Chapter 43:

The next morning, the group set out for a day of wine tasting in the heart of Chianti, Tuscany's most famous wine region. The sun was just beginning to rise as they drove through winding country roads, flanked by endless rows of vineyards. The golden light cast long shadows over the lush green hills, and the air was crisp with the scent of earth, grapes, and morning dew.

Scarlet sat beside Ha-Joon in the open-roof vehicle, her head resting lightly against his shoulder. His fingers traced slow, absentminded circles on the back of her hand. It was peaceful, the kind of morning that felt untouched by time.

Behind them, Seung-Il and Esme were already debating something, probably about the disaster of Seung-Il's pottery from the day before. Ha-Neul sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the scenery, while the parents chatted amongst themselves about old memories and business ventures.

When they finally arrived at the winery, they were greeted by the vineyard owner, an older gentleman named Lorenzo, who welcomed them with warm enthusiasm. "Ah, you have come at the perfect time," he said, leading them through the vast vineyard. "The sun is rising, and the vines are alive with the morning light. This is when the land speaks to you."

Scarlet couldn't deny it, the beauty of the vineyard in the early morning was breathtaking. The rolling hills stretched endlessly, dotted with rows of grapevines heavy with fruit. The rich, earthy scent of soil and ripening grapes filled the air, mingling with the soft breeze that carried hints of lavender and rosemary from a nearby herb garden.

Lorenzo guided them deeper into the vineyard, explaining the winemaking process as they walked. "These vines have been in my family for generations," he said proudly. "Each grape, each bottle of wine, carries a piece of history."

Scarlet listened intently, her fingers still intertwined with Ha-Joon's. Occasionally, he would glance at her, a small smile playing on his lips, as if he were more interested in watching her than in learning about wine.

When they reached a secluded clearing, Lorenzo stopped and gestured toward a beautifully arranged picnic setup. A long wooden table was draped with white linens, adorned with fresh flowers and rustic baskets filled with bread, cheese, and an array of fresh fruits. A few bottles of wine stood ready, their deep crimson hues gleaming in the morning light.

"We thought you might enjoy a little breakfast before the wine tasting," Lorenzo said with a knowing smile.

Scarlet's eyes widened in delight. "This is beautiful."

Ha-Joon chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Only the best for my wife."

She rolled her eyes but didn't pull away. They settled at the table, the warmth of the morning sun kissing their skin as they indulged in the simple yet decadent spread. The freshly baked bread was warm and crusty, perfect with the soft, aged cheese that melted on their tongues. Juicy figs, plump grapes, and golden honey completed the meal, each bite bursting with flavor.

Scarlet took a sip of her wine, a smooth Chianti with notes of cherry and oak, and sighed contentedly. "I could get used to this."

Ha-Joon smirked. "Good, because I'm already planning our next trip."

She shot him a look. "You don't even know where we're going next."

He leaned closer, his voice low. "I don't care, as long as you're with me."

Her heart fluttered, and for a moment, everything else faded away, the laughter of their friends, the quiet conversations of their parents, even the vineyard itself. It was just the two of them, wrapped in their own little world.

Seung-Il, never one to let a romantic moment pass without interruption, clapped his hands together. "Alright, lovebirds, as much as we all enjoy watching you two make heart eyes at each other, I believe we have some wine to taste."

Scarlet groaned, while Ha-Joon just smirked, unfazed. The group moved to the winery's main tasting room, a charming rustic space with stone walls and wooden beams. Large windows overlooked the vineyards, offering a view so stunning it felt like a painting.

Lorenzo's team guided them through the tasting, explaining the delicate balance of flavors in each wine. Scarlet savored each sip, enjoying the subtle differences between the varieties, the bold richness of the reds, the crispness of the whites, the delicate sweetness of the dessert wines.

Ha-Neul, though mostly silent, seemed to appreciate the experience. He swirled his glass with practiced ease, his gaze thoughtful as he examined the color and aroma of each wine.

Mr. Kang, always the businessman, asked detailed questions about production and distribution, while Mr. Wi and Mr. Rogers reminisced about past trips to Tuscany. The mothers, meanwhile, seemed far more interested in the idea of taking home a few bottles.

As the tasting progressed, Scarlet found herself growing warm and pleasantly lightheaded. Ha-Joon noticed immediately, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Maybe slow down a little?" he murmured.

She grinned up at him. "Are you saying I can't handle my wine?"

He chuckled. "I'm saying I'd rather not have to carry you back to the car."

Scarlet huffed but leaned into him nonetheless. After the tasting, the group took a final stroll through the vineyard, the sun now high in the sky. The laughter was easy, the conversation flowing as freely as the wine had.

As they reached the end of the vineyard path, Scarlet paused, taking it all in. The beauty, the peace, the people she loved surrounding her. Ha-Joon, standing beside her, noticed the way her expression softened. "What are you thinking about?"

She turned to him, smiling. "That I don't want this trip to end."

He took her hand, bringing it to his lips. "Then let's make the most of every moment."

And as they stood there, in the heart of Tuscany, with the golden fields stretching out before them and the sky an endless expanse of blue, Scarlet knew, this was happiness. This was love. And she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

***

The grand farmhouse mansion stood in the middle of the rolling Tuscan hills, bathed in the soft glow of the moon. The night air was cool, carrying the distant hum of cicadas and the rustling of vines in the gentle breeze. Inside, the house was silent, everyone had collapsed into deep, exhausted sleep after the long day of horse riding, pottery making, and wine tasting.

Everyone except for one man.

Ha-Neul.

It had become his routine. While the others drifted into sleep as if they had no worries in the world, he found himself awake, eyes wide open in the dark, unable to quiet his thoughts. And so, like every other night, he stepped out onto his balcony, the quiet solitude of the open air offering him the only peace he could claim as his own.

The wooden floor was cool beneath his feet as he walked forward, his gaze drawn almost instinctively to the balcony across from his. Ha-Joon and Scarlet's. They were there, wrapped in each other's arms, asleep. Scarlet's head rested against Ha-Joon's chest, her breath steady and peaceful, her fingers lightly curled into the fabric of his shirt.

Ha-Joon held her close, protective even in sleep, his hand resting over hers. Ha-Neul let out a quiet breath, tilting his head slightly as he observed them. They looked... happy. Peaceful. He found himself smiling, just a little. A sad, bitter smile.

He leaned forward, resting his ankles on the railing, his chin in his palm. His other hand sat idly by his side, fingers brushing against the cool wood. The coffee mug he had brought with him sat untouched on the small table beside him, wisps of steam still curling up into the air. He hadn't taken a sip yet. Maybe he wouldn't at all.

For a good five minutes, he simply sat there, unmoving. Watching. Scarlet shifted slightly in her sleep, nuzzling further into Ha-Joon's embrace. And Ha-Neul's gaze softened. She looked so peaceful. So... unattainable. And maybe he was a fool, a freak, even, to always find himself watching them like this.

But he was what he was. With a deep exhale, he pushed himself back from the railing, picking up the coffee mug. He brought it to his lips, taking a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through him, though it did nothing to thaw the cold ache in his chest.

His gaze flickered down to the small flowers sitting on the edge of his table. A delicate thing, light pink petals, slightly curled now, having dried out over time. Scarlet had thrown it at him once, catching him asleep on this very balcony. He smiled at the memory. She had looked at him with exasperation that day, hands on her hips, lips pursed.

"If you're going to be an insomniac, at least don't do it in the cold! Here, take this. Something pretty to balance out that grumpy face of yours."

She had tossed the flower at him, and he had caught it instinctively, bewildered by her sudden gesture. He had meant to throw it away, but for some reason, he hadn't. And now here it was. Sitting in front of him. A stupid little flower. Something insignificant to her. But not to him.

Ha-Neul's fingers traced over the petals lightly. He no longer wanted to cry. He was past that stage. The pain, the longing, the regret of being too late, it was all woven into him now, no longer something that crushed him but something he had simply learned to carry.

He didn't want to fight it anymore. He wanted to live with it. With this pain. With the knowledge that she was never his to begin with. That she never would be. The very first day they met, she had already been married to Ha-Joon. For who knows how long.

And yet, it hadn't stopped his heart from choosing her. Ha-Neul sighed, setting the mug back down. He leaned back against his chair, closing his eyes for a brief moment. The night was quiet. And so was he. A part of him wondered if he should just move on. Find someone else. Let go of this impossible love.

But another part of him, one much stronger, knew he wouldn't. He would rather live with it. Live with the ache. The quiet glances. The moments when her laughter rang in his ears a little too long. The way his hands twitched every time he saw hers resting so close, yet so out of reach.

He would live with all of it. Because at least this way, he still got to be in her life. Even if it wasn't in the way he wanted. Even if it never would be. Ha-Neul reached out, picking up the flower once more. He twirled it between his fingers, watching the petals move in the faint breeze.

Maybe one day, he would stop feeling this way. Maybe one day, he wouldn't be sitting here, staring at a stupid flower, wondering what it would have been like if things were different. But tonight wasn't that day. Tonight, he would sit here. Drink his coffee. Watch her sleep in someone else's arms. And he would live with it.

Ha-Neul sat in his chair, the coffee mug warm between his fingers as he took another slow sip. The night was quiet, with only the soft hum of the wind and the occasional rustling of trees breaking the silence. His gaze lazily drifted across the estate, his mind heavy yet oddly at ease.

Movement in the garden below caught his attention. Christine and Thomas. They were stumbling across the lawn, their arms draped over each other's shoulders, laughing softly as they tried to make their way back to the guest quarters. Drunk.

He supposed it made sense. They had all been at the wine tasting earlier, and knowing Christine, she must have convinced Thomas to go for one more round, then another. And another. Ha-Neul shook his head slightly, watching as Christine lost her footing, her legs giving out beneath her as she tumbled onto the grass.

Thomas groaned, rubbing his face before bending down with a drunken chuckle and pulling her up into his arms. She clung onto him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as he carried her toward the guest quarters, mumbling something Ha-Neul couldn't hear. A small smile tugged at the corner of Ha-Neul's lips.

"I guess I'm the only single human here," he mumbled to himself, lifting his mug to his lips once more.

The words held no bitterness, just a quiet resignation. It wasn't even a surprising realization, it was just how things were. Everyone around him seemed to have someone. Christine had Thomas. Scarlet had Ha-Joon. Even Seung-Il, as grumpy as he was, had a wife who was now expecting their child.

And then there was him. Alone. Ha-Neul exhaled slowly, shifting his gaze back to the balcony across from him. Ha-Joon and Scarlet hadn't moved. They were still wrapped up in each other, locked in the kind of embrace that spoke of deep trust and familiarity. The kind of love that didn't need words to be understood.

Scarlet looked so small against Ha-Joon's broad frame, her cheek resting comfortably against his chest. His arm was still around her, holding her close even in sleep. Ha-Neul's grip on his coffee mug tightened slightly. He wasn't jealous. Not in the way people might assume. He wasn't envious of Ha-Joon.

He wasn't angry at Scarlet for choosing him. It wasn't about wanting to take Ha-Joon's place. It was about knowing he had never even been an option. He had never had a chance. And he never would. He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head at himself. Maybe it was better this way. At least this way, he wouldn't have to risk losing her, because she was never his to have.

***

The golden hues of the Tuscan sunset melted into the deep blues of the approaching night, casting a warm glow over the grand farmhouse mansion. The estate was calm, the kind of calm that had once felt impossible in the chaos of Ha-Joon and Scarlet's marriage.

But now, as the days passed, the storm had begun to settle. Families that had once clashed were now finding their rhythm, blending into a new, unspoken understanding. It wasn't perfect, but it was something. And tonight, Scarlet found herself in the heart of it all, the kitchen.

Dressed in a simple, cream-colored linen dress, her hair tied up in a loose bun, she stood at the stove, carefully stirring a large pot of Ribollita, the hearty Tuscan soup known for being a cure-all, especially for hangovers. Given the wine-fueled antics of the night before, she knew they all needed it.

The kitchen was warm, filled with the comforting aroma of simmering vegetables, cannellini beans, and day-old bread soaking up the rich broth. Scarlet had started the soup early, letting the flavors meld together into something thick, nourishing, and undeniably Italian.

She had first sautéed onions, carrots, and celery in a generous drizzle of olive oil, the sound of sizzling filling the space. Then came the tomatoes, crushed by her own hands, releasing their sweet tang into the pot. Garlic, rosemary, and thyme followed, their fragrant oils blooming in the heat.

She worked methodically, pouring in vegetable broth and letting it come to a rolling boil before lowering the heat. Cannellini beans went in next, followed by finely chopped kale and cabbage, their deep green hues brightening the soup. And finally, the torn pieces of stale bread, the soul of Ribollita, sank into the broth, thickening it to perfection.

"Smells amazing."

Esme's voice pulled Scarlet from her quiet focus. She turned to see the woman easing into one of the kitchen chairs, resting a hand on her slightly swollen belly. She looked tired but content, her dark brown hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Scarlet smiled, stirring the pot. "It's almost done. You'll love it."

"I'm sure I will," Esme said, but there was something in her tone, a hesitation, a lingering worry.

Scarlet wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and sat across from her, brow raised. "What's wrong?"

Esme exhaled, rubbing slow circles over her stomach. "I'm scared to give birth."

Scarlet softened. She had never been pregnant herself, but she had seen enough to know how terrifying it could be. "That's normal," she said gently. "You're growing a whole human. It's a big deal."

"I know, but... I keep thinking about the pain. What if something goes wrong?"

Before Scarlet could respond, another voice chimed in, Aaira, who had just entered, holding her son, Aimir, in her arms. "Oh, I get your pain," she said dramatically, plopping down next to them. "Aimir's birth was horrible. I was in labor for twenty-two hours."

Esme's eyes widened in horror. "Twenty-two hours?"

Aaira nodded solemnly. "And this little monster came out screaming." She sighed, then turned to her son, who was currently making faces at the spoonful of Cerelac she was trying to feed him. "Speaking of, you need to eat, Aimir."

Aimir, however, was having none of it. The second the spoon entered his mouth, he gagged dramatically, pushing it away with his tiny hands. Scarlet snorted, covering her mouth. "I don't think he likes it."

"He has to eat it," Aaira groaned, trying again, only for Aimir to let out an exaggerated wail.

Esme laughed, momentarily forgetting her own worries. "He's got personality."

"Oh, you have no idea." Aaira set the bowl aside with a sigh. "Anyway, Esme, don't worry too much about the birth. It's scary, but the moment you hold your baby, everything else just... disappears. You won't even care about the pain."

Esme nodded, still looking unconvinced, but there was a little more peace in her expression now. Scarlet smiled at the scene before standing up and returning to the stove. The soup had thickened beautifully, the flavors deep and rich.

She ladled it into a large serving bowl, the steam rising in delicate swirls. The dining room was already buzzing with conversation when she carried the soup out. The long wooden table was set, candles flickering in the dim evening light. The air was warmer now, not just from the food but from the newfound ease between their families.

Ha-Joon's parents sat at one end, speaking quietly with Scarlet's mother. Ha-Neul's mother, who had once been distant and detached, was now part of the conversation, her sharp edges softening. Seung-Il was grumbling about something to Ha-Neul, while Christine and Thomas, still slightly hungover, slumped against each other, waiting for food.

Scarlet set the soup in the center of the table. "Alright, everyone. Eat."

A collective murmur of gratitude went around as bowls were passed and ladled full of Ribollita. The first sip brought a chorus of satisfied hums.

"This is exactly what I needed," Thomas groaned, his head still resting against his hand.

Christine, half-asleep, nodded. "You're a lifesaver, Ma'am..." She paused as she looked around the table, and said. "S...scarlet."

Ha-Joon smiled as he took his first bite, nudging Scarlet's knee under the table. "Perfect, as always."

Scarlet rolled her eyes but couldn't help the warmth that spread through her. She had never thought she'd see this day, where their families sat together, where the tension that had once been suffocating had melted into something softer.

For the first time since marrying Ha-Joon, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. As she ate, she glanced across the table at Ha-Neul. He was eating quietly, as he always did, but there was something different about him tonight.

His usual brooding expression was absent. He wasn't looking at her with longing or sadness. He was just... there. Present. And maybe, just maybe, starting to find peace in his own way.

The night stretched on with slow conversations, quiet laughter, and the comforting sound of silverware against porcelain. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't some grand, dramatic resolution to everything that had happened. But it was a start. And sometimes, that was enough.

***

The kitchen was a quiet hum of activity as Aaira stood by the sink, her sleeves rolled up, warm water running over her hands as she scrubbed the last of the dishes. The remnants of dinner had been cleared away, the dining table wiped clean, and most of the older family members had retired to their rooms, exhausted from the long day.

Beside her, Seung-Il sat on one of the stools, phone in hand, scrolling lazily through what looked like news articles. His sharp eyes flickered over the screen, one hand resting against his chin as he read. Across the room, Sung-Hoon, usually composed and reserved, was currently engaged in a far less dignified battle, trying to keep Aimir from grabbing his glasses.

Aimir, wide awake despite the late hour, was determined, his tiny hands reaching out with absolute focus. Sung-Hoon, on the other hand, was dodging skillfully, adjusting his position every few seconds to keep the child at bay.

"You have too much energy for someone who refused to eat earlier," Sung-Hoon muttered, finally giving in and handing Aimir one of his fingers instead. The baby immediately latched onto it, chewing contentedly.

Aaira turned her head slightly, shaking her head with a small laugh. "You're surprisingly good with him today."

Sung-Hoon sighed. "I now know how this goes."

Before Aaira could respond, Ha-Joon's voice cut through the quiet, laced with mischief. "Alright, everyone. Let's play Truth or Dare."

Aaira blinked, glancing over her shoulder. "What?"

Ha-Joon leaned against the counter, arms crossed, an amused smirk on his face. Scarlet stood next to him, eyebrows raised but clearly intrigued. Christine and Thomas had already perked up from their half-asleep state on the couch, while Esme, sitting near the dining table, groaned.

"The parents have all gone to bed. It's just us now," Ha-Joon continued. "Let's do something fun."

Aaira turned off the water, wiping her hands on a towel. "You sound like a rebellious teenager trying to sneak out past curfew."

"Because that's exactly what this feels like," Seung-Il muttered, still scrolling his phone.

Predictably, the older generation of the group had no interest. Sung-Hoon, ever composed, gave Ha-Joon a pointed look. "I'm not playing."

Ha-Neul, leaning back against the wall with a coffee cup in hand, shook his head. "Neither am I."

Ha-Joon groaned, turning to Scarlet. "Come on, at least you'll play, right?"

Scarlet exhaled through her nose but smirked. "Fine. But I'm picking a dare every time."

Christine and Thomas, still looking slightly hungover, perked up further. "Oh, we are so in," Thomas declared, nudging Thomas. "This is exactly the kind of ridiculousness I need right now."

Esme, rubbing her belly, looked skeptical but finally nodded. "I'll play, but nothing too extreme."

Aaira sighed, giving in as well. "Fine."

Seung-Il groaned, locking his phone and setting it down. "If I say no, you'll just drag me into it anyway."

Ha-Joon clapped his hands together, victorious. "Perfect. Let's move to the living room."

The group shuffled to the couches, settling in for what would undoubtedly be an interesting game. And ha-neul and sung-hoon were forced to join the group.