"Yaa… Hauen-ah!" Suho's voice echoed from the gym, whining, "This is too much! How can you double down on the workout session?"
From the balcony, her calm voice floated in. "I just added two more leg stretches. That's not equal to double."
Bora quietly placed his protein shake on the table, trying her best not to laugh. "Ma'am is right, sir," she said before escaping like a soldier dodging a grenade.
Suho gasped. "You're being cruel to me! Have some mercy on your poor husband. And you, Bora!, how could you take her side? Remember, you work for me!"
"Stop yelling at Bora and start your warm-up already," Hauen called out, utterly unfazed.
He groaned loudly, glaring at the whiteboard in front of him that listed the day's routine. "I regret confessing to you!"
"Thank you," she replied sweetly from afar. "Now suffer for a lifetime."
Bora, halfway down the hall, broke into a soft giggle at their early morning banter.
"I'll complain to your mom!" he shouted one last time.
"Please go ahead," came her cheerful reply.
He sighed in defeat, muttering under his breath as he followed her orders, his dramatic misery echoing through the gym.
After a while, Hauen stepped into the gym.
Suho was on the treadmill, sweat glistening along his temple, his brows knitted as he struggled through the final minutes but refused to give up. She couldn't help smiling, that determined face, that stubborn energy, even when he was clearly tired.
She leaned against the treadmill rail, a fond smile tugging her lips. "What's up, Teddy?"
Without looking at her, he muttered, "Don't talk to me."
Her lips curved. "Are you mad, Teddy?"
He said nothing, gaze fixed stubbornly ahead.
She leaned closer. "Mr. Romeo~" she teased.
His face immediately betrayed him, a shy smile flickered, quickly replaced by an annoyed frown. "Don't call me that."
Hauen laughed softly. "Then talk to me."
"I'm mad. I don't want to talk," he said, eyes fixed stubbornly ahead.
She smiled, leaning a little closer. "Oh, really? Then how can I make it up to my sulky husband?"
His heart skipped, her tone, that teasing glint in her eyes, and he instantly looked away, shy. "You don't have to do anything…" he muttered, "just don't tease me."
She chuckled softly. "Hmm… I can't promise that, Teddy," she pinched his cheeks, teasing him more.
"Yaa… Kang Hauen," he whined.
"Kim Hauen now. Officially," she corrected, chin tilted proudly.
He blinked, then bit his lip, clearly flustered again. "Okay… Kim Hauen."
She grinned, satisfied. "Good. Now come, let's go to the garden. It's time for walking on the rocks."
He sighed but followed her anyway. In the garden, she guided him just enough, then stepped back, letting him walk on his own, but carefully observing him, not letting him fall.
He smiled quietly to himself. He liked this side of her, strict, steady, but overflowing with care in every little gesture.
She wouldn't let him escape effort, but also she'd never let him fall either.
And somehow, that balance felt like love.
New York City, USA.Yerin sat at the bar counter, swirling the glass in her hand before taking another shot of vodka. The burn down her throat was nothing compared to the burn in her chest. Ever since that viral video of Suho, crying, clinging, confessing to Hauen, she hadn't been herself.
Each replay of that moment was like a knife twisting deeper. The man who once swore he loved her more than anything… now looked at another woman like that. Like she was his entire world.
Her stomach turned with jealousy and disbelief. How could you move on, Suho…?
She finished the last shot in one gulp, the bitterness barely cutting through her spiraling thoughts. The loud music, laughter, and flashing lights around her did nothing to drown out his voice in her head. It was suffocating.
Tossing a few bills on the counter, she grabbed her bag and walked out into the cold New York night. The streetlights blurred slightly in her alcohol-hazed vision as she got into her car.
"Take me to him," she muttered to the driver, her tone sharp, eyes glassy.
The driver nodded silently and started the engine. As the city lights streaked past the window, Yerin sat there, silent, furious, and heartbreakingly alone, trying to convince herself she wasn't still in love with the man who had already forgotten her.
Knock, knock.
The door creaked open. A woman, who is a housekeeper, stood there, startled to see Yerin, disheveled yet breathtaking, her perfume mixing faintly with the scent of vodka."Sir is upstairs," the woman said quietly.
Without a word, Yerin walked past her, heels clicking against the marble floor. Even through the haze of alcohol, she carried that familiar grace, poised, untouchable, and heartbreakingly broken inside.
She reached the top of the stairs and pushed open the bedroom door. Empty.Only the faint sound of running water filled the silence.
Her gaze shifted to the bathroom door.She walked closer, heart pounding, vision unsteady, and turned the knob.
Steam drifted out, warm and thick.He turned at the sound, water dripping from his hair down his body. "Yerin...?" he said, startled. "What are you—"
But before he could finish, she closed the space between them and captured his lips.
It was sudden, desperate, a storm of confusion and longing. Her hands clutched his shoulder, dragging him back against the cold tile wall. The man stumbled, breath catching, instinctively steadying her by the waist, kissing her back, matching her energy.
Her kiss was messy, heavy with everything she couldn't say: anger, heartbreak, craving, loss. The red of her lipstick stained his lips, trailing the corners of his mouth.
After a while, she pulled back, catching her breath, her lips swollen, eyes hazy, mascara faintly smudged from the warmth between them. Both of them were breathing hard, the air heavy with everything unsaid.
Her gaze trailed over him slowly, taking in his naked self from head to toe.
She undressed herself, and he watched her, his eyes dark and intense. She pulled him closer and whispered, "Make me forget myself… make me drown in pleasure."
That's it, that was all it took. He pulled her closer and kissed her deeply, full of hunger and need. His hands gripped her thighs, lifting her as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Carrying her out of the bathroom, he lay her on the bed and kissed every inch of her, giving her everything she wanted. Her soft moans filled the room endlessly as he pleased her completely.
After a while, he flopped beside her, chest rising and falling, sweat clinging to his skin. The room was silent except for the echo of their uneven breaths.
Yerin lay beside him, eyes fixed on the ceiling, expression unreadable.
Kevin turned his head, watching her profile, the soft curve of her jaw, the faint glisten of perspiration along her neck. A small, tired smile touched his lips. Slowly, his hand found its way from her waist, tracing upward, over the curve of her chest, along her collarbone, until his fingers brushed her cheek.
She turned to look at him, still catching her breath.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice trembling with quiet sincerity.
Her heart dropped.
For a second, she held his gaze. Then she sat up abruptly, the sheets rustling as she pulled them around her bare body. Her hair was messy, her lipstick half-faded, but her tone was steady."I'm sorry, Kevin," she said, not meeting his eyes. "But I don't love you."
His smile vanished, the warmth in his eyes dimming. He had been rejected again, one more wound added to the same place that never truly healed.
Kevin Choi, Korean-American, was a man built of precision and ambition. The son of a Korean father and an American mother, born in Seoul but ruling the corporate towers of New York. A rising businessman in America, known for his charm and composure. But in front of Yerin, all that control crumbled.
He had met her four months ago in a high-class bar in New York. She had been leaning against the counter, sipping whiskey with that careless grace that could undo any man's reason. Her confidence, her bold laughter, the magnetic way she carried herself, he was captivated instantly.
Since then, their paths had tangled into a pattern of desire and denial.
They had spent many steamy nights since they met. He had loved every inch of her skin, every sound she made, every glance she threw his way, but her heart? Her heart was a fortress he could never breach.
And no matter how many times she pushed him away, he couldn't stop coming back. Every time she came to him, he surrendered himself, hoping maybe this time she'd let him in.
Now, looking at her, his voice cracked.
"Why, Yerin?" he asked softly. "What's the reason? I love you so much, baby. I need you. I promise, I'll treat you like my queen, every single day."
She exhaled sharply, finally turning to face him. "Stop it, Kevin," she said coldly. "Don't waste your time if you're looking for love from me."
She stood up, but he reached out suddenly, grabbing her wrist before she could walk away. She froze, startled, eyes meeting his burning ones.
He pulled her back onto the bed, his body hovering over hers. Her heartbeat quickened, but her gaze didn't waver.
"Kevin—"
He kissed her, rough, desperate, filled with everything he couldn't say. But she pushed him away with strength that startled even him.
"Behave, Kevin," she warned, voice steady, breath shallow.
He stared at her, his eyes red, emotions spilling from the cracks he tried so hard to seal."Why?" he whispered again, broken now. "Why can't you love me? What's missing in me?"
His voice shook. "I've got everything, money, fame, power, beauty. I can give you the world, Yerin. I'll love you, please you, worship you like a goddess if that's what it takes. Just tell me, why can't you give me your heart?"
Her gaze softened for a moment, but only for a moment.
"Because I love someone else," she said quietly.
His breath hitched. He searched her face, hoping she was lying. But her eyes, calm and merciless, told the truth.
"I loved that man for nine years," she continued, her tone like ice. "And I still do. my heart belongs to him."
"Who?" Kevin asked, voice cracking, almost pleading.
"You don't have to know."
She pushed him aside gently, stood up, and walked to the closet. Pulling one of his shirts, she slipped it on, the fabric hanging loosely around her. She fastened a belt around her waist, fixed her lipstick, ran her fingers through her hair as though the moment hadn't just shattered someone.
Kevin lay there, still naked, still broken, watching her every move.
She turned to him once more, a faint smirk playing on her lips."Thank you for your time, Kevin," she said softly, leaning down to give him a brief, meaningless peck on his lips.
And then she left, heels clicking against the marble floor until the sound faded behind the closing door.
Kevin stared at the empty doorway, eyes glassy, chest hollow.
"I'll win your heart," he whispered to the silence, voice trembling but resolute. "Whoever it belongs to."