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Sunghoon squinted as the sun filtered through the tinted window, casting a soft glow on the familiar neighborhood he once cherished. The sight tugged at memories he'd tried to bury, but now they rose unbidden, raw and biting.

The woman who had once been his world, the one who made this place feel like home, was now cleaning the floor of a restaurant, her ponytail bobbing as she worked.

He lowered the window, watching her for a moment too long, his jaw tightening. She was still graceful, still fierce even in her simplest moments.

The irony wasn't lost on him—how she, once the ambitious and studious girl everyone admired on campus, was now here, doing menial work. A dark thought crossed his mind: maybe this was karma.

Next to him, Changbin let out a low whistle, breaking Sunghoon's reverie. "So, that's her, huh?" He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly, nudging his friend with a knowing grin.

Sunghoon's expression didn't shift, his gaze still locked on Iseul. "Yeah," he said, voice colder than he intended. "That's her my ex wife."

"Man, she's got some fire in her, huh? That guy she clocked yesterday—crazy stuff." He laughed, shaking his head. "She's pretty wild."

Sunghoon's eyes stayed glued to the scene outside the tinted window, his jaw set. "Mhm," he murmured absently, the last word catching his attention. "True she was pretty. One glance from her and I was done for." A wistful smile ghosted his lips. "Everyone in the neighborhood was smitten, but she picked me. Funny how life works out, huh? Or doesn't."

Changbin's grin faded, replaced with a more serious expression. "Yeah... so, what happened, man? If you two were that into each other, why'd it end?"

Sunghoon's gaze turned cold, distant. "It was only ever me. I loved her. She didn't feel the same."

"C'mon, don't say that."

"It's the truth, Changbin. She told me, plain as day—'I never loved you.'"

A heavy silence filled the car. Changbin shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Sunghoon's stony profile. "Damn," he muttered.

Sunghoon nodded, lips pressed into a thin line as he pulled out his phone. His fingers tapped out the familiar number, and he braced for her delayed response. It came, predictably late.

"Hello? Who's this?" Iseul's voice rang with mock surprise.

"It's Park Sunghoon," he replied flatly.

"Oh, really?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Didn't recognize it, seeing as I deleted your number ages ago. Completely slipped my mind."

He rolled his eyes; that tone was all too familiar. She was lying, and they both knew it.

"Doesn't matter," he said, his voice cold and businesslike. "Come to the company. We need to talk."

She let out a scoff. "I'll have to check my schedule first."

"I don't care. Be there at 2 p.m. sharp," he snapped, not waiting for her reply before hanging up.

Iseul hung up the phone, irritation simmering beneath her skin at the commanding tone Sunghoon used. Before she could process it, Chaeryeong, who had been eavesdropping with her ear glued to the phone, jumped up in excitement.

"He wants to see you? Aaah!" Chaeryeong squealed, eyes wide with anticipation.

Iseul crossed her arms and smirked. "Poor guy, he saw me yesterday and must've missed me already."

"He's still the same!" Chaeryeong sighed, clasping her hands together dramatically. "That's so romantic."

"Stop it. He probably just wants to apologize for yesterday," Iseul said, brushing off the thought with a wave of her hand. "Don't give me delusions!"

Chaeryeong's brows furrowed. "Wait, your shift doesn't end until 4 p.m. How are you going to make it?"

A mischievous grin spread across Iseul's face. "Don't worry. I've got that under control."

Iseul bounded down to the kitchen, eyes scanning the room for Mr. Kim, her manager. He noticed her approach, raising an eyebrow as he folded his arms.

"Iseul, are you done upstairs?" he asked, tapping his polished shoe impatiently.

"Yes, sir, I finished mopping. I—achoo!" She faked a sneeze with dramatic flair, splattering droplets on his pristine, expensive suit.

Mr. Kim's face contorted with irritation as he wiped his suit with a cloth, muttering, "Put your hand over your mouth next time. You've drenched me."

Iseul's eyes widened with faux embarrassment. "Oh, I'm so sorry, sir! I don't know what came over me—achoo! Must be a sudden cold."

He sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Fine, fine, just go home before you infect everyone. But this will be deducted from your wages."

"Achoo! Thank you, sir!" she said, stifling a sly grin as she spun on her heels and bolted out, already planning her visit to see Sunghoon.

Finally, after stepping out of the restaurant, Iseul made a detour to the mall. This meeting wasn't just another chance encounter; it was a statement. No plain outfit would do—she was going to wear her version of the ultimate revenge dress.

An hour later, she emerged from her room draped in a short, fitted sundress in a striking shade of blue—the very color that once made Sunghoon's eyes linger. To say she looked stunning would be an understatement; she radiated confidence and poise.

As she reached for her bag, her younger brother, Sohee, popped up from nowhere and doused her with a spray of perfume.

"Ugh! Stop it! I hate that smell!" she complained, swatting at the cloud around her.

"Shh!" Sohee hushed her with a look of mischief. "This is the it girl scent. Trust me, you'll thank me later."

From the corner of the room, their mother watched with a knowing smile, eyes warm with pride and amusement.

Sohee adjusted her hair with a flourish. "Remember, no breaking eye contact. Strike first, hit where it hurts the most."

Iseul crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly is his weakest point, genius?"

Her mother, sensing the tension, stepped in with a soft smile. "Your brother's trying to say that Sunghoon used to love you a lot," she said gently, hoping to soothe the situation.

Iseul let out a humorless laugh, already turning toward the door. "Really? I don't need to hear that right now," she muttered, already fed up.

But her mother wasn't done. She caught her by the arm, her voice laced with sincerity. "Sweetheart, don't accept right away. Let him speak first, let him apologize. Let him show you how much he missed you, okay?"

Sohee, ever the realist, chimed in from the side, his arms crossed. "What if his feelings for her are gone? I mean, he's surrounded by models all the time. Maybe he's moved on."

Iseul shot them both a look of frustration, her patience wearing thin. "I'm leaving," she snapped, brushing off their attempts at advice.

There was no more to discuss. She had made her decision.

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