Thump. Thump. Thump.

For Kyungha, it could be the sound of her heart thudding against her ribcage. But to be completely honest, it was the intensity of how hard she was banging on Sehun’s door.

The door opens within five minutes. Sehun’s eyes are hard as he glares at her. “Jesus—Kyungha, do you know what time it is?”

She replies, “yes, and I don’t care. Are you going to let me in or are we going to stand here all night?”

He heaves a sigh, stepping back and holding the door open. Kyungha walks in, her skin burning from how fast she raced up here. “What do you want, Kyungha?” Sehun finally asks after a long incredulous stare.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kyungha asks. She knew his reason, but she’d wanted to hear it from him herself. Maybe that could soothe the turmoil in her stomach.

He looks like he has absolutely no clue what the hell she was talking about. And yes, Kyungha didn’t know what the hell she was doing in his apartment at five in the morning when they both had work in two hours.

He ignores her questions. “Go home. You have work tomorrow,” he urges, arms crossed.

Kyungha shakes her head defiantly. “Let’s be honest. I can’t sleep, and you can’t sleep either.”

“What’s your question?” He gives her another chance, resigning because he knows that once she’d set her mind on something, she wasn’t going to give up until she’d got what she’d wanted.

“You—“ The words get stuck in . Her rationality was kicking back in, whirring—telling her that she should stop while she can. But Kyungha is tired of letting other people win. If she didn’t at least try, then Minjung would ultimately win. And no, she wasn’t confronting him purely because of Minjung.

Kyungha had realized that he was right. They were magic together. They are magic. He’d casted her under a spell, and she’d do anything to get him back.

So she takes another deep breath before continuing, “I met Minjung earlier. She told me everything.” Then, Kyungha tilts her head, throwing down her weapons. “Why didn’t you at least try to make me understand?”

Sehun’s jaw tenses as he looks away from her. “It wasn’t my story to tell.”

She reaches out to cup his face so he would look at her. “You’re so damn nice. Always so ing kind. You’re always thinking about others. And I love that about you, don’t get me wrong—” Her eyes water, and she presses on, “but when will you finally think about yourself? Don’t you think it’s time to love yourself too?”

His lips fall open, and he releases a shaky breath. “Kyungha.” He’s begging her. She can hear it in his voice. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Stop running away from yourself, Hoon. I know for a fact that you aren’t a coward. A coward wouldn’t tell the girl that he loved her even after she broke his heart. You’re so much more than that. Why can’t you see that?”

Sehun bites his lips. “Stop it, Kyungha. Go home.”

Kyungha doesn’t relent. She stands closer, flushed against him. She can hear his tiny gasps of breath. He’s scared. Vulnerable. “I love you,” she blurts.

And well, there was no stopping now. Everything around them freezes. The ambient sounds. The car horns from early commuters. The distant underground rumbling from the subway. The lights fade away. And time stops.

Sehun inhales sharply the second the words leave . He stares at her like she’s gone completely insane. And Kyungha is ing insane because she’s crazy in love with him. But right now, she has no time to leave regrets. She was going to convey everything she’d felt for him.

Kyungha elaborates because frankly, Sehun is still in shock. Which is saddening to her. He was always so dependable. He was her pillar. And she was lost in the facade because he was always the one taking care of her. He rarely showed any weakness. But right now, all she could see was the shell of a man. Inside him, a broken boy crying for his mother. Questioning why he was abandoned. Her words echoing in his mind constantly reminding him that he would only ruin the lives of the people he'd loved.

That’s why Oh Sehun doesn’t get close to anyone. He’s got commitment issues that run deeper than her, and hell, before meeting him—before loving him, she had sworn off relationships for her entire life.

“Hoon. That night—Kyungsoo’s afterparty—I’d wanted to stay out there on that balcony. I wanted you to put your lips on me. It wasn’t just you. I felt it too. That instant connection. Oh, ing hell—instalove and that is something I thought I would never use in my world of cynicism.” Kyungha’s lips twitch upward. She was about to deliver the cheesiest monologue that rivaled even Shakespeare. And Oh Sehun was going to listen to every ing word that came out of .

She heaves a long breath and continues, "and when you sewed my dress. That was the cutest ing thing I’ve ever seen in my life. A grown man using suturing techniques on a priceless dress simply because he cared enough to.

The diner. You took me to your special place. You dropped your guard around me. Our conversation was stupid—you can hardly believe that two geniuses were bantering about the most irrelevant—but as irrelevant as it was, my heart fluttered. You made me feel things. You made me doubt myself for the first time that night. I thought I knew myself.

I was ing wrong. I’d never been so wrong, but I was at the age of sixteen.

When we sleep together at night and you would snuggle up to me, it made me crazy, but at the same time, I felt so safe, so secure. So like myself and unlike myself. For ’s sakes, I’m a walking contradiction—but when you hold me like that—like I’m the most precious thing in your life, it made me feel things.

You’re not the only one who feels a million things in the span of nothing. I always feel that way, believe me.

The beach. God, you made me cave so hard. I didn’t plan on kissing you. But then again, laid out plans?” Kyungha snorts, chagrined. Then, she’s letting her eyes fall away for a second until she can focus again. Her eyes flicker into his brown, pools of conflict. “When you smile at me, all of that fades into the background. Because when I’m with you, we do things our own way. We ignore the judgment. We ignore the disapproval. Hell, we ignore the stigma. Why? Because we’re ing magic, you’ve said it yourself.

And you’re right. You’ve been the rightest thing in my entire ing life. From kissing you, from ing you, from bantering with you—from dating you. I’ve never regretted less in my life.

When I saw you at the club for the first time, I could feel my lungs stop working. You were stunning. You still made me speechless. Every time I look at you, it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time.

And then the hospital—“ Kyungha sharply inhales. “—do you know how much self-control I had to exert in order to stay away from you? I’d unknowingly loved you so much that I was afraid—constantly afraid to confront you about our past. I was selfish. And maybe I’m being selfish right now. After all, how many times does a girl have to break a boy’s heart until she realizes she’s a ing ?

But in Dani’s hospital room? You earned the right to strip away my wall. From day one, you’ve always been on my side. As I worked against you, you stood upright, patiently waiting for me. So I kissed you and that was the best ing decision of my life.

So don’t tell me to leave. Don’t tell me that we shouldn’t be together because you’re scared. Because, Hoon, I’m scared less right now. But you don’t see me taking the first train and riding off into oblivion.

I love you. I love you so much that it hurts to breathe when you’re not standing next to me. You’re special to me. You’re my entire ing world. And look at me, can’t you see it? How much I’ve changed in these past months because of you?

I’m still here. I’m rambling off my ing right now. I’ve actually become Juliet’s reincarnate. So, Oh Sehun, make the choice. Because I’ve made mine. I’m staying right here, telling you the absolute truth like I promised I would.”

Silence.

Kyungha has never needed air as much as she’d needed it in this exact moment. She went off the rails, and she was afraid that she’d sent him into shock.

Because for the next five minutes, he doesn’t utter a single word. He simply stands there, blinking rapidly at her. Still absorbing her words.

She drops her hands, sliding it down over his chest. He drops his gaze away from her face. And then he says, “I’ll think about it.”

And Kyungha feels every part of herself being submerged into a vat of numbing arctic water.

Did Kyungha give up when Sehun didn’t answer her phone calls or text messages in the next three days? No.

Did she feel herself die inside a little from mortification and possibly—rejection? Yes.

In fact, she’s having a field day, avoiding everyone’s questions at work.

Did you two really break up?

Why did you two break up?

So, it’s really, really over? No going back?

Kyungha has no ing clue. He wasn’t telling her anything. Frankly, he could be dead in a ditch somewhere and she wouldn’t even have known. That’s how quiet he was being. Not a pip from him and certainly not a squeak.

And for a minute, Kyungha didn’t doubt that it was over. Because honestly, he didn’t have to give her another chance. Maybe they were never meant to be together. She’d hurt him for more than several occasions, but he came back each time.

So how could she possibly blame him for not coming back this time? If she had to deal with herself, she’d ran away and stayed away.

Minjung officially resigned. Kyungha couldn’t walk anywhere in the hospital without hearing hypotheses surrounding the situation. The rumors had ranged from her getting knocked up, quitting out of embarrassment to her getting a better offer at another hospital.

Kyungha chooses to believe that Minjung has simply decided to turn over to a new leaf. Other than that, she couldn’t say much for the latter. Minjung still deserved to burn in hell for the torment she’d put Sehun through.

Kyungha had imagined how excited Sehun was to be a dad. And she knew that he’d be the best ing dad in the world. There’s no doubt about that.

But he had to come home after hearing that it wasn’t his baby, but even then, she knew he would’ve stayed anyway. Because Oh Sehun didn’t discriminate when it came to children. Every child was precious to him, and he was practically Mother Theresa. And to make things worse, she’d gotten rid of the baby without regarding his opinion—as if three years of dating and eventually, engagement meant nothing to her.

Park Minjung had toyed with him. She'd played him so hard that Sehun was afraid to truly trust his heart with anyone. Kyungha would be surprised if he could ever see a newborn and not be traumatized. But who was she kidding?

Seeing children has become a part of his life—his day job. But he still hung in there every day, doing his best to save these little angels. And for that, Kyungha had admired him. To her, he was far from a coward. And she wouldn’t blame him for his choice because she truly loved him, and if he wanted, she would stay away.

“Doctor!” Emmy’s panic-stricken voice crashes through the fog of Kyungha’s thoughts.

She startles from her daze to see Emmy hunched over, heaving big breaths. “What’s wrong, Emmy?”

“Dani! Dani’s gone!”

Kyungha didn’t know the power of two words could send her mind spiraling off in an instant panic. “What? What do you mean?”

Emmy shakes her head, eyes round. “This morning, I went to drop off her breakfast, but she wasn’t there. I checked everywhere. Under the bed. In the bathrooms. Nowhere. I’d already reported her missing to the security guards but it’s been hours and we still have no clue where she is.”

Kyungha doesn’t stay to listen to another word. She slams the door of 1308 open, and it startles Sehun out of his sleep. He springs up, the question clear in his eyes. “Dani’s—“ Her breath hitches. “—she’s missing. Help me. Help me find her,” she stutters, her fingers shaking.

Sehun takes large strides to her, pulling her into his embrace. “We’re going to find her. In the meantime, take a deep breath, sweetheart,” he gently urges.

When Kyungha isn’t a pile of anxiety and panic, they storm off after informing the hospital they were going to take their search outside.

“Oh my god, where could she be? New York is ing huge. She could be anywhere. What if we never find her? What if—“ She intakes a sharp heap of air. “What if something happens to her?”

Sehun takes her hand, interlacing their fingers. “We’ll find her,” he promises. Then, they begin their search.

They check the parking garage. They check the front of the hospital. They check the rooftop. In an hour, they’ve circled around the entire exterior of Mount Sinai.

But nothing. There’s no sign of the little girl anywhere. Kyungha is on the verge of losing it again. And then Sehun’s phone goes off in his pocket.

“Hello?” He answers. “A little girl? Brown hair, mid-length? She’s around 3’7? That’s her.” And then silence as he listens to the other person. “Thank you. I’ll be there in ten.”

Kyungha peers at him. “Who was that?”

“Someone found her.” Sehun laughs, palming his face. “She’d memorized my personal cell. That little idiot.”

Kyungha smiles as well, and then for a second, the two forget about the situation they’re in. She’s staring into his eyes, and he holds her gaze intently.

But then Sehun breaks it, and he says, “let’s go. She’s waiting for us.”

The two of them sprint nonstop to Central Park. Kyungha forgets about the ache in her lungs. All she can hear is herself chanting Dani’s name over and over.

“Over there,” Sehun says, pointing to the play structure in the distance. Kyungha could faintly make out the silhouette of a girl who looks very familiar to Dani.

“Dani!” Kyungha shouts, running off on her own.

Dani’s eyes widen as she sees Kyungha. The older girl kneels down, throwing her arms over the younger’s neck. “Why would you run away? Do you know how I would feel if something happened to the girl that I barely managed to save?”

The younger girl stares at her with guilt. She drops her head. After Sehun exchanges quick words with the person who found Dani, he heads over to them.

He opens his mouth to scold her, but he stops. And Kyungha stops, both of them stunned into silence.

“I’m…sorry.”

Kyungha blinks rapidly. The voice is unfamiliar to her ears. It’s rough and quiet and soft—insecure like it hadn't been used for a long time. But it was unmistakable. Dani just spoke.

Sehun drops to their level, squatting next to Kyungha. He brings both of them into a hug. “You better be sorry, Seo Dani.” He sounds absolutely ecstatic. And Kyungha is amazed. He’s glowing. Dani is glowing.

Her heart does weird backflips, filling with blood. Beating faster. She bites her lips. How was it possible that she was falling in love in this grave situation?

Kyungha drops her gaze, refocusing on the situation at hand. “Why did you run away?” She asks, ruffling Dani’s hair.

Dani doesn’t say anything. Kyungha understands, so she stands, holding the girl’s hand. “Let’s go back,” she tells her.

Dani nods excitedly and proceeds to grab Sehun’s other hand. The three of them walk back to the hospital quietly. She ignores the intrusive stares from the passersby. They’d no longer have an effect on her.

She had her two favorite people right beside her, and nothing was going to change that.

When they bring Dani back to her room, Ms. Seo is waiting with a crossed expression. She’s shouting at Emmy, throwing an unnecessary fit.

When Ms. Seo sees Kyungha, she gawks at the girl. “You? Again?”

Kyungha cannot help but feel keenly aware of Emmy’s pitiful stare. “Yes, me, again. I saved your daughter. Again. You’re very welcome,” she says, sarcasm laced.

Ms. Seo scoffs. “Leave,” she spats at Kyungha.

“Ms. Seo, stop taking your anger out on my subordinate. You’re being unreasonable. I understand that you’re just worried about your daughter, but Dr. Do hasn’t done anything to hurt Dani.”

Kyungha’s mouth falls open as she stares at Sehun. Why is he standing up for her?

Dani’s mother looks positively pissed. “Don’t tell me what to do, doctor. God, are all doctors here complete nut jobs? I’m taking Dani out of here. We’ll be going to another hospital.”

Kyungha’s stomach twists. “What? No, Dani loves it here. She has friends here.”

“I’m her mother. I know best, so you can shut your mouth, little girl,” the mother snarls.

“You’re never ing here!” Kyungha shouts. Oh no. She could feel the words forming on her tongue and barreling out before she can tell herself to shut up. “How can you call yourself a mother when you don’t even know anything about your daughter? Taking her out of here? You’re going to ruin her livelihood. Do you even care? Where are you half of the time? Dani never talks about you. Have you ever wondered why?”

Ms. Seo gets up close and personal, her nostrils flaring. “Are you trying to lecture me about being a mother? What the hell do you know? You’re a decade younger than me, you little fox.”

Kyungha scoffs. “I may be a decade younger, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure this out, you ignorant witch.”

“Kyungha,” Sehun warns, grabbing her arm.

She pulls it away, glaring back into the woman’s eyes. Ms. Seo pushes at her chest, but she holds out against her. “Don’t ing touch me,” she snaps.

“Then get out of my way!” Dani’s mother shrieks.

“Stop it!”

The whole room becomes silent. Kyungha looks to Sehun who is looking at Dani whose chest is heaving heavily. Emmy opens and closes it repeatedly. Right. She didn’t know Dani could talk either.

“S-stop f-fighting,” the little girl begs, tears springing from her eyes. “M-mommy, stop. Stop h-hurting Kyungha. She—she’s my f-friend.”

And then her mother is kneeling beside her daughter, clutching Dani to her chest. “Oh my god. You’re speaking. You’re…you’re speaking? Oh my god—oh my—my baby girl. I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry, honey.”

Kyungha and Sehun stand back, watching the two. Even if she were hated by most women, a mother will always be a mother. Kyungha turns to Sehun to gauge his expression. Her heart falls, and she didn’t know what she’d expected.

He looks torn—diminished. Sad and helpless. And Kyungha finally understands. She’s right. He’s a broken little boy inside. Still the same kid who’d watched his mother abandon him.

And Kyungha knows what to do now.

“Kyungsoo,” Kyungha asks when they’re curled around the sofa for movie night.

Her brother hums, breaking his eyes from the television. “What is it?”

“Do you have Dr. Oh’s personal cell?”

Kyungsoo straightens, narrowing his eyes. “He retired. I can find you another therapist if you—“

She shakes her head as she pats a sleeping Jungkook leaning against her. “No, it’s for another reason. Just trust me on this,” Kyungha explains.

Jongin squints his eyes at her. “Are you scheming something?”

“No,” she answers, laughing.

Her brother tosses her his phone. “He’s in there somewhere. And whatever happens. Don’t be too disappointed.” It’s like he knows. Kyungha swallows and pushes a genuine, gratified smile onto her lips.

“Thank you, Kyungsoo. I love you.”

He snorts, turning his head back onto Jongin’s chest. “I already know that.”

The hum of the dial gives Kyungha anxiety. If she thought she knew what anxiety was, she was wrong. Completely wrong.

She knew Sehun’s dad was overseas, so she’d tried to find a suitable time to call him. Still, she hopes he picks up. “Hello?” A low, gruff voice comes across the line.

Kyungha fumbles her phone up to her ear. “Hello,” she blurts.

“Who’s this?” Sehun’s dad asks, his tone wary.

“My name is Kyungha. I’m Kyungsoo’s little sister,” she explains.

He gasps. “Oh my gosh!” It looks like he might just recognize her. “Kyungha, sweetie. You must be so grown up now. How’s school—or was it, residency?” He trails off, trying to remember.

Kyungha helps him. “I’m working at Mount Sinai with Sehun.”

He bellows a hearty laugh. “That’s great. How’s my son? Still immature?”

She smiles endearingly. “He’s well. Healthy. I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

His dad hums, “of course! I’ve known your mom and brother since forever. Anything, ask up, sweetie.”

Kyungha squeezes her eye shut, and she takes a deep breath. She prays to whatever higher power that’s out there that she hasn’t offended yet to help her. “Before that…I have to tell you something,” she says timidly.

He’s silent, letting her continue.

“I’m in love with your son,” she finally says after a long beat of unease and tension, mostly her rationality screaming for her to immediately end the call.

She hears the awkward sound of his dad exhaling. “Well.” He laughs goodheartedly. “I…did not expect to hear that.”

“I have good intentions, Dr. Oh. I know you must think that I’m just a little girl who possibly is out of her mind, but it’s not like that. I genuinely care about him. A lot.”

“Call me Dad,” he says.

Kyungha chokes on a cough. “What?”

“I’m just messing with you, sweetie. I’m glad you care about him as much as I do. What can I do for you?”

Nervously, she lays out her plans, and then his dad is listening quietly. He doesn’t interrupt her. At the end of the call, he tells her, “thank you for loving my son. I can’t wait to see you in person. Hopefully, he’ll bring you to see me over here. Anyone who takes the time to put in effort like this deserves my boy. Actually, scratch that—he’s lucky to have you.” Then, with a last chuckle, he adds warmly, “good luck, Kyungha. Tell me how it goes.”

Her heart warms. One down, one more to go.

“Where are you taking me?” Sehun grumbles, stumbling as she drags him from his car. She’d blindfolded him and took over the driver’s seat. “I swear. If I don’t come back alive, I will come back to haunt you.”

Kyungha laughs delightfully. “You can try.”

“Oh, trust me, I will be your ing Sadako.”

She snorts. “What a pleasure to be threatened in the middle of the night.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. But isn’t that a little ironic? You’re the one dragging me somewhere at four in the morning. And for all I know, I could be murdered here.”

Kyungha ignores that. “Just trust me,” she insists, tugging him along. The night was still young. The sky is pitch dark, the moon shining brightly over the land.

She carries a picnic basket in the other hand. Finally, she finds the spot that she’d already set up earlier. There were nonflammable candles, lining the grass. A large wool blanket covered the ground. There are a million plush throws (her brother had an ungodly obsession with buying them and never using any of them) finally put to use. She plucks a fleece blanket from the pile, wrapping it around herself

Then, Kyungha pushes him down onto the ground, and he grunts, his hitting the ground not so gently. “Oops, sorry,” she says, but she’s not really sorry about it.

He crinkles his nose. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You’re planning to stab me right now. Tell me, should I run away?”

She rolls her eyes playfully and moves to tug his blindfold off. When Sehun can see again, he blinks around rapidly, taking in his surrounding.

Then, he’s looking at her again with an unsettled expression. “Care to explain why I’m sitting next to you in the middle of a graveyard at four in the morning?”

Kyungha stifles a laugh by pressing her hand on her lips. “Oh relax, little girl. I haven’t even given you any candy yet.”

Sehun is conflicted. He can’t decide whether to run away or humor her. “Seriously. Why are we here?”

She hums, “we’re having a picnic.”

His jaw drops. “It’s four in the morning. In the middle of winter. We’re sitting on a field of dead people. I—what?”

Kyungha shakes her head as she trembles with laughter. Wiping a tear from her eyes, she finally asks, “don’t you recognize this place?”

Sehun blinks away from her eyes to look around again. Once he realizes, he clenches his jaw tightly. “Behind you. That’s my mother’s grave, isn’t it?”

She nods. “Yep, I went to great lengths to find her. Who knew how hard it was to find one dead body here?”

“You sound like a psychopath,” he deadpans.

She cracks up, swinging her legs over him to straddle him. “Shh, don’t be so loud. You’ll wake up the dead,” she whispers, biting back her laugh.

“I don’t know even know what the hell is going on here,” he comments.

Kyungha lifts her brows teasingly. “Why don’t you take a shot at it?”

“Normally, I’d be down to satiate your weird kinks, and not gonna lie, agoraphilia is hot as hell. But I don’t think I can pop a above my dead mother.” Leave it to Sehun to make light of any situation. Even if he was in the middle of a sketchy location—possibly about to be murdered.

She slides off of him and turns to his mother’s tombstone. Tracing the name on the stone, she begins, “Jinae or Janie—whatever you like to go by. I’m Do Kyungha, and I’d like to dispute your claims.

You said that Oh Sehun was your biggest mistake. Well—“ She laughs haughtily. “—the only mistake is you. He’s the one who got the bad mother, but he hasn’t complained. So that automatically means you .

You called him a disaster. You’re right actually. His presence is like an earthquake. You look away for one second, and boom, he’s suddenly right there next to you. He destroys any structures you put up. He collapses them. He burns down walls. And you know what? I’m completely okay with that. You’re the only one who has a ing problem.

You said you’d never loved him. Fine. I understand. You’re just a crappy person with no moral compass. It happens. But you also said that he doesn’t deserve any love. Jinae, let me get this square with you, you’re technically buried like twelve feet under, and you obviously don’t know him at all.

He’s the world’s most lovable person. He cares about absolutely everything. Hell, he’s like Snow—ing—White, talking to animals and mothering seven dwarves.

And lastly, he never took your life away from you. You did that to yourself because you were blind to just how sickeningly precious his heart is. And he’s fantastic. He deserves more than to be trapped by your words, reliving the nightmares over and over again.

So Jinae, if you can hear me, let your son go. Because as much as I want to love him, he won’t let me because of the words you’ve bound him to. Set him free.

And I’m sorry, but if you still can’t see how amazing this man is, you can keep sleeping for eternity. We don’t need you, Jinae. Keep hell’s because you’ll never get this—“ Kyungha turns to shoot Sehun a quirky smile. “—sweet .”

Kyungha’s found another talent. She has the ability to render the chirpy Oh Sehun silent for more than ten minutes straight.

The corner of his lips is respectively in opposite directions like his body doesn’t know how to even comprehend the situation at hand.

“I can’t decide whether to be horrified that you were having a serious conversation with a dead person or touched that you spent fifteen minutes not talking smack about me.”

Kyungha grins, pulling her finger away. She dusts off her hands and turns to Sehun. “I choose the latter.”

He props himself up on his elbow. “Come here, sweetheart.” Her heart warms inside of her chest cavity. Finally, the sun shines through the thick haze of black clouds.

Kyungha abandons the stone and wraps her legs around him, letting her fingers tangle in his soft, raven black hair that she’d missed. It’d grown out so much longer, and she’d loved it. She could easily play with it now.

A small smile graces his face as he tilts his head to kiss her. She pulls back slightly. “Wait! I have a question before we proceed to making out.”

Sehun laughs, and it warms her. The familiar vibrations against her chest. And if she’d listen closely enough, she could almost hear his heartbeat. Racing. Just like hers.

“What’s your question?”

Kyungha leans her forehead against his. “Be the mother of my babies,” she tells him, her body shaking with silent laughter from his incredulous expression.

And then he snorts in reply, and their lips meet in a provocative kiss—a kiss that leads to bigger things.

It’s a kiss that explodes into a million fireworks. A kiss that goes from oh, hello there to a bewitching gentleness to an almost ravishing, wild, thirsty, feverish I’m gonna eat your face and I’m gonna eat it good type of kiss. A kiss that conveys a million words between them.

Thank you.

I missed you.

And I love you.

And honestly, Kyungha will be forever amazed by the overwhelming happiness of having your feelings reciprocated. Their journey wasn’t always the smoothest. Since the beginning, it’d been a blur of holding back and denying themselves, desperately praying that they'd made the right decision.

But sometimes the right choice isn't the best choice. Kyungha and Sehun are a shining example of that. Maybe he's way too old for her. Or maybe something will tear them apart again.

Love isn’t forever. She’d known that with her brain—every part of her rationality, her genius screamed that.

But Kyungha can’t deny the enchantment of Sehun’s spell casting. She’s willing to put all of her trust—as flimsy as it was—in this beautiful man.

The man who’d pulled her out of her comfort zone. The man who’d introduced her to a world of rainbow colors. The man who’d taught her it was okay to be herself because he’d catch her on the way down.

And so, she concludes that she wouldn’t be satisfied with the rest of her life if he wasn’t apart of it.

“What are you thinking so intently about?”

Kyungha tugs on his bottom lip, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just wondering if you were up to car ?”

“Say no more, princess. Your wish is my command.”

She gasps when he stands up, hoisting her in his arms. “Oh my god, please stop talking.” She pretends to vomit.

“Actually, I would, but then that means we wouldn’t be doing much talking today. And as much as I absolutely adore you, I’m gonna be honest. You’re just using me for , aren’t you?”

Kyungha laughs. “I mean, you’re like way much better than Valentino.”

“Sweetheart,” he prompts as he carries her to the car.

“Hoon,” she relays back in the same cheeky tone.

“I love you.”

Her eyes light up and she reaches to press butterfly kisses on his neck. “I love you too, Oh Sehun, you magical creature.”

“So now it’s xenophilia? Geez, I cannot keep up with you at this point.”

“Hoon?” She calls again, tone teetering on playful mock.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”