The day unfolded like a memory reborn.
The little lanes of Aureum-ri glowed under the mellow afternoon sun, every wall washed in the color of peace.
Yoon Ha-rin and Kang Jae-hyun wandered through the market where the world still moved at the rhythm of wooden carts and laughter.
Vendors waved from behind baskets of fruit.
Children ran between them with paper pinwheels.
An old woman pressed two tangerines into Ha-rin's hands. "For sweet hearts," she said with a wink.
Ha-rin turned pink; Jae-hyun just grinned.
"You heard the expert," he said. "We're officially sweet."
She gave him a look. "You're going to be unbearable after this."
He leaned closer, voice low. "Only if it keeps you this flustered."
---
By late afternoon, they reached the river.
The water caught the sun in sheets of amber light; dragonflies sketched circles above it.
They sat on the low wooden bridge, legs dangling, silence gentle between them.
Ha-rin broke it first. "Do you ever get scared someone might… take this away? Take you away?"
Jae-hyun glanced at her, startled by the softness in her tone.
"From me?" he asked quietly.
She nodded, eyes on the water. "People notice you. You belong to every headline and meeting. And I…"
He turned, catching her chin between his fingers, lifting her gaze.
"Ha-rin," he said, steady and certain, "no one can steal what doesn't want to leave."
Her breath trembled. "Then don't you ever dare leave."
"I'd have to stop breathing first," he said simply.
The river breeze tangled her hair; he brushed it back, fingers lingering just long enough to make time forget its pace.
---
They walked home through a sky burning itself into gold.
By the time they reached the villa terrace, the first stars had come out—quiet witnesses to their unspoken thoughts.
Lanterns flickered against the stone walls; the air smelled of salt and jasmine.
They sat close, a single blanket around them, the world below murmuring itself to sleep.
Ha-rin leaned against him. "We've talked about work, the past, everything… except what happens after this."
He turned slightly. "After?"
"After we go back to the city," she said. "After meetings and flights and long days. Where do we fit?"
He hesitated only long enough to find the truth.
"Everywhere," he said. "If you'll have me there."
She smiled, a quiet curve that made the lantern light seem jealous.
"So you're asking if I can handle you forever?"
He nodded. "And hoping the answer is yes."
"It's not a yes," she teased. "It's a lifetime."
---
He laughed softly, pulling her a little closer.
"Good. Because I plan on reminding you of that every day until we're old and scaring our grandchildren."
"Optimistic," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "But I'll allow it."
The moon climbed higher, silvering the edge of the blanket.
He looked down at her, eyes unreadable. "You still think someone could steal me?"
She met his gaze. "They can try."
He smiled. "They'll fail."
"Promise?"
He drew her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles.
"Until the stars fall," he said.
She whispered back, "Then I'll hold you through the dark."
---
The terrace lights dimmed; only the moon remained—wide, bright, unashamedly curious.
Below, the sea exhaled.
Above, two people made a quiet vow without rings, without witnesses—
just the steady rhythm of hearts that finally knew where home was.