After lunch and the polite noise of the get-together faded away, Ji-hoon returned to his restaurant, but his body arrived long before his mind did. His thoughts kept looping back to her rejection. Her words. The quiet, devastating calm with which she had asked him to end everything before it had even found its first breath. And yet, tangled with that ache was her face. Her smile. The warmth she carried so effortlessly, spreading through his chest like something that refused to be erased. His heart stood at a crossroads, torn between choosing her no matter the cost and respecting her wish to walk away.
He was drifting in that storm until a light tap on his shoulder pulled him back into the present.
"What happened, Ji-hoona?" Ji-seok, who works as a chef at Ji-hoon's resturant asked, concern lining his voice.
Ji-hoon looked up, startled, then shook his head. "Nothing, hyung," he said, trying to brush it off with a weak smile.
Ji-seok did not buy it. He studied him closely. Ji-hoon's eyes were distant, his shoulders heavier than usual. "Something's not right," he said firmly. "Tell me. What happened?"
Ji-hoon exhaled, the kind of sigh that came from deep inside. Then he told him everything. About Hae-in. About her hesitation. About how she had asked him to end it before it could even begin.
Ji-seok listened without interrupting, his brows knitting together. "How can she reject you just like that?" he said finally, clearly offended on his behalf. "That too, my handsome baby brother."
Ji-hoon smiled, but only slightly. The kind of smile that didn't quite reach the eyes. "She's had a bad experience with marriage, hyung," he said softly. "That's why she's scared."
"But you told her everything, didn't you?" Ji-seok pressed. "You promised you'd love her, take care of her. Then why fear? She should be happy she got a proposal from a man like you."
Ji-hoon looked down then, his lips pressing into a thin line, words stuck somewhere between his heart and his throat, heavy with things he did not know how to say yet.
Ji-seok studied him again, this time with quiet concern softening his features. "You really love her?" he asked gently.
Ji-hoon looked up at him and nodded, slow and sincere, an almost childlike honesty settling on his face.
Ji-seok smiled, touched despite himself. "Aww. Don't make that face. It hurts me," he said, trying to lighten the weight between them.
"But it hurts me too, hyung," Ji-hoon muttered, his voice cracking just a little as he wrapped his arms around him, dramatic and heartbroken all at once. "When I finally find my dream girl, and she rejects me immediately. Ends my love story without even giving it a chance."
Ji-seok chuckled softly, gently rubbing his back. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll find an idea."
"What idea?" Ji-hoon mumbled into his shoulder. "She's clearly not interested in marriage. How am I supposed to have her? I'm going to lose her before I even get to have her."
Ji-seok kept comforting him, his mind quietly ticking. Then suddenly, something clicked. His eyes lit up, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Ji-hoona," he called.
"Hm?" Ji-hoon replied, still sulking, still clinging.
"I have an idea," Ji-seok said, a hint of excitement slipping into his voice.
Ji-hoon pulled back immediately. "What idea?"
Ji-seok smiled wider now, almost mischievously. "It sounds crazy," he said, pausing just enough to build suspense, "but you can definitely keep her this way."
"What way?" Ji-hoon asked, brows knitting together.
Ji-seok looked at him, completely serious, and said, "Just marry her."
Ji-hoon's eyes widened in shock. "What?" he blurted out. "How can I do that? She already refused."
Ji-seok nodded slowly. "I know," he said. "And I know this sounds… wrong." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "But this might be the only way to keep her. Otherwise, you'll lose her. Completely."
Ji-hoon frowned, uncertainty clouding his face.
Ji-seok continued, his voice calm but deliberate. "Think about it. If you marry her, she becomes your wife. At first, she'll resist. She might argue, get upset, throw tantrums, even. But it won't be easy for her to walk away." He looked straight at Ji-hoon. "And that will be your chance."
Ji-hoon listened, silent.
"Your chance to show her how much you love her," Ji-seok said softly. "To take care of her. To make her understand that you're not like the men she's scared of. Show her that marriage isn't as terrifying as she believes. Slowly, gently." He smiled with quiet confidence. "One day, she'll understand. Her fear will vanish. And she'll start loving you back."
Ji-hoon's gaze wavered.
"Trust me," Ji-seok added. "This works. You just need patience. She'll be upset at first, yes. But your love will heal her. And once it does, she'll be yours. Forever."
Ji-hoon looked at him, still unconvinced, still caught between right and wrong.
Noticing his hesitation, Ji-seok lightly slapped his arm. "Aish. Hajima. Don't overthink," he scolded. "For now, don't break this marriage. Marry her. Make her yours officially. Then show her your love."
His voice turned serious. "But if you end this now, just because she asked you to, you'll lose her forever. You'll never get the chance to love her. She'll be gone. Completely out of your hands."
Ji-hoon stood there in silence, letting Ji-seok's words settle deep inside him. Each sentence echoed, slow and heavy, yet disturbingly clear. And the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. No, he wasn't ready to give up on her. Not like this. Not when his heart had already chosen her so completely.
If holding on meant enduring her anger, her resistance, even her pain for a while, then so be it. He would bear it. Because one day, he would make her see. One day, she would understand how deeply, how fiercely, he loved her.
"What do you think?" Ji-seok asked, watching his face carefully, waiting for a crack, a doubt, anything.
Ji-hoon lifted his gaze slowly. There was no hesitation in his eyes now. Only resolve.
He nodded.
"I've made my decision."
**********************
On the other hand, Hae-in sat in her room, eyes fixed on the laptop screen in front of her, though she wasn't really seeing anything on it. Her thoughts were far louder than the quiet hum of the room.
The door creaked open.
Her mother stepped in, her presence calm but observant. Hae-in didn't react. She didn't even look up. Her mother walked closer, her gaze slowly scanning her daughter, as if trying to read the tension written into her posture. Then she sat down across the bed, watching her for a long moment.
"What are you doing?" she asked finally.
"Wae, omma?" Hae-in replied without turning around.
"Just asking," her mother said lightly. "You took leave today, didn't you? Then why are you sitting in front of the laptop?"
That was it.
Hae-in turned to her, annoyance flashing in her eyes. "Why am I not allowed to use my laptop for personal work?" she asked sharply.
Her mother held her gaze but said nothing at first. The silence stretched. Then, unexpectedly, she asked, "What did you talk to Ji-hoon?"
Hae-in's fingers froze mid-motion. Her heart skipped, then began to race.
"Nothing," she said quickly. "I just wanted to know about him."
Her mother frowned. "Just that? For that, you took him outside?" she asked. "You could've spoken in front of all of us."
Hae-in turned fully toward her now, frustration spilling over. "I'm going to marry that guy, omma," she said firmly. "At least I have the right to talk to him privately. Why does everything have to be discussed in front of everyone?"
Her mother's expression hardened. She stood up, eyes sharp. "Don't raise your voice at me," she warned. "I was just asking." Then she added, pointedly, "I hope you talked sensibly and didn't create any unnecessary fuss."
And with that, she walked away, leaving Hae-in sitting there.
Hae-in glared at her mother's retreating back, her jaw tight with unsaid words. The door shut softly behind her.
Only then did she release the breath she had been holding, her shoulders sagging as relief washed through her. The room felt quieter, safer. For a fleeting moment, hope flickered.
Please… let this work in my favor, she prayed silently.
Night settled in.
Later, in the living room, Hae-in's father's phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and frowned. "Mr. Han?" he muttered. "Why is he calling at this hour?"
Mrs. Jeon looked up, confused, her gaze instinctively shifting to Hae-in. Hae-in froze, her breath caught somewhere between her chest and throat.
"Yeoboseyeo," her father answered.
"Yes, Mr. Han," he said politely. "What happened?"
Something shifted.
His expression tightened, the lines on his forehead deepening. His eyes moved to Hae-in, then to his wife. Mrs. Jeon stiffened immediately. Hae-in's heart began to race, anticipation blooming wildly inside her. This was it. This had to be it.
"Ye…?""Ye…"
Each response felt like a countdown.
"All of a sudden?" he asked, glancing at his wife again, then back at Hae-in, his face unreadable.
Mrs. Jeon leaned forward. "Why?" she whispered. "What happened?"
There was a pause. The seriousness on his face did not fade.
Meanwhile, Hae-in's heart soared, already celebrating. Marriage broken. Ended. Over.
"Alright," her father said finally.
The call ended.
"What happened?" Mrs. Jeon asked immediately.
He inhaled slowly. "Mr. Han said…" He paused.
Hae-in's lips curved, happiness rising too fast, too soon.
"…they want to fix the marriage date next week."
"What?"
The word slipped out of Hae-in's mouth, barely audible. Her expression collapsed in an instant, joy draining into disbelief. Shock. Confusion. Her ears rang.
Next week?
Had she heard it right… or had the ground just shifted beneath her feet?