Minho sat in his office and frowned at the message appearing on his phone.

“This is...,” he mumbled.

Why would someone send him a picture of a puppy?

“What does that mean?” He wondered, looking at the sender. At the same moment, the door to his office flung open, and his secretary stormed in.

“Look at this, the owner of the picture,” Minho stated. Wendy paled as she saw the phone in her boss’ hand. Immediately she bowed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Choi. I sent it to the wrong person. That would never happen again.” Her voice was shaking.

“Is that your dog?” Minho asked, and for a short moment, Wendy hesitated to answer. She wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. Choi Minho, her boss was interested in her private life. This day should be documented in history.

“Yes,” she stuttered, “I adopted him last week. I wanted to send the picture to my boyfriend. I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

To her surprise Minho didn’t seem to be angry, instead he only nodded and told her she could leave. Closing the door, she wondered what happened to her boss who had snapped as she’d bought the wrong coffee. When you worked for Choi Minho, you didn’t make mistakes. At least, that was what she’d believed until now.

Staring at the picture, Minho grinned. Kibum loved cute things; he would love this. Minho nodded to himself and started typing a message to the younger. Before he could finish the sentence, Wendy knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Minho shouted, laying his phone down.

“Mr. Choi, this just came in for you,” Wendy said, placing an A4 size envelope on his desk.  

“Ok,” Minho replied.

“Oh, ahm,” he called as the secretary was about to leave.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Since when do you have a boyfriend?” He asked, not noticing the confusion on her face.

“Since last year,” she answered.

“Oh,” Minho mumbled, “and since when do you work for me?”

“Since last year, Sir.”

“What a coincidence,” Minho stated.

“Actually,” she corrected the boss, “it’s not. I’m going out with your bodyguard.”

“Which one?” Minho asked curiously.

“Mr. Moon,” Wendy held back the answer for a second. She still hadn’t figure out whether Minho would get mad or not.

“Taeil?”

“Yes, Sir.” The secretary blushed.

“Hm,” Minho murmured, nodding.

“He is a good one,” he added.

“He is,” Wendy agreed. If it were up to her, she would end this weird conversation right now. She felt like introducing her boyfriend to her parents.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” She questioned subtly.

“Is he treating you well?” Yeah, that was what his father would ask as well.

“Yes, he is,” she answered.

“Good,” Minho replied, “that’s good.”

“Sir, do you need anything else?”

“No, you can leave now,” Minho responded, and Wendy breathed out in relief, heading to the door.

Minho leaned back in his seat, thinking of the conversation he just had. He realized he didn’t know anything about his employees. Lost in his thoughts, he stared into space until his eyes wandered to the packet on his desk. The moment he opened it; a yellow sticky note fell off.

“Are you sure the person in your house is the real Kim Kibum?” That was written on the note, and Minho knitted his brow. What was this supposed to mean? Kibum wasn’t Kibum? What kind of bad joke was this?

Not wasting a second, Minho opened the folder. It was the medical report of Kim Kibum. Kibum was allergic to curcuma? The younger had never mentioned that. Even if this were true, why would it matter? And who would send him this? Together with that suspicious note?

So, Kibum was allergic to curcuma. What was the deal with all the fuss? Minho could have ignored everything. He could. He should. But he didn’t. It was too difficult for someone like him to trust. But it was too easy for someone like him to have the report fact-checked, and that was his curse. It was also his curse that the report was real.

--- >> << ---

“Stop,” Minho demanded when they passed by a patisserie. Immediately, the car stopped, right in front of the cake shop. The driver waited, but Minho didn’t move. After a while, the boss sighed.

“Let’s go,” he said. Nodded, the driver did as he was told. Yet, they had barely reached the next traffic light as Minho changed his mind.

“No, turn back.”

At least, this time he made it to enter the shop without hesitation. Yet, after he found out the shop didn’t have curcuma cake, he couldn’t help but think it was fate. The universe was telling him something, and he should listen to it. He should have trusted Kibum. He had left the shop, and he was almost home. At some points, Minho wished he hadn’t come back a second time and hadn’t paid the shop to make those damned cupcakes.

As Minho saw Kibum in the garden, under the sunlight, something uneasy had grown in him. The way Kibum turned his head to him. The way the younger smiled at him as soon as their eyes meet. The warmth Minho felt as Kibum wrapped his arms around his waist. The way Kibum buried his head into his back, the way Kibum whispered those three words and the way Kibum’s lips fitted his perfectly, everything could have been so easy if Kibum were just his. If they both weren’t born into this world if they weren’t the heir of their father’s empires, could they just be happy in love? Suddenly, Minho was scared by his own mind. When did he become like this?

The gang leader knew he couldn’t live in this dream. It was not for him to put his feelings first. But… whatever the result would be, whatever the truth was and whoever this person was, Minho wanted a bit more of those memories with him.

“Let’s eat the cupcakes tomorrow. I need a shower right now and you should join me,” Minho decided.

Like he knew it would be his last time holding Kibum, Minho tried to remember the feeling of Kibum’s skin against his. The more he loved every single moment of their time together, the more he was angry that Kibum hadn’t listened. 

“Didn’t I tell you to eat them tomorrow?” Minho shouted, sla