Y/N-

It's been a month since Jungkook left for the States. I'd thought his absence would feel hollow, like something essential missing from my everyday life, but with time, I've found myself surprisingly at peace. Jungkook will always be special to me, even if things didn't work out as I'd once hoped. In the meantime, my world has shifted focus; I'm now the personal assistant to Kim Taehyung, which, at first, felt intimidating beyond words. But working so closely with him has changed things in ways I didn't expect.

At first, I was anxious around Taehyung, trying to manage his day-to-day activities and ensure everything ran smoothly. He's precise, driven, and expects a lot, but as I settled into my role, I began to notice things I'd overlooked before. Beneath his composed exterior, he has a warmth that's easy to miss—a subtle kindness that surfaces in the smallest gestures. Whether it's the way he checks in after a long day, offering a quiet "good job" with a nod, or when he patiently explains something I don't quite understand, there's something genuine in him that I never noticed when he was just "Mr. Kim."

It's funny, really. A few months ago, I'd never have imagined Taehyung and I being... well, friends. But here we are, navigating this unexpected, comfortable camaraderie. I can't pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but somewhere along the way, our formal interactions started to relax. We began sharing small, personal stories during lunch breaks, teasing each other over our coffee orders, and even sharing moments of laughter over funny work incidents. I'm surprised at how much he actually opens up once you get past his calm and collected facade.

Today was no different. After a busy morning filled with back-to-back meetings and planning sessions, Taehyung and I finally had a short breather around noon. We'd slipped into a routine, and he knew he could count on me to have his schedule and documents perfectly arranged. He asked me to join him for lunch, which we now did regularly in his office, a habit that, at first, had felt oddly formal but now felt natural.

"So, Y/n," Taehyung started as he leaned back in his chair, a small smirk playing on his lips, "have you thought any more about the cooking class idea?"

I laughed, rolling my eyes. The "cooking class idea" was his attempt at convincing me to try out something other than my typical microwave dinners. "Are you suggesting my cooking is that bad?" I teased, crossing my arms with mock indignation.

"Not bad," he said, shrugging with an amused expression. "Just... lacking a little passion, maybe?" His words hung in the air for a second before he added, "I just think it'd be fun. I might even join you if you go."

There it was—that friendly, lighthearted tone that always took me by surprise coming from him. I raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider. "Fine, but only if you're my cooking buddy."

He chuckled, nodding. "Deal. I'll hold you to it."

Lunch ended with laughter, and as we wrapped up, he glanced at his watch, signaling it was time to return to work mode. I took a deep breath, ready to dive back in, yet feeling a lightness that stayed with me throughout the afternoon.

Toward the end of the day, I was working on some final edits for a report he'd need for tomorrow's presentation when Taehyung stepped up beside me. "How's it going?" he asked, his tone casual, yet I sensed a hint of weariness in his voice. Long hours were taking their toll, even on him.

"All set," I said, handing him the edited version of the report. "Just gave it a quick read-through, so you should be good to go."

"Thanks, Y/n," he said, giving me a grateful look. His voice softened as he added, "You've really been a big help these past few weeks. I don't say it enough."

Something in his gaze made me pause, and I felt a warmth creeping into my cheeks. "Well, that's what I'm here for," I said with a small smile, brushing off the compliment as best as I could. But his words stayed with me, filling me with a subtle sense of accomplishment.

We wrapped up for the day, and as we walked out of the building together, I noticed a quietness in Taehyung's mood. He was lost in thought, his usual confidence somewhat subdued.

"Hey, everything okay?" I ventured, not wanting to pry but genuinely concerned.

He looked at me, his expression softening as he gave a slight nod. "Yeah, just... you know, some things get heavy sometimes," he replied, his tone low. "It's good to have someone to share them with." He seemed to hesitate, then quickly added, "Not that I expect you to listen to my problems."

"Don't worry," I replied, feeling a bit bolder, "you're allowed to vent sometimes. After all, that's what friends are for, right?"

His gaze lingered on me for a second, and there was something different in his eyes. "Friends," he repeated softly, a thoughtful smile crossing his face. "Yeah... friends."

We parted ways outside the building, and as I walked home, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was shifting, that Taehyung and I were moving into a space of familiarity that felt surprisingly safe. It wasn't something I'd planned or even hoped for, but in the quiet moments, in the laughter and small conversations, there was an unexpected ease between us.

The next morning, I arrived at the office early, as usual, setting up Taehyung's desk and arranging his coffee just the way he liked it—black, no sugar. It had become a habit, part of my daily routine. As I finished, Taehyung walked in, his gaze flicking briefly to his coffee before settling on me.

"Thanks," he said, his tone sincere. Then, with a rare, warm smile, he added, "I'd be lost without you around here."

I laughed, trying to hide the way my heart fluttered at his words. "Well, then I'll make sure to keep things running smoothly so you never have to find out."

He chuckled, and for a moment, we simply shared a look, an understanding passing between us that didn't need words. It was strange, but in that moment, it felt as though we were no longer just "boss" and "assistant." The labels felt irrelevant. We were friends, allies, maybe even something more, though neither of us would say it out loud. Not yet, anyway.

As I returned to my desk, I couldn't help but reflect on how much had changed in just a few months. The girl who'd been nervous about working with the CEO was now someone he trusted and relied on, and somewhere in between, we'd become friends. My feelings had shifted in ways I hadn't anticipated, and though there was still a hint of vulnerability in them, I felt grounded, steady.

As I opened my laptop and began diving into the day's tasks, I couldn't help but feel a sense of calmness settle over me. Taehyung's soft words echoed in my mind, reminding me of this new connection we were building—a connection that, slowly but surely, was carving out a new place in my life.

TAEHYUNG-

It's been nearly a month since Y/n became my personal assistant, and if I'm honest, I hadn't expected it to make such an impact on me. At first, I thought she'd be like any other intern—eager to learn, maybe a bit nervous around me, but temporary. However, working side by side with her has shifted everything I thought I knew about her. Somewhere along the way, she became more than just an assistant. She's... someone I look forward to seeing every day, someone who's unwittingly made her way into my thoughts, no matter how hard I try to keep things professional.

Today was no different. When I walked into the office, the coffee on my desk was already there, black with no sugar, exactly how I like it. She's learned the little things without my asking, making the most hectic days feel easier. Somehow, her presence brings a sense of calm, something I didn't realize I'd been missing.

After a morning of meetings and client calls, I caught myself glancing at her desk through the glass. She was focused, as usual, typing away with her brows slightly furrowed, lost in concentration. It's become routine now to steal these moments, watching her from a distance, grateful that she's part of my world, even in this quiet, almost unspoken way.

Later, as we wrapped up another meeting, I felt the weight of the day settle on my shoulders. Y/n was beside me, organizing files and scribbling notes, efficient and dependable as always. But something about her today seemed... different. I noticed the subtle shadow under her eyes, the way her smile didn't quite reach the same light it usually had. She tried to keep her cheerful facade, but I saw through it.

As we stepped out of the conference room, I couldn't help but ask, "Hey, are you okay?"

She blinked, looking a bit taken aback. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she said quickly, waving her hand as if to brush off any concern. But her smile faltered, and for a moment, I could see the vulnerability there. She was good at putting on a brave face, but something told me she was hurting.

"Y/n," I said softly, catching her gaze. "If there's ever anything you need, just know... I'm here, okay? Not just as your boss, but... as a friend."

Her face softened, and there was a faint glimmer in her eyes. She looked down, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you, Taehyung. That means a lot."

The way she said my name sent a warmth through me, one I couldn't ignore. I had tried to keep my feelings at bay, to keep things strictly professional, but every time I see her like this—raw, open—it becomes harder to deny that she means more to me than I'd planned.

As we headed out of the office later that evening, Y/n seemed lost in thought. I wanted to reach out, to ask what was on her mind, but something held me back. The boundary between us felt fragile, like a line I wasn't sure I was ready to cross, but at the same time, one I was desperate to.

When I arrived home, my grandfather was waiting for me in the living room. He seemed cheerful, asking about my day as he often did, though today, he had an unusual gleam in his eye. I sat down, knowing he had something more on his mind.

"You know, Taehyung," he began, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful smile, "you're turning 28 next year. Don't you think it's time to think about settling down?"

I sighed, feeling the familiar weight of his words. We'd had this conversation before, and each time, I brushed it off. "Grandfather, you know how I feel about this. I don't think marriage is for me. Not yet, anyway."

He gave me a knowing look. "You might not think so, but I see things differently. And I have someone in mind—a young woman who'd be perfect for you."

Curiosity tugged at me, though I tried to hide it. "Really?" I replied, feigning indifference. "And who might this 'perfect' person be?"

His smile widened. "Y/n."

My heart skipped. Of all the names he could have said, hers was the last one I'd expected to hear, and yet the only one that felt right. I cleared my throat, struggling to keep my composure. "Y/n? She's... my assistant, Grandfather. She's focusing on her career right now. I doubt she's looking for marriage."

He nodded thoughtfully. "True, but there's something about her, don't you think? She's hardworking, compassionate, and from what I can tell, she brings out a different side of you."

I sat there, words escaping me. He wasn't wrong. There was something about Y/n that had been slowly dismantling my walls, bringing out parts of me I'd long buried. I wanted to deny it, to brush it off as just a fleeting thought, but hearing him say her name, with such certainty, stirred something deep within me.

Over the next few days, I couldn't shake my grandfather's words. Every time I looked at Y/n, the thought crept back, a quiet whisper in the back of my mind. I'd catch myself lingering on her smile, the way she focused so intensely on her work, or the soft laugh she let out during our rare moments of playfulness.

And yet, I couldn't say anything. Not yet. It was too soon, too raw. She was still nursing her own heartache, though she hid it well, and I didn't want to impose these feelings on her when she had her own journey to navigate.

But tonight, as we worked late on an upcoming project, she leaned back in her chair, letting out a tired sigh, a soft smile playing on her lips as she glanced my way. "You know, you're not as scary as I thought you'd be when I first met you," she teased, her eyes glinting with a playful warmth.

I raised an eyebrow, feigning shock. "Scary? I'll have you know I'm considered quite charming."

She laughed, and the sound was light, genuine. "I guess you are," she admitted softly, her gaze lingering on me for just a moment longer than usual.

In that moment, everything felt so effortless. It was as if the world outside faded, and there was only us, two people who'd somehow found solace in each other amidst the chaos. I wanted to tell her then, to confess how she'd changed things for me, but I held back, letting the moment linger without pressing.

When we finally wrapped up for the night, I watched her leave, her figure disappearing into the night, and I knew, deep down, that my grandfather was right. Y/n was different. She'd managed to carve a place in my life, in my heart, without even trying.

Maybe one day, I'd have the courage to tell her. But for now, I was content with these quiet moments, these subtle glances, and the knowledge that she was part of my world.

-----------------------------