The ride back to the Shin home was cloaked in a silence so heavy it seemed to amplify the hum of the car engine and the rhythmic sweep of the wipers against the windshield.

Jun-ho gripped the steering wheel tightly, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, though his mind churned with thoughts of Y/n, her father, and the storm brewing in their shared tension.

Beside him, Y/n held her phone, her voice trembling with urgency as she spoke to Ha-kun, summoning him home with an insistence that left no room for question.

Chan-yeol sat in the backseat, his usual warmth replaced by a somber resolve, a father shielding truths too heavy to bear.

When they finally reached the Shin home, Jun-ho pulled into the driveway with a precision that betrayed his nerves.

Chan-yeol was the first to step out, his tall frame moving briskly toward the house, a man steeling himself for the weight of revelation.

Y/n followed closely, her strides quick and purposeful, her face a mask of determination despite the swirling questions in her eyes.

But Jun-ho lingered as doubt crept in. Was it his place to enter this sacred space, to witness a conversation that seemed to belong solely to blood and history?

Y/n paused in the doorway, turning back toward him as if sensing his hesitation. Without a word, she reached for his arm, her touch warm and insistent, pulling him toward her.

The gesture spoke volumes—a silent declaration that he belonged here, that she saw him as part of this circle no matter how fragile it might feel.

His chest tightened with a mix of gratitude and trepidation as he followed her inside.

The air within the house was thick with unspoken tension, the faint scent of cedar and chamomile tea doing little to ease the atmosphere.

Ha-kun was waiting in the living room, perched on the edge of the couch like a man caught between impatience and confusion. His brows furrowed deeply as he rose to greet them, his gaze darting between the three arrivals.

"What's going on?" Ha-kun asked, his voice low but tinged with concern.

Chan-yeol stopped in the center of the room, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a measured breath.

Y/n stepped beside her father, her presence a silent testament to her own strength, her hand brushing lightly against Jun-ho's as if to anchor them both.

And Jun-ho, though he felt like an outsider intruding on something raw and intimate, stood firm at her side, ready to face whatever truths would unfold in the hours to come.

The tension in the living room was suffocating as Chan-yeol stood in the center of the room, his hands trembling slightly at his sides.

Ha-kun leaned against the couch, his brows furrowed in confusion, while Y/n perched on the armrest, her gaze flickering anxiously between her father and brother. Jun-ho stayed near the doorway, silent and watchful, his presence a quiet reassurance to Y/n.

Chan-yeol exhaled deeply, as though expelling years of weight he had carried alone.

"There's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "It's a story I've kept buried for too long. It's about my brother—Sung-hoon—and your mother."

Y/n's eyes widened, and Ha-kun straightened up, the room falling into an oppressive silence.

Chan-yeol's voice softened as he continued, his gaze far away, lost in memories.

"Sung-hoon was your mother's first love," he admitted, his words slow and deliberate. "He was charming and full of dreams, but he was also restless. He left without an explanation, chasing adventures across the world, leaving your mother heartbroken. Over time, as we leaned on each other, your mother and I grew close. I loved her with everything I had, and she loved me too. But when Sung-hoon returned, everything changed."

Chan-yeol paused, his jaw tightening as he fought against the storm of emotions rising within him.

"He found your mother pregnant with Ha-kun. He was furious—furious with me, with the world, and most of all, with himself for having left. He made a vow that day to make me suffer, to take from me what I loved most."

Ha-kun let out a low gasp, his hand gripping the edge of the couch. Y/n's breath hitched, her heart pounding as pieces of her life began to fall into place.

"Sung-hoon wasn't just angry," Chan-yeol continued, his voice growing heavier. "He was dangerous. He knew people, dark people, and he wasn't afraid to use them. But I told him then, as I tell you now—I would never let anything happen to my family."

Y/n's lips parted, but no words came. She stared at her father, her chest tightening with fear and anticipation.

"Years later," Chan-yeol said, his voice trembling slightly, "I was called back to military duty. Your mother insisted she could handle things. She was strong—so strong. I trusted her, not realizing the kind of twisted plan Sung-hoon had been waiting to execute."

He closed his eyes briefly, the memories cutting like knives. "Sung-hoon disguised himself as me. He came back while I was gone, pretending to have returned early from duty. Your mother was already ill, and in her weakened state, she didn't notice the differences. He stayed with her, convinced in his delusion that they were meant to be together. But he hated Ha-kun—hated him for being my son."

Ha-kun's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. Y/n's hand flew to her mouth as she gasped, the realization dawning on her like a thunderclap.

"That's why..." she whispered, her voice breaking. "That's why Sung-hoon always said you weren't my father."

Chan-yeol's eyes filled with tears as he nodded.

"When I returned, I found him there, in my clothes, living my life. Your mother was pregnant, and I knew what he'd done. The confrontation that followed..."

He paused, his voice cracking.

"I wanted to kill him. I could've. But something stopped me. Maybe it was the memory of our mother, or maybe it was knowing that violence wouldn't fix what he'd broken."

He took a shuddering breath, his voice softening. "I let him go, but only with the promise that he would never return. And he didn't. He left, abandoning you and your mother. But the damage he caused... it was too much. Your mother's illness worsened, and she never forgave herself for what had happened. After she passed, I made a vow to raise you and Ha-kun as my own, to give you both the love and stability you deserved."

Chan-yeol's voice faltered as he turned to Y/n, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Y/n, you are my daughter. Not by blood, but by heart. And nothing Sung-hoon or anyone else says can change that. I have loved you from the moment I held you in my arms, and I always will."

Y/n's vision blurred with tears as she stepped forward, wrapping her arms tightly around her father. "You've always been my dad," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Ha-kun joined them, his face streaked with emotion. He placed a hand on Y/n's shoulder, his voice firm despite the tremor in it. "You're my sister, Y/n. Always. Nothing will ever change that."

The three of them held onto each other, their grief and love intertwining in the quiet sanctuary of their embrace. Jun-ho watched from the doorway, his heart aching at the raw beauty of their bond and he missed In-ho more than ever.

Though the truth had shaken their foundations, the love they shared was unbreakable. And as they clung to one another, they knew they would face whatever came next—together. Somehow, this too would pass.

___________

The days following Y/n's earth-shattering revelation unfolded in a strange rhythm—a fragile waltz of healing and recalibration. The initial shock of learning the truth about her father had ebbed, leaving behind a quiet determination.

Y/n found solace in Jun-ho's unwavering presence; he was her anchor in the storm, his touch steady, his words deliberate and grounding. Together, they began to prepare for the inevitable—readying themselves for the games that threatened to claim everything they loved.

The morning sun filtered through the wide windows of the apartment's private gym, casting a golden glow across the gleaming floor.

Y/n stood in the center, tying her hair back into a high ponytail, her brows furrowed with mild curiosity as she watched Jun-ho adjust the straps of his gloves. He moved with an ease that spoke of years of experience, his broad shoulders rolling as he tested the tension in the leather.

"You've got good aim," Jun-ho started, his voice calm yet serious, "and you're quick on your feet. But relying on a gun isn't always an option. If you ever find yourself without a weapon..." His gaze swept over her, lingering for a moment on her small frame, "I don't want someone to think they can use your size against you."

Y/n tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint smile. "You think I need to learn to throw a punch to compensate for my size?"

Jun-ho stepped closer, his eyes locking onto hers, unwavering. "I think you need to learn to fight because you're too important to lose."

The weight of his words made her breath hitch, but she quickly masked it with a teasing grin.

"Alright, sensei. Show me what you've got."

Jun-ho smirked, motioning her to step forward. "First rule: always guard that beautiful face. Hands up."

She raised her fists, mimicking his stance, though the movement felt awkward and unfamiliar. He circled her slowly, his sharp gaze studying her posture.

"Good. Now widen your stance. Keep your feet planted but ready to move. Balance is everything."

Y/n followed his instructions, adjusting her footing until he nodded in approval.

"Okay, throw a jab."

She did, her fist snapping forward, but Jun-ho easily deflected it with a laugh.

"That was cute, but not nearly strong enough. Put your weight into it. Let your hips guide you."

She tried again, her punch stronger this time, but he still blocked it with maddening ease. "Better, but you're hesitating. Don't think. Just hit me."

The space between them crackled with unspoken electricity as Jun-ho squared his stance, gesturing for her to come at him.

Y/n hesitated, her fists raised but trembling ever so slightly.

"Don't hold back," he said, his voice low and commanding.

She threw a punch, quick but cautious, and Jun-ho easily deflected it, shaking his head. "Harder, Y/n. You're holding back."

"I don't want to hurt you," she admitted, a flicker of frustration in her tone.

His laugh was low and warm, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Hurt me? You've seen what I can do, haven't you? Trust me, I can take it." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper.

Her cheeks flushed, but she rolled her eyes, masking her embarrassment with mock annoyance.

"Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."

The sparring continued, with Y/n growing increasingly frustrated at her inability to land a clean hit. Jun-ho dodged and countered with ease, his smirk only fueling her irritation.

"You're stronger than this. Show me."

Something snapped in Y/n. The frustration she'd been swallowing bubbled over, her eyes flashing with raw determination. She lunged forward, her punch landing squarely on his shoulder with a force neither of them expected. Jun-ho staggered backward, stunned, his hand instinctively flying to his shoulder.

He clutched his shoulder, a stunned expression on his face, but then his lips curled into a slow, almost wolfish grin.

"Damn," he muttered, his voice laced with admiration. "You've got a hell of a right hook. Who knew you had it in you?"

Y/n stood there, panting and flushed, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and satisfaction.

"I warned you," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Jun-ho straightened, his gaze darkening as he stepped closer, the heat between them palpable.

"You did," he admitted, his voice low and velvety. "But I think I underestimated just how dangerous you could be."

"Jun..." she began, her voice trembling, but he was already closing the distance between them. He reached out, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. The touch was electric, his fingers lingering just a moment too long.

"You're incredible," he murmured, his eyes searching hers. "And if you keep looking at me like that, I won't be able to stop myself."

Her pulse hammered in her ears, her heart warring with her rationality.

But then his lips found hers, and all thoughts of resistance melted away.

The kiss was fierce and consuming. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer as if he couldn't bear even the smallest distance between them.

Y/n responded with equal fervor, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against him.

The world around them ceased to exist; there was only Jun-ho, his touch igniting a fire that coursed through her veins, his lips moving against hers with a desperate kind of hunger.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless and flushed, Jun-ho's gaze lingered on her. "You've got one hell of a punch, Y/n. Remind me never to make you mad."

She laughed, the sound light and musical.

Jun-ho's grin returned, his hand still resting on her cheek. "You're going to be unstoppable," he said, his voice brimming with pride. "But for now, let's take a break. I need to recover... from you."

For the first time in days Y/n felt truly alive. With Jun-ho by her side, she knew she could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

_______

The soft hum of cicadas filled the warm afternoon air as Y/n and Gi-hun approached the modest, sun-dappled store.

Y/n's hands gripped the straps of her bag tightly, her heart fluttering with a mix of hope and apprehension. Gi-hun walked beside her, his shoulders heavy with the invisible weight of promises made and debts owed.

Inside, the scent of freshly cooked rice wafted through the air, mingling with the soft laughter of Cheol. The boy had grown taller in the three years since that harrowing ordeal, his face brighter, though his smile still carried a shadow of loss.

Sang-woo's mother, bent with age but radiant with love, fussed over him, her hands never still as she smoothed his hair and straightened his collar.

Y/n's heart ached with bittersweet joy as she watched the boy chatter about school and friends, oblivious to the silent exchanges between her and Gi-hun.

They had both taken it upon themselves to fulfill the promises whispered to Sae-byeok in the dark, desperate hours of her life.

Gi-hun had quietly hired a broker to ensure Cheol's welfare, while Y/n had poured her heart into her visits, bringing small gifts, listening to his stories, and weaving a maternal role into the fabric of his days.

"Cheol seems happy," Y/n murmured as they stepped outside into the sunlight, her voice tinged with quiet relief.

Gi-hun nodded, his gaze lingering on the house. "He deserves that. Sae-byeok wanted this for him. We owe her that much."

Their bond, forged in the shared grief of losing Sae-byeok, had grown into an unspoken camaraderie.

After leaving Cheol in the care of his doting grandmother, Y/n and Gi-hun made their way to a quiet office tucked away in the bustle of the city. The broker, a wiry man with sharp eyes softened by years of navigating impossible situations, greeted them with a nod.

"The woman standing next to Sae-byeok in that picture," he began, sliding a worn photograph across the desk. "That's her mother. We learned she was recently released from a prison camp in North Hamgyong Province."

Gi-hun's hand tightened around the edge of the photo, his voice low and steady. "Do you have any idea what kind of shape she's in?"

The broker exhaled heavily, his expression grim. "There was an outbreak of tuberculosis in her camp. She was never treated for it. Trying to move her now isn't really feasible."

"I don't care," Gi-hun replied immediately, his tone edged with determination.

"Please," Y/n interjected, her voice soft but resolute. "Get her out of there. She's been through enough."

The broker's gaze flickered with empathy as he leaned forward. "Listen, I've got experts—Chinese and North Korean—working on this. Once we're sure she's stable, we'll move her across the border."

Gi-hun's jaw tightened. "If the problem is money, I'll get you more."

The broker shook his head, offering them a faint, almost apologetic smile. "No, last time, you gave me more than enough. It's not about money anymore."

Gi-hun exchanged a glance with Y/n, his resolve softening just enough for the pain beneath to show.

"I owe this to Sae-byeok," he said, almost to himself.

Y/n nodded.

The broker straightened, his voice firm with quiet determination. "I'll do everything I can to make it happen."

Before leaving, Gi-hun slipped the broker a piece of paper, his fingers lingering for a moment. "That's the address for Sang-woo's fish store. That's where Sae-byeok's little brother is."

"If you can't reach us," Y/n added, her voice gentle but insistent, "call that number. Someone needs to know if anything changes."

The broker nodded, slipping the paper into his pocket with care. "

Understood."

As Y/n and Gi-hun stepped back into the bustling streets, the weight of their shared mission settled over them like a shroud. But in the quiet strength of their bond, in the determination that lit their eyes, they found a small measure of peace. They couldn't undo the past, but they could honor it. And for Sae-byeok, for Cheol, and now for her mother, they would keep moving forward.

__________

The sky stretched vast and melancholic, painted in muted tones of grey and blue, as Y/n and Jun-ho approached the cemetery. The soft crunch of gravel beneath their car tires was the only sound breaking the stillness of the afternoon.

Y/n glanced over at Jun-ho, whose face was calm but carried a shadow of wistfulness. She reached over and lightly placed her hand on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Thanks for coming with me," Jun-ho said softly, his lips curving into a faint, almost shy smile.

"Of course," Y/n replied. "I wouldn't let you come alone. Besides, I wanted to meet her too, even if it's just like this."

Jun-ho chuckled quietly, his eyes softening. "She would've liked you. She was always telling In-ho he needed more friends who wouldn't put up with his nonsense."

Y/n grinned. "Sounds like my kind of woman."

They pulled up near the graveyard entrance, the air thick with a quiet reverence.

As they stepped out of the car, Jun-ho's phone buzzed. He sighed and answered, switching it to the car speaker.

"Hey, Mom," he said.

"Oh, Jun-ho, sweetie! Are you there yet?" his mom's warm, gentle voice filled the car.

"Yeah, Mom, Y/n and I are here," he replied, glancing at Y/n, who smiled softly.

"Oh, Y/n!" his mom exclaimed, her voice brightening. "I'm so glad you're with my Jun-ho please also come for dinner. You've been such a light in his life. He can be so serious sometimes, you know–"

"Eomma" Jun-ho interrupted.

Y/n laughed, her cheeks tinged with warmth. "Thank you, Mrs. Hwang. Don't worry, he's been plenty charming. He has his moments, though," she teased, glancing playfully at Jun-ho.

Jun-ho rolled his eyes but smiled, shaking his head as his mom chuckled.

"If you can, sweetie," his mom continued, her tone growing somber, "please look around and see if your brother's been by. It's the fifth anniversary of her death. If he's still out there... you'd hope he'd leave his wife some flowers."

Jun-ho's expression grew serious, his jaw tightening slightly. "We'll look, Mom. I'll call you later."

As the call ended, silence settled between them.

Jun-ho reached for Y/n's hand, intertwining their fingers as they began the walk to In-ho's wife's grave. The path was lined with weathered stones and patches of grass, the air cool and still.

When they arrived, the sight that greeted them was both expected and disheartening.

No flowers adorned the grave except for the delicate bouquet Y/n had brought. She knelt gracefully, placing the flowers with care, her fingers brushing the name engraved on the stone.

Jun-ho crouched beside her, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"He didn't come," Jun-ho murmured, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes soft with understanding.

Jun-ho sighed, his arm slipping around her shoulder as they sat in shared silence, the weight of unspoken memories settling over them.

On the drive to Jun-ho's mom's house, the mood was contemplative but not heavy. The rhythmic hum of the car seemed to echo their thoughts.

"I don't know if I should still be mad at him," Jun-ho admitted, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "I mean, he lost her too. But it feels like he just... gave up."

Y/n turned to him, her expression thoughtful. "Sometimes people run from their grief because they think facing it will break them. Maybe that's what he's doing."

Jun-ho exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "But running doesn't fix anything. It just leaves everyone else to pick up the pieces."

Y/n reached over, resting her hand on his arm. "You're doing what you can. You've already done more for him than most would."

He glanced at her briefly, his gaze softening. "How do you always know the right thing to say?"

Y/n smiled, her voice teasing. "It's a gift. Comes with the territory of putting up with you."

Jun-ho laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. "I'll give you that one."

As they pulled into his mom's driveway, the weight of the day lingered. Together, they faced the pieces of the past, knowing that, whatever came next, they wouldn't face it alone.

_________

The warmth of Jun-ho's mother's home enveloped Y/n and Jun-ho as soon as they stepped through the door. The smell of simmering soup and freshly steamed rice wafted through the air, a comforting embrace of familiarity.

His mother greeted them in the doorway, her arms outstretched as she pulled her son into a tight hug.

"My Jun-ho," she said, her voice tinged with the weariness of years yet brimming with affection. She released him, only to turn to Y/n with a radiant smile, her eyes twinkling.

"And Y/n, my dear!" she exclaimed, her embrace for Y/n even warmer. Though they had seen each other countless times over the past three years, her joy was unrestrained, as if each meeting was a cherished event.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hwang," Y/n said politely, her cheeks pink from the attention.

Mrs. Hwang's smile faltered slightly, replaced by a look of significance as she glanced between the two.

"No, no. Call me Eeomma," she said, her voice firm yet gentle, the word carrying weight like an unspoken blessing.

Y/n blinked in surprise, glancing at Jun-ho, whose ears had turned red.

She nodded, her voice soft. "Thank you... Eeomma."

Dinner was served in the cozy dining room, the table modest but laden with dishes prepared with love. The clinking of utensils and quiet murmurs of gratitude filled the space until Mrs. Hwang's voice broke the momentary peace.

"There was no sign of him?" she asked, though the sadness in her eyes suggested she already knew the answer.

Jun-ho sighed, setting down his chopsticks. "No."

Mrs. Hwang's shoulders sagged, and she shook her head slowly. "That's really it, then," she said with a heaviness that seemed to settle in the air around them.

"Your brother truly wants to cut us out of his life. I can't believe how long it's been. Can you? And I know the reason... it's because he still resents me."

"Mom—" Jun-ho began, but she continued, her voice trembling.

"He resents me for everything. For not being his birth mother. For not doing enough. For..." She faltered, her hands trembling slightly as she clasped them on her lap.

Jun-ho shook his head firmly. "We were all struggling back then. He knows that."

Mrs. Hwang's voice broke. "But I don't want him to think I loved him any less," she said. "Or to feel that because I wasn't his birth mother, I put your needs first. That's what scares me the most."

Y/n's gaze softened, and she spoke gently. "Eeomma, you can't think like that. A parent's love isn't measured in biology. It's in the way you raised him, the way you loved him, the way you always hoped for his return." She explained thinking of her own father and how much her brith must have pained him.

Jun-ho nodded. "In-ho knew that wasn't true. You gave him everything you could."

"Still," Mrs. Hwang murmured, her voice heavy with regret, "he gave you one of his kidneys to save your life. Then, when your sister-in-law lay in that hospital, suffering and dying... I didn't do anything to help her."

Her words dissolved into quiet sobs, her frame trembling as years of guilt poured out. Y/n moved instinctively, wrapping her arms around Mrs. Hwang's shoulders, murmuring soothing words.

"I wish I could have done something," Mrs. Hwang cried. "I would have given anything to save her. Even sold all my organs."

Jun-ho leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply.

"In that case, he'd resent me instead," he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. "Do you even know how much a kidney is worth? He could've paid for all her treatments if he'd gone out and sold it. Maybe I should've just died, if you think about it."

"Jun!" Y/n snapped, her voice sharp with anger and pain.

Mrs. Hwang's head shot up, her tear-streaked face filled with frustration. "After everything I've been through, don't you dare say that!"

Jun-ho's eyes softened as he met her gaze, but he didn't back down.

"You just said the exact same thing," he said, his voice quieter but no less firm.

"And I'm tired of hearing it. She got sick. She died. That was her fate. In-ho made his choices. He accepted that bribe; he chose his path. We're not responsible for that. His life turned out the way it did because of his decisions. That's how the world works."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling in. Y/n reached out and placed a hand on Jun-ho's arm, her touch grounding him.

Mrs. Hwang wiped her tears, her voice steadying as she broke the silence.

"You're right," she said softly. "Life isn't unlimited. We don't get to rewrite the past. What we can do is appreciate what we have while we have it."

Her gaze rested on Jun-ho, a mixture of sadness and hope in her eyes. "We can't waste our lives clinging to regrets. We have to love fully, forgive when we can, and cherish every moment."

Jun-ho nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to his plate.

Mrs. Hwang smiled faintly, her voice lighter as she changed the subject. "Now, let's finish this meal before it gets cold. Y/n, have I told you my secret to the perfect kimchi?"

Y/n chuckled, the tension easing as she leaned in to listen, her hand still resting on Jun-ho's. As the conversation turned toward lighter topics, the warmth of family filled the room again, fragile yet resilient, like a flickering flame that refused to be extinguished.

As the meal ended and the plates sat idle on the table, Y/n rose from her seat, smoothing her hands down her skirt.

"I'll clean up," she said, her tone resolute.

Jun-ho's mom waved a hand dismissively, her brow furrowing in protest. "Absolutely not, Y/n. You're a guest—sit down and relax. Jun-ho, tell her!"

But Y/n, ever gracious yet stubborn, shook her head with a soft laugh. "Eeomma, I'm not a guest. Let me do this. Please."

The playful back-and-forth continued, but with Y/n's unyielding determination and Jun-ho offering only a half-hearted shrug, his mother finally relented, though not without a theatrical sigh.

"Fine, but if you so much as lift a heavy pot, I'm coming in there!" she warned.

As Y/n disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of running water and soft clinking of dishes became the backdrop for the quiet conversation that followed.

Jun-ho's mom leaned forward, her eyes narrowing mischievously as she studied her son.

"You know, Jun-ho," she began, her voice carrying the cadence of someone about to say something significant, "you're lucky I adore that girl as much as I do. She's the best thing that's ever happened to you."

Jun-ho smiled faintly, his gaze drifting toward the kitchen doorway. "I know, Mom."

His mother's expression grew more serious, though her tone remained warm. "Do you? Because sometimes I wonder if you really understand what you've got there. Y/n is smart, kind, beautiful... and patient enough to put up with you." She smirked, but her words carried undeniable sincerity.

"Mom..." Jun-ho sighed, leaning back in his chair, but she wasn't done.

"I mean it. Girls like her don't just come along every day. You can't take her for granted—not when life is so unpredictable. Don't let her slip away, Jun-ho."

Jun-ho's brows knitted together, his usual composure faltering under her pointed gaze. "I'm not—"

"Then what are you waiting for?" she interrupted, her voice softening as she reached across the table to place a hand over his. "You've been together for years. Anyone with eyes can see how much you love her. So why haven't you asked her yet?"

Jun-ho's lips parted as if to respond, but he hesitated, his gaze dropping to the table.

His mother gave him a knowing look. "Jun-ho, life isn't endless. You said it yourself earlier. If you're serious about her, stop waiting for the perfect moment. Create the perfect moment."

Jun-ho chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You make it sound so easy."

"It is," his mother said firmly. "It's as easy as you deciding she's worth it—which she obviously is—and making sure she knows it. Y/n deserves someone who's sure about her, Jun-ho. Someone who doesn't hesitate."

He looked up at her then, the weight of her words sinking in.

"And for heaven's sake," she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "don't go proposing with one of those tiny, cheap rings. Y/n's not materialistic, but I'm telling you now, put some effort into it. She deserves that too."

Jun-ho laughed, the tension breaking as he shook his head. "You've clearly thought about this."

"That's because I love her," his mother said matter-of-factly. "I already consider her my daughter. But if you don't hurry up, someone else might snatch her away, and I'll hold you responsible for losing my daughter."

The clink of a dish being set in the drying rack drew their attention toward the kitchen. Y/n's voice floated out, light and melodic as she hummed softly to herself.

Jun-ho's gaze softened, his heart stirring with something that felt like certainty.

"I'll think about it, Mom," he said quietly, his words carrying more weight than his tone suggested.

"You'd better," his mother replied, her voice fond but firm. She leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as though she'd just set something important into motion.

A/n

what did we think abt this chapter??? 

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