If there was one thing I should've learned by now, it was to never trust a quiet night in my own house.
I had just gotten out of the shower, my hair still damp and sticking to my forehead, when I smelled the unmistakable scent of soju and trouble. That wasn't a metaphor. Actual soju. And actual trouble. Downstairs.
Turns out, Bo-ra and her best friend Seul-bi had decided our living room was the perfect place for a mini celebration. Of what? No one knew. Maybe surviving the week. Maybe just having soju in the fridge. The bar was low.
"Oppa! Join us!" Seul-bi waved a shot glass at me, already red in the face.
"I'm good," I muttered, eyeing the chaos. Empty bottles on the floor. Snacks that looked like they were poured straight out of the bag onto plates. And Bo-ra, sitting cross-legged on the couch, giggling as she poured another shot for Seul-bi.
Cute. Dangerously cute.
And then the doorbell rang.
Bo-ra blinked. "Who... is that?"
"Oh! That must be the extra fun I ordered!" Seul-bi hiccupped and winked.
What?
Bo-ra shuffled toward the door. The second it swung open, she froze.
And there he was. The human plot twist himself.
Min-hyuk. Perfect hair, annoyingly soft eyes, and the audacity to stand at my gate with a six-pack like he owned the place.
My blood pressure rose three notches.
"Min-hyuk?" Bo-ra gaped. "What are you doing here?"
"Seul-bi invited me," he said, offering a sheepish smile.
Of course she did.
Bo-ra looked torn between slamming the door and dragging him in by the collar. She did neither. Instead, she let him in.
Fantastic.
I watched from the top of the stairs, gripping the railing like it had wronged me personally.
Minutes passed. Shots were poured. Laughter bubbled up. Seul-bi, now utterly knocked out on the couch, mumbled something about unicorns.
That was my cue. I figured I'd help Bo-ra clean up before the place started looking like a college dorm. As I headed downstairs, I saw Min-hyuk leaning a little too close to her.
"Bo-ra," he said, voice soft.
I paused behind the wall, my hand hovering over a tray of half-eaten chips.
He continued.
"I know you're married... but I need to say this."
Oh no.
My eye twitched.
Min-hyuk leaned in. "Seeing you again at the coffee shop... it hit me. I never stopped thinking about you. Not even after three years."
Three years? I wanted to walk in there and pour a bottle of water on his perfectly styled hair.
"When I left for the U.S., I thought I was doing the right thing. Chasing dreams. But every success felt empty. Because you weren't there."
This guy is practically begging to get strangled.
Bo-ra sat frozen, the glass in her hand trembling slightly.
Min-hyuk swallowed. "I regretted it. Every day. Choosing my career over you. And when I found out you were married... it felt like someone punched me in the chest."
Want me to call an ambulance? 'Cause I can punch harder.
"I thought I could move on, but after seeing you again, it's like... all those feelings came rushing back."
Does this guy have a death wish or what? A grave, maybe? Want me to dig one?
"I still love you, Bo-ra."
My jaw dropped.
What kind of rom-com confession is this?!
Before I could stop myself, I took a step forward, accidentally kicking a stray can. It rolled across the floor, making the most awkward clinking sound in existence.
Min-hyuk and Bo-ra both turned toward me.
I cleared my throat and pretended to look for a tissue.
"Just... helping clean up," I mumbled, grabbing a napkin and aggressively wiping the table like it owed me money.
"Yul, you don't have to—" Bo-ra began.
"No, no," I said quickly. "I insist. I love cleaning. It's therapeutic. Like punching a wall, but socially acceptable."
Min-hyuk gave a nervous chuckle.
I gave him a look.
Bo-ra looked between us, confused, then glanced down at the napkin I was currently using to scrub an empty spot on the table.
"I'll, uh... check on Seul-bi," I muttered, walking away before I could hear whatever she was about to say.
Because truth be told... I wasn't sure I wanted to.
As I climbed the stairs back to my room, one thought echoed in my head:
Why the hell did that hurt?
I flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
I wasn't jealous. No way. That would be ridiculous.
It was just... strange. Hearing someone confess to her. Like she wasn't my wife. Like she could still be someone else's.
Which, technically, she could.
But she's not, right? Right?
My chest tightened.
Ugh. I just want to sleep.
Downstairs, the muffled sound of voices continued. I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow.
Whatever Bo-ra said next... I didn't hear it.
To be continued.