The night ended with flashes, handshakes, and applause. But the air between them on the drive home was heavier than silence.
Joon-hyuk drove with one hand on the wheel, his profile sharp against the city lights. She could still feel the weight of Min-jae's compliment lingering like perfume.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked casually.
"It was fine," she said. "Everyone seemed to love you."
He hummed. "And you seemed to love talking to my competitor."
Her head turned sharply. "Is that jealousy I hear?"
He smirked faintly. "Observation."
She laughed. "Then observe that he was just being kind."
"Kindness is rarely without motive," he said quietly.
She frowned, looking out the window. "Not everyone has motives, Joon-hyuk. Some people are just… human."
That silenced him.
By the time they reached his home, the tension had cooled to something quieter—something almost tender.
He followed her into the living room, loosening his tie. "You should start moving some of your things here."
Her brows lifted. "What?"
"For appearances. If the press sees you coming and going, it'll look inconsistent."
"Oh, so you want me to scatter clothes and toothbrushes around for decoration?"
He gave her a long look. "You can do whatever you want. I'm just saying—it might make things easier."
"Easier for who?" she challenged lightly.
He didn't answer. Just met her eyes—steady, unreadable—and said softly,
"For both of us."
But later that night, long after she'd gone to bed, Joon-hyuk stood in the hallway staring at the closed door to her room.
And for once, the man who always planned three steps ahead… didn't know what he was doing anymore.