The news broke on a Tuesday morning.
Mira was sipping coffee at her desk when the office screens flickered to a breaking news segment:
"Han Group and Park Group Announce Renewed Alliance—Wedding Rumors Swirl as Eun-ji Han and Jae Park Spotted at Private Dinner."
The mug slipped from Mira's fingers, shattering on the floor.
On screen, a paparazzi photo showed Jae and Eun-ji exiting an upscale restaurant, his expression unreadable, her hand resting possessively on his arm.
Kim sucked in a sharp breath. "Mira—"
"I'm fine," Mira lied, bending to pick up the broken pieces. Her hands trembled as she gathered the shards, ignoring the sting of ceramic biting into her skin.
Ji-hoon crouched beside her, his voice low. "You don't have to pretend."
Mira didn't answer.
She already knew the truth.
Eun-ji had won.
A week passed without a word from Jae.
No calls. No texts. No sudden appearances at her office.
Mira told herself it was for the best. That this was how things were meant to be. That Jae had made his choice, and she had no right to stand in the way of his family's legacy.
But the silence ached like an open wound.
---
Labor Day weekend arrived, bringing with it a much-needed break.
Mira signed up for a volunteer event at a speech therapy center for children—a place she'd once frequented herself. The moment she stepped inside, the familiar scent of crayons and disinfectant washed over her, stirring memories she'd long buried.
A little girl with wide, nervous eyes tugged at her sleeve. "D-do you st-stutter too?"
Mira knelt, her heart squeezing. "Sometimes. But you know what? It's okay."
She spent the morning helping the children with simple exercises, showing them tricks she'd learned over the years—counting breaths before speaking, tapping rhythms to steady their words.
One boy, no older than seven, clutched a worn notebook to his chest. "I d-draw instead of t-talking," he confessed.
Mira smiled. "That's a good idea. I used to do that too."
She flipped to a fresh page and sketched a rabbit—just like the ones she'd drawn for Jae all those years ago.
The boy's eyes lit up. "C-can you t-teach me?"
Mira's throat tightened. "Of course."
For the first time in days, the weight in her chest eased.
By afternoon, the children were laughing, their initial hesitance fading as they realized no one here would judge them.
Mira watched them play, her thoughts drifting unbidden to Jae.
Had he ever felt this way? Like he didn't belong in his own world?
A volunteer coordinator approached, handing her a bottle of water. "You're really good with them."
Mira accepted it with a small smile. "I had good teachers."
The woman hesitated. "You know, we could use someone like you here regularly. The kids respond to you."
Mira's breath caught.
For a fleeting moment, she imagined a different life—one where she wasn't fighting for a place in a corporate world that had never truly welcomed her. One where she could do this instead.
Then her phone buzzed.
A news alert:
"Breaking: Park Group Chairman Cancels Han Group Merger—Cites 'Irreconcilable Differences'."
Mira's pulse skyrocketed.
Below the headline, a blurry photo of Jae storming out of a boardroom, his father's furious expression visible in the background.
Her hands shook as she dialed his number—the first time she'd dared to in a week.
It rang once. Twice.
Then—
"Mira."
His voice was rough, exhausted.
And just like that, the dam broke.
---
Mira barely had time to process Jae's voice on the phone before the call cut off.
Ten minutes later, a sleek black car screeched to a halt outside the speech therapy center.
The children gasped as the door flew open—and Jae stormed in, his tie loose, his hair disheveled, his eyes wild.
Mira stood frozen as he crossed the room in three strides.
Then his arms were around her, crushing her against his chest, his breath ragged in her ear.
"I couldn't do it," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I tried. But I can't—"
Mira hesitated—then slowly, her hands came up to clutch the back of his shirt.
The children giggled. The volunteers stared.
And outside, unnoticed, a camera flashed.
---
They didn't speak on the drive to his penthouse.
Jae's grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled, his jaw clenched. Mira watched the city blur past, her mind racing.
The moment the elevator doors closed behind them, he turned to her.
"I'm done," he said, his voice raw. "No more games. No more pretending."
Mira's breath hitched. "Your family—"
"Will survive." He stepped closer, his hands framing her face. "But I won't. Not without you."
The words shattered her resolve.
She opened her mouth to protest—
And his phone rang.
Jae ignored the call.
But then another came. And another.
Finally, he swore and yanked the phone from his pocket.
"What."
His father's voice roared through the speaker, loud enough for Mira to hear:
"You idiot! Do you have any idea what you've done?!"
Jae's expression darkened. "I know exactly what I've done."
"Eun-ji just released photos of you with that—" A pause. "Is she there with you now?!"
Mira flinched.
Jae's grip on the phone tightened. "We're done."
He hung up.
Silence.
Then—
Mira's phone buzzed.
A news alert:
"Scandal: Park Group Heir Caught in Secret Embrace with Unknown Woman—Eun-ji Han 'Devastated'."
The attached photo showed them clinging to each other outside the therapy center, Jae's face buried in her hair.
Mira's stomach dropped.
Jae snatched the phone from her hand, his eyes scanning the article—then suddenly, he laughed.
A sharp, incredulous sound.
"Good." He tossed the phone onto the couch. "Let the world see."
Mira gaped at him. "Jae—"
"No." He caught her hands, his thumbs brushing her knuckles. "No more hiding. No more running."
His phone buzzed again—this time with a text.
Eun-ji's name flashed on the screen:
"You'll regret this."
Jae didn't even glance at it.
Mira's pulse pounded in her ears.
She should pull away. Should tell him to fix things with his family. Should—
Jae's lips brushed her forehead.
"Stay," he murmured. "Just stay."