The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the Kang residence, painting streaks of gold across the sleek marble floor. The household was already awake, bustling with quiet efficiency, but for Soo-yeon, the day began with irritation rather than grace. She had barely slept, tossing and turning all night, thinking about the argument she had with Ji-hoon the evening before. His cutting words still echoed in her mind—calm, logical, yet sharp enough to slice through her pride.
Pulling the blanket over her head, she muttered to herself, "Why does he always think he's right? Just because he's a CEO doesn't mean he knows everything about me."
But despite her complaints, Soo-yeon knew that something about Ji-hoon's words had struck deeper than she wanted to admit. He had called her out on running away from responsibilities, on living without thinking about tomorrow. It angered her, but it also left her unsettled, because a small part of her feared he was right.
When she finally stepped out of her room, dressed in a casual white blouse and jeans, she found Ji-hoon already seated at the dining table, reading documents while sipping his black coffee. He looked like he belonged to a different world—calm, composed, perfectly put together.
"Good morning," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze as she sat across from him.
Ji-hoon glanced up briefly, his expression unreadable. "Morning."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint clinking of silverware. Soo-yeon stabbed her toast harder than necessary, annoyed at his composure. Why was he so unaffected when she had been stewing in frustration all night?
Unable to hold back, she finally blurted, "Do you always have to be so cold? It's like talking to a wall."
Ji-hoon set his papers down, his dark eyes steady on her. "And do you always have to pick a fight in the morning? It's exhausting, Soo-yeon."
Her cheeks flushed. "I'm not picking a fight! I'm just saying… you could at least try to act like we're actually engaged."
The air thickened with tension. For a moment, Ji-hoon said nothing, as though weighing whether her outburst deserved a response. Then, to her surprise, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"You want me to act like we're engaged?" he asked softly. "Then stop treating this like a punishment."
The unexpected warmth in his tone disarmed her. Soo-yeon blinked, caught off guard. She opened her mouth to retort, but no words came. Her heart skipped, and she hated that his calm, measured voice could affect her like this.
Before she could recover, Ji-hoon stood, gathering his papers. "I'll be late tonight. Don't wait for me."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving Soo-yeon staring after him, her emotions tangled in confusion.
---
The day dragged on. Soo-yeon tried to distract herself by shopping with her friends, but nothing seemed fun. They laughed and chatted, but her mind kept circling back to Ji-hoon—his words at breakfast, his unreadable expression, that fleeting smile.
Why do I even care? she thought bitterly. He's just someone my father forced me to be with. He's not supposed to matter.
Yet, as evening approached, Soo-yeon found herself pacing restlessly in the living room, glancing at the clock. When she heard the sound of the front door unlocking past nine o'clock, her heart leapt before she could stop herself.
Ji-hoon entered, shoulders tense from a long day. He looked tired, but even in fatigue, his presence filled the room. He raised a brow when he saw her waiting.
"You're still up?" he asked.
Soo-yeon crossed her arms defensively. "I wasn't waiting for you. I just… couldn't sleep."
"Mm." He didn't argue, simply loosening his tie as he walked past her.
Something in his quiet acceptance irritated her. She followed him into the kitchen, blurting out, "You didn't even eat dinner, did you?"
Ji-hoon opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. "I had something at the office."
"That's not dinner," she snapped. "No wonder you look like you're about to collapse."
For the first time that day, Ji-hoon looked genuinely startled. He studied her, as though trying to figure out why she cared. Soo-yeon, realizing how worried she sounded, quickly looked away.
"You're impossible," she muttered, but her voice lacked its usual sharpness.
Ji-hoon's lips curved slightly. "And yet, you're scolding me like a wife."
Her face burned. "I-I am not!"
But he only chuckled softly, and for a moment, the tension between them melted into something unfamiliar—something dangerously close to warmth.
The kitchen was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the faint ticking of the wall clock. Soo-yeon leaned against the counter, watching Ji-hoon as he calmly poured water into a glass. Every movement of his was precise, deliberate, as though even something as simple as drinking water required discipline.
"You know," Soo-yeon began, her voice tentative, "normal people don't work themselves until midnight every single day."
Ji-hoon took a sip, then met her gaze with calm eyes. "Normal people don't run a company with thousands of employees depending on them."
She rolled her eyes, annoyed yet secretly impressed. "Still, you're human. Not some robot."
Something flickered in his expression—amusement, maybe. He set the glass down, stepping closer. The sudden decrease in distance made her breath hitch.
"Are you worried about me, Soo-yeon?" he asked quietly.
Her face heated. She scrambled for words, crossing her arms. "W-Who said anything about being worried? I just don't want you fainting in the middle of the living room. That would be… inconvenient."
Ji-hoon chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. "You're a terrible liar."
Soo-yeon's heart raced at his teasing tone. She hated how easily he could throw her off balance. Determined to regain control, she turned her head away. "Ugh, you're so full of yourself."
But Ji-hoon didn't press further. Instead, he moved to the stove, surprising her by pulling out a pan.
Her eyes widened. "Wait… you cook?"
"I can manage simple things," he replied, cracking an egg with practiced ease. "Better than eating takeout every night."
Soo-yeon blinked, stunned. She had expected him to be the type who relied on chefs or assistants for everything, not someone who casually fried eggs after midnight.
Without thinking, she found herself sliding next to him, watching the egg sizzle. "Huh. Didn't think Mr. Perfect CEO could do something so… normal."
"Contrary to what you believe," Ji-hoon said, flipping the egg neatly, "I'm not perfect. Just disciplined."
The words lingered between them, heavier than they sounded. For the first time, Soo-yeon wondered what it must be like—carrying the weight of a company, living under constant pressure. No wonder he seemed so cold; maybe it was just the armor he had to wear.
When the egg was done, Ji-hoon placed it on a plate and pushed it toward her. "Eat."
She blinked. "Me?"
"You were waiting, weren't you? You skipped dinner too."
Caught off guard, Soo-yeon stared at the plate. The egg was slightly uneven, a little rough around the edges, but the fact that he had made it for her—it was unexpectedly intimate. Her throat tightened, and she quickly masked it with sarcasm.
"You're seriously giving me one egg? What am I, a bird?"
Ji-hoon's lips twitched. "Ungrateful as always."
Still, she sat down and ate it, trying not to smile. The flavor was plain, but somehow it felt warmer than any fancy meal she'd had before.
---
Later that night, Soo-yeon lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't stop replaying the scene in the kitchen—the quiet conversation, the unexpected care in his actions.
Why does he make me feel like this? she thought, hugging her pillow. I was supposed to hate this engagement. I was supposed to keep my distance. But…
Her heart thumped faster. She didn't want to admit it, but Ji-hoon was starting to matter.
---
The next morning, Ji-hoon left early for a meeting, but his absence didn't leave the house feeling empty. Instead, Soo-yeon found herself oddly restless, wandering into his study.
The room was immaculate, filled with shelves of neatly arranged books and files. On his desk, she noticed a framed photo—Ji-hoon with his parents, back when he was much younger. His expression was different then, softer, almost carefree.
Soo-yeon traced the edge of the frame with her finger, curiosity tugging at her. What happened to him? she wondered. What turned him into the cold man he is now?
A knock startled her. The housekeeper peeked in politely. "Miss Soo-yeon, will you be joining the Kang family dinner this weekend? The chairman asked me to remind you."
Soo-yeon blinked. "Dinner?"
"Yes. With the extended family."
The thought made her stomach twist. Meeting Ji-hoon's relatives sounded terrifying. She could already imagine their judgmental eyes, sizing her up, questioning why someone like her—reckless, rebellious—was engaged to him.
When Ji-hoon returned that evening, she brought it up hesitantly. "Your family dinner… do I really have to go?"
Ji-hoon looked at her steadily. "You're my fiancée. Of course you'll go."
"But what if they hate me?"
His gaze softened, just slightly. "Then let them. It doesn't change anything."
The quiet certainty in his voice soothed her more than she expected. For the first time, she realized he wasn't just dragging her along—he was standing with her.
Her heart trembled. Maybe, just maybe, this engagement wasn't only about obligation anymore.