Hana arrived at the venue earlier than expected, her heart heavy with the weight of yet another solo wedding task. She had grown accustomed to handling everything on her own, but today, as she stepped into the grand entrance of the wedding venue, she couldn’t help but feel the familiar pang of disappointment. Namjoon hadn’t responded to her last message about meeting the venue manager, and she assumed, as always, that he would be too busy or uninterested to join her.

The venue was breathtaking, an elegant manor house with sprawling gardens and intricate architecture that whispered of old-world charm. It was exactly what she had imagined for their wedding—something timeless and beautiful. But even the beauty of the place couldn’t lift the gloom that hung over her. As she walked through the grand entrance, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor, Hana mentally prepared herself for another meeting spent answering questions alone.

But as she rounded the corner into the reception hall, she froze.

There, standing by the large windows that overlooked the garden, was Namjoon.

Hana blinked, convinced for a moment that she was imagining things. But no—there he was, tall and composed as always, his hands in the pockets of his neatly pressed slacks, gazing out over the grounds. He looked every bit the distant, stoic figure she had come to expect, but the very fact that he was here, waiting for her, sent a wave of confusion and hope washing over her.

For a moment, she hesitated, unsure of how to approach him. Should she act casual, as if his presence wasn’t a complete shock? Or should she acknowledge how surprised—and, if she were honest, relieved—she was that he had shown up at all?

“Namjoon,” she finally said, her voice cautious as she approached him.

He turned at the sound of her voice, his expression as neutral as ever. “You’re early,” he noted, his tone flat.

“So are you,” Hana replied, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.

He shrugged, looking back out the window. “I had a gap between meetings.”

A gap between meetings. That was all this was to him—a way to fill time. Hana tried to ignore the sting of his words and focused on the fact that he was here. He had shown up, and for Namjoon, that was something.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she admitted, walking over to stand beside him.

Namjoon glanced at her, a flicker of something crossing his face—maybe surprise, or perhaps something else she couldn’t quite place. “I figured it was about time I helped with something,” he said, though his tone still lacked warmth. “It’s my wedding too, after all.”

Hana studied him for a moment, searching his expression for any sign of sincerity. He was still cold, distant in the way he always was, but there was a subtle difference today. He had come. He was here, standing next to her, making an effort—however small—to be part of the process.

Before Hana could respond, the venue manager approached them, her clipboard in hand and a bright smile on her face. “Hello, Ms. Kim, Mr. Kim,” she greeted them warmly, assuming, as everyone did, that they were already a unit. “I’m so glad you could both make it. Are you ready to go over the details?”

Hana nodded, glancing at Namjoon, still trying to gauge his mood. He gave a small nod as well, his hands still tucked neatly in his pockets.

The venue manager led them through the grand ballroom, explaining the layout for the reception, the timing for the ceremony, and the various options they had for decor. Hana found herself falling into the rhythm of the meeting, asking questions, making notes on her phone, and doing her best to picture how everything would come together. But every now and then, she stole glances at Namjoon.

He remained quiet for most of the discussion, his expression unreadable as he listened to the venue manager’s explanations. But he didn’t seem bored or disinterested. He was paying attention, taking in the details, even if he wasn’t saying much.

When they moved outside to discuss the garden ceremony, Namjoon finally spoke up. “I think the outdoor option is better,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Hana looked at him, surprised. She hadn’t expected him to offer an opinion, let alone one that aligned with her own thoughts. “You do?” she asked, trying not to sound too shocked.

Namjoon nodded, glancing around the beautifully manicured garden. “It feels more open. Less formal. I think it suits you.”

Hana’s breath caught in her throat at his words. *It suits you.* It was the first time he had said anything that felt remotely personal, the first time he had acknowledged her tastes or preferences in any way. She stared at him, unsure of what to say, but the moment passed quickly as Namjoon turned back to the venue manager, discussing the logistics of the outdoor ceremony as though his comment hadn’t meant anything at all.

But it had meant something to Hana. It was small, maybe even insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it was something. Namjoon was trying, even if he didn’t know how to show it.

As the meeting progressed, Hana found herself feeling lighter, more hopeful. Namjoon wasn’t exactly warm—he was still as stoic and composed as ever—but he was engaged. He asked questions, offered input, and even made suggestions about the layout of the reception hall. It was a far cry from the man who had dismissed her opinions and left all the decisions to her without a second thought.

They spent the next hour going over every detail of the wedding day, from the placement of the tables to the timing of the toasts. And through it all, Namjoon stayed with her, helping her navigate the endless decisions that needed to be made.

At one point, as they stood in the grand ballroom discussing the seating arrangements, Hana glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was standing with his arms crossed, his expression serious as he considered the layout in front of them.

“You know,” she said, her voice soft, “I didn’t think you’d care about any of this.”

Namjoon’s gaze flicked to her, his brows furrowing slightly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Hana gave him a small, almost sad smile. “You haven’t exactly been involved until now.”

There was a brief silence, the weight of her words hanging between them. Namjoon looked away, his jaw tightening slightly as he processed what she had said. For a moment, Hana thought he might retreat back into his usual coldness, but then he surprised her.

“I know,” he said quietly, his voice low and measured. “I’ve been… distant.”

Hana’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected admission. It wasn’t an apology, exactly, but it was the closest Namjoon had come to acknowledging the wall he had built between them.

“I didn’t think any of this mattered,” he continued, his gaze focused on the empty tables in front of them. “But it does. At least… it does to you.”

Hana stared at him, her chest tightening with a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite name. There it was again—that glimmer of something underneath Namjoon’s cold exterior, something she hadn’t expected to find.

“I’m trying,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

It was such a small statement, but for Namjoon, it felt monumental. He wasn’t the type to offer grand declarations or emotional confessions, but he was here, standing beside her, trying. And for Hana, that was enough—for now.

She nodded, her voice soft when she finally spoke. “I can see that.”

For the rest of the meeting, the tension between them eased ever so slightly. They worked together, side by side, making decisions and finalizing details. And though Namjoon remained quiet and composed, there was a subtle shift in the air between them—a sense of understanding that hadn’t been there before.

When the meeting finally came to an end, and the venue manager thanked them for their time, Hana felt an unfamiliar warmth in her chest. Namjoon had shown up. He had been present, engaged, and, in his own way, supportive.

As they walked out of the venue together, Hana turned to him, her heart feeling a little lighter than it had in weeks. “Thank you for coming today,” she said, her voice sincere.

Namjoon glanced at her, his expression as stoic as ever, but there was something softer in his eyes. “It’s my wedding too,” he said, echoing his earlier words.

Hana smiled, a small but genuine smile. “Yeah, it is.”

They stood there for a moment, the cool breeze from the garden rustling the leaves around them. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t exactly what Hana had dreamed of when she had imagined her wedding planning process. But it was a start.

And for the first time since their engagement had been arranged, Hana felt a flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—they could find their way to something real.