One by one, the luxury vans bearing the company logo quietly pulled out of the underground parking lot. Just before the door slid shut, Minseok reached out through the open window and grabbed Jinwoo's shoulder.
"Jinwoo..."
His voice was lower than usual—gentle, serious, with no trace of his usual playfulness.
"This one... you don't let go. She loves you for real. Marry her. For real."
Jinwoo tried to laugh it off, but his expression faltered for a moment. Through the tinted glass, Minseok's gaze was steady and sincere. Jinwoo didn't say a word—just nodded, slowly, until the van disappeared into the night.
After sending them off, Jinwoo made his way back to the 19th floor.
The elevator doors slid open, releasing a familiar scent—the soft notes of champagne diffuser, the faint trace of red wine still lingering in the air.
The living room was still buzzing with quiet activity. Staff were folding tablecloths, packing trays, and carefully clearing every sign of the evening.
Jinwoo walked through it all in silence, eyes drawn instinctively toward the balcony.
There she was.
Celeste.
Framed by the glass doors, standing quietly against the city's lights and breeze. She held a wine glass in one hand, her back turned to him, her figure softly outlined by the night.
One shoulder leaned against the railing. Her wrist hung loosely, casting a gentle shadow. The rolled-up sleeves of her shirt fluttered slightly in the wind—and something about the way she stood looked warmer, more human than ever before.
Jinwoo paused, just watching her.
Minseok's words echoed again in his mind.
"Marry her. For real."
In the glow of the lights, her profile reflected in the wine glass—a face so calm, it almost felt unfamiliar. The breeze caught her hair, the wine shimmered faintly, and the glass in her hand slowly tipped toward empty.
When Jinwoo stepped closer, she turned.
"Did they get home okay?"Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
"Yeah," Jinwoo replied with a smile. "Thanks for tonight. You must be tired."
Celeste set her glass down and smiled back, just a little.
"Tired? I didn't do much. But it'll take a while to clean everything up…"
Jinwoo opened his mouth to say something, but she beat him to it.
"We could stay up a little longer. Just the two of us."
"…Haven't you had enough to drink? "He lifted an eyebrow.
She chuckled and tilted the bottle slightly. "Still sober."
With practiced hands, she grabbed two empty glasses and the wine bottle, closed the balcony door behind her, and walked toward the elevator.
At the panel, she pressed the button with her free hand.
Ding.
The chime was quiet, almost like a whisper.
Jinwoo followed, picking up a dessert plate left on the table.
A neat arrangement on black ceramic—white chocolate, berries, figs with mint leaves, thin slices of peach and apple.
The elevator doors slid shut and rose to the 20th floor. A bottle of wine, a plate of fruit. A silence between them that felt peaceful rather than awkward.
"The kitchen and living room are still a mess..."Celeste said quietly.
"Let's just go to my room."
"…Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure."
Jinwoo blinked. A dozen thoughts flashed through his head.
(Wait. This'll be the first time I've been in her room.)
At the very end of the hallway, past the study, the door opened.
It was small. Still. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air. Curtains half-drawn, soft city light spilling shadows across the floor.
Books lined the shelves neatly, the bed simple but crisp, like a boutique hotel. Dark linen sheets. Low lighting. A candle flickered on the nightstand, its flame barely moving.
"Sit here." Celeste gestured to the couch beside the bed.
As Jinwoo set down the fruit plate and took a seat, she poured the wine.
Soft jazz played from a hidden speaker. A low, warm vocal wrapped gently around the room.
Celeste stood by the window, gazing out for a moment before turning back. She handed him a glass without a word.
"Tonight… was really nice. Thanks to you."
Their glasses clinked softly.
A few moments passed.
Then her phone buzzed.[Margo: All cleaned up. Heading down now :)]
She typed a short reply.[Thank you. Rest well.]
By then, the wine was nearly gone. The bottle tilted—empty.
"Huh. Already finished?" Celeste tilted her head, amused. "Should we open one more?"
She turned toward the mini fridge behind the bed—and caught her foot lightly on his.
"Ah—"
She stumbled, and Jinwoo instinctively reached out, catching her by the waist.
She fell into his lap.
Their faces were close. Breath to breath. Eyes locked.
There were no words. Instead, slowly… Celeste reached up and cupped his cheek.
And then—she kissed him.
From her lips, a faint sweetness of white chocolate brushed against his. Beneath it, the lingering notes of peach and mint spread quietly across Jinwoo's mouth.
It was as if—the last bite of dessert they had just shared had found new life again, blooming in the warmth of their breath.
The tender softness of fig, the delicate tartness of berry, all of it melted through her bodyheat and into his.
Soft at first. Careful. But the moment their lips met, everything held back until now began to rise—slowly, steadily, without hesitation.
Jinwoo wrapped his arms around her, deepening the kiss. Her fingers brushed along his neck, then into his hair. Their bodies aligned, heart to heart.
Breaths grew quicker. She rose from his lap and stepped toward the bed, then turned back and held out her hand.
He took it—silently, without pause.
Seated on the bed now, her gaze was calm. Resolute. He leaned in again, kissed her slowly, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw.
She closed her eyes, welcoming his touch, and slowly began to undo the buttons of her shirt. It was quiet. Gentle. Certain.
As clothes slipped to the floor, so did the space between them.
Jinwoo gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders and slowly laid her down. In a low, slightly trembling voice, he whispered:
"…Are you okay?"
She gave a quiet nod. The two of them held each other with slow, deliberate tenderness—a kiss on the lips, then the curve of her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder—each touch stitched carefully like threads of emotion.
Their breaths wove together in a hushed rhythm. And in that silence, Jinwoo, as if shedding his final hesitation, entered her—slowly, deeply, with quiet reverence.
Celeste's back flinched faintly. Her breath caught in her throat, and a soft moan escaped her lips.
"Does it hurt?"
Jinwoo paused, cupping her cheek. His gaze carried more than desire—it held concern, sincerity.
Celeste's eyes closed, wrapped her arms around his neck.
"…Go slow."
At her whisper, Jinwoo steadied his breathand leaned in to kiss her once more—gentle, reassuring.
He moved in sync with her, unhurried, letting discomfort melt into warmth, pain soften into longing.
The sharp tension of that first contact slowly gave way to heat that spread between them. Her fingers curled around his back, pulling him closer.
Whispers. Sighs. Her name, spoken with reverence. Hands exploring like discovering a map they already knew by heart. The night warmed only by the heat of their bodies.
Holding each other close, their breaths tangled, and time seemed to slow.
The sounds of quiet gasps, shivering sighs, the soft brush of bare skin—yet more than anything, what filled the silence was the tenderness and yearning they had built, day by day.
Jinwoo called her name in a breath full of longing. Celeste answered with trembling hands brushing down his spine—an answer without words, but full of feeling.
This wasn't just physical. They trusted one another—saw one another. And in this moment, they belonged wholly to each other.
Every motion, every sensation where they joined felt like weaving together all the time they'd waited.
He listened to her breath. She gave herself to the beat of his heart.
Wrapped in each other, slowly, deeply—they made love at the quiet center of the night.
The city lights beyond the window faded into the distance. Dawn slipped gently through the curtains, laying a silver glow across her shoulder.
Entwined sheets and lingering warmth. Celeste nestled quietly in Jinwoo's arms.
He ran a hand slowly through her hair and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
And in that stillness, he knew—he could never let her go.