The studio was bustling with the sounds of chairs sliding back and conversations winding down as everyone began preparing to leave. Taehyung, always the social butterfly, stood near the doorway with a relaxed smile on his face.

"Clover," he called, his voice gentle as he approached me. "Do you want to have dinner with me? Just us—before heading home?"

I blinked at him, caught off guard by the invitation. The thought of spending one-on-one time with Taehyung was tempting; he had always been warm and easy to talk to. But my gaze drifted toward the corner of the studio where Suga was still seated, his headphones half-off, his attention fully absorbed in the glowing monitors in front of him.

Suga hadn't even looked up once during the commotion of everyone leaving, his fingers working tirelessly on the controls. He looked tired—more tired than I'd seen him in weeks.

I bit my lip and glanced back at Taehyung. "I think I'll pass," I said softly, offering him an apologetic smile. "Maybe next time?"

Taehyung's brows rose in slight surprise, but he quickly nodded, his expression warm as ever. "Alright," he said. "Don't stay too late, though. You need rest too."

"I will," I promised, and with that, Taehyung joined the others as they filed out of the studio, their laughter and chatter fading into the hallway.

The silence that followed felt oddly heavy. I stayed rooted in place for a moment, watching Suga as he leaned closer to the screen, his shoulders tense with focus.

Finally, I walked over to him, hesitating for a brief second before sitting down beside him.

"You're still here?" he asked, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah," I replied, offering a small smile. "Everyone else left, and I noticed you've been yawning nonstop. Thought maybe you could use some company—or a break."

Suga let out a quiet chuckle, leaning back in his chair. "A break isn't in the cards tonight," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Too much to finish."

I nodded, glancing at the endless waveforms on the screen. "Do you need any help?"

He gave me a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised. "Help?"

"Well, not with the technical stuff," I said quickly, realizing how ridiculous the offer sounded. "But, you know, I could... fetch coffee or something?"

Suga shook his head, the corner of his lips twitching with amusement. "I'm fine," he said.

"Okay," I said, starting to stand. "I'll leave you to it, then."

Just as I was about to turn away, I felt his hand wrap gently around my wrist.

"Stay," he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "Just... stay. Helps me stay awake."

I stared at him for a moment, surprised by the request. But then I nodded and sat back down, folding my legs beneath me.

"Alright," I said, settling in. "Tell me about it, then. The track, the arrangement... what are you working on?"

Suga hesitated, his eyes searching mine briefly before he turned back to the screen. "Fine," he said, as if humoring me. "This part here—" he gestured at the screen "—I'm layering a softer beat under the main track to balance the vocals. But it's tricky. I want it to feel nostalgic without dragging the tempo down."

I nodded, even though I didn't fully understand. "How do you decide which instruments to use?"

And just like that, the conversation flowed naturally. Suga explained his process with quiet passion, his voice steady as he walked me through the intricacies of sound design and rhythm. I kept asking questions—not to truly understand, but to keep him talking, to keep him awake.

The hours blurred together as the room filled with the hum of the speakers and the gentle cadence of his voice. And though the night stretched on, neither of us seemed to mind.

As the night wore on, I decided to stop talking and let Suga concentrate. My endless questions had done their part in keeping him awake, but now, silence seemed more appropriate. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table and my head on my folded arms.

The low hum of the speakers filled the room, lulling me into a state somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. I tried to close my eyes, but every now and then, my gaze drifted toward Suga.

His focus was magnetic. The way his hands moved over the keyboard, his lips occasionally pressing into a thin line of concentration—it was captivating. I couldn't help but watch him, studying every detail: the curve of his jaw, the way his hair fell over his forehead, the faint crease between his brows.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been staring, but at some point, an inexplicable impulse took over me.

I sat up straight, my heart pounding as I leaned closer to him. What was I doing? I didn't know. Maybe I was just tired—or maybe I was too comfortable being around him. Whatever it was, I found myself tilting my head slightly, leaning toward him.

I was about to press a light, fleeting kiss to his cheek when he suddenly turned.

Our eyes locked, and I froze.

His expression was unreadable at first, but then his brows furrowed slightly. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice calm but with an unmistakable edge of coldness.

I blinked, feeling heat rush to my face. "I—nothing," I stammered, quickly leaning back. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

Suga's gaze lingered on me for a moment, his expression hard to decipher. Then he turned back to his screen, his hands resuming their work as if nothing had happened.

But I couldn't just sit there anymore. The weight of my embarrassment was too much to bear.

"I'll... be right back," I mumbled, pushing my chair back as I stood. Without waiting for a response, I headed out of the studio and into the restroom, shutting the door behind me.

I leaned against the sink, gripping the edge tightly as I let out a shaky breath. My heart was racing, and my mind was a whirlwind of emotions: embarrassment, confusion, and something else I couldn't quite name.

"What were you thinking, Clover?" I whispered to myself, staring at my reflection.

When I returned to the studio, Suga was already packing up, his movements brisk and precise. He didn't look at me, his focus entirely on zipping his bag and shutting down the equipment.

"We should head home," he said flatly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I'll drive you."

I hesitated, unsure if I should say something, but the words caught in my throat. All I could manage was a quiet nod.

We walked out of the studio in silence, the cool night air brushing against my skin as we headed to the parking lot. The silence stretched between us, heavy and unrelenting. Suga unlocked the car and opened the door without a word, waiting for me to get in before shutting it and rounding the vehicle to take his seat.

The drive was no different. The car's interior was filled only with the soft hum of the engine, and I found myself staring out the window, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. My mind raced with thoughts of what had just happened, the memory of his cold tone replaying over and over.

When we finally reached my house, Suga slowed to a stop in front of the gate. I unbuckled my seatbelt and hesitated for a moment, glancing at him.

"Thank you for the ride," I said softly, my voice almost drowned out by the hum of the engine.

He didn't respond.

Instead, he kept his gaze fixed ahead, his hands steady on the wheel. Without so much as a glance in my direction, he shifted gears and drove off the moment I stepped out, leaving me standing there on the sidewalk.

I watched the taillights fade into the distance, a knot forming in my chest. As much as I wanted to shrug it off, I couldn't ignore the ache of his coldness. It was unlike him—or at least unlike the Suga I thought I knew.

With a sigh, I turned and headed inside, my heart heavier than when the night began.

***

The pool area of The Shilla Seoul was transformed into an enchanting venue, with twinkling fairy lights strung across the open sky and elegant floral arrangements adorning every corner. The soft sound of the water lapping against the edges of the pool provided a serene backdrop to the lively hum of conversations and laughter. It felt almost surreal to see such a sophisticated gathering centered around me.

It was my 24th birthday, and somehow, the management had gone all out to celebrate it. The guest list was nothing short of dazzling—familiar faces from my time at Seoul Suntrust International School, BTS (minus Jin and J-Hope), big-name idols, and colleagues I'd worked with in the industry. And then, of course, there was my personal manager, standing at the front with a microphone in hand, delivering an introductory speech with the poise and charisma of someone born to manage moments like these.

I stood near the center, the subtle spotlight cast on me making me feel simultaneously special and self-conscious. The cool evening air wrapped around me, and I clutched my glass of fruit tea, hoping to calm my nerves. It was overwhelming, but I kept reminding myself to breathe, to enjoy the moment.

And then, something happened that I wasn't prepared for.

The grand doors leading to the pool area opened with a dramatic flair, and all heads turned toward the entrance. My breath hitched as two figures stepped into the glow of the evening lights.

It was my Papa and Break.

They strode in with the kind of confidence that naturally drew attention, but my focus was only on them. My heart swelled as I took in my Papa's warm smile, his face etched with the familiarity of home and love. And beside him, Break—his suit sharp and perfectly tailored, his demeanor effortlessly cool, as if he had just stepped off the cover of a magazine.

"Papa," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion as my eyes filled with tears.

I didn't wait. I moved, weaving through the crowd toward them. The closer I got, the more real they became, and by the time I reached my Papa, I was already wrapped in his arms.

"Clover," he said softly, his voice carrying the love and pride I had longed to hear for so long.

I held him tightly, savoring the warmth and reassurance of his presence.

When we pulled apart, I turned to Break, who was watching me with that familiar crooked grin, the one that always had a way of grounding me.

"Happy birthday," he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my cheek before pulling me into a hug. His embrace was steady and strong, a silent promise of his unwavering presence in my life.

"You didn't tell me you were coming," I said, my voice cracking slightly as I looked between the two of them.

"That's what makes it a surprise, right?" Break said, his teasing tone drawing a small laugh from me despite the lump in my throat.

My Papa chuckled, his eyes crinkling with joy. "We wouldn't miss this for the world."

Applause erupted around us, and I suddenly remembered we weren't alone. The crowd seemed just as moved by the unexpected entrance, their claps and cheers adding to the magic of the moment.

Standing there, with my Papa and Break beside me, I realized that no matter how grand this party was or how many important people attended, nothing could top the joy of this reunion. This moment—this love—was the greatest gift I could have ever asked for.

After the excitement died down, I wandered toward the buffet table. The aroma of the food was intoxicating, but my thoughts tugged at me. I had to be careful, as always. That's when I spotted Han Minseok, my personal manager, standing nearby with an air of satisfaction, clearly proud of tonight's arrangements.

"Minseok-oppa," I called out, catching his attention.

He turned with a smile. "Clover! How's everything? I hope you're having a great time."

"I am," I replied, and gestured toward the buffet. "Thank you for organizing all of this. But... I was wondering, did you make any adjustments to the food?"

His brow furrowed slightly. "Adjustments? What do you mean?"

I smiled, trying to keep my tone light. "I just mean, like, healthier options. You know, stuff that's light and refreshing. I've been trying to stick to a clean diet lately."

"Oh!" He laughed, clearly relieved. "Of course, I got you covered. There's a whole section just for that. Fruits, light salads, sparkling water, herbal teas—all the good stuff. Figured you'd appreciate it."

"Thank you, oppa," I said, genuinely grateful. He had no idea how much his effort mattered, but that was exactly how I wanted it to stay.

As I filled my plate with a colorful fruit salad and a glass of sparkling water, Taehyung appeared with his signature grin, holding a cocktail in hand.

"No way you're not toasting with us," he teased, raising an eyebrow.

I held up my glass with a playful smirk. "This is my version of toasting. Cheers!"

We clinked glasses, and Taehyung's laugh rang out, warm and contagious. For a moment, I felt lighter, just soaking in the moment. But then my gaze drifted toward the poolside. Suga was there, standing quietly, his expression unreadable. I didn't know if he'd seen me, but the sight of him stirred something in my chest—a complicated mix of gratitude and something I didn't quite want to name.

Break came up beside me, sliding his own plate of food onto the table.

"Let me guess," he said, gesturing to my plate, "this is all you're having?"

I laughed softly. "Hey, I have to stick to my rules, okay? You know how it is."

___________

a/n: Hi, Clovers! Merry Christmas! I hope you've enjoyed the first 20 chapters of this revised 2024 edition of the story. I'm excited to share that the remaining 15 chapters and the epilogue of this story will be posted next week, just before 2024 ends! 🎉 Thank you for your love and support—let's finish this journey together.