TAEHYUNG'S POV:

I shook hands with Ms. Hong Chaei as our meeting wrapped up on a positive note.

She was a long-time friend and one of most in-demand jewelry designers. With only two days in the country, she barely had time to breathe, but she still made room in her schedule to meet me before her flight back to Japan. I appreciated that.

She was sharp, efficient, and always inspired by detail, which made her perfect for the custom project I had in mind.

We had some personal and professional talk, discussed designs, I showed her the blue box with the pendant inside-something I had been holding onto for months now. A base idea. I wanted her to create a matching version... one for me, one for Y/N.

Couple jewelry. With some modifications.

She lit up at the idea and asked to see the pendant up close, examining the structure and materials carefully. She awed over it, appreciating the craftsmanship and took a picture in her phone. We spent a few more minutes sketching quick concepts and finalizing timelines.

Then, I escorted her to the parking lot alongside my manager, bid her a quick farewell, and immediately turned back toward the bonfire.

Toward her.

Y/N.

My wife.

I couldn't wait to get back to her. The plan was to spend the rest of the night by her side, just the two of us under the stars while everyone else joked, sang, and let loose.

But as the fire's glow came into view, my steps slowed. Something didn't feel right. Only Jimin and his wife stood nearby, hunched over someone slumped on the table.

No.

Y/N.

I rushed forward, chest tightening.

"Y/N?" I pushed past Jimin gently, kneeling beside her. Her head was down, her hair a soft curtain across her face.

"What happened to her?!" I asked, panic lacing my voice as my hand found her back. She didn't respond to my touch.

"She's drunk" Jimin said, rubbing the back of his neck like he was the one in distress.

I blinked. "What?" I stood up straight. "You let her drink? You know she doesn't drink!"

"Correction," Jimin muttered. "You let her drink."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"She got drunk on jealousy" Fatima added coolly.

"Jealousy?" My brows furrowed.

Before either of them could say more-

"Bitch" Y/N slurred, suddenly lifting her head.

Her voice was thick, her lips pouty, her eyes glassy with both alcohol and... emotion. She blew her hair out of her face with the sass of a girl pushed to her limit.

My brows shot up in disbelief.

Did... did she just cuss?

My sweet, soft-spoken wife?

Jimin let out a short whistle. "Not her first cuss, by the way"

But I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. I was still stuck on the fact that Y/N-my Y/N-was drunk and seething.

And then she just... went quiet. Didn't even look up at me, or anyone. As if we were air around her.

I scratched the back of my neck, concern gnawing at me. Jealousy, they said?

"What jealousy?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Maybe next time, tell your wife before you go on a 'date' with some bitch," Jimin added, with air quotes so dramatic they might've slapped me in the face.

I stared at him. Then at Fatima. Back at Jimin. My mind turning over everything that happened tonight, trying to make sense of what they were implying.

And then-click.

My jaw parted slightly. My eyes slowly widened as the dots began to connect. I tilted my head back, letting out a deep groan, one hand running through my hair while the other settled on my hip.

"Oh god..." I mumbled. "We were having a meeting. It wasn't a date, for god's sake..."

"Explain that to your ghost" Fatima deadpanned, pointing down at Y/N, who remained terrifyingly still, adorably pouting, and very much not listening to a single word I said.

"She's your problem now" Jimin added with a pat to my shoulder before walking off, hand-in-hand with his wife like they hadn't just left me in a mini emotional disaster.

I watched them disappear inside, then finally turned my attention back to her. My ghost.

And there she was-my wife-sitting slouched with her elbows on the table, face tipped forward, lips puffed in a deep pout. Her flushed cheeks glowed under the flickering bonfire light. A strand of her hair stuck to her glossy lips as she stared silently at the grass.

God. Even in her jealous, drunken state... she was beautiful.

But she really got drunk over this?

Jealousy so strong it led her to take shots she otherwise avoided like the plague?

That... kind of humbled me. And weirdly made me feel warm inside.

I stepped closer and gently tucked the rogue strand of hair behind her ear, crouching down to her eye level.

"Are you jealous, Mrs. Kim?" I asked softly, amused.

She shifted, elbow still on the table, resting her chin on her palm. Then turned her head to me with narrowed, glazed eyes.

"You know," she whispered like a secret, "my husband is a bitch."

I blinked. Then... chuckled.

"Your husband's a bitch?" I echoed, playing along. "You mean Kim Taehyung? What'd he do?"

"Shhhh" she shushed me, pressing a finger to her lips. "He's sitting right back there," she pointed behind. "He has sharp ears. That bitch."

I bit my lower lip to stop my laugh.

She leaned in conspiratorially. "He's on a date with some bitch right now," she added, full of pouty betrayal. "And he left me behind."

"Oh my god, Y/N. That was just a business meeting" I tried to explain.

"Business?" she repeated, dramatically slumping her head back on the table. "Business, as in talking with her? Laughing with her? Giving her a pendant?!"

I smirked, unable to help it.

Okay. That part. That was on me.

"Let's go back to the room, hmm?" I said, reaching out and gently wrapping my hand around her wrist.

But she pulled away with dramatic flair, rubbing her arm like I'd burned her. "Oh?! Why would I go with you when I have my own husband?" she asked, scandalized.

I blinked. "Do you not... recognize me right now?"

She squinted at me like I was a stranger. "I love him regardless" she declared confidently, loud enough to scare away a cricket.

My brows arched high. Damn. Was that a drunk confession? She would never say things like this first when sober. Never.

"Even if he's gay" she added.

Cue mental crash.

I choked. "What did you just say?!"

"He is," she whispered with conviction, tugging me closer by my collar like she was confiding a royal secret. "He never talks to other women. Never. But he's never kissed me..." Her lips trembled into a soft, dramatic wail. "But then, he supports me too much, Taehyung. I think he's really gay!"

I closed my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose to keep from wheezing. One moment I'm a cheater and the other I'm a supportive gay.

"Y/N... you're wasted" I sighed, gently lifting her by the waist and sitting her on the edge of the table.

I stepped between her legs, caging her with one hand on the bench beside her and the other settling against her waist. She gasped. Her pout deepened.

I leaned closer, brushing my nose against hers. "You think I'm gay, love?"

She gasped theatrically, rubbing her nose as if I'd just offended her pride. "Move away, mister! My husband might look like a cinnamon roll, but he'd punch you right in the face! You're not allowed to do that!"

I held back a laugh, staring at her in stunned amusement. At least she knew I was a jealous man. That much was accurate.

"I'm your husband, ma'am" I said softly, almost teasing.

"No, you're not" she declared with the confidence of a very drunk woman, shaking her head dramatically. "Though you do look like him... maybe because I'm drunk. But you cannot be my husband."

"Why not?" I asked, humoring her. "Why can't I be your husband?"

She looked at me then, her expression folding into something heartbreakingly soft. "Because... he's never been this close to me. He could never."

Her pout returned, but this time it wasn't teasing-it was wounded. "Maybe he doesn't like me" she mumbled. "Maybe he does, but he doesn't love me."

I blinked, stunned silent as I watched her insecurity spill out like a slow leak from a cracked heart. Her voice trembled as she continued.

"What do I not have?" she asked, her brows pinching in pain. "Am I not good enough? Not pretty enough? Maybe not like that lady, but... am I not talented enough? What do I not have?! In fact I'm not even as innocent anymore!"

I felt my chest twist. She was comparing herself-doubting herself-over a woman I hadn't even looked at properly. All it took was a business meeting for her to break this much?

Damn me.

I gently rubbed her back, her body slightly hunched as tears shimmered in her glossy eyes. I wanted to hit myself for letting her feel like this, even for a second.

Then she muttered under her breath, "Maybe it's Samantha and Rachel."

I frowned, confused. "Who?"

She pointed down at her chest. "Boobs."

My mouth parted. I blinked once. Twice. And then I sighed and closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose to hold onto the last thread of sanity I had.

One second, she had me drowning in emotion, and the next-this. Samantha and Rachel? Whatever...

She looked down with a shaky lip. "Yeah, maybe they're not as big but-" she hiccuped, holding them like they were in danger, "-but I swear they're trying their best!"

That was it.

"Enough," I said firmly, but gently, and moved her hand away from her very dramatic chest grab. "What made you think I don't like you?"

She looked right into my eyes, her voice soft and honest, "Because you're gay."

I choked on air. "I'm not-" I began, but had to clear my throat, my voice strained with disbelief and something like laughter bubbling dangerously inside me.

"I'm not-" I cleared, trying not to laugh or cry. "I'm not gay, Y/N."

She blinked up at me, lips still adorably pouted, her eyes glassy and full of heartbreak-the innocent kind. The kind that didn't even know how dangerous it was.

"You're not?" she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, as if she were solving a mystery she really wanted to be wrong about.

"No" I said, my voice dropping into something gentler, warmer. I chuckled softly. "I'm very much into women. Specifically... one woman."

She sniffled again. "Me?"

I nodded gently, caressing her hair. "Yes, you"

"But... you never kissed me..."

My other hand froze, still cradling her cheek. My breath caught.

"I wanted to" I admitted, voice low and raw. "A thousand times. I wanted to, but... I didn't want to rush you. You always looked so unsure-so nervous. I thought maybe you weren't ready. So I gave you time."

She blinked. This time, her silence was heavier. More fragile.

"Do you have any idea how much I adore you?" I whispered. "How hard it is not to kiss you when you're beside me, rambling about books, brushing your hair off your face, or looking at puppies like they're made of actual magic?"

She just stared, her lips slightly parted, and for a moment, I thought I'd lost her to the buzz of the alcohol but,

"Y/N?" I murmured, brushing my thumb along her cheekbone.

"Then kiss me" she said.

The words hit me like lightning-soft but so damn loud in my chest.

I stilled. "You're drunk. I can't."

My heart was racing, hammering violently in my chest. My self-control stood on the edge of a cliff. But I knew,

I should wait.

I should.

But she looked like a dream-messy, flushed, on the brink of crying and laughing all at once. Trembling lips. Tear-clung lashes. And she wanted me. Not someone else. Not a fantasy. Me.

She leaned in, breath warm on my mouth, and tugged my collar so gently, it felt like a command whispered against my skin.

"Prove it" she whispered.

"Y/N-"

But then she shut me up the only way that would ever work on me.

She kissed me.

And I swore the world stopped turning.

Her lips were soft, unsure but full of something I'd craved for far too long. The taste of her, the feel of her, the weight of her hands clinging to my shirt-it sent shivers down my spine.

I couldn't kiss her back for two seconds but eventually I moved my lips without thinking, my hands tilting her face just slightly, deepening the kiss, because hell, I wanted to remember this. I wanted to carve it into memory. Even if it was wrong.

She was warmth and chaos and sweetness all at once. A little clumsy, a little desperate. And I-

"Ow!"

My eyes flew open as pain bloomed on my lower lip. She bit me. Hard. Really hard. I pulled back in shock, tasting blood.

She scoffed, proudly. "You're not gay."

I stared at her, dazed. "Is that how you determine?"

She scrunched her face dramatically, wobbling a little. "Mm... yeah. You passed the test-wait-oh no-"

"Y/N-?"

Her expression shifted from smug to green in 0.2 seconds.

I barely got the words out.

"Excuse me-?"

And then-She puked. On me.

Full. On. Me.

I froze. Just absolutely... paralyzed.

She blinked up at me weakly and whispered, "...oops," before her eyes fluttered shut and she lost consciousness again.

Her head lolled against my chest, completely at peace, while my heart still hadn't calmed down from the kiss. Our first kiss. And now, the very woman who made my legs feel like jelly had passed out like it was no big deal, as if she hadn't just pulled my entire soul out of me and bitten my lip hard enough to leave a mark.

I sighed-long and deep-and gently patted her head. My heart thudded under her weight, still not recovered.

I really didn't want our first kiss to be like this-goddamn it-I hould have controlled myself. However, I didn't find myself regretting it at all.

It was worth it.

"Unbelievable" I muttered, grabbing the tissues from the table nearby. I cleaned her up first, then myself-both of us still carrying puke souvenirs from her performance.

After doing the best I could, I lifted her onto my back. She instinctively wrapped her arms around my neck, nuzzling closer like some sleepy baby cat. And then she hummed. A content, little hum.

"Don't," I muttered, leaning my head away as she brushed her nose against the side of my neck.

"Mhm..." she mumbled back-and then kissed my neck.

I froze mid-step.

What in the name of sanity...?

I stopped in my tracks, losing all sense of logic for a second. I felt myself hardening in my pants-I swear I didn't have any wrong intentions and it happened involuntarily.

My hands tightened under her legs, trying to hold on, to her and to my self-control. Her lips had been on my neck for less than a second, and I was already spiraling.

She had no idea what she was doing to me.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up my pace toward the elevator like a man possessed. I needed to get her into that hotel room before I passed out on this new drug my wife has started to be.

The elevator dinged open. I stepped inside and finally put her down, gently, like she was made of glass. But no-of course, she whined. Like a baby.

"Don't start," I warned, already feeling sweat bead on my forehead.

But she was already crawling onto me again. I looked up at the elevator ceiling. "God, why?"

She wrapped her arms and legs around me, clinging to me like a human koala. Still hiding her face in my neck, still mumbling incoherent things. Still kissing my collarbone like I was some sort of stuffed toy she couldn't sleep without.

I exhaled sharply and leaned back against the elevator wall, one hand holding her securely, the other gently caressing her hair.

Turns out, my wife was violently clingy when drunk. Adorably violent. Months of her jumping three feet away every time our fingers brushed and now she was basically suction-cupped to my body like it was her personal playground.

This was new. And also kind of terrifying. I swear, I was going to faint the moment I was done tucking her in.

The elevator finally opened. I carried her out, still clinging like a sleepy monkey, and made it to our hotel suite. I glanced down at our clothes, still slightly damp from earlier.

With one last sigh, I walked a few doors down and knocked on Jimin's room. The door creaked open slowly.

Jimin blinked at me like he just woke up from the dead. His gaze traveled from my hair, down to the lipstick smudges, to the unconscious human scarf I was carrying, to the remnants of... well, everything.

He stared.

I stared back.

Then he stepped aside. "Fatima," he called out. "Taehyung needs emergency backup."

"On it!" Fatima's voice came like a battle cry from within the suite.

I looked at Jimin, exhausted.

"Let me guess, she puked, kissed, bit you and then passed out." He pointed out confident enough to make me meet his eyes, as if this was normal drunk-wife behaviour.

I nodded.

Jimin raised his brows, impressed. "That's a lot of firsts for one night."

"I'm traumatized."

He snorted. "You're in love."

I didn't even argue. "Please change her. I'll go burn my clothes."

After half an hour, Fatima returned from our suite. Jimin and I were sitting outside on the bench in complete silence, the weight of the night settling on our shoulders like a thick fog.

"Mission completed," she declared, nodding proudly.

Jimin stood and gave her a half-hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead like she'd just saved a life.

I got up too, exhausted but grateful. "Thanks. Both of you," I said sincerely, offering a respectful nod and a small smile.

"Anytime," Fatima yawned, waving her hand casually. Then she crinkled her nose. "By the way, you should really burn those clothes."

"Yeah," Jimin agreed immediately, pinching his nose. "You stink."

Before I could reply, they both vanished inside, slamming the door in my face.

I stood there for a second, sighing, rubbing both hands over my face.

God, what a night.

Finally, I trudged back to our suite, fished out the key card, and stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind me. I locked it, set my phone down, and took off my glasses, tossing them carelessly in front of the vanity.

Then I turned around-and froze.

There she was.

Lying on the bed like nothing had happened. Curled up under the sheets, her hair a little messy, her lips slightly parted. So peaceful. So unaware of the storm she had caused within me.

So innocent... amidst the pure chaos in my chest.

I swallowed hard. My eyes lingered on her for a few more seconds, trying to memorize her just like this-because tomorrow morning, everything might go back to how it was. Like tonight never happened.

With a quiet breath, I peeled off my stained tshirt and tossed it into the corner of the room. Then, giving her one last glance, I slipped into the bathroom.

The door shut behind me with a soft thud.

I stepped under the shower and turned the knob.

Hot water poured down over me like a blanket, stinging my skin and fogging up the mirror behind the glass. I let it soak me. Let it wash away the remnants of the night-her perfume, her kisses, the blood from my bitten lip, the mess she made of my mind.

I leaned my back against the cold wall, my hands gripping my hair, groaning softly as the water streamed down.

The image of her kissing me kept playing behind my closed eyelids.

Her lips-soft, trembling, sure in a way her heart wasn't. The way she pulled me by the collar, whispered "Prove me" and kissed me like I was hers. The heat, the tenderness... until she bit me.

God.

I let out a low groan as I wrapped my hands around my hardness, giving myself a few firm pumps. I knew this was wrong, creepy somewhat but I couldn't believe I was this turned on from a single kiss.

But God, I needed this release-to come down my high.

My breath hitched as I continued stroking myself, my movements becoming more urgent. "Fuck... I shouldn't..." I considered stopping but it was too late, I felt harder than ever.

She was so innocent and so pure-and this was the effect she had on me. Far from purity or innocence. Fuck, if one kiss got me jerking myself, I can literally imagine myself losing every bit of sanity the day she let's me truly take care of her.

With a final shuddering groan, I climaxed hard, my release spurting into the shower stream. My legs felt weak, my breaths heavy, eyes squeezed shut in mingled shame and satisfaction.

"Shit... you're going to be the death of me"

That woman bit me and then puked on me. And somehow... somehow, I still felt like the luckiest idiot alive.

I wrapped a towel around my waist, tying it securely as steam swirled around me. My gaze lifted to the mirror, and for a second, I barely recognized myself.

There it was-guilt. Written in the tension of my jaw, the flush on my cheeks, the storm behind my eyes. I'd just gotten off to a kiss. A simple kiss.

A kiss from my wife.

I swallowed, hard.

I wasn't supposed to feel this wrecked. This affected. She had no clue what she'd done. No memory of what that kiss did to me. And here I was-standing like a fool, heart still pounding, knees still weak, lip still sore... and mind still spinning like a film stuck on replay.

I dried off quickly, changed into a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants. My hands moved on autopilot, but my head was somewhere else entirely-still stuck in the elevator, still hearing her soft lips whispering "Then kiss me" still feeling her pull on my collar.

I didn't even glance at her sleeping form as I stepped out. I couldn't. I dimmed the lights, made sure she was warm enough under the blankets, and then finally dropped onto my side of the bed.

Face buried into my pillow.

My heart sank deeper into the mattress, weighed down by the mixture of guilt, frustration... and want. So much want.

I felt like an idiot.

The biggest idiot in the world.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

Not like this. Not when she was drunk, when she might forget every single second of it tomorrow. Not when I did what I did in the shower. Not when I had waited for months to earn her comfort, only for her to give it away without remembering.

I exhaled into the fabric, jaw clenched.

Maybe she'd never remember it.

Or worse-maybe she'd remember and regret. Or act like it meant nothing.

I shut my eyes tightly.

Kill me.

__________________________

The sun filtered in gently through the hotel curtains, casting golden streaks over the bed. She stirred under the covers, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she turned to her side.

I sat on the armchair by the window, freshly showered, wearing a new shirt, lip still stinging from last night's crime of passion. My eyes hadn't left her face for the past ten minutes.

Please remember. Please remember.

She blinked, slowly, then yawned like a sleepy kitten. I felt my breath hitch when her gaze found mine across the room.

"Oh," she whispered, groggy. "You're here."

I nodded. Carefully. "Good morning."

She stretched her arms, frowning slightly. "Why does my mouth taste like... death?"

I internally choked.

She sat up straighter, squinting. "Wait. Why am I in pajamas? I wore a dress last night."

I cleared my throat. "Fatima changed you. You-you threw up on your dress. And me."

Her eyes widened. "I what?"

"Yeah." I tried to smile. "It was an experience."

She gasped, absolutely mortified. "On you?"

I gave a solemn nod. "All over. Top to bottom. Very thorough job."

Her hands shot up to her cheeks. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I don't even remember-wait. Did I... say anything weird?"

I paused.

She blinked. "Taehyung?"

You kissed me. You bit me. You asked me to prove I wasn't gay. You made me question all my morals and nearly died in my arms while being impossibly cute.

I took a breath and shrugged. "Not really."

She sighed, staring down at her palms on the duvet. "I don't remember anything" she mumbled, scratching at her scalp and then wincing when her head throbbed.

I stood up and walked over with the herbal tea I'd ordered. She looked up, startled at first. Then her expression shifted-confusion, surprise... something else.

Our eyes locked, and for a brief second, I thought she felt it too. The leftover spark from last night.

But instead of saying anything, she poked her index finger gently against my lower lip. Right where she bit me.

I jerked away with a quiet hiss.

Her brows furrowed in concern. "That... wasn't there yesterday."

She stood up slowly, examining the mark like a mystery to solve.

Panic swelled in my chest. She doesn't remember. Not the kiss, not the chaos. Nothing. What the hell do I even say now?

"Taehyung?" she asked again, stepping closer.

I swallowed thickly. "You did that."

Her head tilted. "What?"

"With a pen," I said quickly, nodding as if the lie might solidify if I believed it enough. "You hit me with a pen while I was carrying you back to the room."

Her eyes widened. She gasped, horrified. "I what?! Oh my God-I didn't-I would never-Are you okay?!"

She stepped closer, but I instinctively backed away, trying to keep some distance between her and my unraveling sanity.

"It's okay now. Healed." I muttered.

She stopped, as if sensing my restraint. Her teeth caught her bottom lip, gaze still lingering on the mark.

Silence stretched. I needed something to fill it. Anything. "So," I said, voice casual, "why were you so angry last night?"

She blinked. The innocence returned to her face... but then, like a ripple through calm water, a pout emerged and her brows narrowed. Slowly. The exact one from last night.

She looked up at me with sulking eyes. "You were flirting with her."

I blinked. "Flirting?"

She nodded, arms folding across her chest. "You were smiling at her and talking so much. Like it was a date."

I fought back a smile. "I was discussing a project."

"While smiling?"

"I was being polite."

She huffed. "You mean politely giving her a diamond pendant?"

Ah. There it was. The root cause behind this whole drama.

I stared at her. "That's what this is about?"

She didn't respond-just looked away, still pouting like a child caught mid-misunderstanding.

A low chuckle escaped me. My wife was adorably transparent when she was jealous.

I turned toward the closet behind us. "To the vanity, Y/n" I said, voice low but firm.

She obeyed without a word, her bare feet padding softly across the floor until she sat in front of the mirror. When I returned a few moments later, she was already seated, her gaze following my reflection as I stepped forward with a knowing smirk.

Her brows lifted as I raised the same velvet blue box from last night. Her expression shifted from suspicion to confusion to breathless curiosity.

I opened it slowly, revealing the elegant diamond pendant nestled inside. Taking it into my hands, I leaned down and gently brushed her hair to one side, exposing the delicate slope of her neck. She shivered at the contact but helped me without complaint.

"That was Ms. Hong Chaei," I said softly, securing the clasp behind her neck. "She's a renowned jewelry designer... and an old friend. I was showing her this pendant because I wanted her to customize a matching couple-pendant for us, with a few personal touches."

I could feel her eyes on me through the mirror, watching every movement, every word. Once the chain was secured, I placed my hands gently on her shoulders and leaned slightly, our gazes meeting in the reflection.

She touched the pendant lightly, awe spreading across her face like sunlight.

But my eyes never left her.

It had always been hers. I'd kept it for so long, waiting for the right time. And now, watching her wear it-it felt like the wait had never mattered.

"It was meant for my wife" I said, my voice dropping to something tender, reverent. "From the moment I bought it."

Then I turned the chair, bringing her to face me directly. She gasped softly, her blush blooming in full as she tried to compose herself.

I smirked at the effect I had on her and leaned in, arms on either side of the chair, caging her in-not to trap her, but to savor the closeness. My lips brushed the shell of her ear as I whispered:

"Not for some bitch."

Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands gripped the sides of the chair, fingers turning white, as though she needed something to hold on to.

I pulled back just enough to look at her-really look at her. Her pupils were dilated, her lashes trembling. She looked like she was trying to memorize this exact second, afraid it might slip through her fingers if she blinked.

"Still think I was flirting?" I asked quietly, my voice rich with heat, my nose brushing hers in the softest tease.

She gasped again, uncertain, vulnerable. "Taehyung..."

But she wasn't the girl from last night-the drunk one who kissed me first and bit my lip without thinking twice. This morning, she was softer, more cautious, and I could see the war waging inside her. But God, I adored her for it.

I could wait. For her, I could wait a thousand years if I had to.

Then, for just a flicker of a moment, her eyes dropped to my lips-like her mind had pulled a thread from the night before and started to stitch it back together. That was all I needed.

I leaned in-slowly, giving her every second to stop me. She didn't. She closed her eyes.

And just as our lips were about to meet-

Ding-dong.

The doorbell shattered the moment like glass.

She flinched, the spell broken, and pushed me back with trembling hands. Her gaze darted everywhere but me as she scrambled to fix her hair.

"I'll... I'll go check," she mumbled, already on her feet.

And just like that, she was gone, leaving the warmth of her skin on my hands, and a kiss suspended in the air that had never landed.

"Morning, pretty."

The voice caught my attention as I sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand down my face. I turned slowly.

Jimin.

Of course.

The moment he flashed that self-satisfied, smug smile-the kind that screamed I've done something to be proud of-I had the sudden urge to launch the bedside lamp at his head.

This man was born to ruin my romance. A walking, talking interruption.

"Hey, Taehyung!" he called out. "Come on out. The message is for you, not for Y/n."

"Y/n, you go get ready first. We're going hiking, remember?" he told her right at the door and she nodded silently but didn't turn around.

I hesitated for a beat, watching her-still caught in the memory of almost kissing her, in the heat that hadn't cooled yet. But I sighed and stepped toward the door, brushing past Jimin with a pointed glare.

The moment I was out, she shut the door behind me-firmly, without even a glance.

I clenched my jaw.

But I didn't have time to sulk. Jimin was already grinning like a fool.

So I did the only logical thing.

I grabbed him by the collar and started choking him-not hard, just enough to show I meant business.

"YAH!" he wheezed, flailing a little.

"You were born to ruin my moments, weren't you?"

He patted my forearm frantically. "Let go-if my wife sees-"

I tightened my grip.

"-she'll make sure she's not the only one becoming a widow today!"

I shoved him away and he stumbled, exhaling like he just survived a battle.

"Okay, okay!" he gasped, holding up both hands. "But before you kill me-hear me out."

I narrowed my eyes.

He pulled something from his back pocket, a folded envelope, and waved it like a peace offering. "I bought tickets. For tonight."

I blinked. "Tickets?"

"To a concert," he said, grinning wider now. "One of the best indie artists around. Intimate setup, great vibe. They're performing just one hour away by train. Thought we'd make it a double date, you know?"

I raised a brow.

"They were almost sold out," he defended. "I paid double, man. Double." He held up two fingers. "That's how good this artist is. Besides, we're leaving tomorrow-this is our last chance to do something fun together. Romantic for you, relaxing for me."

I sighed, the idea already tugging at me despite my irritation. The image of her beside me in a crowd, her smile soft in the music-yeah, maybe it wasn't a terrible idea.

"Fine," I muttered.

Jimin grinned like he'd won the lottery. "I'll take that as a you're welcome."

I shook my head, but I couldn't fight the smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth.

Maybe tonight... could be worth it.

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