than anyone. Someone who had spent his entire life weaving lies, indulgence, and chaos into every step he took.

You needed Aegon.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you stood from the bed. The air in the room suddenly felt heavier, like it knew the weight of what you were about to do. The cold floor beneath your feet was a sharp reminder that there was no going back from this path.

Walking over to your mirror, you stared at your reflection. Your silver hair spilled over your shoulders, untamed and wild. Your eyes, once so soft and full of hope, now burned with quiet resolve. Slowly, you reached up and undid the loose tie of your nightgown, letting it slip just enough to bare the curve of your collarbone and the tops of your shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to remind anyone — everyone — that you were not a woman to be overlooked.

Your gaze hardened as you pulled the fabric back into place. No more waiting. No more hoping. You would seize what was yours, even if it meant playing with fire.

Without another thought, you walked to the door. The cold metal of the handle sent a shiver up your spine, but you didn’t hesitate. The hallway outside was dim, but you knew exactly where to go. Each step echoed softly in the quiet of the Red Keep, your heartbeat matching the rhythm of your footsteps.

When you reached Aegon’s chamber, you paused. Your fingers hovered just above the door, your mind swirling with doubt for the briefest moment. Was this truly the way?

But then you saw Aemond’s face in your mind — cold, distant, always watching someone else. And suddenly, your hesitation vanished.

You knocked.

There was no response at first, but after a few seconds, you heard a shuffle from inside, a low grunt followed by footsteps. The door creaked open just a sliver, revealing Aegon’s familiar, half-lidded stare. His hair was a mess, his tunic loose and wrinkled like he’d just woken up. He raised an eyebrow at you, eyes scanning you from head to toe with a lazy sort of interest.

“Well, well,” he muttered, leaning against the doorframe, his grin already forming. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit, sweet sister?”

You didn’t flinch under his gaze. You stepped forward, just enough for him to see the determination in your eyes.

“I need your help,” you said, your voice steady but low. “With Aemond.”

That got his attention. His grin widened, slow and wicked, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. He let out a soft chuckle, his gaze sharp as a blade as he leaned in, close enough for you to smell the wine on his breath.

“Oh, little sister,” Aegon whispered, his voice dripping with amusement and something else — something darker. “This is going to be fun.”

You stood still, your breath caught in your throat as you felt the cold brush of Aegon’s fingers against your back. The soft rustle of fabric filled the room as he slipped the cloak from your shoulders, letting it fall soundlessly to the floor. The air felt colder against your skin now, but it wasn’t the chill that made you shiver. It was him.

His eyes moved over you slowly, like a lion watching prey, but there was something else there too — something sharper, more knowing. He tilted his head, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Foolish brother,” Aegon murmured, his voice low and smooth like silk soaked in wine. “Blind as a bat, that one.” His fingers brushed over your bare shoulders, not rough but deliberate, each touch a claim, each glance a challenge.

You swallowed hard, refusing to let him see the tremble in your hands. You had come here with a purpose, with resolve. This wasn’t about Aegon. This was about Aemond. About making him see you. But you can't be sure now that he touched you like this.

“Does he even know what he has?” Aegon continued, his voice a soft hum as he circled you, his gaze heavy as it lingered on the curve of your neck and the line of your night gown. “All that pride, all that control… yet he can’t see what’s right in front of him.” He laughed, a short, breathy sound, bitter and amused. “Typical.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and you squared your shoulders, refusing to look away. “Are you going to help me or not, Aegon?”

His grin widened, sharp and wicked, like a fox that had just caught the scent of a trapped hare. He stepped closer, his hand lifting to cup your cheek. The warmth of his palm against your skin sent a jolt through you — not of fear, but of certainty. He would help you. Not out of kindness, not out of loyalty, but for the thrill of it. For the game.

“Help you?” he repeated, tilting his head as though weighing the offer. His thumb traced the edge of your cheekbone, his eyes narrowing with mock thoughtfulness. “Oh, sweet sister, I’ll do more than that.” He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ll make him beg for you.”

You didn’t pull away. You didn’t flinch. If he thought you were afraid, he was wrong. You had been afraid long enough. Your heart pounded, not with fear, but with something fiercer, something that had been building for far too long.

“Then do it,” you said, your voice like steel wrapped in silk. You turned your head slightly, letting his breath brush your cheek. “Make him see me, Aegon.”

His eyes flashed with something wild, something dangerous. He laughed again, the sound rougher this time, more real. His hands slid away from you, and he took a step back, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Oh, sister,” Aegon said, his grin sharp as a blade. “He’ll see you. I promise you that.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as aegon took off your nightgown, you could feel his gaze filled with lust and passion. his hands lifted to cup your breasts and squeeze them gently, you moaned at his touch. He smiled slightly and whispered "you even have a beautiful voice, sister. Our brother is really stupid because he doesn't know what he's missing"

You closed your eyes as he started to kiss your lips, your hands found their way to his hair, tugging and squeezing it gently. He let out a small moan in between your kisses, he guided your body towards his bed. Laying you down without breaking the kiss, you sighed in disappointment as he pulled away from you, he laughed softly "You have to be patient sweet sister, isn't it unfair that you're already bare while I'm not?"

You stared at him as he slowly took off his tunic, his signature smile never leaving his face. After he took off all the clothes on his body he went back on top of you, he looked at your face with a soft gaze. You had never seen this look from aegon, he stroked your cheek gently. He slowly lowered his face to capture your lips again, his kiss was soft and more demanding.

His hands began to stroke your body, starting from your chest then down to your stomach, and ending in front of your wet core. You moan as you felt his hands stroke your folds, he looked at you. Your silver hair spread beautifully on his pillow, your eyes closed because of him, your moans that were heard because of his touch. Something inside him woke up, you sighed because of him, not your husband, not your brother. but him.

"Aegon, don't tease me. Please" You said softly, he smiled then slowly he inserted one of his fingers which made you moan softly. He could feel your walls squeezing his finger, you felt him kiss your stomach as his finger started to go in and out of your core. His finger movements were slow and intense, he then added a second finger and sped up his movements. You moaned at his touch, your body arching up as his finger hit that spot.

He stretches your cunt deliciously, you are already drunk even with just his fingers. How will you be if he enters you with his hardened cock? he looks at you and pulls his fingers out, again you sigh in disappointment as you feel empty. He licks his fingers that are covered by your Arousal, you look at him with lust. Maybe you ask him for help, but there is also a hidden intention.

"Are you ready?" He whispered in your ear as he rubbed the head of his cock against your core, you nodded and begged him to fuck you. "Please aegon, fuck me. Fuck me like i'm one of your whores"

He kissed your neck before finally sliding his cock inside you, both of you moaning together, feeling your walls stretching with pleasure. "You are not a whore, sister. You are a goddess worthy of being worshipped" he whispered softly in your ear.

He stretches you deliciously, his size is different from Aemond's. Aegon's is thicker than him, he fills you deliciously unlike Aemond's. He lets you adjust to his size, Then he guides your legs to wrap around his waist. With this position you can feel him getting deeper inside you, and you like it.

“you squeezing me tightly sister, fuck” Aegon’ low groan breaks the silence, he loves the way your clenching walls are tightening around his length.

The moans spilling out from your mouth only serves as further stimulus for Aegon to pull back and slide his entire shaft inside you before pounding you in a rough rhythm. Aegon doesn’t hold back, “All mine.”

You could see something in Aegon's eyes, lust, furry, — or something darker. He found your neck and chock you softly, you moaned. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the pleasure he was giving you.

He keeps fucking you like there's no tomorrow, you can feel his cock twitching inside you. You stroked his cheek gently, then you captured his lips and kissed him gently. The knot in your stomach tightened and was ready to be released as Aegon kept abusing your cunt.

He broke the kiss and pressed your foreheads together, "You are mine from tonight, if Aemond is too stupid not to claim you. then I will be the one to claim you." You who were blinded by lust nodded wearily, "Yes, yes, oh gods. Aegon." Aegon smiled and thrust his cock into your cunt again, before he spurted his seed inside you, you moaned softly feeling the warmth.

your breaths met, aegon slowly lowered his head to capture your lips once more. his kiss was softer and more meaningful, he slowly pulled out his cock which was starting to soften. He lay down beside you and hugged you from behind

The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the dying fire, the soft crackle of embers the only sound breaking the silence. You lay beneath the warmth of the heavy blanket, the weight of it grounding you as much as the arm draped over your waist. Aegon’s breath was steady against the back of your neck, warm and slow, the rhythm of sleep just beginning to claim him.

His hand rested lightly on your stomach, his fingers brushing against your skin with a lazy tenderness you had not expected. His other arm was tucked beneath his head, his face buried in the curve of your shoulder. It should have felt wrong — it did feel wrong — but you didn’t pull away. You stayed.

Your fingers traced soft circles over the length of his forearm, feeling the rough texture of old scars and the faint ridges of muscle beneath his skin. It was a mindless motion, something to distract you from the weight of everything that had just happened. The air still smelled faintly of wine, sweat, and something sweeter — a scent you couldn’t quite name but now felt branded into you.

Your eyes flickered toward the ceiling, unfocused. No amount of darkness could hide the thoughts swirling in your mind. What have I done? The question echoed, quiet but persistent. You had made your choice. Aegon had been more than willing to play his part, and for once, you had felt seen — truly seen — even if it wasn’t by the one you had wanted.

The ache in your chest wouldn’t go away. You’d done this for him — for Aemond — but he wasn’t here. He was never here. And yet, in this moment, wrapped in the warmth of Aegon’s arms, it was easier to forget. Easier to believe, if only for a moment, that you had taken back some control.

“Still awake, little sister?” Aegon’s voice was a low rumble against your back, his lips brushing the curve of your shoulder. His tone was teasing, but there was an edge of knowing in it. He could always tell when you were lost in thought.

You didn’t answer right away. Your fingers stilled on his arm, your gaze still fixed on the ceiling. “I’m thinking,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Dangerous thing, thinking,” he murmured with a soft chuckle. His hand shifted, fingers curling slightly against your stomach, pulling you just a little closer. “Better to stay here. Warm. Quiet.”

“Is it?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. Can it ever be quiet again?

He hummed in response, his breath slow, lazy. He didn’t press you for answers, didn’t push. That was the thing about Aegon — he didn’t demand anything from you. Not your loyalty, not your love, not even your words. He just took what was freely given and gave as little as was required in return. And tonight, that had been enough.

Silence hung between you for a while, thick and heavy but not uncomfortable. You closed your eyes, letting your breathing match his. His fingers traced slow, absent patterns along your skin, his touch light but present, grounding you even as your mind wandered.

Will he know? The thought crept in like a shadow. Will Aemond know? Will he care?

You clenched your eyes tighter, willing the thoughts away. This was not about him anymore. This was about you. About being seen. About being wanted.

Aegon’s lips brushed the back of your neck, his voice low and drowsy. “Sleep, little sister,” he murmured, his words slurred with the pull of sleep. “No one can hurt you here.”

You bit your lip, the weight of his words heavier than he could have known. Slowly, you let your eyes drift shut.

No one can hurt me here.

Except, perhaps, yourself.

The sky was still a deep shade of indigo, the first light of dawn barely a whisper on the horizon. The Red Keep was silent, its cold stone halls eerily empty as you made your way back to your chambers. Your footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor, each step a quiet reminder of the night you’d just left behind.

The warmth of Aegon’s arms still lingered on your skin, a phantom sensation that refused to fade. His scent clung to you — wine, smoke, and something else uniquely him. For the first time in a long while, you felt… lighter. Not weighed down by longing or rejection. Not haunted by the feeling of being second to someone else. In Aegon’s arms, there had been no questions, no comparisons. Only touch, warmth, and the quiet, simple truth of being wanted.

You ran your fingers through your loose hair, attempting to tame it as you walked. Your gaze remained forward, unwavering, even as a few passing servants glanced your way. You could feel their eyes on you, hear the faint rustle of fabric as they bowed their heads. But you didn’t care. You didn’t shrink away. You didn’t lower your gaze.

Let them look.

You reached your chamber door and pushed it open with a slow, deliberate hand. The familiar comfort of your room greeted you, the soft glow of the dying hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls. You closed the door behind you, leaning your back against it for a moment longer than necessary.

Your heart was steady. No guilt. No regret. Only a quiet certainty.

This is what it feels like to be loved.

Not in whispered promises or stolen glances. Not in cold, fleeting touches or moments of duty-bound affection. But in the firm hold of another who saw you — truly saw you — and did not turn away.

You moved toward the vanity, catching sight of yourself in the polished bronze mirror. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips faintly swollen. Evidence of the night you’d had. You tilted your head slightly, brushing a thumb along the side of your neck where the faintest mark remained — a brand left by Aegon’s mouth.

Your fingers hovered over it for a moment before slowly dropping to your side.

You didn’t feel ashamed.

Let Aemond see it if he dares to look.

Your thoughts flickered to him then — your brother-husband. The man who was supposed to love you, to cherish you. But he had only ever seen someone else’s shadow when he looked at you. His gaze had always been for her. His heart had always been hers. No matter what you did, you would never be enough for him.

But for Aegon…

You breathed in deeply and turned away from the mirror, already untying the laces of your gown. It slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet as you moved toward your bed. Climbing beneath the sheets, you felt the soft warmth of the blankets surround you.

The sun would rise soon. Aemond would return to his duties. You would wear your gown and play the role of his wife, his shadow. But for now — for just a little longer — you would let yourself feel loved.

No guilt. No regret.

Only love.

The first light of dawn streamed through the window, casting a soft golden glow over your chamber. Standing before the polished bronze mirror, you carefully ran a brush through your hair, letting it fall freely over your shoulders in silver waves. No intricate braids. No pins or jewels. Just you — unbound, unhidden.

Your fingers hovered over the faint mark on your neck, the warmth of your touch bringing back the heat of last night’s whispers. “Let them see it. Let him see it.” Aegon’s voice echoed in your mind, his words dripping with mischief and certainty.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Yes, let them see it.

For so long, you had played the obedient wife, the forgotten sister, the overlooked daughter. But not today. Today, you would be seen. Not as someone’s shadow. Not as an echo of another. But as you.

You set the brush aside, letting your fingertips glide one last time over the mark on your neck. It wasn’t large, but it was enough. Enough for curious glances. Enough for whispers. Enough for him to see.

The green gown you had chosen for the day hugged your frame perfectly. The sleeves draped elegantly down your arms, and the neckline was just wide enough to leave the mark barely visible — a deliberate choice. Not too obvious, but not hidden either. If someone looked closely, they would see it. He would see it.

With one final glance in the mirror, you tilted your chin higher, a quiet pride burning in your chest. You had spent so long waiting to be seen, waiting to be loved. But no longer.

Today, you would no longer shrink into the background. Let them whisper. Let them wonder. Let him seethe.

With steady steps, you left your chamber, your hair swaying freely with each step. The soft rustle of your gown echoed down the stone corridor. Servants glanced your way, their eyes lingering on you a moment too long, faces flickering with surprise — perhaps even shock.

You didn’t care.

Not today.

When you reached the dining hall, the air grew still. The sound of conversation quieted as eyes turned toward you. Aemond sat at the far end of the table, a goblet in hand, his gaze already fixed on you. His lone eye scanned you from head to toe, his jaw tightening the moment his gaze settled on your neck.

His fingers curled slowly around the goblet, knuckles turning white.

He saw it.

You stepped forward, meeting his gaze with unwavering confidence, your lips curving into a small, knowing smile. You did not bow your head. You did not avert your eyes.

For the first time, he was the one forced to watch you.

You moved gracefully toward the table, your gown flowing like water with each step. All eyes followed you, but you only paid attention to one. Aegon. He leaned back in his chair, a lazy grin tugging at his lips, his eyes half-lidded with mischief as he watched you approach.

You took the seat beside him, your movements slow, deliberate. His gaze lingered on your neck, and his grin widened knowingly. “Good morning, sister,” he greeted you, his voice smooth and soft, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Good morning, brother,” you replied, your tone just as sweet but layered with unspoken meaning.

Across the table, Alicent’s sharp eyes were already on you. Her gaze flickered to your neck — to the mark. Her brows furrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with that distinct look of a mother who knew exactly when something was out of place.

“What’s that on your neck, my dear?” Alicent’s voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the edge of suspicion in it. Her eyes darted between you and Aegon, her fingers tapping lightly on the edge of her goblet.

You blinked slowly, tilting your head slightly as if only now realizing what she meant. Your fingers lightly brushed over the mark, feigning surprise, before offering a soft, sheepish laugh. “Oh, this?” you said, glancing at her with an innocent smile. “I tripped last night while reaching for a book. I hit the edge of the table.”

Alicent raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, eyes searching yours as if waiting for a crack in your composure. But you didn’t falter. You had spent too many years perfecting this mask.

“Clumsy of me, I know,” you added, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, knowing it would only draw more attention to the mark. Your smile didn’t waver.

Alicent’s eyes flicked toward Aegon, who sat far too quietly beside you. He took a long sip from his cup, his eyes glinting with amusement. When he met Alicent’s gaze, he gave her a slow, lazy smile, as if daring her to question it further.

The Queen’s lips pressed tighter. She knew something was amiss, but with Aegon grinning like a cat who’d caught a bird, she could only let it go — for now.

“Be more careful, child,” Alicent said finally, though her tone was colder than before. Her gaze lingered on you a moment longer before she turned her attention back to her meal.

You glanced at Aegon, your fingers resting lightly on the table. He leaned in, his lips brushing just close enough to your ear for you to hear.

“Careful, sister,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Or you’ll end up with more marks for them to question.”

Your eyes flicked to him, meeting his with quiet defiance and hidden amusement.

“Let them,” you whispered back, your voice as sharp as a blade. “Let him see.”

Aegon chuckled under his breath, his grin growing wider as he leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased with your answer.

On the other side of the table, Aemond sat in tense silence. His knife sliced through his meat with slow, deliberate precision, his gaze never leaving you. The muscle in his jaw ticked as his eye trailed the line of your exposed neck, and you knew he had seen it.

Good.

You reached for your goblet, taking a slow sip, letting the silence stretch just a moment longer. You didn’t look at him — you didn’t need to.

He was already watching.

Alicent cleared her throat, breaking the sharp tension that had settled over the dining hall. Her eyes shifted between you, Aemond, and Aegon, her brow slightly furrowed in quiet disapproval. But as always, she maintained her composure.

“Come walk with me in the gardens after this,” Alicent said, her voice calm but firm, the tone of a mother who expected to be obeyed. Her gaze softened when it landed on your daughter, who was busy playing with a small wooden dragon on the table. “Bring her along. The fresh air will do her good.”

You glanced at Alicent, your heart slowing its wild rhythm. Her invitation wasn’t really a request — it was a command disguised as kindness. Still, you nodded, offering her a small, polite smile. “Of course, Mother,” you replied, brushing a gentle hand over your daughter’s silver hair. “I think she would love that.”

Alicent smiled at your agreement, but her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, sharp and knowing. You wondered if she had noticed the mark on your neck. She must have. Her gaze was too calculating, too perceptive. But she said nothing. Not yet.

Across the table, Aemond’s stare remained relentless, cold fire simmering beneath the surface. His jaw twitched, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he continued to watch you. Let him watch, you thought again, straightening your posture with quiet defiance.

Your daughter tugged on your sleeve, pulling your attention back to her. Her big, curious eyes looked up at you, and she smiled with that innocent joy only a child could have. “Can we pick flowers, Mother?” she asked, tilting her head with that soft, sweet look she always gave you.

You smiled down at her, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “Yes, my sweet flower. We’ll pick as many as you like.”

Her giggle was bright, a sound that eased some of the heaviness clinging to your heart. You turned to Alicent and nodded once more. “Shall we, Mother?”

Alicent glanced at Aemond and Aegon one last time, her lips tightening into a small, unreadable line. “Yes, child,” she replied, standing from her seat with slow grace. “Let us go before the sun grows too hot.”

With your daughter’s tiny hand in yours, you followed Alicent out of the hall. You didn’t look back. Not at Aemond. Not at Aegon. But you felt them both watching you, their eyes like shadows following your every step.

Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves swaying in the gentle breeze. The sweet fragrance of blooming flowers surrounded you, but it did little to ease the weight pressing on your chest. Your gaze remained locked on your daughter as she giggled and chased a butterfly through the field of blossoms, her silver hair shining like threads of moonlight. Her joy was a stark contrast to the quiet tension that lingered between you and your mother.

You didn’t have to look at her to know Alicent was watching you. You could feel it — the sharp, piercing weight of her gaze on the side of your face, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Her silence wasn’t aimless. It was deliberate, calculated, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

Your jaw tightened, your fingers curling into the fabric of your gown. You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to stay composed. But patience had its limits, and you were done pretending not to notice.

“If you have something to say, Mother,” you said softly but firmly, still watching your daughter twirl among the flowers. “Then say it.”

There was a pause. Long enough for you to hear the distant call of crows circling above the Red Keep. Alicent’s sigh was quiet but unmistakable, the kind of sigh that only a mother makes when she’s both disappointed and trying to be patient.

“I have always taught you to be careful,” Alicent finally said, her voice calm but edged with warning. “To be wise. But now, you walk the halls as if you want the whole castle to see you.”

You turned to face her slowly, tilting your head just enough to meet her gaze. Her green eyes, sharp as polished glass, met yours without hesitation.

“Is that what you think, Mother?” you asked with a wry smile. “That I want them to see me?”

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line. She stepped forward, closing the space between you. Her eyes flickered briefly to the faint mark on your neck — the mark you had left uncovered. Her gaze lingered for a moment too long before returning to your face.

“Do you think Aemond won’t notice?” she asked quietly, her voice like a knife hidden in silk. “Do you think he won’t care?”

You lifted your chin, eyes narrowing just slightly. “I hope he does,” you replied, your voice as steady as stone. “I want him to.”

Alicent blinked slowly, her expression unreadable. Disappointment, perhaps. Or maybe something else entirely. She studied you, her gaze sweeping over your face as if trying to decipher a riddle she hadn’t expected.

“You think this will give you power over him,” she said, her tone quieter now, almost sad. “But men like Aemond do not yield. They burn. And when they burn, they take everything with them.”

Her words hung in the air like smoke after a wildfire. But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t bow your head.

“Then let him burn, Mother,” you replied, your voice colder than before. “I am tired of being the ash.”

Alicent’s eyes softened just for a moment, a flicker of something like sorrow crossing her face. But just as quickly, it was gone, hidden beneath her ever-composed mask. She glanced at your daughter, who had plucked a handful of wildflowers and was now weaving them into a messy little crown.

“You have more to protect than yourself now,” Alicent reminded you, her eyes returning to yours with quiet intensity. “Don’t forget that.”

Her words lingered as she turned and walked away, her green gown trailing behind her like a shadow stretching long in the sun. You watched her leave, feeling the weight of her warning settle on your shoulders.

Your daughter ran up to you, holding the flower crown high with a proud grin. “Look, Mother! It’s for you!” she beamed, eyes wide with excitement.

You knelt down to her level, letting her place the crooked crown on your head. Her little hands patted it into place, her giggles filling the air like birdsong.

“Does it suit me?” you asked, brushing your fingers through her hair.

She nodded eagerly, her eyes glowing with love. “You’re the prettiest queen ever, Mother!”

You smiled at her, pulling her close for a hug. Your eyes drifted to where Alicent had disappeared among the trees, her words still echoing in your mind.

“Then let him burn,” you repeated silently to yourself, holding your daughter just a little tighter. “Let him burn.”

You walked slowly through the long corridors of the Red Keep, the soft glow of sunlight streaming in from the high windows. The sound of your daughter’s giggles and her tiny, delighted murmurs filled the air like a melody, bringing a rare warmth to your heart. Her little hand gripped yours tightly, her steps uneven but determined as she tried to keep up with you. Her silver hair shimmered in the light, so much like her father’s — a thought you quickly pushed away.

Your smile lingered, but it faltered as soon as you noticed him.

Aemond.

He stood at the far end of the corridor, his tall figure framed by the light behind him, casting his face in shadow. But even without seeing him clearly, you knew he was staring at you. His one eye was fixed on you with that sharp, unyielding intensity that had always made you feel so small. His steps were slow but deliberate, his boots echoing with each heavy step as he made his way toward you.

Your heart clenched. There was no mistaking the storm brewing in his gaze. It wasn’t rage — not quite. It was something colder, something that sat beneath the surface and lingered like frost on a blade.

You braced yourself, fingers tightening around your daughter’s hand. She didn’t notice. She was too busy humming a little tune to herself, blissfully unaware of the silent battle unfolding in front of her.

Aemond drew closer, his lips pressed into a firm line, his gaze flicking to you and then to the child at your side. His eye lingered on the faint mark on your neck — the one you hadn’t bothered to hide. His jaw clenched. You saw the muscle in his cheek twitch, and for a moment, you wondered if he would stop walking entirely.

But before he could reach you, another figure appeared.

“Aha! There she is!”

Aegon’s voice echoed down the hall, loud and lazy as always. He strolled toward you with a grin, his arms wide as if greeting old friends. You barely had time to react before he swooped in, his movements quick but somehow still unbothered.

“Come here, little dragon,” he cooed as he scooped your daughter up into his arms, lifting her high into the air. She shrieked with laughter, her small hands gripping his shoulders for balance.

“Uncle Aegon!” she squealed with delight, giggling as he spun her around in the air. “Higher! Higher!”

“Your wish is my command, little lady,” he grinned, his voice full of playful charm. He twirled her once more, her silver hair flying in wild loops around her face.

You blinked, momentarily stunned, but quickly recovered. “Aegon, careful,” you warned, your voice firm but not harsh. “You’ll make her sick if you keep spinning her like that.”

He glanced at you, flashing that devil-may-care grin that had gotten him into trouble too many times to count. “Nonsense,” he said with mock seriousness, lowering her only a little. “This one’s a Targaryen. We don’t get dizzy.” He tapped his temple with a wink.

You tried to keep a straight face, but your daughter’s laughter was too infectious. A soft smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

But then you felt it.

That gaze.

Aemond hadn’t moved. He stood still as stone, his eye burning into the side of your face. His lips were pressed so tightly together that they had gone pale, his hands folded neatly behind his back, as if he was restraining himself.

His eye flicked to Aegon, watching as he cradled your daughter close to his chest, his fingers tapping a gentle rhythm on her back. Aegon wasn’t even looking at him. His attention was fully on you and the child in his arms.

“She looks just like you,” Aegon said suddenly, his voice quieter than before. He glanced at you, his grin still in place, but something in his tone had shifted. “All fire and pride.”

You tilted your head, unsure if he was complimenting you or mocking you. “She takes after her mother,” you replied coolly.

“Of course she does,” he agreed with a knowing smirk. His eyes met yours — and lingered a moment too long. A silent message exchanged. One only the two of you could understand.

Aemond saw it.

He saw everything.

You could feel his anger like a second heartbeat in the room, slow and steady but undeniable. His breathing was controlled, his shoulders squared, but the flicker of his eye betrayed him. He was seething.

“Enough,” Aemond’s voice finally cut through the moment like a blade. Sharp. Icy. Absolute.

The air grew cold.

Aegon raised an eyebrow, his grin unfading, but he lowered your daughter from his arms with exaggerated care. She pouted at him, disappointed that their game was over.

“Uncle Aegon will play with you later, little one,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Go with your mother for now.”

Your daughter nodded, still pouting, but she took your hand obediently. Aegon gave her one last playful wink before turning his eyes back to Aemond.

There was no laughter now.

The two brothers stared at each other in silence, the weight of unspoken words filling the corridor like smoke after a fire.

Aegon’s grin was gone, replaced by something colder, sharper. “Brother,” he greeted with mock politeness, tilting his head slightly as if offering respect. It was anything but.

Aemond’s lips barely moved. “Aegon.”

For a moment, you wondered if they might come to blows right there in front of you. But Aegon, always the one to avoid true confrontation, only shrugged.

“Don’t glare at me, brother,” Aegon drawled, his eyes half-lidded with boredom. “You should be thanking me. After all, someone has to remind her what it feels like to be seen.”

The silence after his words was deafening.

Your breath hitched, heart thudding in your chest. You didn’t know whether to be furious or grateful for Aegon’s boldness.

Aemond’s face was still, so still that it was almost inhuman. But his eye — his eye was a storm. His lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. The weight of his anger was like thunder rumbling in the distance, waiting for the lightning to strike.

You squeezed your daughter’s hand, forcing yourself to remain calm. You could not let them see you break. Not now. Not ever.

“Come, darling,” you said softly to your child, brushing your fingers through her hair. “Let’s not waste our time here.”

You didn’t look at Aemond as you passed him. You kept your head high, your chin lifted, your steps slow and deliberate. You knew he was watching you. You could feel it, the searing heat of his gaze following your every movement.

Aegon’s chuckle echoed behind you, soft and full of mischief. “See you at dinner, little sister,” he called after you, his tone light and carefree. But you knew better. His words were never as simple as they seemed.

You didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.

But you felt it.

The fire.

The storm.

The weight of Aemond’s gaze burned hotter than dragonflame, and this time, you didn’t run from it. You let it sear into your back like a brand, unyielding and undeniable.

If he was going to watch you burn, then so be it.

Let him burn too.

You walked down the quiet corridor with your daughter by your side, the soft click of your shoes echoing in the stone hallways of the Red Keep. The moonlight filtered through the windows, casting a silvery glow on the floor beneath your feet. Your appearance tonight was different—more daring. Your silver hair, usually left to fall in gentle waves, was now loosely braided down your back, and the dress you wore hugged your figure in a way that felt more bold than your usual attire.

As you reached the door to your mother’s private solar, you paused for a moment, steadying your breath. You had made the decision, and now there was no turning back. You were determined to stand tall, regardless of the consequences.

When the door opened, you were greeted by a mixture of expressions. Your mother, Alicent, stood in the center of the room, her eyes wide in confusion as she took in your appearance. Her gaze flickered to your daughter, who tugged at your hand, seemingly unaware of the tension in the air.

But it was the other two men in the room who caught your full attention. Aegon, leaning casually against the stone wall, stared at you with a dark, unreadable look in his eyes, his lips curling into a slight smirk. There was something almost predatory in the way he watched you. And then, there was Aemond. His face was a mask of barely contained fury, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

Aegon’s voice broke the silence, smooth and laced with an edge. “Well, well… someone’s feeling bold tonight.”

But it was Aemond’s glare that pierced through the air like a sword. His fists clenched at his sides, his expression darkened, and his voice came out cold, sharp. “What is this?” he demanded, his eyes never leaving you.

For a moment, you hesitated. The weight of their gazes pressed on you, but you refused to let it make you falter. This was your moment. You had decided this path, and no matter how much it hurt, you would not back down.

“I’m simply here,” you said, your voice calm but resolute, “to have dinner with my mother. Is that a crime?”

Aemond’s anger was palpable, and his voice came out with a bite that made your skin tingle. “It’s not your presence that’s troubling, it’s the way you choose to present yourself, wife,” he spat, stepping forward. “You think you can—”

You didn’t let him finish. You could feel the tension between you, thick and suffocating, but you refused to let it control you. “I am not your possession, Aemond,” you said firmly, locking eyes with him. “I don’t need your approval.”

There was a moment of silence before Aegon chuckled softly, the sound almost mocking. “Aemond, I think she’s made her point,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe you should stop trying to control everyone.”

Aemond’s expression tightened, and his lips curled into a thin, angry line. The room seemed to close in around you as the weight of his fury bore down on you. But you didn’t look away. You had lived in his shadow for so long, but now, you were ready to step out.

“I think we’re done here,” you said finally, your voice a low whisper. You turned to your mother, who was still standing, her expression unreadable.

“Let’s go, darling,” you said to your daughter, your voice soft, almost a comfort to her.

As you walked past them, you could feel Aemond’s gaze following you, sharp and unforgiving. But you didn’t look back. You had made your choice, and now you would live with it. You would no longer let Aemond or anyone else dictate who you should be. You would forge your own path, one that was yours and yours alone.

You approached Helaena, who was seated gracefully with her twin children playing at her feet. Her gentle smile greeted you like the soft glow of dawn, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of warmth.

“Go on, sweet girl,” you whispered to your daughter, nudging her toward her cousins. She glanced up at you with bright, trusting eyes before running off to join them, her giggles mixing with those of the twins. The sound was soft, innocent, untouched by the weight of the world around them.

Helaena tilted her head, watching you with that faraway look she so often had. “She’s grown so much,” she said softly, her voice like a dream. “She looks like you.”

You smiled, brushing a hand over your gown. “She has her father’s stubbornness,” you replied, your tone lighter than you felt.

You turned and made your way to the table, your steps slow and deliberate. Your eyes scanned the room, and you immediately caught the heavy gaze of your mother. Alicent sat straight-backed, hands folded in her lap, her eyes locked on you. There was no mistaking that look. It wasn’t mere observation — it was scrutiny. A silent demand for answers.

You didn’t falter. You met her gaze head-on, unblinking, unyielding. She raised a single brow, a silent warning, but you kept walking.

Aegon was already seated, one arm slung lazily over the back of his chair. His sharp eyes followed you as you approached, a grin slowly curling at the edges of his lips. He shifted just slightly, making space for you at his side.

“Looking radiant tonight, sister,” Aegon remarked, his voice thick with amusement. His eyes dropped briefly to your neck — to the faint mark you had chosen not to hide. His grin widened. “It seems you’ve found yourself in some mischief.”

You sat next to him, ignoring the way his fingers briefly brushed against your arm. He leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping lower so only you could hear. “He’s watching you,” he murmured, his eyes flicking toward the other end of the room.

You didn’t have to turn to know who he meant.

Aemond.

He choose to sit with Helaena tonight. His posture as stiff as ever. You felt the weight of him before you even glanced his way. He was quiet, but his presence was louder than the chatter of everyone else in the room.

He didn’t look at you directly at first. His gaze flickered from his plate to Aegon’s hand, which lingered a moment too long on the back of your chair. His jaw tightened. The muscle there tensed, his lips pressing into a thin, firm line.

“Brother,” Aemond finally said, his voice cool and sharp, like the edge of a blade. “You seem particularly lively this evening.”

Aegon chuckled lowly, tipping his cup of wine toward Aemond. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a fine night, after all.” He glanced at you, his grin widening. “And I have fine company.”

You felt Aemond shift beside you, his body leaning forward slightly, just enough to make his presence known. You turned your head slowly, meeting his eye. His gaze was sharp, cutting, filled with something you couldn’t quite name. Anger? Jealousy?

“Strange,” Aemond muttered, his gaze flicking briefly to the mark on your neck before returning to your eyes. “I didn’t think you’d need company outside of your husband.”

Silence fell over the table. Your mother’s eyes sharpened, her lips parting slightly as if to intervene. Helaena blinked slowly, still playing with her twins, as though she hadn’t noticed the shift in the air. But she had. You could tell.

Your heart pounded, but you kept your face calm, composed. You tilted your head, allowing a faint smile to tug at your lips. “A husband must first be present to be considered company,” you replied softly, your words carrying more weight than volume.

Aegon’s laughter broke the silence like shattering glass. He leaned forward, his eyes alight with mischief, his gaze flickering between you and Aemond. “Oh, she’s sharp tonight,” he grinned, shaking his head. “Careful, brother. You’ll cut yourself on her wit.”

Aemond’s gaze remained locked on you, cold fire burning beneath the surface. His fingers twitched at his side, his body taut like a bowstring ready to snap. But he said nothing. His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken.

Your mother cleared her throat, finally breaking the tension. “Enough,” Alicent said firmly, her voice cutting through the room like a queen’s command. Her eyes darted between you, Aegon, and Aemond. “This is a family meal, not a spectacle.”

Aegon only chuckled, sipping his wine with a lazy grin. You glanced at Aemond one last time, meeting his eye with the same unflinching defiance you’d shown your mother.

He would not win tonight.

Throughout the dinner, your attention remained firmly on Aegon. The two of you spoke softly, exchanging words only the two of you could hear. He had abandoned his wine tonight, a rare occurrence, and instead, his full attention was on you. His gaze lingered, sharp and knowing, a look that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

His fingers brushed over your arm every so often as he spoke, light but deliberate, and when you laughed at one of his quips, he reached up to tuck a loose strand of silver hair behind your ear. The touch lingered just a moment too long. Warm. Familiar. Intentional.

Your heart fluttered, though you did not show it. It wasn’t love. No, it was something simpler but just as powerful — being wanted. Being noticed.

Across the table, you felt his eyes on you. Aemond. He was quiet as ever, his knife slicing through his food with sharp precision. But he wasn’t eating. No, he was watching. His gaze was unwavering, fixed on the space where Aegon’s hand had rested on your arm. His fingers curled around the handle of his knife, grip tightening until his knuckles turned white.

He hated it. You knew he did.

The weight of his jealousy filled the room like smoke, thick and choking, but you didn’t flinch. Not this time. You straightened your back and leaned just a little closer to Aegon, letting out a soft laugh that carried just enough sweetness to turn bitter in Aemond’s ears. You didn’t even have to look at him to know. You could feel his fury like a storm brewing on the horizon.

Alicent noticed it too. Her eyes darted between you, Aemond, and Aegon, her lips pressed into a thin line. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. What could she say? What could anyone say?

Aegon leaned in toward you again, his voice low but loud enough for others to hear if they truly paid attention. “Careful, little sister,” he murmured, his grin sharp as ever. “He looks ready to start a war.”

You tilted your head just slightly, glancing at Aemond from the corner of your eye. His face was stone, hard and cold, but his eye told a different story. It burned with something wild, something raw.

You turned your gaze back to Aegon and smiled, soft and sweet. “Let him,” you whispered, just loud enough for Aemond to hear. “I’ve had enough of his silence.”

Aegon’s eyes widened with surprise before he threw his head back in laughter. He laughed so loud and so carelessly that even Helaena glanced up from her plate, blinking in confusion. Alicent frowned deeply, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

But you didn’t care. For the first time in a long while, you felt in control.

Aemond’s knife clattered against his plate, the sudden sound drawing everyone’s attention. His jaw was clenched tight, his chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths. He pushed his chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the stone floor.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice deadly calm, his eye never leaving you. His gaze lingered on you for a breath longer than necessary before he turned and strode out of the room, his steps sharp and echoing.

Silence settled over the table like a heavy blanket. Alicent glanced at you, her eyes full of questions she wouldn’t dare ask in front of everyone. Helaena blinked, her gaze following Aemond’s retreating figure. Aegon raised his cup, tilting it toward you as if to say well done.

You only smiled, eyes fixed on the door Aemond had just walked through.

He had always been so composed, so controlled. But not tonight.

Tonight, you had won.

The warmth of satisfaction still lingered in your chest as you made your way to your chambers. The image of Aemond’s face at dinner replayed in your mind — the tightness of his jaw, the sharp flare of anger in his eye, and the way he stormed out, unable to contain himself. It had been so long since you’d seen him break like that. He finally felt it, you thought to yourself. He finally knows what it feels like to be ignored.

Your steps echoed softly against the cold stone floors as you approached your door. You pushed it open, expecting the quiet stillness of your chambers. But the moment you stepped inside, the air shifted.

He was there.

Aemond stood in front of the fire, the golden flames casting long, flickering shadows on the stone walls. His back was to you, his hands clasped behind him. His posture was as rigid as ever, but there was something different tonight. Something simmering beneath the surface.

The door clicked shut behind you, and you froze. Your heart gave a sharp, sudden thud in your chest.

“Aemond,” you said, keeping your voice steady. You raised your chin, unwilling to show even a flicker of hesitation. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away. The silence was thick and stifling. Slowly, he turned his head, his eye catching the glow of the fire. He glanced at you from over his shoulder, his face half in shadow, half in light. His gaze dragged over you slowly — from your disheveled hair to the slight crease in your gown. His gaze lingered on your neck. On the mark that you hadn’t bothered to cover.

His lips curled into a sneer.

“Enjoying yourself, sister?” His voice was quiet but razor-sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. He turned fully now, his gaze locking onto yours with the intensity of a predator watching its prey.

You felt the heat of it, but you refused to look away. “I don’t know what you mean,” you replied calmly, stepping further into the room. You untied the clasp of your cloak and let it slide from your shoulders, keeping your eyes on him the entire time. “I spent the evening with our family, just as you did.”

His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his jaw ticking with tension. He took a slow step forward, his eye never leaving you.

“Do not play games with me,” he said quietly, each word deliberate, dangerous. “You know exactly what I mean.” Another step forward. “Do you think I didn’t see it? The way you clung to him — the way he touched you.” His eye darted to your neck again, and you swore you saw his teeth clench. “Do you think i'm blind, sister?”

You tilted your head, your fingers toying with the loose braid in your hair. “You never seemed to care before,” you said, letting the words drip with venom. “Why care now, husband?”

That struck him. You saw it in the way his gaze darkened, in the way his breath grew heavier. He strode toward you, closing the distance between you in only a few strides. He stopped inches from you, his height looming over you like a storm cloud.

“Careful,” he warned, his voice low, quiet, but full of danger. “Do not mistake indifference for mercy.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you did not back away. Not tonight. Not after everything. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your eyes as sharp as his. “And do not mistake neglect for loyalty,” you shot back, your voice unwavering. “You gave me nothing, Aemond. No love. No warmth. You treated me like a shadow while you poured your affection into her.” Your lips curled into a bitter smile. “So forgive me if I sought comfort elsewhere.”

For a moment, silence reigned. His breathing was heavier now, his chest rising and falling as he stared at you like he didn’t know whether to destroy you or claim you. His fingers twitched at his side, itching to move, to act, to do something.

“You think you’ve won,” he muttered, his voice laced with something dangerous, something raw. “You think you’ve made me jealous.” He leaned down, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. “But jealousy is for fools. I do not envy Aegon.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered, “I pity him.”

A shiver ran down your spine, but you held your ground. You turned your face toward him, so close that your noses almost touched. “Pity him all you want,” you whispered, your voice a deadly softness. “But at least he knows how to cherish what’s his.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and the sharp rhythm of your breathing. His gaze darted to your lips for the briefest second before he pulled back, his face twisted with something like fury — or maybe something more dangerous than that.

Without another word, Aemond turned on his heel and strode toward the door. But before he opened it, he stopped, his fingers gripping the handle so tightly you thought it might break. He glanced at you one last time, his eye burning with cold fire.

“Be careful, wife,” he said, his voice laced with warning. “When you play with fire, it does not just burn — it consumes.”

Then he was gone, the heavy thud of the door echoing through the room like thunder.

You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, your breath shallow and sharp. Slowly, you pressed your fingers against the mark on your neck, feeling the heat of it beneath your skin.

Let it burn, you thought. Let it burn us both.

You sit on your bed, your thoughts tangled and chaotic after Aemond’s words. The weight of everything pressing on your chest feels unbearable. You slip on your robe to cover the nightgown you’ve been wearing, your movements mechanical as you try to regain some composure. You need to talk to Helaena, to try and make sense of everything swirling in your mind.

You walk towards her chamber, the steady rhythm of your footsteps the only sound in the hall. But as you approach her door, something stops you.

A muffled gasp.

Your heart lurches in your chest, an icy chill running down your spine. You stop in your tracks, frozen, as you listen. Another sound follows — a soft, breathy moan. His voice.

Aemond.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. Your body tenses as you try to steady your breath. You want to move away, to leave this moment behind, but something keeps you rooted to the spot.

You recognize the sound all too well — it belongs to him. You’ve heard it before, in different contexts, but never like this. Not with Helaena.

Your head spun, and it felt as if thousands of daggers were piercing your heart. Your hands shook at your sides, nails digging into your palms. Part of you wanted to run, to escape the reality standing so plainly before you. But another part of you needed to know. You had to know.

You stepped back, breath shallow, heart thudding painfully in your chest. Your gaze was locked on the door, and though you told yourself to leave, your feet wouldn’t move. You stood there, caught between heartbreak and rage, unable to tear yourself away from the sounds beyond that door.

A soft laugh echoed from inside. It was Helaena’s. You recognized it instantly. Then came his voice — low, rough, familiar in a way that made your chest ache. His voice, the one that should have been meant for you alone.

“Aemond…” Helaena’s voice was like a whisper in the storm, soft but sharp enough to slice through you. Your hands curled into fists, nails biting into your skin as your lips trembled. You knew you should leave. You knew it was pointless to stay, letting yourself be shattered like this.

But still, you stood there. Letting it destroy you.

You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood, trying to stifle the sob rising in your throat. Your chest tightened with every breath, a wild mix of pain, fury, and disbelief. For so long, you had tried to convince yourself that maybe — just maybe — Aemond would see you. That one day, he would love you the way a husband should love his wife.

But he never did. He never chose you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, hot and unrelenting. You touched your chest as if you could somehow reach into it and pull the ache out with your bare hands. But it stayed, heavy and unyielding.

It was always Helaena. Always her.

You wiped the tears from your face, trying to steady yourself. Desperate gasps and quiet groans grew louder from beyond the door. You couldn’t bear to hear it any longer. Your legs, frozen moments ago, now felt as light as air. You turned on your heel, gown swishing around you, your footsteps quick and determined as you fled down the corridor.

The tears wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard you bit your lip to silence your sobs. Each step echoed with the weight of everything you’d tried so hard to deny. He will never love you. Not as he loves her. Not as he loves Helaena.

But as you moved further away, a single name came to mind.

Aegon.

You remembered the way Aegon had watched you earlier. His gaze wasn’t distant or dismissive. It was focused. He saw you. His lingering touch on your arm, the way he ran his fingers through your hair, and the way he smiled at you at the dinner table. He sees you. He sees everything that Aemond refuses to see.

You wiped your tears with a rough, angry swipe, your breathing still uneven. No more tears. Not for Aemond. Not for a man who never saw you as enough.

That night, you would not sleep alone.

With that resolve, you left your chambers, letting your gown trail behind you like the shadow of a queen who had been wronged. You knew where you were going. You knew exactly who would be waiting for you with open arms.

Aegon.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel guilty. Not anymore.

You rush toward Aegon’s chamber, your steps frantic and your heart racing, the tears flowing freely. When you reach the door, you throw it open without thinking, startling Aegon, who had been sipping his wine. His eyes widen as he takes in your tear-streaked face, and before he can speak, you rush into his arms.

Aegon hesitates for just a moment, then pulls you close, his strong arms wrapping around you as you bury your face in his chest. His grip is firm and comforting, but he senses the desperation in your touch.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, brushing a hand through your hair. But you shake your head, your words muffled against him.

“I… I can’t anymore. I need you to make me forget,” you whisper, your voice fragile. “I can’t bear this pain anymore.”

Aegon stiffens for a moment, his breath hitching, before he gently pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes. His expression is soft, his own emotions carefully hidden beneath the surface, but the intensity of his gaze never wavers.

“Forget?” His voice is low, a mixture of concern and something else, something deeper.

You nod, your hands trembling as you reach up to touch his face. “Please… make me forget him. Just for tonight.”

Aegon stares at you, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. He breathes in deeply, as if debating something internally, before he leans forward and presses his lips gently against yours.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, but as you respond to him, it deepens, his hands pulling you closer. For a brief moment, the world around you fades away, and you forget the pain, the heartache, and the betrayal. It’s just him, and it’s just you, lost in the moment, as though you’re both trying to escape the heavy burdens of your lives.

When the kiss breaks, Aegon doesn’t pull away completely. He holds you close, his forehead resting against yours, and whispers, “For tonight… I’ll make you forget, if that’s what you need.”

He lifted you up and laid you on his bed, he didn't say anything else. He wiped your tears and started kissing you, his kiss was soft, softer than yesterday. Without breaking the kiss he slowly stroked your breasts which were still covered by your nightgown, squeezing them gently which made you moan in your kiss.

he slowly untied your nightgown and revealed your breasts, his kisses started to trail down to your neck, kissing the marks he left last night. then his hands played with your nipples making you moan his name.

"Aegon" He went back down your body with his kisses, moving from your stomach, then his lips arrived in front of your cunt. He started kissing it and licking it making you arch your body and moan softly, your hands went to his hair and squeezed it gently. Your legs were on his shoulders as he began to eat you out, his tongue skillfully licking and sucking your wet folds.

"you taste so sweet, love"

He inserted a finger into you and pumped it slowly, his mouth still sucking on your swollen clit you spread your legs even wider to make it easier for him. When he added another finger you squirmed beneath him and he held your hips to keep you still, your body arched from the pleasure he gave you, a pleasure that Aemond never gave you.

"Fuck me aegon, make me round of your child. Fill me up with your seed, breed me until i can't take your seed anymore"

Aegon growled, the thought of you being heavy with his seed made his cock even harder. Without thinking, Aegon crawled over you and kissed you roughly, you could taste yourself in his mouth. Without warning, he thrust his cock into you, both of you moaning together. He stretched you out deliciously.

Aegon didn't hold back, he slammed his hips into you roughly and fast. Seeing you moan helplessly beneath him made him even hotter, your breasts shaking in time with his thrusts, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your body arching as he finds that spot. You drive him crazy, crazy because of your body, crazy because he knows you are his now.

"tell me sister, did aemond fuck you like i did hm?" Your mind is too hazy, clouded by lust. your mouth was open but you didn't answer, you could only sigh continuously and it made him smile. "that's what i thought"

Your back arches up when the head of his member prods against your sensitive spot. “You take me so well, sister.” He groaned again as he felt your walls squeeze him, as if wanting to milk all the seed that was there.

“Gonna fill you up,” he growls. “With my cum until you’re leaking and breed you until I’m satisfied.”

You tries to formulate a coherent response, but your hazy mind betrays you and whines come out in response. Sweat dripping down your back as your hips rock back and forth, frantically seeking your own pleasure.

Laughter stumbles past Aegon’ lips as he delivers a sharp slap on your supple flesh, stroking it afterwards. “That’s it sister, let go.”

Your body shook as you felt your peak approaching, you screamed his name as you reached your peak. Aegon slammed his cock and spurted his seed inside you, he felt your walls squeeze him tightly and milking him until the last drop of his seed. He didn't let go of his cock, he hugged you and lay down with you. He kissed your back and let sleep consume the both of you.

And for a moment, just a fleeting moment, the weight of your world is lifted.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @yazzzmints @hangmanscoming @giirlinblack

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd imagine #hotd aemond #prince aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd one shot #aegon ii fanfic #hotd x reader #aegon x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond fic #prince aemond targaryen #aegon fanfic #aegon smut #hotd angst #hotd smut #hotd alicent

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saythenametotheworld · 3 months ago

Text

Plot Twist | c.sc (18+)

A chance encounter blossoms into a whirlwind romance when you become enchanted by the enigmatic stranger—Choi Seungcheol. As you spend more time together, one question lingers: could he be the unexpected plot twist that changes your story forever?

one | two | three | four | five

Genre: strangers to lovers, smut Pairing: Choi Seungcheol/Scoups x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 24k words. Last part of the Heartbreak Hotel series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Plot Twist by NIKI. Finally down to that last part! I loved working on this fic. Kinda sad now that it is over. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Plot Twist by NIKI, Nobody Gets Me by SZA, long story short by Taylor Swift

When Choi Seungcheol first arrived at the hotel, you pegged him as just another rich man passing through—the noble charisma he was exuding made that clear. But unlike most guests, he hadn’t just come to book a room. He had asked for something far more unusual—stories about your past relationships.

At first, you thought he might be a writer, searching for inspiration for his next novel. But then he handed you his card and, no, he wasn’t a writer. He was a young CEO of a holding company. That alone was impressive, but his request? Odd, to say the least.

Then again, what did you have to lose? All you had to do was share a few stories from your past and pocket the fee he offered. You could even make up the most dramatic story ever and he’d probably bite. Yet you found yourself being completely honest, revealing parts of your life you hadn’t thought about in years.

You told him about your first real heartbreak with a guy who wasn’t even your official boyfriend. You spoke about an unforgettable relationship you had with the most breathtaking man you’d ever known. And you relived the time when your own insecurities ruined what was beautiful and perfect.

“I actually skipped the depression part of my breakup with Mingyu,” you confessed, rolling your eyes at your own expense. “It was kinda embarrassing telling a stranger all that. But I had a feeling you could see through me.”

“Not really, but I figured,” he shrugged, sipping his drink. There was a knowing look on his face—one that he didn’t bother to hide. “And honestly, I didn’t mind. I was a stranger after all. I was surprised you told me anything at all.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, I guess I needed to talk about that stuff more than I thought.”

“So,” he said, leaning forward with genuine curiosity, “is there anyone else?”

You paused. “That’s it. That’s all of them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You never dated much, huh?”

“No, not really,” you said, laughing. “There are others but it's not worth telling. They were either so-so, just passing through, or, you know... toxic.”

“Hmm. I see.” Seungcheol reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. He slid out two checks, handing them to you. You took it and your eyes widened slightly at the numbers on them.

“This is... a lot,” you stammered. “Surely, my stories aren’t worth this much.”

He met your gaze, his expression unreadable. “I disagree. But if you think so…” He nodded at the checks still in your hand. “Consider it a tip for your—remarkable—room service.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Except, we didn’t even have it in the room, did we?”

“We could have,” he said smoothly. “But you weren’t interested in seeing my room.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his shift in tone. “Is that your way of inviting me to your room, Mr. Choi?”

He tilted his head slightly, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “No. But now that you mention it... maybe it is.”

You hummed, biting your lower lip. “And here I thought you’d be the assertive type.”

“Well, I was raised to have manners, but if you’re into assertive men then.” Seungcheol’s demeanor shifted in an instant. His eyes, once playful, turned sharp, commanding. “Come join me in my room.”

Your heart skipped a beat. And the way he said it made your skin tingle. You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Okay.”

Seungcheol’s suite was spacious and immaculately tidy. Though the interior resembled every other suite in the hotel—neutral tones, minimalist decor—you couldn’t stop your eyes from looking around the space he’d been staying at for the past two days. Sure enough, there were almost no signs of him anywhere—not a stray jacket, a personal belonging—nothing that would give you the slightest clue about who he was or what kind of life he led outside this hotel.

“More champagne?” Seungcheol offered, motioning to the bottle of champagne sitting on a bucket of ice. He didn’t wait for you to respond, reaching for it and pouring some of the sparkling liquid into the glass. The soft clink of the bottle against the flute felt almost loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Thanks,” you said softly, taking the glass he handed you as you sat down.

You didn’t need more champagne, not really. But the cool bubbles offered a welcome distraction. Anything to give your hands something to do, and your mind something to focus on other than the thick tension swirling between you both.

You took a slow sip, eyes flitting to the abstract painting on the wall—blotches of color, indistinct shapes that blurred the longer you stared. But no matter how much you tried to focus on the artwork, you could still feel Seungcheol’s gaze on you.

He’s the one who asked me to come here, you thought, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. He should say something.

You didn’t know exactly what you were expecting when you agreed to join him in his room—but you do know that the conversation part was over. There was nothing left to talk about, this time right now was not for talking. You couldn’t trust yourself to look at him, afraid that meeting his gaze would confirm what you already knew—the desire building between you both, the unspoken question lingering in the air.

Seungcheol shifted on the couch across from you, the sound of fabric brushing against leather making your heart race. You wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but the words got stuck in your throat. Instead, you took another sip of champagne, more to keep your hands occupied than anything else.

It felt like an eternity passed before his voice finally broke through the tension.

“Come here,” he said, low and commanding, his tone sending a ripple of warmth down your spine.

“Yes,” you blurted out, standing up almost too quickly because your body was responding before your mind could catch up. You crossed the space between you in seconds, your heart racing in your chest, as though you had been waiting for that very invitation all along.

Seungcheol’s eyes were dark as he tugged lightly at your hand, pulling you down onto his lap. Your legs straddled his, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. And as you stared into his eyes, a mutual understanding passed between you without having to say a single word.

With one hand, he cupped the back of your head, drawing you in until his lips met yours. His lips were warm and firm, and the moment they touched yours, everything inside you unraveled. The knot of tension that had been coiled in your stomach loosened, sending heat through your entire body as his hand traveled down your back.

But just as quickly, you pulled away, breathless. “I—uh… I think we’re moving too fast,” you muttered, trying to collect your thoughts.

Seungcheol nodded. “Yeah, too fast,” he said, though his eyes remained fixed on your lips.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the tension between you crackling like electricity. Then, without thinking, you leaned in again, your lips meeting his with more urgency this time, more need. The kiss was hungrier now, both of you pushing against the boundary you had just set, as though the pull between you was impossible to resist.

His hands found your waist, fingers curling into your skin as he pulled you closer, his body pressing against yours. But again, the rational part of your mind kicked in, and you broke away, laughing breathlessly.

“Definitely too fast,” you whispered, though you made no effort to move away.

“Definitely,” Seungcheol agreed, his voice low, amusement flickering in his eyes as he kept his hands on your waist.

And yet, before you could stop yourself, your lips were on his again, the heat between you too consuming to fight. This time, neither of you pulled away. You let the moment stretch out, giving in to the pull as words fell away and your bodies did all the talking.

You were back at your usual spot at the front desk the next day, almost as if everything was completely normal, as though nothing of note had happened the night before. It didn’t help that the hotel was quiet with barely any people coming in, so your mind kept slipping back to Seungcheol. His intense kisses, his tender touches, the rush of heat that coursed through your veins, the ecstatic high—all of it was still fresh, vivid as if it had left a permanent mark on you. You caught yourself smiling for no reason, or at least, no reason that anyone here could understand.

“Are you alright?” Elena asked as she passed the front desk, her sharp gaze narrowing when she saw your flustered expression.

“Huh? I’m fine. What’s up?” you responded, hoping you didn’t sound too defensive.

“You’re flushed,” she noted with a raised eyebrow. “You look like you’re coming down with something,” she added, giving you a suspicious glance before walking off.

You touched your face, realizing with a start that your cheeks were warm—whether from embarrassment or the memories swirling in your head, you couldn’t tell. Pulling out your phone, you opened the camera app to check your reflection, only to be greeted with a slight flush coloring your skin. You stared at your reflection for a moment, wondering how much of last night’s excitement was still etched into your features.

Before you could think too much about it, the telephone rang, snapping you back to reality.

“This is the front desk. How may I help you?”

“Hi,” Seungcheol’s deep voice resonated from the other line, causing your heart to skip a beat. “Could you send housekeeping up? This suite is in dire need of tidying.”

His tone was casual, but there was a hint of mischief in it that made your stomach twist pleasantly. You knew exactly what he was implying. The memory of last night’s aftermath flashed through your mind—as if you hadn’t already been thinking about it all day.

You cleared your throat, trying to maintain a professional tone. “Absolutely. Housekeeping will be there shortly. Is there anything else, Mr. Choi?”

There was a brief pause on his end before his voice dropped a little lower. “Is it too early to request room service?”

Your heartbeat hastened, knowing full well that he wasn’t just talking about food. You could almost picture the smirk he must have had on his face, enjoying how easily he could fluster you.

“Have a good day, sir,” you replied, brushing him off in the most polite way possible before hanging up the phone.

You were still grinning to yourself when the phone rang again. Glancing at the telephone, you didn’t even have to guess who it was. You picked up the receiver.

“This is the front desk. How may I help you?” You kept your tone as professional as possible, but the smile was hard to hide.

“I know you’re thinking about me,” came Seungcheol’s teasing voice, playful and smooth.

Your breath hitched as you tried to suppress a laugh. “Whatever are you talking about, Mr. Choi? It’s inappropriate to speak to staff this way during work hours,” you chided playfully.

“You’re right. I forgot my manners for a second,” he replied, the humor in his voice evident. “I just woke up and I am starving, so I was thinking of actually ordering room service.”

“You just woke up?”

“Yeah. Alone, but somehow, I had a feeling someone was here with me but they sneaked out came morning light,” he replied, still teasing.

You raised an eyebrow, enjoying the playful banter. “Maybe because they have a job and said job requires them to wake up and get ready by eight in the morning?”

“I figured. Still, it would’ve been nice to get a proper goodbye.”

“Didn’t wanna disturb you,” you replied in a low voice, your index finger drawing circles on the desk in front of you. “Anyway, work hours,” you said, more to yourself than to him.

You tried to get back into professional mode. “Why don’t you just eat in the restaurant? It’s much more comfortable down there—and you won’t be in the way of housekeeping.”

There was a brief pause, and then he chuckled softly. “Are you allowed to tell guests what to do?”

You laughed, shaking your head at the playfulness in his tone. “No, technically not. We’re supposed to cater to their every need, but since I know you, I’ll take my chances and tell you what to do.”

“Oh, so we’re at that level now?” he teased. “You think you can boss me around now?”

“Only because I know you’ll listen,” you shot back, unable to resist the smile tugging at your lips. “I’ve got a good read on you, Mr. Choi.”

“I don’t know about that,” Seungcheol hummed, amusement thick in his voice. “Maybe I’ll just stay up here and starve, wait for housekeeping to finish.”

“Or you could go downstairs and eat like a normal person,” you retorted. “How about that instead?”

He chuckled again, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Alright, alright. I’ll head down.”

“Good. I’ll have the restaurant expect you,” you replied, feeling satisfied.

“Mm-hm. But don’t think this means I’m done with you for the day,” he added, his tone lower, more suggestive. “We’ll pick this up later.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the promise in his voice, but you managed to keep your composure. “I’ll take you up on that. Enjoy your meal, Mr. Choi.”

“Thank you,” he said before hanging up, leaving you grinning like a fool at the front desk.

The day had dragged on slower than usual. Being in a remote area meant there weren’t many guests, so it was quiet—almost too quiet. After taking care of a handful of check-ins in the morning, you spent the afternoon fielding calls, helping with some basic concierge tasks, and trying not to think about the previous night with Seungcheol. It was hard to concentrate with his voice still ringing in your ears from the teasing call earlier, and the stillness of the hotel only amplified your wandering thoughts.

As the evening rolled around, you were grateful to finally be clocking out. You grabbed your things and made your way out of the front desk, ready to head out when a familiar figure appeared from the corner of your eye.

Seungcheol stood there, casual yet polished as ever, with his hands tucked into his pockets. His presence was magnetic, and you could feel your coworkers’ eyes darting toward him and then back to you in curiosity.

“Going somewhere?” Seungcheol asked smoothly, his smile playful as he leaned casually against the counter.

“Just clocking out,” you replied, trying to sound composed despite the flutter in your chest.

“Well, since you're off the clock… how about you join me for dinner?” His invitation was simple, but the implication made your pulse quicken.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the intrigued stares of your coworkers lingering on the both of you. But the thought of spending another evening in his company was too tempting to resist.

“Sure,” you said, keeping your tone light, though your heart was racing. “But first, I need to change.”

“Alright,” he chimed, blinking slowly. “You can take your time. I’ll wait for you at the restaurant.”

As you made your way toward the employee exit, you passed the kitchen, where Leo, one of the chefs, caught sight of you. His grin was playful as he leaned on the doorframe.

“Somebody’s got a boyfriend,” Leo asked with a teasing lilt, wiggling his eyebrows. “After all this time, and after all the guests who tried to sweep you off your feet, someone has finally tickled your fancy huh?”

Drea, another kitchen staff, appeared beside him. “Looks like it. They’d been hanging out all weekend.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m just making a friend, guys. There’s no need to be all giddy about it.”

“Sure, sure,” Leo chuckled as he turned back to the stove. “Make as many ‘friends’ as you want.”

Drea fell into step with you as you walked toward the exit, lowering her voice to a whisper. “So… I guess your ‘friend’ let you crash at his place last night, huh?”

You blinked in surprise. “What? What are you talking about?”

She giggled softly. “I saw you sneaking back into your quarters at the crack of dawn, sugar.”

You grinned, waving her off with a laugh and gesturing for her to keep it down. Drea mimed zipping her lips before heading back to her tasks, letting you continue on your way in peace.

The restaurant had a cozy ambiance, with warm lighting and soft music playing in the background. As you settled into your seat across from Seungcheol, the enticing aroma of food filled the air, making your stomach growl.

“What’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten here?” Seungcheol asked, leaning back in his chair as he scanned the menu.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” you replied, running your finger along the edge of the menu. “I don’t eat here unless I can’t help it.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “So, I’m your first real dinner date at this place? How flattered am I?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you laughed lightly, but your heart raced at the playful glint in his gaze. “It’s just dinner.”

“Last night begs to differ,” he commented, making you gasp audibly.

Before you could say anything, Seungcheol gestured for the waiter who approached immediately. You ordered a rich pasta dish while Seungcheol opted for the steak.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked after the waiter left.

You shook your head. “No, not at all. I’m just not the type to openly talk about… you know, my activities in the bedroom.”

“Alright. I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, smiling as he watched you curiously. “What do you usually do when you’re off the clock?”

You shrugged, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. “Not much. Just… binge-watch shows or read.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “A woman of refined tastes, I see.”

“Hey, everyone needs a little escapism,” you shot back, your cheeks warming. “What about you, Mr. CEO? What keeps you busy?”

His expression shifted slightly, the playful facade dropping just a notch. “Well, I run a holding company that invests in other businesses.”

You leaned in, intrigued. “That sounds interesting. What does that involve exactly?”

Seungcheol took a sip of his drink before answering. “We invest in companies we think have potential and help them grow. Sometimes we acquire them and either hand them over to other people to manage or strip them down for parts.”

“Sounds awful for the owners,” you remarked, unable to hide the frown forming on your lips. The thought of someone losing their livelihood sent a chill through you.

Seungcheol shrugged, his expression neutral. “That’s just the way it is. We usually only acquire companies on the brink of bankruptcy. It’s better than losing everything, right?”

“What do you even gain from a failing company?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion. The whole business seemed ruthless, a world away from your warm hotel lobby.

Seungcheol chuckled, a hint of challenge in his eyes. “Are you seriously enjoying this conversation?”

“Not really,” you admitted with a laugh. “But there’s nothing else to discuss.”

“Then let’s talk about you,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes searching yours. “Why are you still in hospitality?”

You felt your defenses rise. “Hey, that’s straight-up prying into someone’s personal business.”

“Weren’t you prying into mine just now?” he challenged, crossing his arms.

“Not the same! I was asking about how you make money; you’re asking about my life choices,” you shot back with a pout.

“I can see why you wanted to be a journalist,” he said, his voice softer now.

“What? How?” you asked, genuinely surprised.

“I just know,” he replied, an enigmatic smile on his face.

“Okay, Mr. Can See Through Me,” you laughed, but deep down, you wondered how much he could actually see—and if it was more than you intended to show.

After what happened with Seungcheol, you figured you’d be back in his suite once or twice more while he stayed in the hotel. When you think about it, like really think about it, it felt strange to hook up with a guest you’d known for only three days. But it didn’t bother you as much as you expected. Maybe because you’d already shared so much with him; intimate stories and personal memories that left you feeling vulnerable, strong, even a bit broken. Somehow, being with him physically felt minor compared to the depth of everything you’d revealed.

That said, you weren’t expecting to just keep sleeping with him the whole time. No. He was amazing—that was an understatement. And it wasn’t just because you hadn’t had any action in months; it was simply the truth. But Seungcheol didn’t seem like the type to put physical needs before familiarity.

“Good night, then,” he said, smiling as you both lingered in the hallway between the elevator and the employee exit.

“Good night, Mr. Choi,” you smiled back, trying to keep it light. “Thanks for dinner.”

“No problem. I had a great time,” he replied, closing the distance to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. In your ear, he whispered, “And please, just Seungcheol.”

“Sorry, I keep forgetting that,” you chuckled softly. For a moment, you stood there, eyes holding each other’s, as if something else was left unsaid. You weren’t sure what exactly, but you could tell he felt it too.

“Go on, then,” you prompted, nodding toward the elevator.

“No. You can go first. Don’t worry about me.”

You shrugged, reluctant but trying not to show it. “Alright. See you next time.”

“Tomorrow,” he corrected with a grin. “Hope you’re not sick of me yet.”

You laughed. “Not yet, but we’re getting there,” you teased. Leaning forward, you brushed a quick kiss over his lips.

Seungcheol’s hands settled on your waist just as you started to pull away, his eyes searching yours. You grinned, tapping his arms twice to signal he should let go.

“Would you like to—”

“No, thank you,” you interrupted a bit too quickly. His face fell, and seeing it made you laugh. “I would’ve if you’d asked earlier.”

He sighed, shaking his head with a small smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t want to overstep.”

“I know. And I appreciate that.” You walked toward your exit, giving him another smile before pushing the door open. “Good night, then.”

“Good night,” he replied with a small wave.

The next day, the morning felt lighter somehow. You went to work in high spirits, smiling at coworkers more than usual, even humming a song to yourself while you were sitting at the quiet front desk, scanning the deserted lobby.

You caught sight of Seungcheol a few times throughout your shift. Once in the lobby, sitting by the window with his laptop and a coffee, his expression focused and distant; and later, he walked by while in a quiet exchange with someone on the phone.

In those moments, he was just like any other guest, a charming yet distant stranger. Yet every time he passed by the front desk, his eyes would flicker up, a sweet smile plastered on his lips.

At the end of your shift, you found him waiting in the lobby, leaning against the marble pillar with his hands tucked into his pockets. “Dinner?” he asked, his tone casual yet warm.

“Sure,” you replied, smiling. “Give me a few minutes?”

“Take your time. I’ll wait for you in the restaurant,” he said easily.

“Alright then.”

You and Seungcheol got to know each other more this way. During work hours, he didn’t cross any lines, and neither did you. It was almost like an unspoken rule between you—when you were on the clock, you were strictly concierge and guest.

But in the evenings, he would swing by the front desk, waiting for you to clock out to invite you to dinner. Dinner became a quiet ritual for the two of you, a rhythm that felt almost natural despite how suddenly it had started. On the second evening, Seungcheol had ordered in from a local restaurant he claimed had the best ramen in the area. You laughed when you saw the spread of takeout boxes arranged across his room’s coffee table, a bottle of wine between them.

“Who told you this place had the…” you made air quotes, “ ‘best ramen’ around here?”

“Uh…” He narrowed his eyes, thinking as he uncorked the wine. “The internet?” he said, just as the bottle popped open.

“The internet? Right,” you teased, sinking into the armchair across from him. “Do you always look up best ramen places online?”

“Not usually,” he admitted, handing you a glass of wine. “But I was craving something more familiar than steak and pasta.”

The rich, savory aroma of the ramen mingled with the scent of the wine, filling the room with a cozy warmth. You clinked glasses and sipped quietly, the casual laughter and teasing slipping in like it was second nature. Between bites, he asked about the town, and you shared stories—of slow nights at the hotel, odd guests, and a few personal memories you hadn’t thought about in a while.

The conversation flowed easily, often sidetracking into random topics that carried you late into the night. He asked you about more stories from your past, not always about relationships—just small things, places you’d always wanted to see, anecdotes from college, or dreams you’d put on hold.

At some point, you found yourself telling him about your old plan to be a journalist, how you’d gone through a whole phase of pitching stories to magazines, only to give it up when you didn’t hear back from any of them.

“You ever think about going back to it?” he asked, watching you with curiosity.

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “But I don’t know… it feels far-fetched now. I think I’ve lost the ‘spark’. Besides, this job is steady.”

“Steady is good, but there’s usually no progress in steady. No room for growth in a place that doesn’t challenge you.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his statement. He held your gaze and you could see the sincerity in his eyes that caught you off-guard. “I guess not,” you admitted softly.

He leaned back against the couch, his eyes holding yours. “How about doing what excites you? You know, taking risks and challenging yourself?”

You scoffed lightly, though his words hit a nerve. “Like running empires, taking over companies?” you quipped.

He raised a brow, his lips quirking into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

And then the conversation turned light again. He kept surprising you in small ways. He’d remember details, ask questions that dug deeper than the usual surface-level chatter, and share a few of his own stories, mostly humorous or random, yet still holding a touch of mystery.

And after dinner, you put on a random TV show, but barely pay attention to it. His hand rested on your leg, and you could feel the warmth of his touch through your skin. At some point, he leaned in to kiss you, and the rest of the night became a blur of tangled sheets and stolen breaths.

It was unsettling how easy it felt, how natural it was to be with him. There was no awkwardness, no need for pretense. When you weren’t kissing, you were talking—about everything, really, but especially your dreams. Seungcheol kept pushing you, nudging you to think beyond the walls of the hotel.

“You’ve got something to say. And it’s about time you said it,” he’d told you once.

His belief in you always left you speechless for a moment. You didn’t need anyone to tell you that you were capable, but it felt good to be encouraged. Your friends and family, even Vernon, constantly encouraged you to pursue your passion. Only now were you realizing that you could have been unstoppable with their support if you weren’t so hung up on your own insecurities. You didn’t realize it then, but their belief in you was genuine, and they looked at you the same way Seungcheol did—as if they saw something in you that you hadn’t allowed yourself to see.

“You’re glowing these days,” one coworker had said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Drea couldn’t resist chiming in as you walked past the kitchen. “Dinner again tonight?” she asked, winking. “Must be some guest to get that kind of special treatment.”

You’d laughed it off, but there was a part of you that knew they weren’t entirely wrong. Something was shifting between you and Seungcheol—something that went beyond casual hangouts or even the growing physical intimacy. It was like you were slowly unraveling pieces of yourselves to each other, bit by bit, until there was nothing left to hide. He knew more about you, your past relationships, your fears, your dreams, than anyone else ever had.

And the pattern continued: dinner in his room, sometimes in the restaurant, laughter mixed with stolen kisses, and whispered conversations that lasted well into the night. The more time you spent together, the harder it became to ignore the growing connection between you.

And while the teasing at work stoked the fire, you brushed it off with a smile, trying not to think too hard about Seungcheol and everything that had happened between you. He was a guest, sooner or later, he’d go back where he belonged and he’d be nothing but a fever dream—someone who stirred up your usually mundane days in this hotel. It is best not to get too attached to someone who will eventually leave. Maybe you’d meet again, maybe not, but you’d remember the few days you spent with him—easily, no doubt because he was simply unforgettable.

You had just finished drying your hair when you heard soft knocks on your door. You glanced at the clock and frowned. No one ever came by this late. Opening the door a crack, you were met with the familiar grin of Seungcheol, leaning casually against the frame with that same mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, feeling both surprised and thrilled. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

He shrugged, a small, playful smile tugging at his lips. “Rules can’t be that strict if they let me get all the way up here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, glancing behind him to make sure no one was around. “You’re lucky the night staff doesn’t usually do rounds here. Come in—before you get us both in trouble.”

As you closed the door behind him, he looked around with a curious gaze, hands in his pockets. The small, modest space suddenly felt even smaller with him there.

“So, this is where you retreat after charming all the guests in the lobby,” he mused, taking in the sparse decor and impersonal furnishings.

“I think this is like, three times smaller than your suite,” you quipped, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Yeah, but it’s much cozier,” he replied, flashing a warm smile.

His eyes softened as he looked around, and for a moment, you watched him walk around your space. Then your stomach growled—a loud, unmistakable sound in the silence. You both froze before dissolving into laughter.

“Hungry?” he asked, barely containing his amusement.

“Starving,” you admitted, covering your face with your hands. “I skipped dinner because you weren’t there to pick me up.”

“Seriously?” he scowled, concern evident in his voice.

You burst out laughing. “No, silly. I had dinner with some coworkers but I didn’t eat much.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Oh, I thought you were serious. I was in a virtual meeting with some people earlier so I couldn’t treat you to dinner.”

“Hey, it’s totally fine,” you said briskly, shaking your hands. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Alright but we should still do something about that,” he replied, pointing at your belly. “How about a late-night snack?”

“I could go for that,” you agreed, grinning. “But only if you’re okay with whatever random ingredients are lying around the hotel kitchen.”

A few minutes later, you led him into the quiet kitchen. Inside, the quiet hum of the fridge filled the room as you checked the shelves for ingredients available for employees. Seungcheol leaned on the counter, watching with amused fascination as you assembled a simple meal from what you could find.

“You know, I think you’re a little too comfortable in here,” he remarked, eyebrows raised as he watched you pull down a pan with a smirk.

You shrugged, turning on the stove and tossing some ingredients into the pan. “Just another perk of the job,” you replied lightly. “Besides, if anyone asks, I’ll say it’s for an important guest.” You gave him a wink.

He laughed, and as you stirred the ingredients together, he kept up a steady stream of questions about your work, your routines, and little quirks about the hotel you hadn’t realized you’d noticed. You could feel his gaze on you, warm and steady, and for a moment, you forgot about the quiet kitchen and the hotel entirely.

When the food was ready, you both sat down at the small table, sharing bites and laughter as though this were something you did every day. He listened closely, chiming in with his own stories, asking questions that went deeper than you’d expected. You found yourself opening up easily, letting him in on things you usually kept tucked away.

Once the plates were cleared, Seungcheol reached for the dishes. “I’ll take care of these,” he said, standing and moving to the sink before you could protest.

“Sure, but…” You trailed off, watching as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, muscles flexing in his forearms. You’d seen those arms several times before—even felt them holding you close—but somehow, it still left you speechless how effortlessly captivating he was.

A sudden urge to close the distance between you overcame you and it was too tempting to resist. So you did, slipping behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. He chuckled as he rinsed the dishes with care.

“You’re not very good at standing idle, are you?” he murmured.

“Not when I have such a sexy man washing the dishes for me,” you replied, resting your head against his back. His back vibrated when he chuckled.

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, amused, just as he set the plates aside and peeled off his gloves. Turning to face you, he wrapped his arms around you, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re pretty sexy yourself. And your cooking’s top-notch,” he added, lifting your chin to give you a quick kiss.

“What can I say? I have many talents,” you teased.

Seungcheol pressed his thumb on your lower lip, staring at it with desire in his eyes. “About that sleeping quarter of yours,” he murmured, voice lowering. “Think you can keep it quiet in there?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “Definitely not.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “We’d better not stay there then,” he said with an almost playful glint in his eyes. “Do you have work tomorrow?”

“My shift starts at noon,” you whispered.

“Good. You can sleep in,” he grinned before pulling you into a deep, feverish kiss.

Back in his suite, laughter turned into whispered words, and conversation faded into shared warmth. He watched as you moved to his bed, peeling away your clothes one by one before sprawling across the bed, hair fanned out against the pillows, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. He stood there a minute, enjoying the view with half-lidded eyes.

“Are you just going to stand there?” you lilted, propping yourself on your elbows, watching his reactions as you spread your legs open for him. “Or do I need to invite you properly?”

Your confidence shot through the roof when you saw how he clenched his jaw and narrowed at the sight of you. He chuckled darkly, crossing the room with deliberate slowness, pausing at the edge of the bed. “Proper invitation, huh?” he murmured, leaning down, his face hovering just above yours. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to make the first move.”

“This is my first move,” you replied in a low voice, trying not to just go ahead and kiss him right there. You arched a brow, and with a grin, reached up, looping your arms around his neck to pull him down beside you.

Seungcheol closed the distance, capturing your lips in a torrid kiss. You swear you could feel the tension crackle in the air as he trailed a slow line of kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone, each one making your heartbeat quicken.

Your eyes met again, just as his hand cupped your naked sex, making you bite your lip. His laughter softened the intensity as he whispered, “How long can you stay up?”

You tutted, shaking your head playfully as you unbuttoned his shirt. “Don’t start making promises you can’t keep now.”

“You think I can’t keep it?” he challenged, putting pressure between your legs. Your body arched ever so slightly.

“How would I know if we’re just gonna keep talking like this?” you retorted, reaching down to grab the erection underneath his pants.

“Are you always this impatient?” he chuckled before leaning in to kiss you again.

You melted together, movements slow and gentle at first, then deepening as his hands roamed your body. He didn’t miss a spot, touching every crevice with his hands, kissing every sensitive spot, and sucking where he knew you’d love to be sucked.

He kept his promise—not a wink of sleep was had that night until dawn came through the windows. You’d given up at that point and just passed out next to him on the bed.

When you were trying to leave Seungcheol’s suite late the next morning, he had given you a soft kiss on the lips, bidding you goodbye but his arms were tight around your waist, unwilling to let go.

“You seriously need to let me go now,” you chided softly, though you weren’t making a move to leave either. “Elena’s gonna kill me.”

“Then she’d be in jail for murder. I’m sure she doesn’t want that,” he quipped, biting your earlobe softly.

You giggled, pushing his face away. “Stop. I’m serious. I have work to do.”

Seungcheol pouted his already pouty lips and gave you the saddest puppy face you’d ever seen from a man. He even tilted his head for a dramatic effect.

“Is that the best you can do?” you sneered, rolling your eyes. “It’s not working.”

His face softened back to his usual, easygoing look. “This is why you should leave this job.”

“No, this isn’t.”

“No, but this could be," he shot back.

You chuckled, letting him pull you back into his arms. You settled against him, knowing you really should go but letting yourself stay in that comfortable quiet until the very last possible second.

When you finally rushed out, you had to practically sprint to your quarters to shower and throw on your uniform. Even as you hurried to the lobby, Seungcheol’s words and the warmth of his last kiss lingered in the back of your mind.

You settled into your morning routine, shaking off the haze of the late night, but two hours into your shift, you caught sight of Seungcheol stepping out of the elevator hauling his luggage while looking as composed and put-together as ever. An unsettling sensation crept into your heart, causing it to beat rapidly in your chest.

“Leaving already?” you asked when he approached, struggling to keep your voice casual.

“Yeah,” he replied with a small smile. “Can’t avoid work forever.”

You nodded, trying to mask your disappointment. You’d known from the start that this was temporary, but the reality of him leaving still hit harder than you’d expected. “Well, I’m glad you stopped by to say goodbye,” you said, managing a small smile.

He tilted his head, gaze softening. “Doesn’t have to be goodbye, you know.”

“Huh?” You blinked, surprised. Seungcheol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and a moment later, your own phone buzzed in your pocket. When you checked it, you saw a message from him. It was a link to a job posting.

“It’s a publishing company I’m investing in,” he explained. “They’re looking for new writers for their magazine,” he explained with a playful tilt to his tone. “I could make a call and help secure you a position there, but I don’t think you’d like that.”

You raised a brow jokingly. “Are you serious? I’d kill for an easy way in.”

“Really?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting slightly as if actually considering it.

“Of course not,” you laughed, shaking your head. “But… thank you. I’ll definitely check it out.”

“Good,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “See you soon?”

You nodded, voice softening. “Maybe, if you ever find yourself back in town.”

“Or,” he countered, his smile widening, “if you find yourself in mine.”

You smirked, leaning in a little closer. “No promises, but I’ll keep you posted.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, pulling back with a look you couldn’t quite read. “Take care, alright?”

“You too,” you whispered back. With a final glance, he picked up his bag and walked toward the doors. Watching him disappear, you glanced down at the job posting on your phone, your lips curving into a small smile.

The days that followed Seungcheol’s departure drifted by in a slow but steady routine. You returned to work, easing back into the usual rhythm of the hotel. Tasks that once kept you occupied now felt a little empty, missing the spark his presence brought. Although you kept in touch, neither of you could commit to a steady chat correspondence because you both had work to do.

The teasing began as soon as he left, of course. One morning in the break room, Drea and Clara from housekeeping cornered you with knowing smiles.

“So,” Drea began, leaning in with a smirk, “guess Mr. Loverboy had to hit the road?”

“Heartbroken already?” Clara teased, nudging you lightly.

Rolling your eyes, you tried to brush it off. “Please, I knew he was going to leave. He was here for business, not for… whatever you’re implying.”

“Uh-huh,” Drea said with a slow grin, “and all those late-night chats and ‘work dinners’ were totally normal, right?”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks and huffed, trying to keep your cool. “Can we not do this right now?”

They both winced, and Drea placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Sorry, we’re just teasing. You looked a bit gloomy after he left.”

“I’m not. Maybe I’m just…” you trailed off, smiling sheepishly. “Maybe I’m just missing the ‘work dinners’, you know?”

They laughed, and you joined in, letting humor push away the gloom—even if only temporarily. As you returned to your duties, their words lingered, nudging a realization you’d been trying to ignore. Seungcheol had stirred something within you—a restlessness, a desire for something more than the steady routine you’d settled into at the hotel, this place far from home.

The days dragged and you buried yourself in mundane tasks. You updated records, tweaked guest files, and even took extra shifts, but the thoughts of what you wanted next kept creeping in. There were quiet moments when, mid-shift, you found yourself idly scrolling through the job posting he’d sent, rereading the requirements and trying to imagine what it would be like to actually take the leap.

In the quiet of your room, you’d take a pen and paper and scribble down short articles on random things: the day’s specials, trends in the hotel’s online promotions, even quirky stats like how many times housekeeping was called to the same suite. It was practice, a taste of what it might be like to write for real. The more you wrote, the stronger the pull grew to step beyond the winding roads of this small city.

Your coworkers noticed the change. Sometimes, they’d catch you smiling to yourself, drifting off mid-sentence, or jotting ideas on scrap paper between check-ins.

“You’ve got that ‘I’m making a big decision’ look,” teased Leo, always keen to know when something was brewing. “I’ve seen it a hundred times before. Spill it!”

You laughed, brushing it off at first, but as days went on, your secret plans came into focus. Each conversation—some encouraging, some bittersweet—helped you admit to yourself that maybe it was time to step forward. Even the strict, watchful General Manager Elena took notice.

One day, on an unsurprisingly slow afternoon, she called you into her office. When you entered, she had her glasses on, nose deep in some paperwork, but she looked up with a rare softness in her usually stern demeanor.

“I heard you’re considering leaving,” Elena said, getting straight to the point.

For a moment, you couldn’t find the right words. “Actually… yes. I’ve been thinking about it. There’s this job posting that might be… a better fit for what I want.”

She studied you, her expression unreadable. “That’s a shame,” she finally said. “You’re good at what you do here. But I understand. We all have paths we need to explore.”

It was strange hearing those words from Elena of all people—the one who seemed to keep everyone on a tight leash. You hadn’t expected her understanding, and her support only fueled your desire to follow through. Still, you didn’t make a decision right away. The idea had gotten so real, you could almost touch it, yet you kept putting it off.

“You’re still thinking about it?” Leo would ask, crossing his arms with a look that was half-concerned, half-excited.

“Yeah, but… it’s not easy to let go of something so familiar,” you’d admit, trying to make sense of it yourself.

Eventually, after more late nights of wondering and overthinking, you knew what you had to do. It took a deep breath and a lot of inner pep talks—you even came up with a small mantra for yourself—but you finally handed in your resignation to Elena. She accepted it with a knowing smile, and, much to your surprise, added, “You’ll be missed. We don’t get people like you often.”

They gave you a two-week transition period to train the new concierge. It was bittersweet, teaching someone else the ropes, walking them through routines and the hotel’s small quirks. You realized how much you’d grown attached to it all—the people, the quiet corners, the smell of fresh coffee in the lobby. Each day brought flashes of memory—Tony pulling you into yet another crazy story; Leo cooking up a storm during restocking season; late-night conversations with Drea; and the soft light filtering through the lobby as you’d start your early shifts. It was your life for the last seven months, and letting go felt like peeling away a part of yourself.

On your last day, you finished training your replacement and said your goodbyes, packing up the small personal items you’d kept at your station—a worn-out notebook, a stray earring you’d misplaced months ago, and a couple of pens. Standing at the door, you took a last, quiet look back at the lobby, thanking it silently for what it had given you. Then you stepped out of the hotel, feeling strangely sad and excited at the same time. It was time to open a new book. Hopefully, this one would have a different plot, and maybe, just maybe, a plot twist you so badly needed.

The train pulled into the city’s central station just as the sky softened into late afternoon shades. Stepping off with excitement and nerves twisting in your chest, you took a deep breath and pulled out your phone to dial Seungcheol. You hadn’t told him about your decision to move, and as the call connected, you wondered briefly if surprising him like this was a bit too sudden.

“Hi. How are you?” Seungcheol’s voice came through the receiver. You could hear a faint chatter on the other line and he said, “Excuse me,” to someone.

“I’m fine, where are you?” you asked, unable to stop the slight tremor in your voice.

“I’m here and there.” You could hear the sound of a door opening and closing. “This is a pleasant surprise. You never called during work hours. What’s up?”

“I just thought I should call you,” you replied, unable to stop grinning. “You did tell me to let you know if I ever find myself in your city.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just let out a soft chuckle that seemed to hold both relief and excitement. “Where are you?”

“At the station.”

“Don’t move. I’m coming to get you.”

The city loomed around you, humming with life and endless possibilities. For a moment, you stood in the crowd, letting the sound of distant conversations and the sharp aroma of fresh coffee sweep over you. It hit you then—this was a new chapter, and there was no going back.

Fifteen minutes later, Seungcheol’s familiar figure came into view, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. The moment he spotted you, his smile widened, and as soon as he was close enough, he swept you into a tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder.

“Aw,” you cooed, hugging him back. “Did you miss me?”

“You should’ve told me you were coming,” he murmured against your hair, his grip on you firm and almost possessive.

You laughed, pulling back just enough to look at him. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Well, you nailed it,” he replied, leaning in to press his lips to yours. The kiss was deep, lingering, as if he’d been holding back all this time and could finally let it spill out. It felt like no time had passed at all since you’d last seen each other, yet there was a new energy—an excitement and sense of anticipation in the air between you.

The drive to his place was filled with teasing and sidelong glances, his hand never quite letting go of yours. Arriving at his penthouse, he wasted no time with pleasantries, trapping you in his arms as soon as you walked in and locking your lips together. His hands roamed your body, exploring familiar curves, while yours tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

You left a trail of clothing on the floor as he guided you into the bedroom. With each kiss, you melted into him, feeling his heartbeat quicken against yours. You failed to notice the marvelous view of the cityscape stretching out under the setting sun, reflecting shades of orange and pink in the tall glass windows. The world outside simply faded into a blur, leaving just the two of you in a connection that was charged with all the longing that had built up during your time apart. As your bodies moved together, a sense of urgency guided you—each touch igniting a flame that had only been waiting for the right moment to burn.

When you finally caught your breath, lying intertwined in the soft glow of the fading sunlight, you stared at the ceiling with pleased smiles on your lips. The warmth wrapped around you like a soft blanket, and a comfortable silence settled between you.

Seungcheol reached for you, and you glanced at him, smiling as you scooted closer and tucked yourself into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. “So,” you started, grinning up at him, “do you mind if I stay with you for a little while? Just until I find my own place.”

His face shifted, the tiniest smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down at you. “Actually, I think it’d be smarter if you stayed until you got the job.” His hand slid down your back. “Then you can pick a place close to work and save yourself a long commute.”

The logic made sense, of course, but the glint in his eyes told you there might be more to his offer. “Or maybe you just want to spend time with me day in and day out. Be honest,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him.

He laughed. “I was trying to be cool, but alright. I want you here with me everyday. That’s the truth.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You could at least continue pretending to be hard to get. You’re no fun.”

“What?” he asked, confusion written all over his face. “I thought you wanted honesty?”

“Whatever. No fun,” you said, fighting back a grin.

But inwardly, a warmth spread in your chest at the thought that he wanted you here—that he wanted you close. You didn’t know where this leap would take you, but sitting there with Seungcheol, the uncertainty felt like something you could embrace.

After Seungcheol gave you a quick tour, the two of you found yourselves tangled up on the couch again. His hands skimmed over your arms, your back, your thighs, tracing over your skin with a familiarity and a desire that sent your pulse racing. The TV murmured in the background, but his slow, deliberate kisses made the world feel quiet and distant.

Just as you were beginning to sink into that familiar haze, the sound of his phone ringing on the coffee table cut through the moment. You both glanced at it, sharing a look, but Seungcheol ignored it, his focus solely on you as he wrapped his arms tighter, pressing his lips to yours as he eased you down onto the plush couch. His hand slipped under your shirt, leaving a trail of warmth along your skin, and you couldn’t help but surrender to the pull of the moment, melting into him completely.

But the phone wouldn’t stop. The ringing resumed, persistent enough that eventually, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, gently pushing him away. “Aren’t you gonna take that?”

“No,” he murmured against your skin, moving to kiss the sensitive spot near your collarbone. “Ignore it.”

Yet another ring, and you couldn’t help but laugh, giving him a playful push. “Take the call, Cheol. It seems important.”

With a sigh, Seungcheol pressed a quick kiss on your lips, and then moved to grab his phone. There was a slight furrow of annoyance on his face as he answered. “What is it?”

You were sitting so close that you could faintly but clearly hear the other person speaking. “Where did you run off to, man?”

“What is it?” Seungcheol repeated, ignoring the other guy and adding weight to his own question.

“Dude, you left in the middle of a meeting. The Takahashis were livid.”

Leaning back against the sofa, Seungcheol rolled his eyes as though this wasn’t worth his time. “Buy them out.”

The other voice paused, clearly taken aback. “What? I thought you wanted a partnership?”

“The man is senile, Josh. Can’t even remember his own son’s name. There’s no point partnering with someone who doesn’t know when it’s time to step down. Let’s buy them out.”

You could hear ‘Josh’ sighing on the other side. “Alright. But it won’t be easy to convince them after your little disappearing act.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Seungcheol said with confidence. “Bring Yoon Jeonghan with you.”

“Alright. Is everything okay? Where are you? What was so important that you had to rush out like that?”

Seungcheol glanced at you, his gaze heavy with what seemed like an unspoken answer to his coworker’s question. The small smile that tugged at his lips told you exactly what he wanted to say without saying it. Rolling your eyes, you gave his arm a light slap.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Seungcheol said with a smile.

“Tomorrow? Dude, we have 4pm scheduled with the construction company. Don’t—”

Seungcheol ignored the rest of Joshua’s protests as he hung up and tossed the phone aside, refocusing his attention entirely on you. He pulled you back toward him, his lips finding yours as his arms wrapped around you in a familiar, easy embrace. But before he could deepen the kiss, you pressed a hand against his chest, pausing just long enough to catch your breath.

“Go back to work, Cheol,” you said, trying to keep your tone firm. “I can’t believe you ditched work for this.”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’d rather be here.”

When he tried to kiss you again, you dodged, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m serious. You can’t just skip work whenever you want, even if you’re the CEO.”

“I thought being CEO means I can do just that?” he teased, watching your expression. When he saw your jaw drop in playful shock, he laughed. He took your hand, pressing it gently against his chest. “Alright, I’ll go. But only because you told me to,” he said, stealing another kiss.

You rolled your eyes and let him cup your cheek. “Are you sure you want me to go?” he asked.

“Yes. Stop being dramatic. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Seungcheol sighed, glancing at his watch for a second and turning back to you. “Alright, but I’ve got time before my next meeting. Anything you want to do before then?”

You thought for a moment, glancing at your bag. “Actually, yeah. Can you drop me off at an electronics store? I need to get a laptop.”

“Sure. Let’s go,” he invited, but instead of standing up, he lunged at you with a kiss that had you staying on the couch for a good five minutes.

The very next morning, Seungcheol sat across from you at the dining table, his coffee steaming as he watched you scroll through company profiles on your laptop. “It’s important to think about their vision, not just the job title or pay,” he said, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his mug. “A company’s culture and goals say a lot about how they’ll treat you and how you'll grow there.”

You glanced up, catching the intensity in his gaze as he shared his thought process—like a glimpse into the inner world he often kept guarded. “When it comes to investing, I look for places that share my values or at least lean in the same direction. Even if they’re a little off, if there's room for alignment, and they have really good potential I give them a shot. But if it's a hard no from the start…” he shrugged, smiling a little. “Then it's not worth my time.”

“So, I should find a place that’s worth my time?”

He smiled. “Yes. If it’s worth you time, then it’s exactly where you fit.”

His words echoed in your mind as you stepped into the publishing house for the interview. The receptionist greeted you warmly, and as you waited, you couldn’t help feeling lighter—more confident. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were making choices that aligned with who you were and who you wanted to become.

Over the next few days, Seungcheol’s advice seemed to anchor you, guiding your approach to each application and interview. Whenever he was out for work, you spent your time filling out forms, researching companies, and drafting cover letters. And with each application, you felt a step closer to rediscovering a part of yourself that had gone quiet.

One evening, you found yourself staring at your laptop, a small smile spreading across your face. It hit you suddenly how long it had been since you’d felt the drive to pursue something. The doubts that had once held you back seemed far away now, chased away by the growing belief that you still had what it took to make this work.

When the rejection email arrived, it hit a bit harder than you’d expected. You stared at the screen for a moment, feeling the disappointment settle in. This was the company Seungcheol had suggested—the one that aligned with everything you’d been hoping for.

Seungcheol found you still at your laptop when he got home, catching sight of the email over your shoulder. Without a word, he placed a comforting hand on your back, leaning in close enough that his warmth almost made the disappointment a little easier to bear. “Hey,” he murmured gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles. “These things happen. A rejection doesn’t define you. If anything, it just means that place wasn’t ready for someone like you.”

You sighed, leaning into him for a second before tilting your head up with a small, determined smile. “You’re right. Anyway…” You toggled to a few other emails on the screen. “Who cares if H Publishing isn’t ready for me? I’ve got three other alphabets practically falling over themselves to snatch me up.”

His eyebrows rose, and he chuckled, folding his arms as he looked at you with mock admiration. “Three companies? Wow, look at you. Guess I gave pretty solid advice, huh?”

“Oh, please. I’m the one with the charm and talent.” You grinned, crossing your arms in triumph. “But yeah, some random guy did tell me to find a place that really fits. He was very wise.” You leaned over, planting a quick, playful kiss on his cheek.

Seungcheol’s face softened as he pulled you in for a real hug, resting his chin on top of your head. “Wise guy, huh? He sounds like he wants you to be somewhere that lets you shine.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you teased, glancing up at him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He laughed softly, his arms still wrapped around you, neither of you in any rush to pull away. The moment lingered, easy and unhurried, as if you both knew things were exactly as they should be.

Once you’d finalized the details with your chosen company, the reality of your situation began to settle in. Your start date was fast approaching, and with it, the understanding that your time in Seungcheol’s apartment was coming to an end. He hadn’t mentioned anything, but you knew that, now that you had a stable job, there was no reason for you to stay here anymore.

It was bittersweet. In the past three weeks, you’d become more attached to this life—sharing a space, a routine, even the quiet moments with him. The thought of going back to an empty bed, waking up without Seungcheol’s warm embrace, or the comforting ritual of morning coffee together, weighed on you. But this was a necessary part of starting over; after all, you’d come here to stand on your own, not to fall into the comfort of living with someone you weren’t even officially dating.

Wait… You paused, realization dawning on you. You and Seungcheol weren’t exactly in a relationship… were you?

Up until now, you hadn’t given it much thought, but now that you’d asked yourself the question, suddenly, it was all you could think about!

Was this casual? It was while you were still a guest and a concierge in a faraway hotel. Right now, it doesn’t seem that way anymore. What kind of relationship would you have if Seungcheol had already offered you his home, supported your dreams like it was his own, and focused on you with a warmth and attentiveness that made you feel like his world revolves around you?

“Do you even have feelings for him?” Jill asked when you told her about it over the brunch you’d planned with her a few days ago. She lived in the same city and while you were genuinely happy to spend time with her after all these years, she noticed that something was bothering you and managed to coax you into talking about it.

“No?” You answered, though it sounded more like a question directed at yourself. “I don’t know. I just… hadn’t thought about it until now. Everything felt so easy and so natural. I guess I forgot that things like this might need an actual label.”

Jill’s eyebrow lifted. “Things only need a label if you’ve got feelings and aren’t just hooking up.”

You flattened your lips, contemplating. “Does ‘hooking up’ mean making me breakfast every day for three weeks? Bringing home random gifts just because he thought I’d like them? Or being completely supportive of my career and dreams like it was his too?”

Jill’s knowing look softened as she studied your expression. “Well… when you put it like that, no,” she said, a teasing smile creeping in. “It sounds a lot more like someone who wants to be in your life than just in your bed.”

You sighed, feeling the warmth of her words and, at the same time, a little overwhelmed. “So… what do I do now? Ask him if he wants to be something more?”

Jill shook her head, reaching out to pat your hand. “Relax. You’ve got a lot going on already. You don’t have to figure it all out now,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring. “Just let things unfold naturally. Enjoy this stage, see where it takes you. If it’s meant to be more, you’ll both feel it, and you’ll know.”

And yet that was the problem. You weren’t patient. When something bothers you, you just have to get to the bottom of it as soon as you can.

That evening, as you were preparing dinner together, the inevitable topic was finally brought up. You’d just plated the food when Seungcheol leaned back against the counter, watching you with a contemplative smile.

“So… you’ll be looking for apartments soon,” he said, almost casually, though his gaze held something deeper. “Have you found any places that catch your eye?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you set the plates down on the table. “No. I haven’t gotten to it yet. But I’ll start tomorrow, don’t worry.”

A flicker of something—disappointment, maybe?—crossed his face before he gave you a small nod. “Right. That’s good.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, thick with the things you both weren’t saying. The thought of leaving left a strange ache in your chest, and as you looked at Seungcheol, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he felt it too.

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked just as you sat down to start eating.

“What about work?” you asked back and he shrugged.

“I don’t have anything important to do tomorrow, so I can leave it to them.”

You gave him a smile, one with a hint of sadness about your impending departure. “Alright, then. I could use some company who could show me which neighborhood would be best for me.”

The next morning, the air felt different as you and Seungcheol set out for apartment hunting. As you drove through the city, Seungcheol pointed out various areas, describing their unique vibes.

“This neighborhood has some great coffee shops, and the park nearby is perfect for a morning jog,” he said, gesturing toward a tree-lined street bustling with life.

“Looks perfect,” you replied, though your mind lingered on the idea of leaving his apartment behind.

As the realtor showed you a particularly spacious unit, you couldn’t help but compare it to Seungcheol’s massive penthouse with its high ceiling and floor to ceiling windows. Then again, you had to brush it all aside. This was a hunt for your home, the place you’d be spending your days in while doing what you loved. Somehow, shifting your perspective that way filled you to the brim with excitement.

At the next stop, you walked hand in hand, your fingers interlaced as you each enjoyed churros from a nearby vendor. You wandered through a vibrant farmer’s market, the scent of fresh produce and flowers enveloping you. Picking up a bundle of herbs, you turned to Seungcheol with a grin. “What about an apartment where I can have little herb pots by the window?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Do you think they’d survive though? What if I can’t take care of them well enough?”

“I think you’re capable of anything as long as you put your mind into it,” he replied and you felt a tug of familiarity in your chest. You were sure you’d heard someone tell you the same thing before, you just forgot when or who it was.

After picking up a few fresh ingredients to bring home, you resumed your hunt for an apartment. You stepped into an open house at a newly-built complex, just two blocks from your workplace. The agent who welcomed you in boasted about the high-tech security system and beautiful amenities, showcasing a rooftop garden that took your breath away.

“Based on your description, Ma’am, this unit might suit your taste perfectly,” said the agent, guiding you into a unit that was a bit smaller than the previous three-bedroom one he’d shown you. “It has one bedroom, a spacious living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom with both a shower and a tub. And of course, a bay window with a beautiful view of the city.”

You marveled at the empty space, envisioning it as a blank canvas waiting for your personal touch. As you exchanged glances with Seungcheol, his eyes sparkled with curiosity, mirroring your excitement. It felt like the beginning of a new chapter, one where your dreams were within reach.

“Feel free to look around and let me know what you think,” the agent said, noticing the delight on your faces. Someone called his name outside, and he excused himself, closing the door behind him.

Practically vibrating with excitement, you walked up to Seungcheol, wrapping your arms around his waist and beaming up at him. “Do you like it?” he asked.

“I love it!” you exclaimed, pulling away to explore the living room further.

Seungcheol leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a fond smile. You pushed open every door, gasping at each detail that captivated you.

When you finally felt satisfied, a realization tightened in your chest: It’s happening. You took a deep breath and met Seungcheol’s gaze. “This is it. This is the place.”

He offered a soft smile, one that reached his eyes. “I know. I like it too.”

Once again, the sinking feeling of leaving his place overcame you. “I’m gonna miss your house.”

He pushed off the wall and walked toward you, gently squeezing your shoulders. “You don’t have to go just because the job is set, you know?”

There it was—the invitation you hadn’t dared hope for. But as much as you wanted to stay, your resolve to stand on your own was stronger than any feelings you had for him.

“No, I have to go. I can’t keep invading your space,” you said, smiling, though the sadness flickered in your eyes.

He pulled you closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You’re not invading, sweetheart,” he said softly, cupping your cheeks and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I like having you there.”

“I know,” you scoffed playfully, rolling your eyes at his obvious affection. “But it wouldn’t make sense to stay there when the purpose of me moving here was so I could pursue something of my own.”

He sighed. “Why did you have to be so independent? Can’t you just stay with me forever? If you haven’t noticed, I’m very capable of making you live a life of luxury without you having to lift a finger.”

“Really? Wow. I didn’t notice,” you deadpanned in mock-surprise. You both laughed for a bit and the quiet that followed was heavy. You just stared at each other, conversing with your eyes but not coming to an understanding. “I’m sure you can make that happen, but forever is such a long time, Cheol.”

“It is,” he replied, his voice low as he looked into your eyes.

“You know, the most common factor that caused my past relationships to fail was our lack of communication. After the last one, I realized I have to make communication the very foundation of my relationships with people—friends, family, boyfriends.”

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed slightly as he absorbed your words. “I get that. Communication is important,” he said slowly, his gaze steady on you.

You felt a surge of courage as you met his eyes, willing yourself to be vulnerable. “That’s why I want to know exactly what you think about us. If this is casual, or if there’s more to this than what we both intended. I like what we have, but I also know that the beginning of our relationship was unconventional and we haven’t known each other that long. But I like it, I like you. Maybe not so much right now, but I’m willing to see where this takes us. So…” You took a deep breath and reached to cup his cheek. “I need to know where you stand.”

His expression shifted, and for a moment, you could see the hesitation flicker in his eyes. But then he leaned into your hand. “I like you more than words could ever describe, sweetheart. I haven’t felt this way for anyone, ever.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his confession, a mix of relief and excitement coursing through you. “Do you mean that?” you asked softly, searching his eyes for sincerity.

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. “I do. I agree that we started off in a weird way, but I wasn’t even expecting to form something so profound with you in the first place. Still, I’ve enjoyed every moment we’ve spent together. You make me feel different... better.”

A warm flutter spread through you, but the uncertainty still lingered. “So, where does that leave us? I mean, I’m glad we like each other but I don’t want to jump into something without knowing we’re on the same page.”

He leaned to kiss you softly and slowly, as if it was the answer to your question. When he pulled away, there was an affectionate smile on his lips. “There. I jumped first. What are you gonna do?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and crashed your lips into his for a much deeper, much fervent kiss. The world around you faded, leaving just the two of you and the electric connection that buzzed between your bodies. As the kiss deepened, you felt a rush of warmth flood through you, and your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

Seungcheol responded eagerly, his hands roaming your back. The heat of the moment enveloped you both, and soon you found yourselves pressed against the wall, lost in the embrace. The kiss grew more passionate, hands exploring—fingers tracing along arms and waists, as you both got lost in the vice of each other.

But just as you felt the desire to take things further, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, pulling you back to reality. The agent’s voice cut through the haze, followed by the sound of the doorknob clicking. You pulled away abruptly, breathless and wide-eyed, a rush of embarrassment flooding through you. Seungcheol looked just as startled, both of you momentarily flustered. The heat of the moment dissipated, replaced by the urgency to regain composure.

The agent’s smiling face appeared from the foyer, greeting you cheerfully. “So, what do you think?”

“We’ll take it,” you replied abruptly, still flustered.

“Yes. It’s ours,” Seungcheol added.

“Mine,” you corrected gently, patting his chest.

“Huh?” he asked dumbly, gawking at you for a second. “Oh, yeah. Hers.”

The transition into your role as an assistant editor felt seamless. The initial apprehension faded quickly, replaced by a surprising confidence as you organized articles and collaborated with your team. Being in a creative environment was thrilling and fulfilling. It didn’t even bother you that the pay was average—this was your passion in action, it should be priceless.

Twice a week, Seungcheol would sweep you off to dinner, the routine becoming another cherished ritual. He watched you with a fond smile as you animatedly discussed your day, your words flowing freely as you shared your small wins and challenges.

“I was nervous because they asked for my input out of nowhere but guess what?”

“They liked it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“They did. They thought it was fantastic!”

“Wow, you’re brilliant.”

You giggled. “Oh, and earlier the chair gave out when I was—” you stopped, realizing how much you were rambling. “Sorry. Was I talking too much?”

“It’s okay I’m used to it,” he smiled, offering you a slice of his food. He smiled when you accepted it. “You could go on for hours once you start telling stories, remember?”

You sighed, remembering when you used to recount stories about your exes at his request. “Of course. But back then, you actually wanted to hear it. This is just me going on and on.”

“I like it,” he murmured, nudging another bite your way. “It’s endearing.”

“You’re saying that because you like me too much,” you teased, rolling your eyes playfully before taking the bite from his fork.

His laughter echoed in your ears, affectionate and genuine. You continued eating and talking. Every little touch, every shared smile, left a warmth that lingered even as the plates were cleared. And as you both walked home, Seungcheol slipped his hand into yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly.

“Do you wanna sleep over?” you asked, leaning against his shoulder as you walked.

“Can I?”

You hummed affirmatively. “It’s kinda cold and I kinda missed you.”

His chuckle was low and warm. “Do you miss me every day?”

“Yes,” you replied softly, sniffing the sleeve of his jacket. “Every single day.”

He glanced at you, a glint of mischief visible in his eyes. “Then what do you think about moving in with me?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of asking?” you scoffed, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“It’s fun. Who knows? Maybe if I keep at it, you’ll give in,” he teased, nudging your shoulder.

“Or maybe I’ll kick you out of my life forever.”

“You can try.” He smirked. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you often spent your evenings at your apartment since he’d pick you up from work, and your place was closer. His job demanded much of his time, even on weekends, so you’d only managed a couple of trips in the last few months. Still, you made time to hang out at his place whenever you could.

Seungcheol always treated you with warmth and care, never missing a chance to hold you, lean against you, or pull you into a hug. It felt like he was always close, a steady presence you’d come to cherish.

“Yes, right there,” you exclaimed, moaning in delight as Seungcheol massaged your tensed shoulder with expertise. You grinned, aware of how you were affecting him. “Oh, Seungcheol. That is so good.”

“Keep doing that and I’ll give you something to really moan about,” he teased, shooting you a look that made you quickly mime a zipper over your lip.

You settled back, savoring the massage, though you couldn’t resist letting out a dramatic moan here and there just to tease him. Seungcheol, as it turned out, is more in control of his urges than you’d expected.

When he finished with your shoulders, he moved to the carpet beside the couch, taking one of your legs into his hands and massaging it. You gave him a warm smile. “You know, I really enjoy being treated like a princess by you,” you mused.

He paused, tilting his head at you. “Princess, huh?”

You nodded with a giggle. “Mmhm, exactly.”

Seungcheol chuckled, setting your foot down with exaggerated care. “Maybe I’m not doing enough, then.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait—what? You’re already doing more than enough!”

“Then why are you a princess and not a queen?”

Your mouth fell open in mock surprise before you started laughing at the cringe line. “Alright, alright. I get it. You’ve got rizz. Come here.” You leaned forward, cupping his cheeks with both hands as you guided him up to meet your lips.

“Choi Seungcheol?” Mina asked, glancing up at you as she leaned back in the salon chair. You’d been looking forward to this weekend with her, Jill, and Lea, a chance to unwind over manicures and girl talk.

“Yeah. Do you know him?” you asked, mildly intrigued.

Mina sighed dramatically. “Do I know him? Everyone in the industry knows him. The guy’s a genius.”

“Really?” You tilted your head, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know all the details, but he founded his holdings company back in 20XX, and it only took him seven years to build a multimillion-dollar empire,” Mina explained, her tone awestruck. “He’s actually one of the investors at my company.”

You blinked in surprise. “That’s... impressive.”

Mina gave you a look. “Wait—didn’t you know this?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I mean, I knew he had his own company, but he doesn’t talk much about it.”

Jill chuckled. “Your boyfriend is mysterious.”

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”

The three of them stared at you, expressions of disbelief on their faces. Finally, Mina broke the silence, “If he’s not your boyfriend, what is he?”

You hesitated, then admitted, “I mean, well… We’re together, but he didn’t really ask me to be his girlfriend. And I didn’t ask him either. We just came to a consensus that we wanted to be together.”

“Girl, that’s literally what dating is,” Jill deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

You laughed. “Fine, maybe you’re right. I just didn’t want to dwell on labels, you know?”

“Unbelievable,” Mina muttered, but her grin softened the words.

“So, is he self-made or did he get help?” Lea interjected, steering the topic back to Seungcheol’s career. “Nepo baby?”

Mina shrugged. “Not entirely sure. I heard he started out with just one investor—apparently the father of his business partner.”

“Or maybe he’s a genius who just knows how to make the right investments,” Jill mused.

As they chatted, your mind drifted, replaying Mina’s words. You’d never asked Seungcheol much about his past because he was usually reserved about it. He’d drop hints now and then, but he never got into the deeper details. You didn’t even know whether his parents were wealthy—or if they were alive. Somehow, you’d just assumed he’d built his company on his own, out of necessity.

But now, a strange, almost bittersweet curiosity tugged at you. Just who was the man you’d grown so close to? Why did it feel like you barely knew about him?

The weekend went on as the four of you bounced between shopping, brunch spots, and lazy strolls through the streets. Your friends were great company, their laughter and stories taking you back to your youth when things were much simpler. Yet, every now and then, your thoughts wandered back to Seungcheol and the half-formed questions he’d unknowingly left with you.

Had he really kept his career and his life so under wraps out of modesty, or was it just a deliberate choice to keep you in the dark? Was his interest in you genuine, or were you just another distraction to him—an easy escape maybe?

“Earth to you!” Jill’s fingers snapped in front of your face, pulling you back to the table. She looked at you, brow raised, with a teasing smirk. “Where’d you go off to?”

“Oh—nowhere,” you said, smiling sheepishly.

Mina shot you a knowing glance. “Does ‘nowhere’ happen to be a certain tall, good-looking, and mysterious Choi Seungcheol?”

Your cheeks warmed. “Maybe.”

“Thought so.” Mina took a sip of her drink, eyes twinkling. “You’ve been a little preoccupied. Did something bad happen?”

“Not exactly. It’s just…” You hesitated, picking at the edge of your napkin. “I just realized I didn’t know much about him, which is dumb because he probably had me memorized by now. What if there’s more he’s not telling me? And what if he’s not telling me these things because… you know, I’m temporary?” You winced, not quite sure how to put it into words.

Jill reached over to squeeze your hand. “That’s understandable. I mean, the guy’s clearly got a lot going on. Maybe he’s just waiting until he feels it’s the right time?”

“Or maybe he’s afraid of something,” Mina chimed in, thoughtful. “A rich guy like him? People probably approach him with motives all the time. Maybe he’s cautious around people he cares about.”

You sighed, staring down at your coffee. It didn’t help that Seungcheol hadn’t called or messaged you since Friday, leaving a quiet ache you hadn’t quite anticipated. Usually, you’d hear from him at least once, even if it was a short message to check in. Although he did promise he won’t bother you while you were hanging out with your friends. Still, this silence felt different, unsettling.

The afternoon passed by in comfortable, busy distraction. You all wandered through shops, trying on clothes and laughing at ridiculous sunglasses, sharing in the small, simple joys of being together. But every so often, while waiting in line or glancing at your phone, you found yourself hoping to see his name light up your screen, only to be met with empty notifications.

“Are you okay?” Lea asked later, when the two of you found yourselves alone for a moment, the others a few steps ahead.

You managed a smile, brushing it off. “Yeah, I’m totally fine.”

She gave a sympathetic nod. “You know, it’s okay to ask him these things. Better than sitting around wondering. Just… don’t let it ruin your weekend, okay?”

You appreciated her concern, and as the evening stretched into night, you pushed the thoughts aside, letting yourself laugh along with the others and lose yourself in the joy of good company.

On your last night together, you especially looked forward to tomorrow, knowing you’d finally see Seungcheol again. But as you and your friends shared wine, the conversation turned deeper and more personal.

“To be honest? You get the worst when it comes to relationships,” Mina slurred drunkenly, pointing a wavering finger at you. “Jill always attracts cheaters, but she has never let them walk all over her, no.”

Jill raised her glass with a laugh. “Never!”

“Lea is engaged to her high school sweetheart,” Mina continued, gesturing at Lea, who grinned proudly. “And I’ve always dated long-term—though I’m single now,” she added with a shrug.

You chuckled, finding Mina’s drunken antics endearing. She turned her gaze back to you, suddenly serious. “You, my darling girl, you…”

She stumbled over to you, landing next to you on the floor, and you reached to steady her. She rested her head on your shoulder, taking a deep breath before nuzzling into your warmth. “Why do you always get hurt?”

“I don’t do it on purpose,” you replied softly.

“Of course not. Who would ever choose to hurt themselves?” she chuckled bitterly. “I just mean… you always find these amazing guys, only for them to slip through your fingers in the end.”

Lea scoffed playfully, joining Mina on the carpet. “You’re one to talk. You always date long-term, then break up anyway. What’s the point of dating for years if it’s not going anywhere?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Lea, since you’ve only dated one guy since high school,” Mina teased, nudging her. “But with my exes, they were all great at first, only to turn out to be self-absorbed jerks or cheats.”

“So why am I the worst?” you asked, running your fingers through her hair.

“You’re not the worst,” she sighed, leaning her head on Lea’s. “You just have the worst luck out of all of us.” She closed her eyes, voice softening. “Mingyu was broken, and you were right to leave him, but if he’d been in a better place, it could have been beautiful. You wouldn’t have had to go through that heartbreak when you were still young.”

You nodded, feeling the memories settle heavily between you all.

“And Wonwoo…” Mina continued, “well, he was perfect. But he was just passing through your life. And of course, there’s Vernon…”

Mina paused, and the others went quiet. You held your breath as she looked at you, her gaze full of sympathy.

“Breaking up with him… that was your lowest point,” Jill murmured, joining the huddle, her hand resting on yours.

You huffed, a self-deprecating smirk tugging at your lips. “Worst time of my life, to be honest.”

Mina tilted her head, her eyes meeting yours with earnest sympathy. “Do you know what happens to you once you’re in a relationship?” she asked quietly. You shrugged, feeling the gentle press of her hand urging you to listen. “You hyperfixate on them. You forget you had a life before them.”

A pang of guilt struck you, sharper than expected. She was right, and you already knew it—had felt it but never fully admitted it to yourself. In the background of every relationship, your friends and family had often become shadows. You swallowed, words heavy. “I’m sorry, guys.”

Mina waved her hand dismissively. “That’s all in the past. But honestly?” She gave you a half-smile. “It’s a little frustrating to see you dissociate this weekend, drifting off because of your current guy.”

“It really is,” Jill agreed, chuckling. “And you’re not exactly subtle about it.”

“Come on, girl!” Mina sighed, though her tone held a warmth only close friends could manage. “This weekend is supposed to be for us, but your mind’s clearly somewhere else. I get it, we all do, but… I guess I just wonder why that part of you hasn’t changed after all these years.”

You opened your mouth to apologize, but Jill cut you off, her tone softer. “Hey, you don’t have to be sorry. We get it. It’s just… we worry about you.”

Mina’s hand found yours, giving it a light squeeze. “We just hope you find your happiness soon, whatever that looks like.”

You managed a small smile, touched by her words. “So do I, Mina. So do I.”

As you settled into bed that night, Mina’s words lingered in your mind. Her gentle yet unflinching honesty made you confront a truth you’d avoided for years: once you entered a relationship, you tended to lose yourself in it, almost as if everything else faded to the background. And while the connection with Seungcheol felt different, you couldn't ignore the uneasy feeling that you were once again falling into old patterns.

You rolled over, staring at the ceiling as a strange but comforting realization took shape in your mind. For the first time, you decided to hold onto your own life and interests alongside a relationship. You’d never thought about it before because it never seemed necessary, as if love could fill every space. But now, you understood that nurturing your own dreams and friendships was just as vital—that it was the way to truly keep the people you love close to your heart for as long as you could.

The next morning, you found yourself surprisingly refreshed. As you packed up and prepared to leave the villa, you felt a lightness that hadn’t been there before—a sense of confidence that came from knowing you could hold onto yourself, too.

When Seungcheol arrived to pick you up, he stepped out of the car with his usual charm, dressed in his usual suit and tie outfit that drew appreciative glances from your friends. He greeted them warmly, offering a firm handshake and a genuine smile that seemed to put everyone at ease. You introduced each of your friends, watching the small exchanges of laughter and chatter that followed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Seungcheol said, a warm glint in his eye. “You’ve been taking great care of her, I can tell.”

“We try,” Lea teased, elbowing you playfully.

With a grin, Seungcheol offered, “How about I treat you all to brunch, as a thank you?”

The girls exchanged quick glances, and Mina, always the spokesperson, politely declined. “That’s sweet of you, Seungcheol, but she’s all yours. We’ve already had her to ourselves all weekend.”

They bid you both goodbye, with Jill pulling you aside for one last, quick hug. “Remember what we talked about, okay?”

You hugged her back, nodding. “I will.”

As you settled into the passenger seat, Seungcheol reached over to clasp your hand, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. You glanced over at him, feeling both the comfort of his presence and, for the first time, a quiet certainty that you didn’t need to lose yourself to love him. That this time, you could have both—your life and his presence in it, without one overshadowing the other.

Seungcheol glanced at you as he pulled onto the road, catching the thoughtful expression on your face. “Good weekend?”

“Yeah,” you replied, squeezing his hand. “It really was. I think I needed it more than I realized.”

He smiled softly, eyes returning to the road. “Glad to hear that. I think it’s important you keep in touch with friends. They’re usually the ones who know you very well.”

You nodded. “They really are.”

When you reached your apartment, Seungcheol immediately pulled you into a kiss, his arms tight around you. You couldn’t help but smile, coming to a conclusion that he’d been waiting for you.

“Miss me?” you teased, fingers tracing idle patterns on the back of his neck.

“Always,” he replied, his voice a low murmur against your temple as he brushed a kiss there, slow and unhurried.

You tilted your head to meet his gaze, your fingertips trailing up to his jaw, grazing the hint of stubble there. “Then why didn’t you call me?”

“You said you were gonna catch up with your friends,” he pouted, burying his face on the crook of your neck. “I took everything in me not to text you. I spent three hours in the gym every night just to distract myself.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “Liar.”

“I’m serious.” he shot back indignantly. “I would never lie about that.”

You scoffed, but your grin was hard to conceal. Seungcheol kissed your cheek. “I miss you so much,” he said softly, his hand sliding to the small of your back, drawing you close.

Your fingers curled at the back of his neck, pulling him down until your lips met in a slow, languid kiss. You could feel him smile against your lips, his fingers tracing gentle circles as he pulled you even closer as if you weren’t already pressed flush against each other.

Soon his mouth left yours, trailing down your jaw to your neck. You sighed into him, savoring the warmth that wrapped around you, letting your heart and body override your brain and lose yourself to the vice of Seungcheol’s touch.

The warmth grew more intense as the familiar press of his body against yours stirred your passion awake. Soft sighs escaped your mouth each time Seungcheol’s teeth grazed your skin and sent a ripple of pleasure throughout your nerves. His strong hands traced slow, deliberate lines along your back, mapping the familiar curves with ease, not stopping when he reached your ass all the way down to your thigh.

Without warning, he lifted you off your feet, making you yelp. Seungcheol grinned, kissing your lips briefly before walking straight into your bedroom. Inside, he dropped you down the mattress and you bounced slightly as you fell.

“You’re such a tease,” he commented, making you blink in confusion and chuckle.

“I’m a tease? I’m not even doing anything,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

“I know. It’s crazy,” he grinned, discarding his shirt and crawling toward you. “You’re not doing anything and yet…” he guided your hand to his crotch, leaning into your ear as he whispered. “...you’re making me lose my fucking mind.”

Your breath hitched when you felt how hard he was under his pants. His cock pulsed against your palm and it sent a sudden wave of desire through your body that made your pussy tingle with anticipation.

It didn’t take long before you were both naked on your bed, lewd sounds of pleasure and skin against skin echoing through your apartment. If your neighbors could hear you, you wouldn’t know—you didn’t even care anymore at this point. Each kiss and every thrust spoke volumes, a language only the of you knew, built over countless moments like this, yet still feeling as thrilling as the first.

Seungcheol’s pace was delightfully rough, rutting into you with a force that reached the very core of your of cunt and made your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your mouth was gaped open the whole time, letting every moan and whimper escape your throat.

It was wonderful the way he seemed to know you so well, understanding every sigh and shift in your expression. You found yourself responding instinctively, matching his pace as if you were two parts of the same whole.

“Cheol,” you managed to gasp, feeling your body clench with the familiar ache in your belly. You clawed his back frantically, desperate to hold onto something in fear that the intense euphoria would actually send you into orbit. “Please… don’t—don’t stop!”

Recognizing the slight scrunch on your expression, Seungcheol maintained his pace, lowering himself so you could hold onto him properly. “It’s okay. Hold on tight and go ahead. Go ahead, sweetheart. Let it all out.”

Time seemed to slow down, as he rasped your own name in your ear, his voice amplifying the need for release. Eyes rolling back, you let out a dragged-out moan, back arching as you came undone underneath him. He held you by the waist, pausing while he was balls deep inside of you and your walls pulsated around him. He watched your fucked-out expression with a proud smirk before slowly setting you back down, your body twitching a few more times with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You smiled at him, pushing him up just enough so he could continue. Seungcheol didn’t need to be told, immediately thrusting into you and riding the high that hadn’t even left you yet. Your moans were throaty, losing your mind once more as he rammed into your overstimulated cunt.

And when he finally stilled, he let out a guttural grunt you’d ever heard before collapsing next to you. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you as if letting go wasn’t an option as if you could stay this close forever. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling the quiet warmth settle between you, a deep, steady comfort that lingered even after the last whispers of passion had faded.

“I love you,” you whispered, just as Seungcheol drifted off to sleep.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Your career was blossoming, you were closer with your friends, and you talked to your parents more often. Adding in Seungcheol by your side, your life felt fuller than it ever had. In this new chapter, you embraced everything as it came, ready to weave your dreams into the fabric of your life.

Then again, life just likes taking a turn when you least expect it to. After all, if it’s all sunshine and daisies, then it isn’t life at all. Challenges are necessary for growth. In this chapter of your life, the ‘turn’ was both familiar and new. Something you’d seen before, but somehow, it felt different.

“Would you like to come with me this weekend? There’s a party and I could use some company,” Seungcheol asked while you were lounging in your living room one night. “A gorgeous one,” he added, winking at you.

“What party?” you asked, considering the invitation but needing to know the details first.

“It’s the anniversary of Hong Industries. I’m close with them so I can’t miss it,” he explained.

“Alright,” you chimed, smiling at him. “But first, am I your girlfriend?”

Seungcheol paused, looking at you with a slight scowl on his forehead. “Of course, you are.”

You hummed. “Just making sure there’s an actual label to this.”

Seungcheol chuckled, placing his spoon down and giving you a fond look. “Of course there is. What happened? What made you ask me that out of nowhere?”

“Nothing. I was just checking,” you replied, shrugging. “If I am to accompany you to a party where I might meet your acquaintances, I should know how to introduce myself.”

“You’re not gonna go there and introduce yourself as my girlfriend, are you?” he asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

Seungcheol shrugged as if the answer should be obvious to you already. “You could introduce yourself as a writer.”

“I’m an assistant editor at a publishing company. Not a writer.”

“Then you can introduce yourself that way too.”

You leaned back on the couch, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at him with playful suspicion. “Do you not want me to be known as your girlfriend, Choi Seungcheol?”

“Again with the full name.”

You smirked. “What? I thought you liked it when I called your name?”

“Oh, you’ll call my name alright,” he smirked, tugging his necktie off and lunging at you. You let him lay you down on the couch, but you didn’t let him kiss you, covering his mouth with your hand.

“Come on. Tell me the truth,” you said sternly, narrowing your eyes at him,

Seungcheol smirked. “You know, I could lie right now just to get what I want.”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t. You’re not the type to do that,” you challenged, feeling confident despite the voice in the back of your mind telling you he was changing the subject and avoiding the question.

“You know me too well,” he lilted, kissing your lips softly. “You’re my girlfriend, and we can introduce you as such to anyone and everyone who would care to listen.”

“See? How hard was that.”

Seungcheol sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “I just don’t want you to feel... overshadowed. Being my girlfriend might sound simple, but trust me, it’s not gonna be easy. They’ll see you through that lens first and it’s gonna stick.”

You studied him, intrigued by the rare moment of openness. “I get it, but I know who I am. I’m okay with the label if it’s one we’re both proud of.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again. “See? You’re one of a kind.” His hand slid down your arm, pulling you closer, and you nestled into the warmth of his embrace. The ease of your familiarity made your heart flutter, the way it always did.

As the evening of the gala approached, you slipped into a fitted, elegant gown, one that was classic yet alluring, the kind that made you feel like you belonged in the world Seungcheol occupied so easily. You finished with a touch of makeup, something that highlighted your eyes and a bold lip to match the confidence you wanted to project tonight. Right on cue, Seungcheol arrived, stepping out of his car looking every bit the part in a sharp black tuxedo. He stopped when he saw you, taking a moment as his gaze swept over you.

“You look marvelous,” he said, reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

The gala venue was grand, a historic mansion converted into a luxury event space. Tall windows lined the walls, offering a stunning view of the city skyline. The chandeliers bathed the room in a golden glow, illuminating guests dressed in designer clothes, mingling with ease over champagne and laughter. As you stepped into the space, you felt Seungcheol’s hand slip to the small of your back, a subtle gesture that felt both protective and possessive.

“Stay close,” he murmured, guiding you through the crowd.

Seungcheol was a magnet for attention tonight. As soon as you arrived, people began gravitating toward him, friends and colleagues, associates he had to greet. Each time, he would introduce you with an easy, charming smile. “She’s an assistant editor at V Publishing,” he’d start, then add with pride, “and also my girlfriend.”

Every introduction made you feel both more part of his world and distinctly aware of how different it was from your own.

“CEO Choi!” someone called from the crowd.

You and Seungcheol turned toward the voice, spotting a man approaching with a friendly, approachable charm. He looked polished in his navy-blue tux, his expression warm. Seungcheol sighed as he saw him, a subtle reaction that made you wonder if he wasn’t fond of this guy.

“Hey, Josh,” Seungcheol greeted, his tone drier than usual. The name triggered a vague recognition in your memory.

Joshua ignored Seungcheol, focusing on you with a bright smile as he extended a hand. “You must be her—the woman who made CEO Choi go AWOL for a whole week in some far-off hotel. I’m Joshua Hong, COO of his company.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly but shook his hand anyway. “Somehow, I feel like you don’t like me already.”

“Oh, I adore you! I’ve been dying to meet you,” he said with exaggerated enthusiasm, though you weren’t quite convinced.

“Okay…” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

Before you could continue, another voice chimed in from behind. “Well, would you look at that,” a smooth voice said. You and Seungcheol glanced over your shoulders to find a strikingly handsome man with blonde hair, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “If it isn’t Choi Seungcheol with the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol replied flatly, sighing as though he’d already braced himself for this. “Just my luck.”

Jeonghan slipped over to Joshua’s side, eyeing you with a knowing smile that made you feel self-conscious. He looked you over with a slow, appraising gaze.

“Alright, you two are creeping me out,” you said, scowling slightly. “What’s going on?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t checking you out,” Jeonghan teased, his gaze shamelessly drifting from your face to your dress. “You’re kinda hot.”

Seungcheol stepped in, placing a hand on Jeonghan’s chest and pushing him aside. “That’s enough. Don’t make her uncomfortable.”

Joshua stepped forward, positioning himself on your other side with a friendly grin. “Sorry about my friend. He’s a bit of a creep,” he said, nodding toward Jeonghan before offering his arm. “Can I get you a drink?”

You glanced at Seungcheol, who nodded reassuringly. “He’s my friend. Go ahead if you’d like.”

“Hey, why does he get to be her escort?” Jeonghan protested, raising a hand in mock indignation.

“Because you’re a creep,” Joshua replied, dismissing him with a wave of his fingers as he guided you to the minibar.

At the minibar, Joshua handed you a glass of champagne and leaned in with a warm, curious smile. “So,” he began, “how did you and Seungcheol get together?”

You took a sip of your drink, feeling a bit on the spot. You didn’t go into the details but gave him the briefest version. “It just sort of… happened, I guess. We kept running into each other.”

Joshua nodded, looking amused but a little surprised. “Seungcheol doesn’t usually bring dates to these events. I mean, he keeps his private life pretty close to the chest, so seeing you two together tonight is definitely a first.”

You glanced across the room where Seungcheol was in conversation with another guest, his eyes occasionally drifting back to you. The thought that he’d brought you here when he normally came alone gave you a quiet, warm thrill.

Before you could say anything else, Joshua shifted the conversation with a curious glance. “He told me you’re an assistant editor. That must be exciting work. Jeonghan over there,” he nodded toward his friend who was in the same circle as Seungcheol, “he’s in the broadcasting industry. They’re always on the lookout for writers, you know.”

“Oh,” you replied, taken aback by the suggestion. You hardly considered crossing into a field like that, especially given that this was one of Seungcheol’s friends.

Joshua noticed your hesitation and chuckled lightly. “I know Jeonghan comes off… well, a little intense. But he’s actually a decent guy—he just likes to mess with Seungcheol as much as possible.”

You laughed, feeling more at ease. “Yeah, I did notice they seem to have that kind of friendship.”

“Exactly. But hey, if you’re interested in exploring other avenues with your writing, Jeonghan would be a good contact. You’d be surprised at the kinds of opportunities that open up in broadcasting.”

You nodded thoughtfully, his words sparking an idea you hadn’t considered. Working as a writer beyond publishing was unfamiliar but intriguing, and the prospect made your heart race a little. “Thanks for the tip, Joshua. But I’m fairly new in the industry. I will consider it though.”

Joshua smiled at you with a kind of charm that made you feel at ease. But before the conversation could deepen, someone pulled him aside, and he gestured he’d be quick. You nodded, mouthing that he could take his time. As you sipped your champagne, your gaze drifted over the crowd—and then you spotted a familiar face. Mingyu, with that warm, easygoing grin, met your eyes and lit up immediately.

Within seconds, he’d crossed the room in a few quick strides. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this—how long has it been?”

You laughed, surprised and genuinely happy to see him. “Not too long. How have you been?”

Talking with Mingyu felt like no time had passed at all. He was as charming and witty as ever, and soon you found yourself reminiscing, falling into a rhythm as if the year between you had been just yesterday. Mingyu asked about your work, your life, and sprinkled in stories of his own misadventures, making you laugh and remember what had drawn you to him once.

But out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Seungcheol approaching, his gaze locked onto you and Mingyu. His steps were unhurried, but his eyes held an intensity that sent a shiver through you. He slid his arm around your waist as he reached you, claiming his place at your side in a way that left no room for doubt.

“Hey,” Seungcheol greeted before pressing a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Hi,” you smiled at him and then turned back to Mingyu. “This is Choi Seungcheol my—”

“Boyfriend,” Seungcheol cut in, his voice steady but carrying an edge that made your stomach flutter. “And you must be Kim Mingyu.”

Mingyu’s face brightened. “You know me?”

Seungcheol’s gaze shifted to you briefly before replying, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really? It’s nice to meet you! CH Holdings, right?” Mingyu asked, genuinely enthusiastic.

“Yes,” Seungcheol replied coolly, sizing Mingyu up in a way that was hard to ignore. The silence that followed, though brief, felt thick and awkward. Mingyu was the first one to break, glancing at you with a smile.

“I’m really glad we ran into each other. We should catch up sometime,” he suggested, glancing between you and Seungcheol with a hint of his usual playfulness.

“Why?” Seungcheol’s reply was direct, and though his tone was mild, there was a possessiveness beneath it that made Mingyu laugh.

“Relax, man. I’m not trying anything. We go way back, that’s all,” Mingyu assured.

Seungcheol’s hand on your waist tightened slightly as he responded with a controlled smile, “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

Mingyu blinked, taken aback for a moment. “What?” He glanced at you, clearly confused.

You could sense the tension simmering beneath Seungcheol’s composed expression, and though Mingyu was mostly oblivious to it, you could feel the subtle line that had been drawn. Seungcheol wasn’t letting his guard down.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you said, gently squeezing Seungcheol’s arm, trying to diffuse the situation. Turning back to Mingyu, you offered, “It was good seeing you, Mingyu. Let’s catch up soon.”

“Definitely. Enjoy the party!” Mingyu’s smile was genuine as he gave a small wave before heading off, but he glanced back at Seungcheol with an amused look as he went.

Once he was out of earshot, you looked up at Seungcheol, catching the faintest trace of jealousy in his expression. “What was that about?” you asked, arching an eyebrow as you leaned into his arm.

Seungcheol shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just remembering what happened the last time you bumped into him.”

You laughed softly, a bit incredulous. “You think something like that would happen again?”

He gave you a look, not entirely joking. “Who knows?”

“Okay, that’s offensive.”

“What do you mean?”

Your smile faded as you let out a short, sharp sigh, feeling a twinge of hurt at his insinuation. You shook your head and stepped away. Seungcheol reached out as if to follow, but before he could say anything, a group of men gathered around him, clearly eager for his attention. He glanced at them, then back at you, his gaze following you even as he nodded along to their conversation.

You were offended, and rightfully so. How could he see you as someone who would betray his trust so easily? Your encounter with Mingyu last year had been a fleeting moment of comfort during a time when you were single and lonely. But now, you’re with Seungcheol. Surely he wouldn’t think you’d jeopardize what you had with him by sleeping with your ex, would he? Did he really really think that low of you?

You barely noticed the woman who approached you until she spoke. “Are you Seungcheol’s designated arm candy? You’re pretty.”

“Excuse me?” you blurted, startled by her sudden appearance and appalled by her question.

“You have an attitude too, hmm,” she commented nonchalantly, looking you up and down before walking away.

You watched her walk away, bewildered by her casual insult. Was that really how people saw you—just a pretty accessory to someone like Seungcheol? Did everyone at this gala see you through that narrow lens?

The woman's words lingered in your mind, twisting with the doubt that had already taken root from Seungcheol's earlier comment. You clenched your fists, trying to shake off the feeling of inadequacy that threatened to creep in.

As you scanned the room, the laughter and chatter around you felt distant and muted. You wanted to enjoy the evening, to stand alongside your boyfriend with pride, but your thoughts kept spiraling back to the weight of his mistrust and the woman’s dismissive tone.

The car ride back to Seungcheol’s penthouse was quiet and tense. He kept glancing your way, trying to coax out the reason for your anger, but you merely stared out the window, letting the city lights blur together into a wash of colors.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” he asked again, his voice laced with concern.

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak without letting your frustration spill over. The truth was, you didn’t want to talk; you didn’t want to explain the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t shut me out. I know something’s bothering you,” he pressed gently, reaching for your hand. You pulled away slightly, feeling the distance between you growing.

Once you arrived, you wasted no time making your escape. You hurried to the guest room, locking the door behind you. After a quick bath, the warmth of the water soothing your nerves, you slipped into bed, the exhaustion from the night settling in as you closed your eyes. You heard the soft creak of the door sometime later, feeling the mattress sink behind you as Seungcheol lay next to you. But you pretended to be fast asleep, too tired to face the rift coming between you.

“I’m sorry. I was just jealous,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “I trust you with my life. I know you would never go behind my back. I’m so sorry.”

You heard him clearly, but you were intent on your pretense so you didn’t respond. Instead, you allowed yourself to relax into his arms, grateful for the warmth, even if your heart felt heavy.

Morning light seeped through the curtains, casting yellowish light into the room. You blinked against the brightness, feeling the soft fabric of the blanket wrapping around you. You soon waddled out of the bedroom, dressed only in your underwear and Seungcheol’s oversized shirt. As you entered the living room, the casual atmosphere was shattered by the sight before you.

Seungcheol was standing with his hands on his waist, facing a woman sitting comfortably on the couch as if she belonged there. It was the woman from the gala, the one who’d called you an ‘arm-candy’. She was beautiful, with an air of confidence that emanated from head to foot. And she noticed you as soon as you stepped into the living room, raising an eyebrow arrogantly.

“You have a guest,” she said, making Seungcheol glance over his shoulder. The hard expression on his face softened upon meeting your gaze.

“Who is this?” you asked Seungcheol, trying to mask your discomfort with a casual tone.

Seungcheol opened his mouth to answer but the woman was quicker. “I’m his fiancee,” she announced, standing up at once. “Nice to meet you.”

You froze, your mind buffering at the declaration. Seungcheol held your hand and with a warning tone, he said, “Jiwon.”

The woman—Jiwon—raised an eyebrow. “If you like her so much, you should have told her about me sooner.”

“Get out,” Seungcheol practically growled, but that didn’t seem to faze Jiwon. She smirked, picking up her purse and heading for the door.

Before leaving, however, she said, “You’re free to play around as much as you want, Seungcheol. But only for now. I won’t stand for this disrespect once we’re married.”

It felt like your world came crashing down, a weight settling heavily on your chest as you stood there, trying to make sense of it all. Your mind was spiraling, processing the information painfully fast and coming into a confusing conclusion: was your relationship with Seungcheol simply a distraction from his obligations to Jiwon?

“I can explain,” he began, his voice urgent as he stepped closer. You recoiled when he reached for you, looking straight at him with confusion and hurt. Instead of listening to his reassurances, you turned away, the sting of tears blurring your vision. You retreated into the bedroom, your footsteps thundering against the floor as you shut the door behind you, leaving Seungcheol’s voice echoing faintly in the hallway.

Your hands were shaking as you tugged on your clothes, every movement fueled by a whirlwind of emotions—hurt, confusion, and anger. You were just about to change when you felt Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you from behind, holding you tightly against him.

“Please don’t go,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, a hint of desperation softening his voice. “You said you want communication to be the foundation of our relationship, and yet you walk away when I try to do just that.”

“I didn’t wanna hurt myself even more,” you muttered under your breath, but he heard you just fine.

His voice grew firmer. “I would never hurt you.”

“That’s too big of a promise,” you whispered, biting back fresh tears. “You already did.”

He sighed, and you reluctantly turned to face him, tears spilling over. “Is it true? Is she your fiance? Are you engaged to that woman?”

His expression softened, and he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. “Yes, but—”

He held your gaze, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Yes, but—”

Before he could finish, you slipped out of his hold, pulling on your own clothes as if it would shield you from him. Seungcheol reached for your arm again, but you swatted his hand away. Seemingly frustrated, he tugged your shoulders so you would face him.

“Please listen to me.” He reached for your arm again, frustration crossing his face as he gently tugged you to face him. “Jiwon is only engaged to me because of our families’ wishes. It’s a business arrangement, nothing more.”

You tried to absorb his words, but all you could think about was how little you actually knew about him. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re engaged to someone else.”

He sighed. “It’s not that hard to deal with it. I can even go ahead and break it off right now.”

You pushed him away, stepping back to keep a distance between you. “Alright, fine! Let’s say it is that easy to break it off, but that’s not the point, Cheol. You were engaged with another woman. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances were, the fact that you couldn’t tell me—your girlfriend—something so important? That is the problem!”

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol sighed. “I never meant to keep it from you. I just want to protect you from all this chaos. I know I should’ve been honest from the start. I’m sorry.”

Your gaze didn’t falter, not even after his heartfelt apology. “I hardly know anything about you, Seungcheol. Who were you before becoming such a successful businessman? How did you grow up? What’s your family like? Did you have a good childhood? You never told me any of these things.”

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed, and he took a deep breath. “I thought it didn’t matter. My life was uninteresting until I met you.”

“But I want to be a part of your life, and for that to happen, you need to open yourself up to me the same way I’ve bared my heart and soul to you.” Your voice trembled as you spoke, frustration mingling with despair. “I don’t know what reasons you have, but all I know is that your refusal to share the intimate details about yourself implies that I am just a temporary phase in your wonderful life.”

“That’s not true!” Without hesitating, he reached out to cup your face. “I’ll bring you into my life. I’ll show you everything—my family, my past, my business. I want you to understand who I am, and I want you to be a part of it all.”

His sincerity pierced through the haze of hurt clouding your mind. You wanted to believe him, to trust that there was more to him than the wealth and the privilege that surrounded his world. But doubt still lingered in your heart.

“I swear,” he added, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. Just don’t walk away from me now.”

His words hung between you, a lifeline in the storm of confusion. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, a reminder of the connection you had built. It was fragile, but it was real. And in that moment, you wanted to fight for it.

You nodded slowly, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Okay. But you have to promise to be open with me. No more secrets.”

Relief flooded his features, his soft smile brimming with gratitude. “I promise.”

As you felt his arms around you again, you found yourself holding onto hope, even as questions lingered in your mind, waiting to be answered.

Seungcheol’s promise of taking you to meet his family came sooner than later. His parents always held a regular family dinner in the grand hall of their estate, the kind you’d only seen in movies. Chandeliers hung low from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over tables with silver cutlery that gleamed as if they’d never been touched. Seungcheol’s hand stayed firm around yours as you walked in/

He had told you about his family situation before coming here. His mother remarried when he was a kid, and while his stepfather wasn’t hard on him in any way, he wasn’t exactly affectionate either. And that lack of connection made Seungcheol feel distant from him, causing him to feel like he didn’t really belong in the family.

He leaned in, whispering, “Stay by my side, okay?” You nodded, but even his warmth couldn’t ward off the unease settling in your chest.

Seungcheol introduced you to his mother first, a graceful woman with soft eyes and a welcoming smile that made you feel at ease, if only briefly. “It’s so lovely to meet you,” she said, her hands clasping yours warmly. “Seungcheol’s told me about you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Just as she was about to say more, a tall, sharp-featured man walked over—the infamous stepdad. He nodded curtly, his handshake firm but impersonal. “So, you’re the one Seungcheol’s been seeing.” His voice was low, with an edge that made it hard to gauge if he was simply reserved or disapproving.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, and though he made no further comment, his cool gaze lingered on you for a moment before he turned away to greet another guest. You glanced at Seungcheol, who gave you a small, reassuring squeeze of your hand.

As the evening wore on, you began to feel the walls closing in. Each relative seemed to carry an opinion, judging you silently, as though Seungcheol’s mere association with you was an odd choice they couldn’t understand. While his parents were civil, the whispered conversations and lingering looks from his extended family didn’t go unnoticed by you.

As if that wasn’t enough, Jiwon was there too and she made her hostility impossible to ignore. She was seated just across the table, her gaze flicking over to you now and then with a displeased expression. Eventually, she leaned over when Seungcheol stepped away to speak with his mother.

“You surprise me, seriously,” she said, eyes sparkling with a smugness you couldn’t miss. “Where did you get the nerve to come here, meet his entire family, and act as if you would ever be an actual part of his life?”

You sighed, careful not to let your emotions show. “Say whatever you want. I’m here for Seungcheol, not you.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, lips curving in a faint smirk. “I hope you can keep that attitude. His parents may be civil, but everyone else?” Her eyes swept over the hall and you couldn’t help copying her.

The unease in your chest transformed into an unsettling fear as you caught the sharp gazes of the other family members. It was as if you’d found yourself thrown into a den of venomous snakes waiting for a chance to attack.

“Seungcheol’s life is complicated, you see,” Jiwon said in your ear, her voice low. “If you think your love—or whatever you think you have, is enough to conquer all of this, then, good luck.”

You clenched your hands in your lap, holding back the urge to respond, knowing anything you said would only give her more satisfaction. The evening continued in much the same way, the subtle jabs and dismissive glances wearing you down. By the time Seungcheol returned to your side, you could barely manage a smile.

“Are you alright?” he asked, brows furrowing as he noticed the strain in your expression.

You forced a nod. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”

He sighed, eyes scanning the room as though seeing it through your eyes. “Do you wanna leave now?” he murmured. “We don’t have to stay here.”

His voice was reassuring, but it didn’t change the way you felt, and you weren’t sure anything could. Every glance, every whispered word, reminded you of the differences between you and the world Seungcheol lived in. Your heart felt heavy with the painful realization.

“Let’s get out of here,” you whispered, forcing a smile to at least offer comfort for him.

As you waited for Seungcheol to finish his goodbyes to his parents, an elderly aunt approached you, her lips pursed in a look of utter disapproval. She regarded you up and down, her eyes narrowing as though you were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“So, you’re the fling,” she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain. “That ungrateful brat. If he had even the tiniest ounce of self-respect, he wouldn’t parade some crook in front of the people who raised him.” She let out a dry chuckle, glancing pointedly at the oblivious Seungcheol. “He’s not even a part of this family. The least he could do was have enough decorum to not disrespect the fiance picked out for him.”

You felt the blood drain from your face at her words as they echoed bitterly in your mind, ripping through the thin layers of composure you had left. You thought you could endure it, but the attack on Seungcheol stung sharper than any quiet insult directed at you all evening.

As you settled into the car, a heavy silence lingered between you and Seungcheol. He shot a worried glance your way, brow furrowing as he took in your strained expression.

“What happened back there?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You looked down, fiddling with your fingers. You opened your mouth, but all that came out was a shaky breath. It felt as though the right words were slipping through your fingers, too fragile to grasp. You took a deep breath, willing your heart to calm down.

Finally, you met his gaze, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “I don’t think I belong in your world, Seungcheol.”

His expression shifted, shock clouding his features. “What are you talking about? Of courses, you belong in my world. That there is not mine. It never was.”

You shook your head, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Your family, your friends… the life you come from—it’s so different from everything I know. Tonight just proved that to me, over and over again.” You paused, voice catching in your throat. “I can’t pretend like it doesn’t matter.”

“Who cares what they think?” he countered, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re not dating them, you’re with me. I’m not gonna lose you over this.”

The hurt in his voice tugged at your resolve, but the memories of those sneering faces and whispered words echoed in your mind. You bit your lip, unable to hold his gaze any longer. There was so much you wanted to say—how you didn’t want his family’s disapproval of you to affect how they saw him. The thought of him facing endless judgment and criticism for choosing you, no matter how strong he was, filled you with an aching guilt.

You looked out the car window, gathering your thoughts before speaking. Then, with a quiet voice, you asked, “Why did you date me, Seungcheol? If you knew everyone would be against it?”

Seungcheol’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he drove. “I don’t care what they think. I care about you. You’re the only one I want.”

His words felt sincere, but it only frustrated you more. “Just tell me why?” You turned to him, voice trembling. “Why did you stay in that remote hotel just to spend time with me? Why did you sleep with me? No—actually, let’s go back to the very beginning, why did you ask me to tell you about my exes in the first place?”

He pulled the car to a stop outside your building, silence stretching between you. Finally, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to hear it,” he admitted, his voice soft, almost uncertain.

“Yes, but out of all the people, why me?” You leaned closer, searching his face for answers.

“Because I didn’t know what love is!” he burst out, cutting through your frustration. The rawness in his voice made you pause, your breath hitching at the vulnerability laid bare before you.

“I didn’t single you out. You just happened to be there, and I was desperate.” His frustration spilled over as he punched the heel of his palm on the steering wheel. “I didn't know what love felt like or how it looked. I had an idea, but it wasn’t enough to grasp the whole concept.”

You watched him, heart aching as he avoided your gaze as if it shamed him to tell you all of this. “I thought that maybe I just needed someone else’s perspective. Maybe if I could find someone who’s willing to let me in on their experience of love and being loved, I would come to understand it.”

“Cheol…” you trailed off, heart heavy with sympathy.

“I didn’t mean for it to be you,” he continued, eyes distant, lost in his memories. “You rejected my offer and that was it. I was ready to look elsewhere, but then you came to me and said you’d tell me. I was grateful and I looked forward to it. I was only there for the stories, for your perspective. But then… but then I saw you.”

His gaze flickered to yours, softening with affection. “I saw that you’re the type who wears your heart on your sleeve. I noticed how your eyes twinkled at the happy memories, how your face fell with the sad. You offered the most sensible insights about love and relationships—you made it so easy to understand.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he confessed, leaning his head back against the headrest, exhaling slowly as if releasing a weight. “But the more you spoke about love and its beauty, the stronger I was pulled toward you. You intrigued me, and made me curious about you. I stayed awake all night, looking forward to seeing you again and being greeted by that vibrant smile. I…”

Seungcheol took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours again, revealing the depth of his feelings. “I fell in love with you, and I didn’t even know that’s what it was until right now.”

You couldn’t find your tongue, utterly dumbfounded by his confession and the raw honesty he was willing to share. Your heart raced with confusion, empathy, and heartbreak, making it difficult to breathe. How could he feel this way yet remain so unaware of the consequences?

You wished you could fully embrace this moment, but the reality of the world outside felt suffocating. Would this love be enough to bridge the gap between your worlds? Did that world even matter when Seungcheol was ready to leave it all behind, defying everything just to be with you?

“Choi Seungcheol you…” you trailed off, and you never got to finish what you were supposed to say.

It has been over a year since you last came home. The familiar sights and sounds of your hometown wrapped around you like a warm embrace. You strolled through the tree-lined streets, savoring the laughter and chatter of families and children playing in the parks. Every corner held a memory, a fragment of your childhood and your youth, and it felt good to reconnect with your old life.

One afternoon, you decided to explore the downtown area, a vibrant hub that had seen its fair share of changes over the years, though it looked almost the same as when you left it last year as a heartbroken woman determined to pick yourself up from the god-awful slump you’d found yourself in. As you wandered through the streets, your heart swelled with nostalgia. The familiar shops, cafes, and the old movie theater brought back a flood of memories.

As you passed by the sleek glass building that housed Vernon’s company, a wave of pride washed over you. You couldn’t help but marvel at his accomplishments. You had always known he was meant to succeed, and it felt rewarding to see him thrive in a world that was once a part of you but not felt so distant. You paused for a moment, contemplating your lives, wondering how he was doing now. And while you hoped he was doing great, you had no intention of checking in on him. You knew better.

At home, after a cold shower, you found your phone buzzing incessantly on your bed. You opened a message notification and found yourself added to a group chat with your old friends from senior year of college. The lively banter and enthusiastic greetings flooded your screen, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Lea: 🎉 Heyyy guys! Guess who’s finally in the group chat?! Mina: My girlie! I missed you! Lea: I added her last because her account was deactivated a few days ago. So mysterious 😏 Seokmin: My honeybunch sugar plump! I missed you! You: you guys are so energetic lmao Hoshi: Hi hiiii! Don’t worry. It’s a bit awkward talking to your ex on here but it gets easier lol lol Mina: IDK. You’re the only one who feels that way. You: 😳 Can we not bring up exes? Seokmin: @/wonwoo Hoshi: @/wonwoo Junhui: @/wonwoo You: You know what guy? Fuck you Wonwoo: 😅😅😅

The conversation flowed effortlessly as you reminisced about inside jokes, embarrassing moments, and late-night study sessions. It felt like no time had passed at all.

Jill: What’s everyone up to these days? I feel like I’m in a time warp! Mina: I just got a promotion at work! 🎊 Now I’m officially a project manager! Seokmin: Nice, Minmina! What’s your secret? Mina: Coffee and panic! Hoshi: Did you guys hear about Wonwoo? He’s working at a big company in London now! You: Really? That’s amazing! Junhui: Living his dream fr! Proud of you man! Hoshi: And he’s also dating a supermodel now, right? Seokmin: Ugh, goals. 🤩 Wonwoo: False. Guys don’t listen to him, he’s an idiot Mina: Some things never change. Hoshi: HEY LOW BLOW! YOU USED TO TELL ME I WAS YOUR IDIOT? Junhui: smells like a comeback

The chat continued to buzz with excitement as everyone chimed in, sharing their own updates and encouraging each other to reconnect. You felt a warmth spread through you, a reminder of the bonds that had shaped your past. You found out later on that Lea made the group chat to tell everyone she was getting married. You spent the rest of the afternoon lost in conversation, laughing and sharing memories.

On the fourth day of your weeklong leave, you walked down the busy sidewalk of the downtown area again, running an errand for your mom who had asked you to buy some bread. When you turned a corner, you almost collided with a couple exiting the same corner.

“Jiwon?” you exclaimed, stepping back in surprise. Of all the people you could run into, Jiwon was the last person you’d expected. “What are you doing here?” you asked, eyes flitting back and forth between her and the guy she was clinging on to.

“Hi! It’s been ages,” she greeted exaggeratedly, catching you off guard. She smiled, though you could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “I didn’t expect to run into you. Do you want to grab a coffee and catch up?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure where this was going. She turned to the man beside her. “She’s an old friend. Can you go back first? I wanna catch up with her for a bit.”

“Alright, no problem,” he chimed, kissing Jiwon briefly and then smiling at you before he walked away.

As you settled into a cozy café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you both. You were reluctant to join her, but curiosity got the best of you. She spoke first and the initial awkwardness began to fade as you exchanged pleasantries. But soon, she leaned forward, a serious expression on her face.

Is she worried you’d tell someone that you saw her with another guy? Maybe. She was probably gonna ask that you keep it a secret. That was what you were thinking while she was hesitating to speak.

“Do you love Seungcheol?” she asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, taken aback by the question. “What does that have to do with you?”

Jiwon sighed, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world pressed down on her. “I just... I need to know if there’s a chance. I mean, if you could make it so we didn’t have to marry each other, that would be great.”

“Why?” You couldn’t help but challenge her. “That has nothing to do with me.”

She shook her head, frustration lining her features. “I’d hate to tell you this since we’re not close, but I’m the oldest in my family with no brothers, and misogyny is a thing that runs deep into my father and forefathers’ bloodstream. I could never be heir to my family’s estate so I have to marry a rich man and produce a male heir.”

You winced before you could stop yourself. What a backward way of thinking, you thought to yourself. But who am I to judge? “You’re free to follow your traditions.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t want to follow tradition. I don’t even want the estate. My boyfriend is wealthy too, but they preferred Seungcheol over anyone else.” She paused, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sorry for being mean to you before. I have no excuse. I just felt it was unfair that Seungcheol gets to openly date someone he genuinely liked while I can’t.”

You felt a surge of empathy for her, a realization that her harshness stemmed from her own insecurities and the pressure she faced. But you kept your thoughts to yourself, knowing that to her, any hint of pity would only feel like an insult. While you empathize with her, that didn’t excuse her actions before. She was rude and mean, regardless of her personal problems, she had no right to take it out on other people.

You leaned back in your chair, adopting an arrogant demeanor. “I’m not going to love Seungcheol to do you a favor. If that happens, the reason would simply be the fact that it’s how I really feel.”

Her expression faltered, surprise mixing with frustration.

“And honestly,” you continued, your voice steady, “I couldn’t care less about your issues, or what happens with the agreement between your families. If Seungcheol chooses me, then that’s all the reason I need to fight for our love.”

You didn’t want to tell her what to do, nor offer any advice—you were not in a level of familiarity where you could do that. You didn’t even want to confess your love for Seungcheol to anyone else, but it was your way of subtly supporting Jiwon’s pursuit of true love. It was up to her to interpret.

Jiwon looked down at her coffee, deep in thought. You hoped she was thinking about her options. “I guess that’s fair,” she murmured finally, her voice barely audible.

You watched her for a moment, curious about the vulnerability she’d hidden behind arrogance and pride. Perhaps, in another life, you could have been friends. But in this one, you were on opposing sides, each fighting for your own happiness.

As you walked home, the weight of your conversation with Jiwon lingered in your mind but you were feeling lighter as if a thorn had been pulled out of your chest. You pushed open the front gate, the familiar sound of creaking hinges echoing in the quiet evening. Your heart raced at the thought of what the future held for you and Seungcheol. You tried to get him out of your mind, but now you miss him so badly.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice and made you stop in your tracks. Standing at your front porch, silhouetted against the soft glow of the porch light, was Choi Seungcheol.

“Cheol?” you whispered, eyes wide. You took a step closer, your pulse quickening.

He sighed. “I know I said I’d give you time, and I promised not to bother you while you’re trying to collect your thoughts, but…” His voice cracked slightly, the vulnerability evident in his tone. “I can’t help it. I miss you so much I felt like I was gonna die.”

The sincerity in his words struck you like a bolt of lightning. It pierced through the confusion and doubt that had clouded your mind before you left him a few days ago.

You smiled, walking up to him and pulling him into a tight hug. Seungcheol hugged you back, gripping you so tight that it felt like you would soon melt into his very skin. With his tight embrace and the soft, slow kiss that followed, you knew you were ready to fight for your love, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

Your family took to Seungcheol like they’d known him for a long time. Watching him charm his way through conversations with your parents, sharing laughs with your siblings, you couldn’t help but feel pride swell in your chest. Seungcheol fit in effortlessly, his laughter echoing alongside theirs, his smile as warm and familiar as home itself. He would glance over at you, eyes shining with that unmistakable spark, and your heart would skip every time.

That evening, you invited him out for a walk after dinner, where he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he murmured your name again and again. His voice was soft, as if every syllable of your name was a song he needed to sing.

“You’ll be sick of that name if you don’t stop saying it,” you chided softly as you both settled on a park bench.

“You think so?” he asked, genuinely curious. “That can’t happen.”

You grinned as you watched him zip his mouth. When he glanced at you and saw you smiling, his eyes softened with immense affection. You took the chance to make fun of him. “You like me that much?”

Seungcheol didn’t say anything, instead he let out a long sigh of what sounded like relief and helplessness. That made you raise an eyebrow. “Okay, that’s too much. You’re exaggerating at this point.”

“Am I?” he questioned, more to himself. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so obsessed with you.”

“I think you’re trying to say you love me,” you quipped, leaning on his chest and basking in his warmth.

“Yes. Fuck that. I do,” he replied, tightening his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. “It’s true that I’m obsessed with you though.”

When it was time to return to the city, Seungcheol was practically vibrating with excitement. He bade your family goodbye, leaving with a promise to visit over the holidays. You sat in the train with him, reading a book with your head on his shoulder while he answered emails on his tablet.

Back in the city, your relationship reverted back to its usual steady course, navigating days of blissful highs and small, inevitable disagreements. Dinners were still a regular thing, though instead of the restaurants, you spent more of it in your homes, sharing home-cooked meals. You cooked together most of the time, laughter echoing in the kitchen as you worked together with ease. Sometimes, his busy schedule left him tired and withdrawn, but he’d still text you, asking about your day, eager to connect even in the smallest of ways. And whenever you argued, his sincerity cut through the tension—he’d listen, apologize if needed, and somehow make everything feel right again.

Your days were made special by small, loving gestures: the way he’d bring you your favorite coffee, or how he’d lean in to whisper something funny during a crowded gathering. You often made him his favorite food, even helping him keep a tidy appearance every day at work. He had sworn that he never needed sunscreen at work, but since you made him use some, Seungcheol has never stopped buying it regularly.

Through it all, he treated you the same—if anything, with more care and respect than ever before. Every little moment, every shared smile, built a quiet foundation of trust and affection, one that felt stronger with each passing day.

And today, as the glow of candlelight flickered across the apartment, you swayed gently with Seungcheol, your arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders, soft music filling the room. It had been a perfect evening: the surprise dinner, his careful planning, and the way he looked at you as though he couldn’t believe you were really there with him.

He held you close, his hands settling comfortably at your waist, pulling you just a little nearer. “Did you like the dinner?” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair.

“It was wonderful,” you replied, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Then, with a smirk, you looked up at him. “But if you’re planning to propose right now, please don’t. I’m not ready to even talk about it.”

He chuckled, his laugh vibrating against you as he shook his head. “Relax, I’m not proposing,” he said, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “We’re not there yet. We still need plenty of time to figure things out.”

You were relieved to hear that, but even with his agreement, the idea was taking shape in your mind. You realized that you couldn’t imagine a future where he wasn’t beside you, bringing out a side of yourself that you’d thought had faded long ago. He was patient, steadfast, and the way he looked at you told you he was here to stay, whether or not there was a ring.

“I love you, Seungcheol,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “Before this, I thought I’d never find love again. I’d convinced myself that I was… I don’t know, incapable of this, given my history. I told myself that there’d never be anyone who would fit.” You hesitated, wondering if he would understand, if he could feel what you couldn’t quite say.

Seungcheol’s hand gently tilted your chin up so your eyes met his. “I don’t believe that for a second,” he said softly. “You were always going to find someone. I just got lucky that it was me.”

The corners of your mouth lifted, a warmth spreading through your chest. He was right there, looking at you as if you were all that mattered. This was more than just a moment, more than just the fleeting connection you had once feared it to be. Choi Seungcheol had somehow become the unexpected twist in your life, the chapter you hadn’t known you needed. And as the two of you continued to dance, you realized with quiet certainty that this was just the real beginning—your beginning, together.

[fin]

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slytherinsmuse · 2 months ago

Text

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Frigid Waters | Mattheo Riddle ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Fem! Reader

Warnings: characters are 18+, not canon, anger

Summary: Angst, Fluff | Through jealousy and regret, Mattheo finds redemption in an unexpected embrace.

Word count: 10262- needs adjusting

Mattheo Riddle and you had always shared a relationship that teetered on the edge of something that felt almost volatile. From the very beginning, something about him managed to set you off, and it seemed that every interaction you shared was a battle of wit, will, or pride. Your mutual friends were well accustomed to the tension that clouded the room whenever you were both present, a strain that had grown from minor annoyances to full-blown arguments over the years.

Yet, despite all the friction, Mattheo had always been there. He was sharp, observant, and insufferably bold, a combination that left you equally irked and intrigued. But of all the things Mattheo was, critical seemed to be his favourite when it came to you. He had an uncanny ability to notice things most people missed—especially when it came to the people you chose to surround yourself with.

One of the most explosive arguments between the two of you had taken place a month ago, over something as mundane as a date you’d gone on with a boy from Hufflepuff. You’d met him in Charms class, and although he wasn’t particularly flashy or bold, he’d been sweet, the kind of person who made you laugh without trying too hard. You’d looked forward to the evening, finding the simplicity of his company refreshing compared to the guarded, often intense personalities of your Slytherin circle. After the date, you’d returned to the Slytherin common room, feeling lighthearted and content.

But Mattheo had been waiting, sprawled casually on the common room couch with a book in his lap, his gaze fixed on you the moment you stepped through the door. His expression had darkened instantly, and before you’d even had a chance to process it, he’d spoken up, his voice cold and heavy with disdain.

“Really, Y/N?” he’d drawled, not bothering to mask the bitterness. “Him?”

Confusion furrowed your brow. “Excuse me?”

He’d sat up, his dark gaze sharp and accusatory, as if your mere presence was an affront. “That Hufflepuff boy.” he’d said, smirking slightly, though it lacked its usual charm. “I can’t believe you’d waste your time with someone so… bland.”

For a moment, you’d been stunned, caught between surprise and irritation. “Since when do you get a say in who I spend my time with, Mattheo?”

He’d shrugged, a casual, infuriating gesture that only added fuel to your frustration. “I don’t. I’m just saying it’s pathetic. You, out there with someone who doesn’t even know half of what you’re worth. Not to mention…” he trailed off, scoffing, “his personality is as thrilling as a leaking cauldron.”

The condescension in his tone had hit a nerve, and you’d felt a surge of anger you couldn’t quite suppress. “Unbelievable.” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, though your voice rose in volume. “Who I choose to spend time with is none of your business. Maybe I actually like spending time with people who don’t spend every moment judging me.”

He’d let out a dark laugh, low and mocking, and it echoed in the common room, reminding you of just how alone you were in that moment, facing off against him. “Is that what you call it?” he asked, his words like a challenge. “Enjoying time with boys who don’t even see you? You think that’s the kind of attention you deserve?”

The comment cut deep, and you could feel your frustration bubble over, mingling with a hurt you tried to mask. “At least he doesn’t spend his days acting like he owns everyone around him.” you shot back, voice shaking with the effort to keep it steady. “You think you can just say whatever you want and get away with it? Newsflash, Mattheo—you don’t own me, and you sure as hell don’t get to decide who’s worth my time.”

His smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing with something unreadable, and for a brief moment, you thought he might back down. But he’d held his ground, his gaze flickering with a hint of something darker.

“Fine.” he muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the couch, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Go ahead. Waste your time with boys who don’t care enough to look deeper. But don’t come crying to me when you realize what you’re missing.”

The argument had ended there, with one of your friends stepping in to mediate, and you’d walked away, fuming and hurt, questioning why his opinion mattered to you at all. But the resentment had lingered, sinking into the very fabric of your interactions with Mattheo. Every conversation, every glance, and every comment held an edge, a simmering tension that had only grown since that argument. It felt as though an invisible wall had been built between the two of you, brick by bitter brick, and neither of you was willing to dismantle it. Each time you found yourself in the same room, you could feel the air grow thick, every word exchanged like a match threatening to ignite the powder keg of emotions that seemed to follow you both.

You were tired of it—tired of the constant back-and-forth, the pointed comments, and the way he always found a way to inject himself into your life. You couldn't understand why he cared so much, why he seemed so invested in your choices, especially when his words were rarely anything but critical. More than anything, you were tired of his scrutiny, the way he seemed to hover, watching and waiting, like he was constantly assessing your every move, every interaction. It was maddening.

In moments of quiet, when you could think clearly, you almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. You’d never asked for his opinions or his presence in your life, and yet he was always there, inserting himself uninvited, and treating each of your decisions with a disdain that felt far too personal. Whatever his reasons, you didn’t care anymore. You were done with him.

And yet, for the sake of your friends—the people who were as much a part of your life as the air you breathed—you tolerated his presence. You gritted your teeth through his criticisms, bit back your responses to his sarcastic remarks, and did your best to act as though he was nothing more than a nuisance in the background. It was exhausting, forcing yourself to stay civil when all you wanted was to tell him exactly where he could shove his opinions. You could barely stand being around him, yet every shared friend outing, every party, and every late-night study session in the common room meant enduring his presence.

There were times when your friends would exchange wary glances, sensing the tension between you and Mattheo, and you could tell they were hesitant to take sides. They’d become skilled at diverting conversations before they could escalate, quick to step in whenever your arguments grew too heated. Even Draco, who usually enjoyed a good spectacle, seemed to tread carefully whenever you and Mattheo began to clash. But despite your friends’ best efforts, the strain was there, undeniable and ever-present, a weight that neither you nor Mattheo seemed willing to ease.

Every time you saw him, the resentment flared anew. You’d see that familiar smirk, that cocky glint in his eye, and it would all come rushing back—the anger, the frustration, the complete exasperation of dealing with someone who seemed determined to get under your skin. You found yourself questioning whether he even cared about anyone other than himself, if he found amusement in your reactions, in the little fires he set just to watch them burn.

And yet, there was a small, infuriating part of you that wondered if his interference wasn’t just born of spite. You pushed the thought aside each time it arose, telling yourself you were done wasting energy on him. But even as you tried to ignore him, as you tried to dismiss the meaning behind his constant criticism, he was always there, pushing boundaries you didn’t even know existed.

That night by the lake, though, had finally pushed things too far.

~~~

The chill of winter had fully settled over Hogwarts, frosting the castle grounds with a glistening layer of snow and ice. It was nearly Christmas, and excitement for the holidays was palpable, building up to the night’s event: an all-house winter party, held just before everyone would leave for the break.

The professors and students had transformed the gardens into a dazzling winter wonderland. Evergreen garlands and enchanted holly bushes lined the pathways, their leaves glistening with a delicate layer of snow, while enchanted fairy lights sparkled from tree branches like clusters of stars, casting a soft, magical glow over the gathering. Giant wreaths with shimmering silver and gold accents hung at intervals, each adorned with deep red ribbons that fluttered in the crisp evening breeze.

To ward off the cold, tall iron torches were scattered throughout the gardens, their warm flames flickering and casting inviting glows across the snow-covered ground. The flames danced in shades of orange and gold, wrapping the chilly air in a cosy warmth that lured people to linger and chat.

Tables were set up with steaming drinks, both alcoholic and non, ready to warm the hands and spirits of the guests. There were enchanted goblets filled with mulled mead, spiced cider, and warm butterbeer, each drink casting a sweet aroma into the air. For those wanting to stay sober, there were mugs of hot cocoa with floating marshmallows that danced like tiny clouds, as well as steaming herbal teas enchanted to change colours with each sip.

You’d dressed carefully for the night. Under the glow of the torches, your outfit was striking against the wintery landscape. A fitted black dress hugged your figure, reaching down just above your ankles with a modest side slit. The high neckline and long sleeves gave it a touch of elegance while offering some warmth against the cold. Over it, you’d layered a thick, cropped black jacket, plush and luxurious, the hood large enough to shield your face from the breeze. The jacket’s soft, rich texture contrasted with the smooth fabric of your dress, creating a look that was both stylish and cosy.

On your feet were short black winter boots—simple, soft, and insulated to keep out the biting cold of the snowy ground. They grounded your look with a casual touch, perfect for wandering through the winter gardens while still keeping your toes warm.

You sipped on a cup of warm mulled mead, the sweet, spiced flavour settling pleasantly in your stomach, allowing you a moment to simply enjoy the festive air around you. Snowflakes drifted gently from the sky, and laughter and chatter filled the air as students huddled in groups, swapping stories and celebrating the season.

It should have been the perfect night.The fire crackled warmly in the nearest torch as you stood with Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and Daphne, exchanging stories and laughing as you all nursed your warm drinks. The group was relaxed, leaning into the cheer of the season as the chill of winter nipped at your faces, kept at bay by the heat of the torches and the laughter that filled the air.

Draco had just finished recounting an exaggerated tale of a recent Quidditch practice, his voice taking on a dramatic edge that drew a laugh from Pansy, who shook her head and rolled her eyes. Blaise chuckled, tipping his glass to Draco in mock admiration. “I’m not sure that story would hold up in court, Malfoy.” he teased, grinning.

“Of course it would.” Draco scoffed, feigning indignation. “If anyone else had been there, they’d tell it the same way.” His gaze swept around the circle, daring someone to challenge him.

Daphne smirked, giving Draco a knowing look. “I was there, remember? You barely dodged the Bludger.” she quipped. “And I believe you squealed.”

The group erupted in laughter, and even you couldn’t help but chuckle, taking a sip of your mead as the warmth from the drink spread through you. It was moments like this that made you forget about everything else—the tension, the drama, and even certain people.

Yet, despite the relaxed atmosphere, there was one member of your group who didn’t join in on the laughter. Mattheo was standing off to the side, nursing his drink in silence, though his gaze occasionally flicked toward the conversation, intently listening to every word exchanged. His expression was unreadable, his jaw set as he raised his glass to his lips, eyes lingering on you each time you laughed or smiled.

You tried to ignore the slight discomfort his gaze brought, though it was difficult to fully enjoy yourself under his intense scrutiny. Every time you made a joke or responded to one of your friends, you could feel his eyes on you, watching, observing. It was as though he was silently taking note of every word you said, every interaction you had with the others.

Pansy nudged you with her elbow, a smirk on her lips. “You must be cold, Y/N. You’ve been huddled by the torch all night.” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or maybe you’re just trying to hog all the warmth?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Can you blame me?” you replied, pulling your jacket tighter around you. “I’m just trying not to freeze.”

Theo chuckled, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “It’s a good look on you—frozen chic.” he joked, earning a playful swat from you as the group laughed again.

Mattheo’s eyes narrowed slightly at the playful touch, his fingers tightening on his glass. Though he remained silent, the tension radiated from him like a second winter chill, barely hidden under his relaxed posture. The others didn’t seem to notice, caught up in the conversation, but you felt it keenly, an invisible string pulling tighter with each passing second.

Despite his silence, you knew Mattheo’s attention was focused entirely on you, every bit as intense as if he were speaking aloud. It was as though he was waiting for something, watching you with that familiar, infuriating mix of disapproval and something else you couldn’t quite place. You tried to brush it off, to stay in the warmth and cheer of the conversation, but his presence lingered in your mind, a shadow that refused to be ignored.

As the laughter in your group faded, a new voice cut through the conversation. You turned to see a boy from Ravenclaw—Ethan, a friend of yours from Charms—grinning as he approached, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He was tall and easygoing, with a quiet confidence that made him likeable, the kind of person who could effortlessly strike up a conversation. You’d been chatting with him on and off over the past month, enjoying the calm normalcy he brought compared to the relentless drama that seemed to follow your Slytherin circle.

“Mind if I steal Y/N for a bit?” Ethan asked, directing his question at the group but his gaze settled on you with a friendly warmth. The others exchanged glances, but no one objected, and you flashed your friends a quick smile before allowing Ethan to gently pull you away from them.

As the two of you wandered toward the lake, the cold seemed sharper away from the warmth of the torches. Snow crunched beneath your boots as you followed the winding path, laughing at something Ethan said as he kept the conversation light and easy, a welcome distraction from the evening’s underlying tensions.

Behind you, however, things were far from calm.

Mattheo watched you go, his gaze darkening with each step you took alongside Ethan. He took a long, slow drink from his glass, his jaw tight, every nerve in his body tense. As you moved farther away, something in him snapped. His hand clenched around his glass, his usual quiet intensity boiling over into something dangerously close to rage.

“Mate, calm down.” Draco murmured, noticing the shift in Mattheo’s demeanour. He reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Mattheo shrugged him off, his expression twisting into something fierce and unrestrained.

“Did you see that?” Mattheo’s voice was rough, almost a growl. “She just… left with him.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, exchanging a wary glance with Pansy, who looked equally concerned. “She’s just talking to him, Riddle. It’s not the end of the world.”

But Mattheo’s eyes were fixed on you and Ethan, his face contorted with an emotion that seemed to go beyond anger. It was possessive, a raw jealousy that pulsed through him with every breath. He could feel the alcohol heightening every sensation, every twisted thought, and in his drunken state, he found himself unable to control the wave of emotion that crashed over him.

Pansy stepped in, her voice calm but firm. “Mattheo, you’re overreacting. She’s allowed to have friends, you know.”

But her words only seemed to make him angrier. He glared at her, his fists clenched. “Friends? He’s been sniffing around her for weeks. And now he’s taking her out to the lake?” His voice was thick with bitterness, his eyes narrowing as he watched you disappear further into the distance with Ethan.

Theo placed a hand on Mattheo’s arm, trying to pull him back. “Look, you’re drunk, and you’re not thinking clearly. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Mattheo’s eyes flicked to Theo, his voice filled with venom. “Regret? The only thing I’ll regret is standing here while he gets to play the gentleman.”

Despite their best efforts, Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo found themselves helpless to stop him. With a final, determined glance at the group, Mattheo shook them off and stormed toward the lake, his pace quick and purposeful, his eyes blazing with fury.

They exchanged uneasy glances, understanding that nothing good could come from this. Daphne sighed, folding her arms as she watched him go. “This is going to end badly.” she muttered, worry etched across her face.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “Well, let’s just hope he doesn’t do anything too stupid.”

But even as they watched him disappear into the darkness, they all had the sinking feeling that Mattheo’s jealousy had finally crossed a line—and that whatever happened next would be impossible to undo.

Mattheo reached the edge of the lake, hidden just out of sight among the trees. His breath was shallow, each exhale mingling with the cold night air in faint clouds of mist, but he barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on you and the Ravenclaw boy, his vision tunnelling in as he took in the scene.

You were standing close to the Ravenclaw, your breath fogging the air as you laughed softly at something he’d said. The sound of your laughter, so genuine and relaxed, hit Mattheo like a slap in the face. He felt the jealousy simmering in his chest twist and morph into something darker, more raw. He was close enough to catch snippets of your conversation, each word feeling like a fresh wound.

Ethan leaned in, his voice low and playful. “I can’t wait to see you after Christmas. Maybe I’ll even get to see the whole package this time.” His tone was teasing, the kind of flirtation that felt comfortable and familiar, yet full of suggestion.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played at the corners of your lips. “Oh, is that right?” you replied, your voice equally teasing.

Ethan’s hand reached out, gently taking yours, and Mattheo’s fists clenched, his nails biting into his palms. He watched, barely breathing, as Ethan lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, lingering just long enough to leave no doubt about his intentions.

And that was it.

The last threads of control snapped within Mattheo. His vision went red, his mind clouded by a rage so fierce he couldn’t see past it. Every fibre of his being screamed that this was wrong, that no one else had the right to touch you, to make you laugh like that. To him, this wasn’t just jealousy; it was betrayal, a bitter confirmation of his worst fears. Without a second thought, he stormed forward, his footsteps heavy, crunching over the snow-laden ground as he closed the distance between himself and the two of you.

Your laughter died as soon as you heard him approaching. You turned, eyes widening in surprise, and saw Mattheo stalking toward you, his face twisted in fury, every line of his body tense and seething. Ethan quickly dropped your hand, glancing between you and Mattheo with a mixture of confusion and mild apprehension.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mattheo’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, his eyes fixed on Ethan like he was a mere insect to be crushed.

Ethan straightened, clearly taken aback but trying to hold his ground. “We’re just talking, Riddle?” he said evenly, though his voice held a slight edge.

Mattheo took another step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “Talking?” He laughed, though it was a dark, humourless sound. “Looked a lot more than just talking to me.”

You stepped between them, your expression both confused and frustrated. “Mattheo, what’s your problem? We’re just having a conversation.”

His gaze shifted to you, and the intensity of it was enough to make you take a small step back. “A conversation? He’s been hanging around you for weeks, trying to get close, and now he’s…” Mattheo’s voice trailed off, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think so.”

Ethan huffed, glancing at you, as if silently asking if Mattheo was serious. “Mate, you don’t own her.” he said, his tone turning defiant. “Y/N can make her own choices.”

At that, Mattheo’s control snapped entirely. He reached out, grabbing Ethan by the front of his coat, his knuckles white with tension. “You think you can just put your hands on her like that?” he snarled, his voice shaking with barely-contained fury.

“Mattheo, stop it!” you shouted, your voice sharp with both anger and fear. You reached out, grabbing his arm to try to pull him back, but he barely seemed to register your touch.

Ethan managed to push Mattheo off, stumbling back a few steps, his expression turning to one of frustration. “This is insane. Y/N, I’ll see you later.” He shot Mattheo a disgusted look before turning on his heel and walking away, disappearing into the darkness.

As soon as Ethan disappeared into the shadows, Mattheo whipped around to face you, his chest heaving with the barely controlled fury that flickered in his eyes. The intensity of his gaze was like a storm brewing, wild and unrestrained, and you felt your own anger rise to meet it, every nerve in your body taut with indignation.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, your voice cracking with a mixture of disbelief and rage. Your fists clenched at your sides, barely able to contain the fury building inside. “You had no right to do that!”

Mattheo scoffed, a bitter, scornful sound as he crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing into a glare that cut through the cold night air. “No right?” he echoed, his voice laced with venom. “He was practically drooling over you, Y/N. And you were just standing there, letting him.”

Your anger flared white-hot, each word he threw at you only stoking the fire within. “So what if I was?” you shot back, your voice sharp as glass. “I can talk to whoever I want, Mattheo. You don’t get to decide that for me!”

He stepped closer, his face only inches from yours, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “You really think he cares about you?” His tone was laced with a cruel edge, his words hitting like daggers. “He’s just another fool trying to get close because he thinks you’re easy.”

The insult was like a slap across the face, and you felt a surge of hurt and fury twist inside you, your vision blurring with the intensity of it. “How dare you?” you spat, your voice trembling with rage as you began moving towards him, attempting to remove yourself from the situation. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

But Mattheo barely registered your intentions, his drunken anger blinding him to your actions. Instead, he pushed you hard, his hand colliding with your shoulder with more force than he realised. The ground beneath you was slick with ice, and your footing slipped, your balance vanishing as you stumbled backward.

It happened in an instant—a heartbeat, a single, breathless moment where the world seemed to tilt. You felt yourself falling, your heart lurching in your chest as the lake loomed closer, and then, in a flash, the freezing water swallowed you whole.

The shock of the cold was like knives piercing every inch of your skin, stealing the air from your lungs in a harsh, unforgiving grip. The icy darkness closed in around you, pressing in from all sides as you sank below the surface, your body seizing in panic as the freezing water pulled you deeper. Every inch of you was numb, the biting cold sinking into your bones as your mind reeled, frantic and disoriented.

But you weren’t about to stay in the lake a second longer than necessary. Desperately, you forced yourself to kick, pushing toward the surface, your arms clawing against the freezing water as you fought to break free. The cold clung to you, slowing your movements and making each breath feel laboured, but sheer willpower drove you upward. Your head broke through the surface, and you gasped for air, the icy sting of the wind hitting you like another wave of shock.

With trembling limbs, you pushed yourself toward the shore, your movements clumsy and desperate. Your fingers reached for the slippery rocks along the edge, but the icy coating made it impossible to get a firm hold. You slipped, the slickness of the rocks pulling you back toward the water’s edge. Panic surged through you again, but you gritted your teeth, fighting against the cold and the fear as you scrambled forward, slipping and stumbling with every movement.

Through your water-blurred vision, you caught sight of Mattheo standing on the shore, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression. He didn’t look panicked; in fact, he seemed disturbingly calm, his face set with a strange intensity as he observed your struggle. His posture was rigid, unmoving, as if he was rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on you, every step you took seeming to hold his full attention.

You hauled yourself forward, every inch of your body aching with the effort, until you finally reached the bank. The moment your hands touched solid ground, you pushed yourself up, crawling onto the frosty grass, your breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Your fingers and toes felt numb, your soaked clothes clinging to you, cold and heavy. You didn’t even have the strength to stand yet; instead, you knelt there, shivering violently as the cold seeped deeper into you.

Still, Mattheo didn’t move. He just watched you, his gaze unwavering, his face shadowed and hard, as if this was some sort of lesson he was waiting for you to learn.

Anger flared within you, cutting through the numbing cold, and you forced yourself up, stumbling as you took a shaky step toward him. “What… is wrong with you?” you choked out, your voice thick with rage and exhaustion. You could barely form the words through your shivering, but the fire in your eyes was clear. “Are you… insane?”

He tilted his head, his gaze steady, unbothered. “You’re the one who keeps making reckless choices.” he replied coolly, his voice calm, unfeeling, as if he wasn’t the reason you’d just plunged into the freezing lake.

The sheer indifference in his tone sent a fresh wave of anger crashing over you, and you staggered forward, your teeth chattering as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “You pushed me in.” you hissed, your words trembling as much as your body. “And you just stood there… watching.”

He shrugged, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. “You got out, didn’t you?”

The casualness of his response stunned you into silence. He seemed unaffected, almost as if the entire situation was nothing more than an inconvenience. But as he looked at you, his expression softened—just barely, a flicker of something that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of his gaze, anger and hurt warring within you. It was like you were seeing him for the first time, the dark, cold part of him that lurked beneath his usual intensity. The silence stretched between you, brittle and bitter, before he finally took a step closer, his voice dropping low.

“You were with him.” he muttered, as if that was supposed to explain everything.

Your eyes narrowed, a mixture of disbelief and fury in your voice. “So that justifies this?” you spat, gesturing to your soaked, shivering form. “You’re a coward, Mattheo. You don’t get to act like you care and then do… this.”

He clenched his jaw, but for the first time, his steady gaze wavered, a flicker of something almost like regret crossing his face. He didn’t respond, simply standing there as you took a shaky breath, your body trembling from the cold and anger alike.

Without another word, you turned on your heel, forcing yourself to walk away from him, each step an agonising struggle as the cold cut through your soaked clothes, leaving you shivering violently. Every muscle in your body ached from the freezing lake, and you could barely catch your breath, but you refused to let him see you stumble. Your anger was the only thing keeping you upright, fueling your determination to put as much distance as possible between you and the boy who had caused this.

As you pushed yourself forward, Mattheo stood frozen, watching your retreating figure with a dawning sense of regret and confusion. The gravity of what he’d done settled over him like a weight, each step you took away from him sinking the realisation deeper into his chest. He’d let his anger, his jealousy, get the better of him, and now he was left in the wake of his own reckless actions, unsure how to fix the mess he’d made.

But as he saw you growing smaller, disappearing into the shadows toward the castle, something snapped inside him. Panic flared in his chest, and without thinking, he rushed after you, his heart pounding as he stumbled forward, his voice hoarse and desperate. “Y/N, wait! I’m sorry!” he called, his words cutting through the quiet of the night.

You ignored him, your jaw clenched as you quickened your pace, not sparing him a single glance. All you could think about was getting inside, getting warm, and getting as far away from him as possible. You could hear his footsteps pounding behind you, his voice echoing as he continued to call out.

“Y/N, please—stop! I didn’t mean to—” His voice cracked, filled with an edge of desperation, but you didn’t care. You felt nothing but fury, the cold seeping into your bones and mingling with the anger boiling in your veins.

As you neared the garden, you could see the party still in full swing, warm lights and laughter filling the air. The students around the torches were unaware of the storm that had erupted by the lake, oblivious to the anger and hurt that now trailed behind you like a shadow.

You pushed through the edge of the gathering, your soaked clothes clinging to you, your hair dripping, your teeth chattering as the freezing cold seeped into every part of you. Conversation ceased abruptly as heads turned in your direction. Draco, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, and Daphne all looked up, their expressions shifting from casual interest to wide-eyed shock as they took in the state you were in. Their gazes flickered from you to Mattheo, who was only a few steps behind, his face stricken with a mixture of panic and regret.

“Y/N!” Pansy’s voice was the first to break the silence, her tone laced with concern as she took a hesitant step forward, but you didn’t stop. You pushed past them all, barely registering their looks of confusion and worry. Your only thought was to get to the Slytherin dormitory, to get somewhere warm where you could be alone, away from the prying eyes and judgmental stares.

“Y/N, please!” Mattheo’s voice grew more frantic as he called after you, his footsteps quickening as he tried to keep up. “Just… just let me explain! I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

You whirled around for a brief moment, your voice laced with fury as you yelled back, “Get lost, Mattheo!” The words echoed in the garden, slicing through the stunned silence that had settled over the party. Your friends watched, unable to mask their surprise as you turned back toward the castle, ignoring the looks, ignoring the whispers, and ignoring him.

You stormed into the castle, the warmth of the hallways doing little to soothe the bone-deep chill that had settled over you. Behind you, Mattheo’s calls continued, his voice carrying through the corridors as he followed, each step echoing with the sound of his regret.

“Y/N!” he yelled, desperation thickening his voice as he followed you up the stairs. “Please… I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry!”

But you didn’t look back. You kept your head down, refusing to let him see the hurt mingling with your anger, the betrayal stinging far deeper than the icy water that still clung to your skin. You didn’t stop, didn’t let yourself falter, even as his voice grew louder, pleading, a raw edge of panic breaking through his usual confidence.

Finally, you reached the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory, muttering the password through chattering teeth. The door swung open, and without a second glance, you slipped inside, letting it close firmly behind you, shutting out Mattheo’s voice and the cold night air.

The second you stepped into the Slytherin dorm, you felt the weight of the night crashing down on you, the cold from the lake sinking deeper into your bones with each passing second. Your clothes clung to you, soaked and heavy, and a shiver ran through you, violent and unrelenting, as you forced yourself to move. Your mind was a haze of anger, hurt, and disbelief, but the only thing that mattered now was escaping the chill that had rooted itself in every corner of your being.

You stumbled into your room, tearing off your wet clothes as quickly as your frozen fingers would allow. Each movement was stiff and jerky, and the soaked fabric clung to your skin, making you feel even more trapped in the freezing memory of the lake. Once your clothes lay discarded on the floor in a dark, damp heap, you wrapped yourself in your thickest towel, fighting to regain even the smallest bit of warmth.

You made your way to the shower, barely able to feel the handle as you twisted it, letting the water pour down in steaming torrents. You stepped in, and for a moment, the heat was too much, biting at your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. The warmth seeped over you slowly, each drop thawing the numbness that had settled in your muscles, but it wasn’t enough. No matter how high you turned up the water, no matter how long you let it pour over you, the bone-deep chill remained, lingering stubbornly as if it had become a part of you.

You stood there, shivering beneath the stream, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders, but the anger and hurt refused to dissipate. Your mind kept replaying the scene by the lake—Mattheo’s cold, scornful expression, his sharp, unforgiving words, the sensation of his hand pushing you with that brief, reckless force. It all circled in your thoughts, twisting into a knot of emotions you couldn’t untangle.

Eventually, you turned off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping yourself in the thickest, warmest clothes you could find—a soft sweater that felt like a hug against your still-chilled skin, thick socks, and an oversized pair of sweats. You wrapped yourself in a blanket, but even then, the cold persisted, gnawing at you from the inside.

Your room was too quiet, too empty, the walls feeling like they were closing in around you. Despite the layers you’d piled on, you couldn’t shake the chill or the anger simmering just beneath the surface. The heat from the shower hadn’t worked, and you needed warmth, real warmth, something solid and grounding to erase the traces of tonight.

Reluctantly, you made your way to the common room, hoping the fire there might finally drive away the cold. As you descended the stairs, the crackling warmth from the hearth grew stronger, and for a brief moment, you felt the tiniest bit of relief.

But as soon as you entered, you saw him.

Mattheo was there, pacing in front of the fire, his face drawn, his shoulders hunched with tension. The sight of him, standing there as though he were waiting for you, sent a fresh wave of anger through you, burning hotter than the fire in the grate. He noticed you immediately, his eyes snapping to yours, an expression of regret flashing across his face.

“Y/N.” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

You held up a hand, cutting him off before he could finish. You couldn’t bear to hear his apologies, his weak attempts to justify what he’d done. Without a word, you turned away from him, heading straight to the fire, sinking down onto the floor in front of it. You wrapped your arms around yourself, staring into the flames, letting their warmth seep into you as you tried to block out his presence.

But Mattheo didn’t leave. He hovered nearby, his footsteps slowing as he stopped his pacing, watching you with a look of guilt and desperation. “Please… just listen to me.” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

You ignored him, keeping your gaze firmly on the flames, focusing on the warmth radiating from them, feeling it ease some of the chill from your skin. But it didn’t touch the cold that had settled in your chest, the bitter feeling of betrayal that refused to fade. The fire was warm, but it wasn’t enough to erase the memory of the lake, the shock of the icy water, the memory of what he’d done.

“Y/N…” Mattheo’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft and filled with a raw, unguarded pain that you’d rarely heard from him. He took a hesitant step forward, as if drawn by something he couldn’t control. “I know I messed up. I know I went too far. But… please. I’m sorry.”

Still, you didn’t respond. The anger simmered in your veins, a fierce, unrelenting heat that fueled you, keeping your silence intact as he stood there, fumbling for words that could never make up for what he’d done.

He moved closer, stopping just a few steps away, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “Please, just say something.” he whispered, his voice raw. “I can’t stand this silence.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth from the fire start to thaw your fingers, though your heart remained cold, guarded against his words. Part of you wanted to lash out, to tell him exactly what you thought, to give voice to the storm of hurt and anger inside you. But another part, the part that was exhausted and worn down by the events of the night, didn’t have the strength for another fight.

You shook your head, focusing on the crackling flames, willing him to leave you alone. But he stayed, watching you, his hands clenched at his sides as if he was holding himself back from reaching out to you.

“Y/N… please.” he murmured, his voice breaking. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry.”

Without thinking, you finally looked up, meeting his gaze with a cold, unwavering stare. “Sorry isn’t enough, Mattheo.” you said, your voice low and steady. “You crossed a line.”

He flinched, the words hitting him like a physical blow. He took a shaky breath, his eyes filled with a desperate sadness as he struggled to find a response. But there was nothing he could say to fix this, no apology that could erase what he’d done.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, swallowing any attempt at words. For the first time, you saw Mattheo’s usual mask of arrogance and control slip, his expression turning raw and exposed, like he was standing on the edge of something he couldn’t come back from. His eyes held a helplessness that made your heart ache, even through the anger and hurt that weighed you down. He seemed utterly lost, each second of your silence stripping away his defences, leaving him with nothing but the heavy weight of his own regret.

After a long, shaky breath, Mattheo glanced around the common room, his gaze landing on a thick blanket draped across one of the couches. He took a moment, seemingly gathering his courage, before reaching for it. Moving slowly, as if afraid of breaking the fragile quiet, he wrapped the blanket over his arm, then walked around to sit behind you. You felt his presence press close, your breath catching as he settled in, his legs framing yours.

Before you could react, he gently placed the blanket over your shoulders and pulled it around both of you, wrapping you in its warmth. He shifted, his body pressed against yours, solid and grounding, and as he leaned forward, you could feel his arms around you, hesitant but steady, his hands holding the edges of the blanket close.

The warmth from his body seeped through the fabric, a stark contrast to the lingering chill in your bones. You wanted to push him away, to reject this unexpected closeness, but something stopped you. Perhaps it was the way his arms encircled you so carefully, or the softness of his breath against your neck, barely audible but full of tension and regret. Whatever it was, a small voice inside you whispered not to move, to let the silence and his presence speak for him in a way that his words couldn’t.

He held you there, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, the warmth radiating from him slowly melting away the last remnants of the lake’s cold grip on you. His body was tense, as if he was bracing himself for rejection, yet he stayed, unmoving, simply allowing you to rest against him.

The anger simmering inside you softened slightly, the edges dulled by the unexpected comfort of his embrace. You felt his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slightly on the blanket as he shifted, drawing you closer. His arms around you felt secure, steady, as if he was trying to hold together what he’d nearly shattered.

He spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a rawness you’d never heard from him before. “You’re freezing.” he murmured, and you could feel the tremor in his tone, the guilt that seeped into every word. “I didn’t… I didn’t realise…”

The words hung in the air, unfinished, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud what he already knew—that he’d pushed too far, that he’d let his emotions cloud his judgement in a way that had hurt you. His hand shifted, pressing gently against your arm as he felt the lingering cold beneath your layers, a physical reminder of his mistake.

You felt a surge of conflicting emotions—a part of you wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the hurt he’d caused, but his touch, so careful and remorseful, made it harder to keep your walls up. You stayed still, your heart beating a little faster as you leaned back, just slightly, allowing yourself to rest against him, his warmth a balm against the remaining chill.

After a moment, he spoke again, his voice rough, like he was struggling to find the right words. “I’m sorry.” he whispered, his breath warm against your neck. “For everything… for letting things get so out of hand. I was angry, but that doesn’t make it right.”

His arms tightened around you, and he rested his chin gently against your shoulder, his closeness grounding you in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I don’t know how to explain it.” There was a vulnerability in his tone that you’d never heard before, a crack in his usual confidence that left him exposed.

You swallowed, feeling the last of your anger wane as you listened to him, sensing the weight of his remorse. His head rested against yours, and you could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, as if he was willing you to feel the sincerity in his words through his touch alone.

For a moment, the common room was silent, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the soft, even rhythm of his breathing. You sat there, wrapped in the blanket, cocooned in his warmth, and felt the chill finally start to fade, replaced by an unexpected sense of peace.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, a question weighted with all the confusion, hurt, and disbelief that had built up over the night. You felt his arms tighten around you, his grip growing more secure, as if he could keep you there simply by holding on a little closer.

Mattheo took a deep, shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling slowly behind you. His hesitation was palpable, and for a moment, you thought he might not answer. But then he spoke, his voice low and strained, as if he was forcing himself to admit something he’d kept buried for far too long.

“I can’t bear seeing someone else touch you.” he murmured, the words barely a whisper. “It drives me insane. I want to be the only one to… to be close to you.” He paused, and his hand gently pressed against your arm, as if to make his point clearer. “The thought of someone else being the one you look at, the one you laugh with... I just can’t stand it.”

A quiet sigh escaped him, the sound soft but laced with regret. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, his touch lingering with an intensity that held all the things he struggled to say. “I know I went about it all wrong. I know I hurt you.” His voice dropped, quiet but steady. “But I don’t know how to… how to want you and not ruin it.”

You took a shaky breath, his words sinking in, a strange mixture of relief and frustration settling over you. “If that’s what you wanted…” you said softly, your voice carrying a hint of sadness, “then you went about it in the worst way possible, Mattheo.”

He nodded, his head dipping against yours, the warmth of his breath brushing against your cheek. “I know.” he whispered, his tone filled with a raw honesty that made your heart ache. “I know I messed up, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

Your chest tightened, the remnants of your anger softening as you sensed the vulnerability in his words, the way his grip on you seemed to hold a quiet desperation. For all his flaws, for all the anger and tension that had passed between you, there was a part of him that wanted to make things right, even if he didn’t fully know how.

Slowly, you shifted, resting your head gently on his shoulder, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a comforting weight. You turned slightly, just enough to catch his gaze, your eyes meeting his in the flickering glow of the firelight. His expression was guarded, but his eyes held a depth of feeling, a storm of emotions he could no longer hide.

He stared at you, his gaze intense and searching, as though he was trying to understand what you were thinking, what you were feeling. His eyes drifted down, and he bit his lip softly, his brow furrowing in that familiar way that revealed his uncertainty. His fingers tightened their hold, pressing into your arm gently but firmly, as if anchoring himself in the moment.

The tension in the air was thick, and your heartbeat got a little faster, each beat echoing in the silence that had settled between you. You watched as his eyes flickered to your lips, the faintest glimmer of hesitation crossing his face before he met your gaze again, something unspoken lingering in his expression.

He swallowed, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “I don’t deserve this chance… but I want it.” His hand gently traced the curve of your arm, his touch both hesitant and possessive, as if he feared losing you yet couldn’t resist the urge to hold you closer. “I want… us.” he whispered, barely above a breath, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt the vulnerability in his words, the fragile hope beneath the weight of his regret. The warmth of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, made it hard to hold onto your anger, to resist the quiet yearning in his expression. With a soft sigh, you leaned into him, letting your forehead rest against his, feeling his breath mix with yours in the small, shared space.

“Then show me.” you murmured, your voice gentle but firm. “If you want this, show me that you can do better. Show me that you can be the one… without hurting me.”

A spark of determination flickered in his eyes as he held you close. “I will,” he promised, his voice raw and unsteady, carrying a weight that seemed to settle in the space between you. His hand lifted slowly, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek as he cupped your face, his touch warm and grounding. He held you there, close and steady, his gaze locked onto yours with a quiet, unyielding intensity that left no doubt—he meant every word.

Ever so slowly, he leaned in. His eyes never left yours, as if giving you a moment to pull away, to say something, to stop him if you wanted to. But your breath caught, and despite every instinct in your mind screaming for you to pull back, you stayed. You could feel his warmth, the softness of his hand cradling your cheek, the gentle brush of his lips as they closed the distance, capturing yours in a kiss that was tender, hesitant—almost as if he were afraid of breaking something fragile.

Your heart pounded, a rush of emotions flooding through you, a confusing tangle of anger, longing, and vulnerability that left you unsure. Part of you wanted to pull away, to hold onto the walls you’d built to keep him out, but another part, buried deep, wanted to melt into the kiss, to allow yourself to feel something other than the hurt he had caused.

His lips moved softly against yours, patient and unhurried, and the gentleness of it surprised you, easing some of the tension in your body. You felt his hand tighten ever so slightly on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that made your heart ache. There was a vulnerability in his kiss, an unspoken apology in the way he held you, and you felt yourself caught between wanting to give in and wanting to guard yourself from any more hurt.

The conflicting emotions churned within you, and your mind remained torn. Every rational thought warned you to pull back, to protect yourself from him and the mess he’d made. But as his lips lingered on yours, soft and sincere, you found it harder to resist the pull, to ignore the gentle urgency in his touch that seemed to plead for forgiveness, for something new.

For a heartbeat, you allowed yourself to lean into him, letting his warmth melt away some of the bitterness and hurt that had settled between you. His other hand moved to rest on your stomach,his touch grounding you, his kiss growing deeper but never forceful, as though he was waiting for you to decide, to choose whether to close the distance or pull away.

Slowly, hesitantly, you shifted, adjusting your body to angle more toward him, opening yourself just slightly, allowing yourself to lean into his touch. The tension in your chest eased bit by bit as you deepened the kiss, surprising him. You felt a subtle, almost inaudible gasp from him, a momentary pause, as if he hadn’t expected you to respond with such openness.

But he didn’t resist; instead, he welcomed you, his hand tightening slightly on your stomach, pulling you closer. His lips softened, responding to the shift in your movements with an eagerness that was barely restrained, as though he, too, was savouring each second, afraid it might slip away.

His fingers brushed gently towards your jaw, trailing down to your neck as he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours in the warm, shared space. The world around you faded, leaving only the steady beat of his heart against you, the warmth of his hands, and the gentle, growing intensity of the kiss.

You could feel the weight of his feelings in every touch, each small movement laced with something raw, something real that left you both vulnerable and secure. The hurt and anger that had kept you guarded all night seemed to dissolve with every lingering moment, replaced by a fragile trust, a quiet hope that maybe this was something worth holding onto.

As the kiss deepened, his thumb brushed against your skin in soothing circles, his touch tender and sure, in a way that made your heart race and calm at once. You allowed yourself, for the first time, to let go of the hurt, to let yourself trust the sincerity in his touch. And as you pulled him closer, you felt the edges of something new taking shape between you—an unspoken promise, a chance for something real.

The warmth from the fire, combined with Mattheo’s steady embrace, chased away the last lingering traces of the cold that had seeped into your bones. The biting chill of the lake was a distant memory now, completely overshadowed by the comforting heat radiating from him. Slowly, you felt your muscles relax, the weight of exhaustion finally catching up to you as you leaned against him, your head nestled against his chest. His heartbeat was a gentle rhythm, soothing in its constancy, and as your eyes fluttered shut, you surrendered to the quiet peace that had settled between you.

Mattheo stayed perfectly still, his arms steady around you as if afraid to disturb the fragile calm you’d found together. His hand moved lightly, his fingers tracing a soft, calming pattern on your arm as he watched you begin to drift, your breathing slowing with each passing second. He didn’t say a word, his gaze softening as he took in the peaceful expression on your face, a stark contrast to the tension and anger that had filled the air just an hour ago.

As he felt you lean more heavily against him, he realised you’d fallen asleep, your breath warm against his chest, each exhale slow and steady. For a moment, he simply held you there, savouring the quiet intimacy of the moment, a sense of protectiveness rising within him that he hadn’t fully acknowledged before. The thought of you being hurt, of you feeling even a fraction of the pain he’d caused, stirred something deep within him, something he wanted to make up for, to mend.

With a gentle touch, he shifted, adjusting his position so he could cradle you more comfortably. He moved with the utmost care, sliding his arms beneath you and lifting you slightly, guiding you so that you rested more fully against him. Slowly, he pulled you up onto the couch, his movements tender, cautious, as he settled you on his lap. The blanket was still wrapped around both of you, cocooning you in warmth, and he adjusted it so that you were completely covered, nestled close to him.

You stirred slightly in your sleep, shifting to settle into him more comfortably, your head resting against his shoulder, and he instinctively tightened his hold, cradling you gently. His hand came to rest lightly on your back, his fingers brushing over the fabric of your sweater in a rhythmic, soothing motion.

He let out a quiet breath, his gaze lingering on you with an expression of pure tenderness that he’d rarely allowed himself to show. The walls he’d built, the armour he wore, all of it had faded in this moment, leaving only the raw, unguarded feeling of wanting to keep you safe, to make up for the hurt he’d caused, and to hold you as though you were something precious.

For the first time, he understood just how much you meant to him, and as he sat there, with you asleep in his arms, he made a silent promise—to protect this fragile trust, to be better, to be the person worthy of the trust you’d given him tonight.

He stayed like that, unmoving, his own heartbeat slowing to match yours, as the fire crackled softly beside you. The night stretched on, quiet and peaceful, and he held you close, letting the silence speak for him, his heart holding the words he couldn’t yet say.

The warmth of the fire wrapped around you, lulling you deeper into sleep as you lay comfortably in Mattheo’s arms, his hand resting protectively on your back. He stayed silent, his gaze fixed on you, every inch of his attention focused on the gentle rise and fall of your chest. The common room was peaceful, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the soft murmur of your steady breaths.

But the quiet didn’t last.

The heavy door to the common room creaked open, and Mattheo’s head snapped up. In came Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and Daphne, their voices low but filled with curiosity and concern as they stepped inside. They seemed to be in mid-conversation, muttering about the way you’d rushed off earlier and Mattheo’s strange behaviour at the party.

As soon as they saw the two of you on the couch, however, they fell silent, their eyes widening as they took in the sight: you, fast asleep in Mattheo’s arms, wrapped up in a thick blanket with his hand resting gently on your back.

Pansy’s mouth dropped open, her eyebrows shooting up as she nudged Draco, who looked equally stunned but managed to mask it with a small smirk. “Well, isn’t this a sight.” she whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Blaise exchanged a quick look with Theo, both of them looking thoroughly amused. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.” Blaise murmured, a grin creeping onto his face. “Riddle actually being… soft?”

Mattheo shot them a warning look, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he tightened his hold on you protectively, silently begging them not to wake you. But Theo, never one to let a good opportunity slip by, leaned closer, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Did we miss the part where you finally confessed your undying love, Mattheo?” he whispered, barely able to contain his laughter. “Or was this just a spur-of-the-moment cuddle session?”

Mattheo’s face flushed, and he shot Theo a glare, his voice low and firm. “Shut it, Theodore.” he muttered, his fingers gently tracing your shoulder, as if reassuring himself you were still asleep.

Daphne, usually one to tease, softened as she took in the sight of you nestled peacefully against him. She stepped forward, offering him a small, understanding smile.“It was about time you two figured this out.”

With that, she placed a hand on Pansy’s arm, guiding her toward the staircase. The others exchanged a final round of amused glances, Blaise giving Mattheo a playful salute as they turned to leave, their footsteps fading up the stairs.

Once they were gone, Mattheo let out a quiet sigh, his gaze returning to you. His hand resumed its gentle tracing along your back, his expression softening as he took in the calm, content look on your face. Despite the teasing, he felt a rare sense of peace, as if, for the first time, everything was exactly how it was supposed to be.

He leaned his head back, pulling the blanket tighter around you both, and let the warmth of the fire and your presence lull him into a quiet calm, the world around you slipping away, leaving only the unspoken promise he held in his heart.

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