The sun was well above the horizon as it warmed up the cold, fall air in Seoul. Not only did it warm up Seoul, but Hana. After a long night of contemplating what she would say to Baekhyun and waiting for her husband, she had fallen asleep. The warmth of the sun beamed onto her face. And, so she continued to sleep at the nice feeling, but the sudden clattering of pans jolted the poor girl awake. She looked at the big red numbers on her alarm clock as her eyes adjusted to the afternoon sun.

Hana gasped at the sudden realization that she had heard pans clatter. Her eyes widened in horror. That noise definitely came from the kitchen and for one thing, she knew well Baekhyun didn’t cook nor did he rarely enter the kitchen which only meant one thing, she had somehow forgotten to lock the door and a burglar had made their way in. And, so she found herself looking for the nearest weapon in her room. She oddly looked up at the picture of their wedding day, the only visual memory she had. He had looked so handsome that day, but the way he held her in his arms said it all. She had found herself reaching for the picture, after all, his smile could have killed. Another loud noise came from below and she searched for a better option. The best thing she found was the thickest book that laid on her desk. She got off her bed and grabbed her book.

Hana slowly and slyly moved her way down the stairs making sure her steps were quiet, making sure she missed all the creaks the house made when stepped wrongly. She held her book near her right ear, both hands holding on firmly as she walked through the dining hall. She winced at the pain that shot through her right hand. She made her way over to the source of the clatter making sure her back touched every wall and she waited at the entrance as she prepared her heart. It was beating so fast she was sure it could have jumped out of her chest. Her hands were ready to swing when the intruder moved.

She saw out of the corner of her eyes movement, and with her eyes shut, she swung the book with full force as the intruder came towards her way.

“What am I even doing?” He mumbled, and immediately she recognized the voice, but it was too late.

She was stuck in the moment of the book being swung with full momentum, and could no longer stop. She slowly opened her eyes as she heard him hissing, regret dangerously hanging around, and even more so when he led her to the dining room for a word.

“Have a seat,” he finally motioned to her. He held his nose, still in pain from her swing.

She was amazed at how much he had made, but she also felt hesitant. With every sweet event that occurred, he also seemed to follow it with something that would hurt her.

“S...sorry, I thought we had an intruder,” she said as she motioned to his nose.

He only closed his eyes in disbelief as he let out a heavy breath. He held his hand in the air, waving her off, telling her he'll be alright.

“I didn't know you cooked,” she tried to lighten the mood. The palms of her hands were clammy. She sat down and pinned them in between her inner thigh. Hana had one thought in mind and she really didn't know how to bring it up. Last night she was prepared as she recited the words over and over again, but now that she was facing him, her tongue had seemed to be tied and zippered.

Baekhyun began to place the napkin on his lap. His hands reached over to pick up his silverware as he sliced into the beef. She stared at him from across, examining every movement he made, watching his hands slice down on the steak, his face rather nonchalant.

“You made the paper,” he said unamused. He looked up from what he was doing and she immediately pulled away, afraid of eye contact.

Hana picked up her own knife and began to mirror his movements without a word.

“What were you doing with him?! I thought I made myself clear when I told you to watch my image?” his voice suddenly rose and she found her food even more fascinating. “Look at me.” The irritation in him grew.

“You were with Minji too! You don't have the right to be mad at me at all!” she responded.

“At least I don't make the tabloids. Did you think about the company? Abou